The Lazarus Protocol: A Sci-Fi Corporate Technothriller (The SynCorp Saga Book 1)

by Pourteau, Chris

  On one of the screens, Anthony kept the missile launch from the USS Independence showing on a loop. The news drone had a perfect angle on the shot, a quarter mile or so in front of the sub. Far enough away to get the entire ship framed with Seattle lurking in the misty background, but close enough to see the arcing trails of the missiles as they carried their payload skyward.

  Thirty-six intercontinental ballistic missiles in ripple fire, an impressive sight. The hatches were popping open like champagne corks, gouts of smoke and fire blasting into the air. Then each missile emerged, white like a candlestick with the bright-red Qinlao warhead up top carrying the carbon-eating, nanite-enhanced bacteria.

  The power of the private sector , Anthony thought. Coming together for the benefit of mankind . He’d done that, he’d made it happen. He’d go down in the history books as the man who saved the planet.

  The newsfeed cycled to a shot from the Taulke space elevator showing the white missile contrails blossoming away from the Washington coastline to their designated dispersal points across the globe. Each warhead—dispersal unit , he reminded himself—carried a dozen smaller units, called multiple reentry vehicles, and each of those were independently targeted. Each MERV broke away from the main missile trajectory, then culminated in a white circle as they deployed the nanites, creating a starburst effect onscreen. The nanite payload showed as an ever-expanding ring of soft-glowing green that softened as it was absorbed by the atmosphere.

  He’d seen this same vid over fifty times now in the past few hours, but it still gave him chills. Anthony wanted to shout and pump his fist in the air every time. It had worked! Every single one of those goddamned, beautiful missiles had worked flawlessly. The governments of the world had believed Teller. None of them had seen the launch as an act of aggression. The whole world watched and waited for a scientific miracle.

  Waited for the good news to come rolling in.

  Anthony tore his attention away from the looping vid to focus on a map of Central America. Green circles floated over the topographical features. Carbon readings from local monitors. Spotty data, but the best they had available.

  “You’re sure these are right?” he asked one of the scientists, a young woman with an unruly mass of bright blue hair.

  She shrugged. “It’s what we have,” she said in a clipped voice. She seemed annoyed by not having a better answer. Her dark eyes flitted across the screen. “I’m not sure about the quality of the data. We’re making up how to interpret it as we go along.”

  Anthony couldn’t help but take her words as a none-too-subtle rebuke. They’d fast-tracked the deployment of a world-altering technology without the means to accurately measure what it was actually doing. Generating meaningful performance measures was Phase II of the plan. Unfortunately, they’d barely completed Phase I before Teller had ordered a launch.

  He pushed down his frustration at her tone. He was imagining things. He’d been up for more than twenty-four hours now. Take a deep breath; don’t react.

  “If the data are correct, what does that mean in real terms?”

  “Well, we’re seeing a gradient in C-based concentrations between Mexico and Guatemala.” She slashed a line across the Gulf of Mexico on the screen. “In theory, that means uneven heating, which means we can expect instability in the weather. Wind storms? Flash hurricane? Impossible to tell. We’ve taken the normally well-mixed carbon factors and changed them, literally, overnight.”

  “Will it stabilize? It should have stabilized by now, right?”

  She shrugged again, not bothering to face him. “It should, I guess, but it’s not. Honestly, this is all new science. There are so many variables to consider in a test on this scale. ”

  Test?

  Anthony popped another piece of stim gum to occupy his hands. Feeling suddenly nervous, he sought out Viktor.

  The big man was slouched in an extra-wide chair he’d brought with him from Russia, shoes off, looking drowsy. It fit his ass perfectly, Viktor claimed, and by God, if he was going to save the world, he was going to do so comfortably. Anthony flopped into an open chair next to him.

  His old friend grunted a greeting. “The gradients are still there?”

  Anthony nodded. “Getting worse, I think.”

  “What do the models say?”

  Anthony threw a dirty look at the blue-haired meteorologist. “No one knows. Or they’re afraid to say.” He closed his eyes. “I’m worried, Viktor.”

  “Don’t worry.” Viktor patted the silver case wedged between his butt cheek and the arm of the chair. “If it gets too bad, we kill them. Start over.”

  “Somehow, I don’t think we’re getting a second chance on this one, buddy.” Or a third , he thought, recalling his conversation with Ming the day before. “If this fails, our benefactor might not be around much longer.”

  “You mean the president?” asked a new voice. Anthony’s spirit dipped before he even opened his eyes. H stood there, the tips of her pointy ears sharp in the light, a hand resting on a cocked hip. She seemed to have rediscovered her mojo for smugness.

  Anthony’s tired muscles protested as he lifted himself to his feet. “I didn’t know you were back, H. ”

  She bent the corners of her lips, but Anthony could see the tension in the lines around her eyes. H hadn’t been sleeping much either lately. “My boss is worried that your save-the-world plan is not working. That would be bad, Anthony. He sent me to get a real update, not that don’t-worry, be-happy crap you’ve been putting out through your media department.”

  “We’ve got a storm forming in the Gulf,” Blue Hair called out. “A big one.”

  Anthony bolted across the room, H and Viktor in tow. Blue Hair was hunched over the screen studying a tight circle of clouds that looked to Anthony like a wand of white cotton candy. “It’s incredible,” she said. “It formed in minutes, out of nowhere. The carbon gradients are causing sharp temperature differentials. Storms are spinning up. It’s almost like they have a life of their own.” The superstitious lilt in her voice swam up Anthony’s spine like an eel.

  The YourVoice newsfeed opened a segment with a reporter in Beijing, his location stamped by the crawler at the bottom of the feed. The reporter was a scant meter from the camera. In the background was a swirling mist of reddish-brown particulate matter, with vague shapes moving in and out of focus.

  The commentator spoke in rapid-fire Mandarin. Anthony pulsed his virtual to activate its translator and the soft interpreter’s voice whispered in his ear.

  “The capital of China is engulfed in a massive dust storm that has overwhelmed the city’s normal weather defenses. The Chinese government has declared a state of emergency for a fifty-kilometer radius around the city. Experts say the storm, which developed quickly and without warning, has destroyed the desert reclamation project around Beijing…”

  Anthony closed his eyes. This was not his fault. Beijing had dust storms all the time. Hurricanes in the Gulf were normal.

  “Is the bio-seeding causing the storm in the Gulf?” Viktor demanded. He walked to the screen where Blue Hair had the Chinese map annotated with weather data. “What about in China?” The Russian was fully awake now.

  Blue Hair threw up her hands. “I can’t say for sure. There’s a strong suggestion, but causation does not equal—”

  “Stop talking,” Anthony said. “Assume the two are linked. Will the atmosphere reach a new equilibrium?”

  “Mr. Taulke.” Her voice took on the clipped tone again. “I told you before, models aren’t refined enough yet—”

  Anthony spun, herding Viktor and H away from the team of scientists. “Viktor,” he said in an urgent voice, “you said you could control the nanites. Can you use that control to affect local events?” He looked at H. Her face was tight, bereft of its usual dominant sneer.

  Viktor pulled the silver case out from under his arm. “Of course.” His grizzled smile was oily, confident.

  He settled his bulk at the conference room tabl
e and opened the case. While Anthony gave him access to the global data feeds they had running in the room, Viktor donned a pair of wide data glasses and slid a black ring over his wrist. “Establishing satellite uplink.”

  Viktor worked his protocols. Anthony’s heart hammered in his chest. There was a part of him—a very big part—that wanted to let the experiment proceed. Admitting defeat for a second time… Hell, he’d have to make Mars viable just to find a place wh ere he could live unhounded by the constant reminders of another failure.

  He sneaked a look at the screen showing the dust storm in Beijing. It was spreading.

  “Hurry, Viktor.”

  The Russian scientist’s eyes darted behind the shimmering lenses. “Acquiring the data for the Gulf … sending a command to reduce the carbon consumption.” His pudgy hand carved the air, then he closed his fist. “Done.”

  Anthony called to Blue Hair. “We’ve adjusted the seeding levels in your area. What do you see?”

  The young woman peered at her screen. A full minute ticked by.

  “Well?” Anthony said.

  “I’m not seeing any change.” The clipped tone again.

  “Nothing?” Anthony replied. “Look again.”

  She returned to her monitors. “No change, sir. Might even be slightly worse now.”

  Minutes ticked by. Anthony felt a sheen of sweat grease his forehead. Blue Hair shook her head when he queried her again.

  Be patient , he told himself. We’re looking at hundreds of square miles of ocean. It takes time . But fear gnawed at him. Something was wrong. He could feel it.

  Anthony bent to whisper in Viktor’s ear. “Try to adjust the levels around Beijing.” He caught the sharp scent of armpit sweat from his Russian friend.

  Viktor’s gloved hand grabbed at the air, the screen on the tiny computer in front of him continuing to spool data. “Done.”

  Another thirty minutes passed, agonizing in their slowness. Blue Hair reported no apparent difference in the Gulf, and the live shot from Beijing was still a dust cloud of brown debris. If he believed YourVoice, the city was being buried alive.

  H’s hand gripped Anthony’s elbow. “You and me, outside. Now.”

  He followed her into the hallway and shut the door behind them. “What is going on, Anthony?”

  He tried to meet her eyes and failed. “The control feature on the nanites has never been tested at this scale. You need to give us more time.”

  “There is no more time! People are dying out there! Tell me, right now. You can still shut this down, right?”

  Anthony glared at her. “Of course, we can.”

  H’s eyes flicked behind her glasses. “Yes, of course, Mr. President. I’m tying him in now, sir.”

  A pulse overrode Anthony’s virtual, denying him the option to refuse the call. Teller’s face appeared. “Taulke, what the fuck is happening out there?”

  Anthony fumbled for words. “The bio-seeding is causing large carbon gradients, sir, which drives weather instability. That’s the cause of the storms, we think.”

  “You think? Did you see this coming?”

  “No, sir. We’ve never tested the bio-seeding nanites on this scale before. It’s a side effect … over time, we should see mixing that evens out the effects.”

  The president’s face went slack. “Side effect? People are dying and you want more time? The UN is talking about designating me a war criminal for unlawfully violating the atmosphere over other sovereign nations. My polls are in the tank—the fucking tank, do you hear me? How much time do you need to make this problem go away?”

  Anthony shook his head. “I—we—don’t know, sir.”

  H intervened: “Sir, I recommend we shut it down. Kill the project. If we have more storms, your unfavorables will just continue to rise.”

  Teller’s haggard features gathered into a scowl. “What about you, Taulke? What do you recommend?”

  Anthony closed his stinging eyes for a moment. What he wanted to do was take a nap—just a short one to gather his wits and his strength. Then he could make an informed decision.

  “I’m waiting, Taulke.”

  Anthony opened his eyes. “I agree with H, sir. We should activate the kill switch.”

  Teller cursed, smashing both fists down on his desk. “Damn it, damn it, damn it!” The man’s whole body quivered with emotion. “Do it. Kill the fucking little monsters. Let’s hope to God we get something positive out of this mess. You have screwed me, Taulke, and I won’t forget it. If I go down for this, you can bet your ass you’re going down too!”

  The feed died.

  H nudged him toward the door. “Let’s go,” she said, her voice shaking. Whether with rage or fear, Anthony couldn’t tell.

  As he leaned in to open the door, another message pulsed his display. Encrypted text, designed to erase itself as soon as he’d seen it.

  “Pop, I have a car waiting for you. Coordinates loaded .”

  The message disappeared. Anthony bit back a surge of anger at his own son’s selfishness. He was here to save the world, not run away .

  He stepped to the center of the room and raised his hands for silence. “Everyone, I’ve just spoken to President Teller. We’ve decided to throw the kill switch.” A rush of suppressed groans swept through the room. “There are too many side effects, too many unintended consequences that are hurting too many people. Don’t worry. We’ll be back to save the world another day.”

  H grunted. “Not fucking likely,” she said under her breath.

  Ignoring her, Anthony put his hand on Viktor’s shoulder, feeling the heat of sweaty, soft flesh under his palm. “Shut it down, Viktor.”

  The Russian nodded. His hand slashed across the screen. He paused, his eyes flicking across the data screen on his glasses. He gestured again.

  And again.

  “There seems to be a problem,” he muttered in accented English.

  Anthony’s stomach clenched. His balls drew up. He felt the air around him, the space occupied by H, crackle with tension.

  “Explain,” he said in as calm a voice as he could muster.

  “My quantum key is being overridden,” Viktor whispered.

  “What does that mean?” H’s voice was taut. “You’ve been hacked?”

  Her voice carried to every corner of the room. Chairs moved as scientists reacted to what she’d said. Blue Hair half rose from her seat. To Anthony, his tech team looked ready to make a run for it.

  Viktor licked his lips. “Not possible. There are two keys. One is primary, one is secondary. The order is set by whichever logs in first. The secondary takes over if the first key logs off.” Viktor spoke slowly as if explaining the details to a small child. “It’s a failsafe! To ensure someone is always in control and can kill the nanites.”

  “Someone?” H asked, her anger growing.

  “The other key is in a secure location,” Viktor said.

  “Let me get this straight,” H said. “The only way one of these keys won’t work is if the other is currently logged in?”

  “Yes, that is correct,” confirmed the scientist.

  “And yours doesn’t work.”

  “Yes … but—”

  “Someone else logged in with the other key,” Anthony said, the full impact of what he was saying weighing him down. “Someone else is controlling the nanites.”

  “That’s not possible,” Viktor said. When he got excited, his accent got thicker. To Anthony’s ear, he was all but incomprehensible now. “The other key is in a secure location!”

  “Was in a secure location,” whispered H.

  “Where, Viktor?”

  “It’s safe, Anthony. I’m sure of it.”

  “Where?” H demanded.

  “The Moon.”

  Save for the newsfeeds reporting the expanding chaos around the globe, the room fell silent.

  H exhaled slowly, as if afraid to give up the air.

  “Look, we can still salvage this,” Anthony said. “We can get the
second key—”

  “You idiot!” H yelled. “Don’t you get it? Someone’s already stolen it! ”

  The doors to the boardroom opened. Two men in uniform entered, taking up station on either side of the doors.

  Anthony’s thoughts flashed to Tony and his message.

  Then H locked down his virtual.

  Chapter 25

  Ming Qinlao • Shanghai, China

  “Ming.”

  Although Ito spoke in a whisper and didn’t touch her, the sound of her own name snapped her awake. There was urgency in his voice—and more than that: fear.

  She slipped from under the comforter, careful not to wake Sying. Ito retreated to the hallway as she pulled on one of Sying’s silk robes. He was still wearing his gray uniform, and the dusky patches under his eyes told her he hadn’t yet slept tonight. Her retinal display indicated it was half past three in the morning.

  “What is it?” The situation seemed to call for hushed voices.

  “Your aunt,” Ito said in the tone he usually reserved for describing lawyers. “She’s called a meeting of the board for later this morning. It’s a vote of no confidence, Ming.”

  Ming tugged the robe tighter around her shoulders. The cold, marble floor chilled the soles of her feet. Auntie Xi … Somehow, someway, she’d found out the Shanghai plant had been used to produce Anthony’s nanite-dispersing warheads. And Ming had be en so careful in hiding the paperwork. There hadn’t been a single mark associating them with Qinlao Manufacturing. Only a patriotic impulse to paint the warheads People’s Republic red.

  And yet, Xi must have discovered Ming’s part in causing the chaos that had somehow made the world’s weather worse. She supposed she could always argue that Qinlao had simply manufactured the replacement warheads to specifications provided to her by Anthony, like it would for any other paying client. But that sounded lame even to her ears. The board would think her actions incompetent at best. Traitorous on a world scale at worst.