Tindal glanced at her as she sat down. “What do you think they want, Captain?”
“Buggered if I know,” Alice said. The BBC talking head was still blathering about something that had happened in London. “I guess we’ll find out in a moment or two.”
The shuttle rocked again, a low thump echoing through the craft as it docked. Alice was mildly surprised they hadn’t landed in a proper shuttlebay, where it would be a great deal easier to unload the shuttle, but she supposed security was paramount. She stood as the gravity flickered, the shuttle’s onboard field giving way to the base’s, and made her way to the airlock. It was already hissing open. Alice wasn’t too surprised to see that the hatch on the far side was firmly closed. An Earther could get sloppy if she wished, but someone who lived in space couldn’t afford to play games. Space rarely gave anyone a second chance if they fucked up.
She walked down the tube, barely aware of the two men following. There was a long pause as the rear hatch closed - she heard it shut behind her - before the forward hatch hissed open. She wasn’t remotely surprised to see a pair of armoured men, their weapons not quite pointing at the newcomers, in the featureless room beyond. They tested Hammersmith and Tindal quickly, then waved a pair of scanners over Alice before allowing the three of them through the next airlock. Alice doubted they were happy about simply allowing her to enter the base. She tested positive for the virus, even though it was dead.
Or, more accurately, it can’t control me, she thought. She had nightmares, sometimes, when she thought it might still be able to influence her. If her mentality was changing, and all the standards she used to measure it were changing too, how would she know her mentality was changing? It’s still inside me.
She looked around, interested, as they passed through the airlock. The room on the far side was a simple reception chamber, with everything from comfortable chairs and a drinks dispenser to a large display showing the latest updates from Earth. The tickertape was talking about bombings in Washington, New York and San Francisco. Two men were waiting for her, both wearing dark blue uniforms. She didn’t know either of them, but she guessed they were xenospecialists. Who else would be interested in meeting her?
“Thank you for coming,” the lead xenospecialist said. “I am Doctor Percival Adamson and this is Doctor Bendix.”
“Charmed,” Alice lied. The two doctors had the air of medical researchers, rather than real doctors or headshrinkers. They showed no reluctance to shake her hand as she introduced the two corporals. She guessed they knew they didn’t have to be concerned about being infected, at least from her. “You do appreciate that you called me away from my duties ...?”
“We do,” Adamson said. “But we also feel that your duties are actually here.”
Alice felt her heart sink. “You want me to join you here? I don’t even know where here is!”
“This is Base Zero Alpha,” Bendix said. He was a tall bald man, with pale skin that suggested he’d spent his entire life amongst the asteroids. “And we think you are uniquely placed to assist us.”
And the rest of your crew, who are no doubt watching us from a distance, Alice thought, coldly. There would be limits to just how far they’d trust anyone. The black-ops community rarely showed its hand openly. What do you want from me?
“We have much to talk about,” Adamson said. He gestured to the chairs. “Please, be seated. Can I fetch you a cup of tea? Or coffee?”
“Coffee would be good, thanks,” Alice said. She glanced at her escort. “For you?”
“Tea, please,” Hammersmith said, following her lead. “Roger?”
“Tea, please,” Tindal said.
Alice sat down and watched as Adamson prepared the drinks with practiced ease. Whatever they wanted was going to be bad. She was morbidly certain of it. They wouldn’t be plying her with tea and coffee if they just wanted to ask her a few questions. Hell, they could have just sent her an email if they’d thought of something that wasn’t covered in her reports. Alice found it hard to imagine that there was anything she hadn’t mentioned. She’d spent weeks putting together an outline of everything that had happened to her since the first infection.
She took the coffee from Adamson and sipped thoughtfully. The drink was milky, nowhere near as strong as she preferred. She opened her mouth to ask for something darker, then changed her mind. There was no point in pushing matters too far. Better to answer their questions and get out, before her superiors ordered her to stay. She cursed under her breath as Adamson sat down, balancing a mug of tea on his knee. She’d thought she was done with being a medical research subject.
“As you know, you and you alone are the only person to have endured a full-fledged infection and survived,” Adamson said. “It was a remarkable achievement.”
And, if we both know it, why are you taking us through it again? Alice sat up, straighter. I know what happened. I was there.
“So far, no one else has survived,” Adamson continued. “A handful of minor infections were stopped in their tracks by prompt treatment, before the virus could make any permanent changes to their bodies, but otherwise ... once the virus gets a solid foothold, it is only a matter of time before it overwhelms the brain and takes control. And then the only real solution is euthanasia.”
Hammersmith leaned forward. “But you did save Captain Campbell, didn’t you?”
“Yes, but the virus had not yet reached her brain,” Adamson said. “We were able to kill it before it took complete control. The treatments ... there is no way they could be used to kill the viral particles in a host’s brain without killing the host, too.”
“The operation would be a success, but the patient would die,” Alice said. She took a sip of her coffee. “None of this is actually new to me.”
“No,” Adamson agreed. “But it does provide necessary context.”
He paused, his eyes fixed on his teacup. “We were ... intrigued by your report from Alien-3,” he said. “You stated, specifically, that the infected aliens simply ignored you, even as they chased your comrades back to the shuttle. They took no notice of you.”
“I recall,” Alice said.
“We believe that your scent, for want of a better term, was permanently altered by the virus,” Adamson said. “You were ignored because you smelled right to them. I think that, judging from our work here, you might have been ignored even if you were shooting and throwing grenades at them. It would take them some time to realise that you were a possible threat.”
“Are you sure?” Alice didn’t believe it. “I would be shooting at them, not ... walking past with my hands by my sides. They would have to realise I was hostile.”
“We think it depends on just how much of the virus’s ... ah, brainpower is involved,” Adamson said. “If it isn’t focused on the scene, it may not be able to realise - at least at first - that it has a problem.”
“Like an elephant,” Bendix said. “If you stamp on an elephant’s foot, it takes the elephant some time to realise that it needs to say ouch.”
“And then it stomps you into the ground,” Alice muttered. She still didn’t believe it. “I wouldn’t care to try it.”
“Our research here has been focused on finding ways to disrupt the virus’s internal communications,” Adamson explained. “We know - now - that it communicates through more than just scent. Each individual host breathes out one set of particles and breathes in another ... in effect, the virus is a giant decentralised network.”
“Just like the old internet,” Tindal said.
“Exactly.” Bendix sounded surprised. Alice reflected, rather sourly, that he’d probably thought that a soldier couldn’t count to eleven without taking off his pants. “And, just like the old internet, we think it can be disrupted. We might even be able to infiltrate the network and turn the virus against itself. That, too, was a problem with the old internet.”
“And you think you can take down the virus’s communications.” Alice met Adamson’s eyes, evenly. “What d
oes this have to do with me?”
Adamson looked embarrassed. “The changes in your scent are a limited form of inter-viral communication,” he said. “You’re basically telling the virus that you’re friendly.”
Alice’s lips twitched. “I’m lying.”
“Yeah, but we think the virus doesn’t really have a concept of lying,” Adamson said. He dropped his eyes. “I mean ... not in the sense it can’t lie to us, but in the sense it can’t lie to itself. It doesn’t seem to be able to realise that you’re lying to it, at least as long as you don’t force it to look at you directly ... basically, you come across as truthful because it can’t comprehend that you’re lying.”
“Until the penny drops,” Alice said, coolly. “And then it will start getting paranoid about itself. It won’t know if smaller subunits are telling the truth or lying.”
“Not without a great deal more verification,” Adamson agreed. “It would have to delay operations to verify that it is still in control before it resumed its advance.”
“You still haven’t explained why you want me here,” Alice said. Her patience was nearly at an end. “What do you want?”
“We think we can expand upon your ... scent,” Adamson said. He looked at his hands. “You would be able to ... ah, do more than merely assure your fellow infected that you’re one of them. You would be able to issue commands. You could take control of some of the infected and turn them against the virus ...”
Hammersmith snorted. “Just like Stellar Star in Stellar Star and the Robotic Menace ...”
“Be quiet,” Alice growled. The back of her neck felt hot as she turned back to the scientists. “Are you serious?”
“We think it should be possible,” Adamson said. He sounded uncomfortable. “We have attempted to synthesise scent particles, but - so far - unsuccessfully. The pheromones are simply beyond our ability to produce, certainly not the subtle smells we require to influence the virus. It’s a field of study that has not really been developed, for various reasons. The only people who took it seriously were perfumers, and they ran into legal trouble.”
“I can imagine,” Alice said, dryly. She’d heard about perfumes that were supposed to make the opposite sex attracted to you, but she’d never seen one. The claims had always struck her as typical advertiser bullshit. A pheromone-based perfume that actually worked would be classed as a date-rape drug. “And what do you think I should tell them to do?”
“First, we should see if you can issue orders,” Bendix said. “We think you should be able to trigger the pheromones, although we don’t know for sure. We’ll have to experiment. And then we can try and figure out how to issue more complex orders.”
“I see,” Alice said. The whole idea struck her as insane, but it was worth trying. Who knew? Perhaps she could find a way to infiltrate the virus and tear its communications network to shreds. Perhaps. “And when do you expect me to try? We can’t go back to Alien-3 yet ...”
“No.” Adamson cut her off. “But we do have a number of infected humans here, the ones rescued from Alien-One. We thought you could try to command them, under controlled conditions.”
And that’s why you wanted me to have an escort, Alice thought. You needed someone who could tell if it wasn’t me who came back.
Hammersmith blinked. “You have infected people here?”
“Under very tight security,” Bendix assured him. “There’s no way they can get to Earth.”
“Hah,” Tindal muttered.
“We’d blow up the base, rather than let them escape.” Adamson stood. “Shall we go see them?”
“Yeah.” Alice finished her coffee, wishing for something stronger. “I think we should.”
Chapter Four
“It’s like a zoo in here,” Hammersmith muttered, as they were led through a series of airlocks and into a darkened observation chamber. “But I’ve never seen a zoo so ... secure.”
Alice nodded, feeling uncomfortable as she peered around the chamber. The light was so low she could barely see, even though her eyesight was as perfect as genetic engineering and surgical enhancement could make it. The chamber was completely empty, the bulkheads utterly bare. There was nothing for the prisoners to use, if they somehow managed to smash through the walls and break into the chamber. She couldn’t help thinking that the observers were just as much prisoners as the people in the next chamber. If the virus broke loose, it was quite possible that none of them would be permitted to leave.
“We keep biohazard protocols in place at all times,” Adamson explained. “This entire subsection is completely isolated from the remainder of the base, save for a handful of datanet links that feed through a secure firewall and into an observation lounge on the far side of the walls. Everyone who goes into the inner section will go through a careful series of tests, just to prove their identity and verify that they’re not infected. They have to wear protective gear as long as they’re anywhere near the virus itself. If it is broken ...”
His voice trailed off. Alice looked at him.
“And does it ever break?”
“They tore the protective garb off one unwary visitor,” Adamson said. “I would have believed it impossible, if I had not seen it with my own eyes. We were fortunate to be able to yank him out and kill the infection before it was too late.”
He indicated the far side of the chamber. The bulkhead was lightening ... no, it was turning translucent. Alice leaned forward, feeling a shiver run down her spine as a cluster of humanoid figures came into view. They were human, as naked as she’d been on the day she was born, but ... there was nothing human about them. They paced around the cage, heedless of their nakedness ... she’d seen POWs in detention cages, yet they’d been human. The infected were ... different.
That could have been me, she thought. I could have ended up in a cage like this.
A woman strode past the bulkhead, her bare breasts bobbling as she walked. None of the men paid any attention. Alice felt cold. The scene was utterly wrong. The men weren’t ogling, or sneaking glances whenever they felt they could get away with it ... they weren’t even making a show of ignoring the women. They were just ... she swallowed, hard. The virus had stripped everything from its victims. They didn’t feel anything any longer.
Hammersmith sounded shaken. “What ... what are you doing to them?”
“Right now, we’re trying to learn from them.” Bendix sounded cold, but Alice was sure she could hear a quiver. “The virus doesn’t seem to quite understand the hosts. They are exercising constantly, and eating the food we give them, but they defecate wherever they wish and show no inclination to get dressed or take care of themselves in other respects. We think they’re just waiting for orders.”
“Orders which are never going to come,” Adamson said. He looked at Alice. “Unless they come from you.”
Alice swallowed, hard. “What do you want me to do?”
“Come with me,” Adamson said. “Your companions can wait here.”
“Captain?” Hammersmith turned away. “Should I ...?”
“Stay here,” Alice said. “And be ready to check that I’m me.”
Adamson nodded as he led the way out the airlock and down a solid metal passageway. “I ... after the last incident, it was decided that everyone who needed to go into the chamber would be wearing protective gear. We actually had to draw supplies from the biological warfare stockpiles, simply because” - he glanced back at her, a scowl on his face - “it never occurred to us that the virus would try to tear off our clothes. In hindsight, it should have done.”
“Yes,” Alice said, dryly. Desperate people could do desperate things. “I went through the biowarfare drills during training.”
“Quite.” Adamson stopped as they entered a sideroom. “You’ll be going into the chamber alone, and naked. We think that, if you issue orders, they will be obeyed.”
Alice stopped, dead. “You think?”
“You have been constantly monitored since you were infected,” A
damson said. “We noticed that your local pheromones changed whenever you issued commands, something that rarely happened during the cruise.”
“The deployment,” Alice corrected, sharply. “You make it sound like I was taking an expensive vacation.”
“In hindsight, it would have been better to put you in a command role.” Adamson sounded irked. “We might have realised this earlier.”
Alice shook her head, unsure of how she should be feeling. It seemed terribly speculative ... and yet, she had the feeling they’d stumbled onto something. She just didn’t know if it was anything they could actually use. The history of military research and development was strewn with brilliant pieces of kit that worked perfectly in the labs, but failed spectacularly when deployed in the field. Alice had no trouble thinking of a dozen things that could go wrong, all of which might end badly for her. She was skilled at unarmed combat, but the virus’s hosts wouldn’t care if they were hurt. She’d have to cripple or kill them to survive.
The Right of the Line Page 4
