Alien Storm

by A. G. Taylor

  “Good morning, General,” Rachel said as she stood from her seat to address the meeting. “Gentlemen. I’m going to bring you all up to date on the latest report from our meteorite early-warning facility in the Philippines. It’s not good. In fact, it’s the worst possible scenario.”

  The tension in the room was palpable as she brought up a series of black and white images on the big screen. They showed a misshapen object floating in the midst of the darkness of space.

  “We picked up this object two days ago,” she explained. “Meteor P163. A ten-metre-wide object heading towards earth. Estimated strike time is just two days from now. Unfortunately, it’s not alone.”

  She brought up a new set of images from the Philippines observatory. These showed many such objects – irregular specks travelling through the void. A series of gasps and murmurs went around the room from those who hadn’t yet seen the images.

  “The new data shows a series of objects headed towards us,” Rachel went on. “We’ve detected thirty so far, ranging in size from ten to thirty metres across. Our astronomers think there might be more out there.”

  “They’re meteors?” General Wellman asked and Rachel nodded. “How far away are they?”

  “The first should hit within the next forty-eight hours.”

  Commander Craig shook his head. “How is that possible? Why didn’t we pick these up sooner?”

  “We’re still trying to work that out,” Rachel replied. “Perhaps some kind of radiation from the lead meteor shielded the rest from our sensors. If it’s any consolation, all the other monitoring stations missed them too, including NASA’s. It’s almost like they were hidden from view until they reached a certain distance.”

  “Is it safe to assume these objects originate from the same source as the Australian and South American strikes?” General Wellman asked. “That they are probably infected with the fall virus?”

  Rachel cast a look at their resident astrophysicist, Dr. Fincher, who was one of the few scientists in the room. He was a beanpole of a man, two metres tall, with a permanent shadow of stubble around his face. He stepped towards the central area so that he could speak.

  “Their current trajectory suggests they come from the same quadrant,” Fincher affirmed. “Except they’re significantly larger than those meteors and the number suggests a greater threat of contamination. Of course, when they hit earth, the fall virus will be the least of our problems.”

  General Wellman raised an eyebrow. “How so?”

  Fincher coughed nervously, aware all eyes in the room were turned towards him. “The Australian meteorite was about fourteen metres across and threw thousands of tonnes of dust into the atmosphere, General. This affected the temperature and weather patterns of the entire southern hemisphere for weeks afterwards. The result of thirty or more meteorites hitting the globe in quick succession would be devastating. The amount of material thrown into the sky would block out the sun for months, maybe years. Earth would spiral into a prolonged winter, shutting down food production, global communication and causing the biggest extinction event since the dinosaurs died out. Millions of people would die, perhaps billions.”

  The room was silent as Fincher’s words sank in.

  “Can we stop them from hitting us?” Rachel asked. “What about the American defence satellites? Can they be turned against the meteors?”

  Commander Craig shook his head. “The US missile shield doesn’t come online until next year. It’s just not ready. Maybe if we had a few months, some of our nukes could be used to deflect the storm. But not with only two days’ notice.”

  “Are you saying,” the general said, “there’s no way we can stop these meteors from hitting the earth?”

  Everyone looked at Fincher again. He closed his eyes and replied, “If we’re lucky, a few of the objects might pass on by. But, yes, sir. We’re going to get hit badly. There’s nothing we can do to stop it.”

  On the screen, General Wellman had gone a shade of white, as had most of the people around the room. “I’m initiating Operation Shield,” he announced finally.

  The name, Operation Shield, sent a chill through Rachel Andersen, much like it had when she’d first read about HIDRA’s top secret emergency protocol shortly after taking command. Like everyone else in the room, she knew that over the next few hours the families of all HIDRA personnel – hers included – would be transported to a network of underground bunkers located around the world. In these bunkers they would wait out the worst of the devastation in the hope of being able to rebuild the world at some time in the future. Shield was designed to be activated in the event of an imminent nuclear war or a massive virological outbreak, but it seemed that they were facing a different threat. The governments of every nation would be notified as well so they could put their own emergency procedures into effect.

  “This information is to be kept absolutely confidential until we’re ready to announce it,” General Wellman continued, his voice brittle. “The last thing we need is panic on a global scale. This is damage limitation, people. Over the next forty-eight hours we’re going to save as many people as we can. Go to it! Dismissed.”

  The room cleared out. Only Rachel, Commander Craig and Dr. Fincher remained behind.

  “Was there something else, Colonel Andersen?” Wellman asked.

  “There’s some more data we’d like to show you, General,” Rachel announced, giving Commander Craig a nod. He tapped the central screen and a global map opened, showing the estimated meteorite strike locations around the globe. Each of them related to a major urban area: London, Tokyo, New York, Beijing – the list went on. The largest cities of the world were going to be hit.

  “We’ve plotted the most likely impact sites based on the speed and trajectory of the meteors,” Craig explained. “General, this looks like a premeditated series of strikes to me. I’d say our cities are being deliberately targeted.”

  “Amazing,” General Wellman gasped. “It can’t be chance. Can it, Dr. Fincher?”

  Fincher shook his head slowly. “There’s about as much mathematical probability of these meteors accidentally falling on every major city in the world as there is of a blue elephant appearing in this room right now.”

  The general snorted and rubbed his chin. “This throws a whole new light on proceedings. Are we saying what I think we’re saying?”

  Rachel nodded. “A coordinated attack on the earth from an extraterrestrial source. Would you agree, Commander?”

  “It looks like we’re at war,” Commander Craig affirmed. “We just don’t know who – or what – with.”

  “Unfortunately we don’t have the luxury of speculating on that matter at the moment,” General Wellman asserted, regaining his composure. “For the next forty-eight hours all our resources have to be directed towards making sure our people are safe. Colonel Andersen, I want you to turn your ship towards the HIDRA base in Hawaii. There’s a bunker there. Get your people to it at any cost.”

  Rachel coughed, a little nervously. “That’s what I wanted to speak to you about, General. I want permission to turn the Ulysses around and head for the Chuckchi Peninsula in Russia.”

  Wellman frowned. “The site of the last meteorite strike?”

  Rachel nodded and told him about her previous conversation with Makarov and the abduction of the children. “He knows something about the meteor storm. I can feel it.”

  “Forgive me, Colonel, but I need something a little more than your feeling to go on,” the general replied curtly.

  Fincher stepped towards the table. “We had our satellite run a scan of the Chukotkan wilderness, General. Makarov has a skyscraper there – built in the middle of nowhere. We picked up a strange energy signature.” He touched the table screen and a satellite photo of the Spire appeared. “It’s like nothing we’ve ever seen before, but it seems to be beaming a signal into outer space.”

  “Guess where that signal is pointed,” Rachel said. “Right at the meteor storm.”

&nb
sp; Wellman rubbed the bridge of his nose, as if suddenly tired. “First you tell me that it’s the end of the world. Now you want to point a warship at one of the most influential businesspeople in the world. For god’s sake, Makarov plays golf with the president. He—”

  “General,” Rachel interrupted, “the end of the world?”

  Wellman sighed. “What do you intend to do when you get to Russia? Sit off the coast getting a tan while the meteorites fall all around?”

  “No,” Rachel replied, “I intend to investigate that signal and level that skyscraper if necessary.”

  Wellman laughed. “And start a war with Russia at the same time?”

  “I think the Russians will have better things to worry about than Makarov, don’t you, General?”

  Wellman stared at her for a moment, before finally relenting. “Okay, take the Ulysses to Chukotka. Investigate the signal and then get your people to the bunker in Hawaii. I didn’t listen to you once before, Andersen, and Colonel Moss made me look like a fool. I’m not going to make the same mistake again.”

  Rachel smiled. “You won’t regret this, sir.”

  “I sincerely hope not,” he said.

  The video screen died. Rachel looked across the table at Commander Craig.

  “Turn this ship around,” she ordered. “We’re going after Makarov.”

  22

  Three a.m. Sarah moved as silently as possible along the corridor on the 144th floor. Ahead walked one of the workers, apparently oblivious to her presence. But as Sarah approached the bend in the corridor, something unseen grabbed her wrist.

  Alex.

  Don’t sneak up on me like that, Sarah thought as he took her hand in his. Almost immediately, she saw her arm begin to fade out and become invisible. I can’t believe it, she told him as she became transparent. This is a weird feeling.

  Well, get used to it fast, Alex replied, pulling her along the corridor. We have to keep up with that woman or we won’t be getting onto the lower levels tonight.

  Sarah nodded, although she knew there was little point when you’re invisible. It was a strange sensation to be moving forward when you can’t see any part of yourself. Almost like your eyeballs were floating along with no body. Strange. She tried to concentrate on the job at hand.

  Running as silently as possible, they reached the central area of the floor, where the woman was waiting for the lift to arrive. She stared directly ahead, completely unmoving.

  They really are like robots, aren’t they? Alex thought.

  Before Sarah could offer her opinion, the lift doors opened and the woman stepped through. Moving on tiptoes, Alex and Sarah slipped inside and pressed themselves against the side wall. The woman stood stock still in the centre of the car as it began to descend the fifty-four storeys down to the 90th floor, the lowest level that it could access.

  The lift doors opened and the woman walked out. Before they closed, Alex and Sarah darted through and followed a few paces behind. The corridor into which they’d stepped ended at another lift, marked Floors 11–89: Restricted Access. The woman placed her hand against a palm-print scanner and the doors opened.

  Now, let’s see what Makarov is really up to, Sarah thought as they went in after the woman.

  The lift descended just five floors, to the 85th, before opening again into a deserted kitchen area. Rows of industrial-sized cookers and work benches gleamed in spotless chrome – clearly designed to cater for hundreds of people if necessary. The woman walked out of the lift and headed across the kitchen in the direction of a set of double doors.

  Oooh, sinister, Alex thought as they stepped out of the lift. Perhaps Makarov’s planning on setting up a restaurant or something.

  Shut up, Sarah replied. They watched the woman disappear through the doors. Sarah’s eyes fell upon an emergency exit. She led Alex over.

  “Let’s take the stairs,” she whispered.

  They started down the stairwell. Glancing over the railings they saw that the shaft stretched down hundreds of steps to the very ground level.

  What are we looking for? Alex complained as they passed one landing after another.

  Makarov’s lab, Sarah snapped back, keeping a mental note of the signs they’d passed at each level: Kitchens 2, Housekeeping 6, Maintenance 3 – nothing of immediate interest. Then Sarah stopped as something caught her eye.

  Sleeper Modules.

  She pushed open the door carefully and they slipped into the area beyond, which was a massive chamber. There were no external windows and the only light was provided by the flashing readouts of the technology that the room housed – rows of squat, white caskets that resembled Egyptian sarcophagi.

  “Are those what I think they are?” Alex asked.

  “Sleeper caskets,” Sarah confirmed as she scanned the room – she counted at least thirty of them. Sensing they were alone, she released Alex’s hand and became visible again.

  “But what are they doing here?” Alex asked, appearing also. “I thought Makarov said all the virus victims from the last strike were shipped out to a hospital in Moscow.”

  “Good question,” Sarah replied as they approached the nearest casket. “Let’s see if we can find the answer. They look different to the ones used at HIDRA.”

  The modules were indeed bigger and bulkier with more complex data readouts than the one that housed her father, Daniel. The entire top of the casket was transparent, domed plastic, rather than having a single window. Inside the casket lay a dark-haired woman in her twenties. As with the sleepers Sarah had seen at HIDRA, the woman had sensors attached to her forehead and chest. However, this sleeper also had a metal cap placed on the top of her head. A single thick cable extended from the cap into the top of the casket. Fibre-optic wires pulsed rhythmically within the cable in time with the rise and fall of the woman’s chest as she breathed.

  “What’s that on her head?” Alex asked.

  Sarah shook her head. “I don’t know. Perhaps some kind of monitoring equipment. It looks as if Makarov has modified the original design for the casket.”

  They moved to the next one. It contained a boy of about ten and he wore a skullcap identical to the woman’s. Sarah pressed a button on the side of the casket and the lid swung up with a hydraulic hiss.

  “What are you doing?” Alex demanded, catching Sarah’s wrist as she reached inside.

  “Don’t you want to take a closer look?” she replied, pulling her hand free. “Or did we break in here just to wander around?”

  Alex sighed. “Just be careful.”

  With a nod, Sarah gingerly touched the cap on the sleeper’s head. It didn’t move, so she gripped the cable and gave it a wiggle.

  “It’s on firm,” she said. “Maybe held by some kind of suction.”

  She pulled harder and the cap came away in her hand.

  Alex leaned in. “But what’s it for—”

  Without warning, the sleeping boy’s arm shot out and grabbed his shoulder. Alex cried out in surprise as the boy’s eyes flicked open wide and stared wildly.

  he demanded.

  “It’s okay,” Alex replied, gritting his teeth as the boy’s fingers dug into his shoulder. “We’re friends.”

  The boy looked at him in confusion for another second, clearly unable to understand his words, before his eyes closed again. Alex laid his hand back down again and looked round at an equally shocked Sarah. Hastily, she replaced the cap on the boy’s head.

  “Is that normal?” Alex asked.

  Sarah shook her head. “No. The coma should be deep. If these people are victims of the fall virus, then it’s different to anything I’ve seen before. Did you understand what he said?”

  “Sounded Russian to me. Why didn’t Makarov tell us he was caring for them here?”

  “Perhaps because he isn’t caring for them,” Sarah suggested, indicating a readout on the side of the casket. “That looks like a power meter.”

  “What are you saying? That it’s draining their energy?”

>   Before Sarah could respond, there was a clang from the other side of the room and a huge set of double doors swung open. They both ducked beside the nearest casket as the main lights in the chamber flicked on full. Alex immediately began to fade out as footsteps approached. As he went invisible, he took Sarah’s hand in his. Looking round, she saw her arm go transparent, followed by the rest of her body.

  Good job you came, Sarah told him with relief.

  Just keep a hold of my hand, Alex replied. If it’s Makarov, he’ll be able to detect our thoughts even if we’re faded out.

  Sarah indeed sensed the man’s presence in the room and the power of his mind probing every corner. She threw up a psychic wall around herself and Alex, hiding them from Makarov’s thoughts just as effectively as their invisibility.

  I’m shielding us, Sarah told Alex. Let’s see what he’s up to.

  Hold on a minute, he said as she began to move after the footsteps. Perhaps we should just get out of here.

  You do what you like, Sarah replied tersely, but I’m going to get some answers. Come with me or go, just don’t get in my way.

  Shaking his head, Alex allowed her to lead him from behind the casket out into the open. Makarov walked down the central aisle that bisected the circular chamber towards a wide flight of stairs leading up to another room. A metre behind him the hulking shape of the robotic hound, Balthus, padded along.

  Moving quickly through the rows of caskets, Sarah and Alex followed Makarov as he reached the bottom of the stairs and started up. In his right hand he now held a cane that he leaned heavily upon, as if having difficulty walking. Sarah remembered how he had started to look drained towards the end of their time together that day. Now he moved like a much older man – slow and stooped as if every step was made with great effort. It wasn’t difficult to catch up.