by Dan Smith
Terror, guilt, sadness, joy, jealousy – every emotion he’d ever had.
Then, as suddenly as it had begun, the flood of emotion stopped. The turmoil was replaced by the same queasy, floating feeling he’d had before. He was hanging in the darkness again, and he didn’t dare look down because he knew what he’d see: the seething ocean of a billion insects. And it felt like something was watching his thoughts, feeling his emotions, crawling across his brain. The ache pulsed behind his right eye, throbbing like a fresh bump on the head, and Zak had the strongest sense something was examining what grew there. The ache intensified, then faded as the invader searched deeper into his mind. Zak tried to move, but his body refused to do what he wanted. His arms wouldn’t budge, his legs were frozen in place, his head was filled with white noise and . . .
It’s trying to tell me something. The thought struck him like a sudden slap in the face. It isn’t attacking me. It’s trying to tell me something important.
No, not something important. This was way beyond important. It was crucial. It was monumental. It was world-changing.
But it didn’t know how to tell him. There were no words; there was just white and black and . . .
Ice.
Something buried deep inside ice. Something old. Something lost. No; something that was hiding. And it was calling to Zak, not saying his name exactly, not with words, but it was calling to him all the same.
‘— away from him!’ Mum’s shrieking commands cut through the white noise filling his mind. There was a whoosh and a pop as the world came back to him and he opened his eyes to see the Spider still standing where it had been when he last saw it – legs taut, arms ready, body tilted towards the spot where he had been lying.
Everything else in the room had gone crazy. Somewhere behind him, Mum was shouting and hammering at the control tablet. May was yelling at the top of her voice, and Dad was dragging him by the shoulders, pulling him across the floor to the side of the room.
‘I’ve got you. It’s OK. It’s OK,’ Dad kept saying over and over again.
‘Is it alive?’ Zak was breathing hard. ‘What was it doing?’ The unreachable image of something important lost in the ice was fading.
‘No, it’s not alive,’ Dad said. ‘That’s impossible.’
‘It’s not supposed to be.’ May rushed to her brother’s side. ‘But what if it is? And where are the others? Maybe they did something.’
In the centre of the room, the Spider came to life once more, tilting back and swivelling in their direction.
‘What’s it doing?’ Zak got to his feet.
Mum stabbed at the control tablet again. ‘It’s not responding to anything.’
‘This is not cool,’ May said. ‘Literally. We have to get away from it.’ She grabbed Zak’s sleeve and dragged him towards the door. ‘We’re not staying in here.’
‘You’re right,’ Dad agreed. ‘You two go back to The Hub. We’ll try to figure out what’s going on.’
‘Seriously?’ May hit the button and the door slid open. ‘You want to stay in here with that thing? And you want us to go out there on our own? There are two more of those things, remember? They must’ve done something to the people here. And what about Dima? Have you forgotten about him?’
‘Of course not, but we need to—’
‘Wait,’ Mum said. ‘He’s doing something.’
Halfway out of the door, Zak glanced back to see the Spider lower its body, the intricate leg joints shifting its weight.
‘He’s going into a cycle,’ Mum said. ‘How is that possible? It must be receiving instructions from somewhere.’
As she spoke, a high-pitched whirring came from the Spider, and it began to move its body in quick, jerking movements. Its legs remained strong and stationary, keeping it stable, and it was moving at such speed, it was almost impossible to detect the tiny changes in direction, but Zak knew what it was doing. He’d sat at the kitchen table at home, watching videos of it doing this, Mum and Dad showing it off like proud parents.
The Spider was printing something.
‘What is it?’ Mum said. ‘What’s he spinning?’
Spinning? Yeah, that’s about right. Like a spider spinning its web to catch a fly. Except we’re the flies.
‘I can’t tell.’ Dad couldn’t take his eyes off it as he returned to where Mum was standing. They were lost to it now; the way Zak and May had seen them lost to their work so many other days of his life.
‘Let’s get out of here.’ May nudged her brother.
On the underside of the Spider’s body, the stinger-like printer head was moving so quickly it was a blur, as if the monster was conjuring objects out of thin air. Beneath it, where Zak had been lying a couple of minutes ago, there were now two discs, no larger than a ten-pence piece. Beside them, a series of electronic components that could have been ripped out of a smartphone or a games console. As the printer continued to spin tiny new parts, the Spider’s arms retracted, selected two fine attachments, and began fixing the components together. Fine wisps of smoke snaked up from it, and there was a vague smell of burning.
May tugged at the back of her brother’s coat. ‘Zak, let’s go.’ She raised her voice. ‘Mum. Dad. Please. I’m scared.’
Mum approached the Spider. ‘Just a second, sweetie. We need to . . .’ Her words trailed off. ‘Adam, what does this look like to you?’
Dad went to join her, crouching to get a better view of what the Spider was building. ‘It looks like . . . I’m not sure. Is he building . . .? No, it can’t be. We don’t even have blueprints for something as sophisticated as this.’
As the Spider continued to assemble the parts, the high-pitched whirring stopped and the needle-like printer head retracted back into its underside. The room was overcome with an eerie silence. The only sound was the gentle tick tick tick as the spider fitted the components together.
‘It’s building itself,’ Zak said. ‘A small version of itself.’
‘Can’t be,’ Mum told him. ‘That’s impossible.’
Impossible? That was a word Zak had heard too much since arriving at Outpost Zero. But he was beginning to think anything was possible.
The Spider’s arms jittered and flicked at incredible speed, and within less than a few minutes of starting, it stopped. It didn’t step back or sit or crouch, it just stopped.
They all stayed exactly as they were.
No one said anything until May broke the silence. ‘Can we please go. Like, now?’
But Mum and Dad weren’t listening. They were scientists – robotic engineers – and they had witnessed something they had never seen before. Their robot had built a smaller version of itself. Now it had their undivided attention.
‘Hey!’ May shouted at them. ‘We’re here. Right here. Zak and me. Forget about your stupid robots for a minute and think about us!’
The small version of the Spider tapped its legs on the smooth surface of the lift. Tick-tack.
‘Wait. Did you see that?’ Mum asked.
‘I saw it,’ Dad replied.
‘Mum!’ May shouted again. ‘We’re literally standing right here!’
The small legs tapped again, one at a time, and the tiny monster began to move forward. Slowly at first, but gathering speed. It made a beeline for Dad who stood there, transfixed as it scuttled towards his foot. But it didn’t stop there. As soon as it reached him, it gripped the front of his boot and began to climb.
That’s when Dad started to back away. He lifted his leg, shaking it, trying to get the scuttler off, but it clung to the coarse fabric of his boots and continued to clamber higher. Dad slammed his foot down, dislodging the creepy robotic-spider-thing. It swung to one side, losing its grip, and skittering away across the floor. Before it came to a stop, though, it righted itself, planted its feet and headed for Dad once more.
Tick-tack-tick-tack. The noise was so horrible. Tick-tack-tick-tack.
The way the scuttler moved was so lifelike. It reminded Zak of a spider
scurrying across the carpet, heading for a dark place. But this thing wasn’t trying to escape; it was fixed on attacking Dad, and there was no sign it was going to give up.
May was out of the door faster than Zak had ever seen her move. Zak was close behind her, Mum and Dad too, but the scuttling robot was catching up. Behind it, in the centre of the module, the drone was spinning up for a second cycle and Zak had a feeling that soon there would be two of these little monsters to deal with.
Full of confusion and fear, Zak chased May along the tunnel, glancing back to see Mum and Dad make it out of the Drone Bay. Mum stopped to watch as Dad slammed his fist on the button and the door swished shut. But he was a fraction of a second too late.
The scuttler slipped through the gap as the door closed, and it jumped. It travelled at least a metre through the air and landed on Dad’s thigh. Immediately, it was on the move again, scurrying up his trousers, heading for the hem of his jacket and the dark safety beneath.
‘Get off!’
Zak had never seen Dad so scared.
‘Get off!’ He swatted at his leg, swiping the thing away. Once again, it hit the floor with a quiet ting. Its legs skittered as it flipped itself over, but this time it wasn’t quick enough. It had fallen close to Mum and she brought her boot down on it with a satisfying crunch.
‘Got it.’ She lifted her foot and inspected the tiny broken robot on the pale blue floor.
‘Is it . . . dead?’ Zak wasn’t even sure it had ever been alive.
‘Who cares?’ May opened the entrance to The Hub. ‘Just leave it and let’s get out of here.’
But they couldn’t get out of there; that was the problem. There was no way for them to leave, and there was nowhere for them to go. They were trapped and alone. In the middle of nowhere.
And from inside the Drone Bay came the high-pitched sound of the Spider going into a third cycle.
OUTPOST ZERO, ANTARCTICA
NOW
The four of them stood in The Hub, staring at the closed door leading to the North Tunnel.
‘That thing was going to kill Zak.’ May moved close to her brother and did something that surprised him – she put both arms around him and hugged him. ‘We need to get out of here.’
She held him so tight Zak could hardly breathe, but he didn’t object because he could feel her trembling. She needed the hug more than he did. When she broke away, he saw her black eyeliner was smudged and the colour had drained from her face.
‘You’re right,’ Dad said. ‘But if— Wait.’ He stopped. ‘Why didn’t we think of this before? There are rules in place to protect data on the base; emails, documents, CCTV recordings . . . everything’s uploaded to the servers and to Head Office in Switzerland—’
‘Yes,’ Mum interrupted, ‘But we can’t access any of the systems and we can’t get in touch with Head Office. It’s not as if we haven’t tried.’
‘But there’s something else,’ Dad said. ‘Every day, the base uploads a back-up copy of the data on to an independent system. Something that isn’t connected to the main systems. ViBac.’
‘ViBac?’ Zak asked.
‘The Virtually Indestructible Back-up System,’ Mum said. ‘That thing is fireproof, waterproof, able to withstand extreme cold; it’s . . . well, it’s virtually indestructible.’
‘So?’ May said. ‘How will that help?’
‘So there might be something on there that can tell us what happened. Everything gets uploaded to it. Everything.’
‘They keep it here.’ Dad went to the far wall and tapped the map still stuck there. ‘It’s no more than a hundred metres. We’ll be fine.’
Zak came closer to study the map. From a door at the back of The Hub, an open walkway crossed the ice at an angle between the North and East Tunnels. It led to a building labelled as ‘Refuge’. There was also a set of steps at the far end, like a fire escape leading down to the ice.
‘Some of the buildings are kept separate,’ Dad said. ‘In case anything happens to the rest of the base.’
‘Like what?’
‘Fire. That kind of thing. Refuge is basically a last resort. A self-contained area that isn’t directly connected to the base.’
‘Last resort?’ May said. ‘So maybe that’s where everyone went? Dima too?’
‘Maybe,’ Dad agreed. ‘Apart from Storage and Power, there’s nowhere else they could be.’
‘And you’re sure it’s no more than a hundred metres?’ Zak asked. ‘It’s proper freezing out there.’
‘Then we’d better wrap up,’ Mum told him.
Zak pulled on his gloves, secured his hood and tightened the scarf across his mouth in preparation for the sub-zero conditions outside. While the others finished doing the same, he pressed his face against the small window in the top of the door and peered out along the walkway. ‘Still windy out there,’ he said.
‘Let’s just get it done.’ May kept glancing at the door to the North Tunnel a few paces to her left. ‘Right now, anywhere feels better than here.’
‘Everyone ready?’ Dad pulled on his goggles and looked back at them.
‘No,’ Zak and May said in unison.
Dad hit the button and when the door swished open, wind rushed into The Hub.
‘Keep hold of the railing,’ Dad said. ‘I’ll go first, then Zak, then May. Evelyn, you bring up the rear.’
‘Right behind you, little brother.’ May’s mouth was hidden beneath her scarf so her words came out muffled. ‘Try to stay on your feet.’
‘And you.’ Zak stepped out on to the walkway and peered down at the ice several metres below.
‘Keep going,’ May told him. ‘Don’t stop.’
Exposed to the intense cold, Zak held tight to the railing and followed Dad. The walkway groaned and creaked under their feet. The wind was still strong, but the worst of it had passed, and in the hazy glow from the base lights, Zak could see the structures of Outpost Zero and the immediate land around them.
To his left was the North Tunnel – blue on the outside as well as the inside – and the red Drone Bay at the end of it. It looked bigger than it had seemed when he was inside, and there was something unreal about it, like it was a model, or a special effect from a movie. Ahead, Refuge was also red. Close to the buildings the base lights reflected from the icy white landscape, creating a cocoon for Outpost Zero, but further away the light faded to a crushing darkness. The kind of darkness that inspired fear.
Zak had known they were isolated, but for the first time since arriving, he could actually see how isolated they were. And now it felt more intense. Heavier. Like it was weighing down on him.
May tapped him on the shoulder. ‘All right?’ She showed him a gloved thumbs-up, so he returned the gesture.
Before they reached the end of the walkway, they passed a set of steps on the right, leading back down to the ice, then a few seconds more and they were there, at the door to one of the last places Dima and the others might be. Dad hit the button on the door and went into Refuge, switching on the lights. He pushed back his hood and pulled the scarf and goggles away from his face. ‘It’s this way.’
They filed along a short corridor, passing a couple of storerooms filled with cans and boxes, and a tiny room with a single bed pushed against the wall.
‘Here it is.’ Dad went into a small version of the Communications room – complete with computers and keyboards and radio equipment. All the screens were blank.
Dad moved the chair and tapped a bright orange box under the desk. ‘Meet ViBac.’
ViBac was made of metal and looked heavy. It was about the size of a two-drawer filing cabinet, and had no buttons or lights on it, just a single USB-C port. It took Mum a matter of seconds to connect it to a laptop that was on the desk, and after a short wait, an icon for the ViBac appeared on screen. Mum double-clicked. As simple as that, and a window popped open on the laptop, with a list of folders. Right at the bottom of the list was a single video file.
‘That was yesterday.
’ Zak pointed at the screen. ‘Open that one.’
Mum clicked the file and the screen went black. A timecode appeared in the top left corner with the date from two days ago. After a couple of seconds, an image came into focus and Zak watched as the camera swept around The Hub.
It was different. The room he knew was deserted and bloodstained, like something out of a bad dream, but on-screen it actually looked normal – like it was a half-decent place to hang out. There was a hubbub of voices in the background and the occasional clacking sound. As the camera swept the room, Zak saw that the sound was coming from a game of pool between a man and a woman. They were both dressed in blue tracksuits, each with a white stripe running down the right side. Their names were printed on the chest, but the image wasn’t good enough for Zak to read them. A boy, sixteen or seventeen years old, with his hair cut short like a soldier’s, was leaning against the table, drinking from a can of Coke. He was also wearing a blue tracksuit.
‘Nice outfits,’ May muttered.
When the camera focused on the boy, he lowered the can and said, ‘Get lost, Diaz. You should be long gone by now.’
‘They just can’t bear to leave us.’ Someone spoke off-camera, and the operator – Diaz, Zak guessed – swivelled round, taking in more of The Hub.
There were other people there; sitting at the tables, chatting, eating. A couple of teenagers were lounging on the L-shaped sofa playing a video game.
The camera settled on a woman standing in the kitchen, stirring a hot drink. ‘You need to go,’ she said. ‘Twenty-four hours outside the bowl, remember? The sooner you leave, the sooner you get back. Magpie’s waiting.’
‘That’s Commander Miller.’ Dad pointed at the woman on screen. ‘Diaz and someone else must be on their way out of the bowl for a collection trip. It’s standard stuff – everyone has to learn to survive in the MRV for a twenty-four-hour period, as if they’re going out to collect samples on Mars. “Out of the bowl” means outside this area – the base is in a kind of a bowl, but there’s one shallow side where you can get up and out.’
