“Huh,” she said.
* * *
Nicole and the XO walked on deck. The steady crash of the ship’s break kept their voices from traveling far.
“Here’s what I’ve figured out. A 27.3 kilohertz signal tells them to combine into units of two and do rapid cell repairs. At 38.1 kilohertz, they assemble into one long strand.”
“What’s the purpose?”
“I don’t know. Best guess, to carry an electrical signal. They’d essentially be a net of microscopic wires, connected throughout the body. A secondary nervous system.”
“A way to carry alternative signals? Perhaps to have the body do something the brain wasn’t telling it to do?”
“It’s possible. Not sure how... yeah. It’s possible. I mean, they’re essentially tiny connections of switches. Connected like that, they could combine their functions into... a computer.”
“Well, we know they can act autonomously. And, now you’ve seen them act in groups.”
“If they can arrange themselves in the right way, they could run sequences, achieve consensus, and send commands throughout the body, overriding the brain’s signals by disconnecting the major nerves and inserting their own connections.”
She leaned against the railing and looked at the moon, bright even in daylight.
“I mean, this involves several leaps – I haven’t seen them do anything other than assemble and fix broken blood cells in a test tube – but yeah, it’s possible. It’s a framework.”
The Commander took a deep breath and looked across the sea. A massive metallic sphere, perhaps two miles away, descended. It was perfectly reflective, like the chrome pinballs the Commander remembered playing with in his grandfather’s rec room when he was a boy.
“I don’t think we have time to run every possible option and double-blind test everything.”
“No,” said Nicole. “I don’t think we do.”
* * *
The klaxon bell pulsed five times, repeating every five seconds.
“What’s that?” said Sophie.
“General Quarters,” said Phoebe. Everyone looked at her. “Am I the only one who read the contractor’s manual?”
“What does it mean?” She had to wait five seconds to hear the reply.
“Could be anything. At GQ, we’re locked in here, and all the sailors go to their stations.”
“But it’s probably not good,” said Kurt.
“When are alarms ever good?” she said.
The klaxon bell stopped, and the Commander spoke over the intercom.
“This is the XO. At 14:22 hours, a large artificial object was seen performing a controlled descent into the Atlantic Ocean two nautical miles off our starboard bow. Communications with the USS Freedom and the USS Independence have confirmed identical sightings on the East and West Coasts. We do not know the purpose or capabilities of these objects, and until further notice we will remain at General Quarters. I will keep you apprised. Bozek out.”
Three identical spheres had descended, each 1,000 feet in diameter with a mirrored surface: one in the Gulf of Mexico near New Orleans, one in the Pacific near San Francisco, and one in the Atlantic near Virginia Beach.
Four minutes later, an antenna rose from each, rising straight up 100 feet.
Nicole pointed to Kurt and Sophie and told them to double-time it.
They stopped at the brig. There were only two cells, one already shut and lined from the inside with aluminum foil. The cell doors were made of horizontal and vertical steel bands, forming open squares about four by four inches. They could hear people in the other cell taping the corners of the foil sheets firmly to the bands.
“Get in, now!” Kurt and Sophie climbed in the open cell, and Nicole followed. Inside was a blue canvas bag with a USS Fort Worth patch. Nicole unzipped it and started handing out aluminum foil, tape, and a knife. She cursed. “I only have one knife.”
Sophie said, “I have one.”
“How’d you get that past – never mind. Cover the door.”
Kurt pulled long sheets of foil, and Sophie taped them in place, except where she needed Kurt’s height. They checked the edges, applied a few more pieces of tape, and sighed.
When they turned around, Nicole cycled her Beretta.
“Sorry. I need you to sit down, please.”
Kurt held his hands up. “I’d rather stand if I’m going to get shot.”
“It may not come to that. Please, don’t test me right now. Just sit.”
Kurt considered it for a second. Nicole was four feet away, a step and a half. Too far. She was also fit and focused. He slowly sat down next to Sophie.
A metallic crackle filled the air. Sophie noticed her arm hair standing on end, and there was a cacophony of popping sounds across the ship. Then, the light in their cell burned out.
“Don’t do anything stupid,” Nicole said in the darkness. “I need you to answer a question for me.” She placed her palm against the wall behind her, to steady her balance and give her a sense of space. “Kurt! Can you answer a question for me?”
“Yes,” he said.
“Who’s the greatest living drummer?”
“What?”
She cursed. “Don’t mess with me, Kurt. Answer the question. Now.”
“Neil Peart, the drummer for Rush.”
“Sophie, can you answer a question for me, too?”
She said yes.
“Who is your favorite anime character?”
“Kuroshitsuji. Black Butler.”
Nicole sighed. “OK. Tear the foil off.”
They felt their way to the door and tugged the foil off. A sputtering bluish-white bulb down the hallway was the only light. Nicole still held her pistol pointed at Kurt and Sophie. After her eyes adjusted, she shifted her gaze down, safetied her weapon, and holstered it.
“I had to ask you an opinion. A robot can answer facts. You’re from Texas, so you know how to shoot, right?”
Kurt and Sophie both nodded.
She reached inside the bag and handed them each a Beretta. “They’re not chambered, but they are loaded,” she said. Sophie looked to her dad, and followed his example, cycling a round in and keeping the safety up.
“This won’t kick as much as the .40,” he said to Sophie. “It’ll be a good gun for you.”
Nicole said, “Commander?”
From the cell next to them, they heard nothing.
“Bozek?”
The cell door creaked open.
Nicole motioned to Kurt and Sophie to switch places with her. She pressed forward, looking out of the cell with only her left eye. She saw the XO and the Captain stepping out of the cell, guns in hand, looking right, then left. Before they saw her, she pulled her head back.
“Bokoku tsingcha?” the XO said to the Captain.
“Nulu,” he said back.
Nicole squatted, leading with her pistol, and leaned out again.
“Commander?”
The XO turned, looked down at her, and pulled the trigger. Nothing happened.
“Suka manak!” he cursed. The Captain pointed to the safety switch, and the XO sighed. Four rounds went off like camera flashes, dropping the XO, then the Captain, two shots each, center mass. As they gurgled, Nicole stepped out and put one round into each of their heads. The echoes in the small metallic chamber were deafening.
She could see a tear along the middle of their door, parallel to a metal band, where the foil had not sealed.
Kurt and Sophie looked on in shock. “They’ve been activated,” she said. “They didn’t seal the room, and the signal got through.”
“I had this hypothesis, and didn’t have time to prove it, but I guess that doesn’t matter now. We’re all infected with nanites, microscopic machines in our blood that can do good things, like heal the body, even after death, or bad things, like replace the central nervous system. When Sophie gave her sister the walkie talkie, and she had the presence of mind to key the mic, that transmission tricked her nanites i
nto some kind of seek-and-heal mode. There must have been some on the surface of her skin, which she transferred to you, and which gave your nanites the new commands. Since you shared enough DNA not to be rejected, your networks of nanites accepted the new commands.”
“And my eyes?” Sophie said.
“I had to check this twice to believe it. You have some mountain lion DNA. Your nanites got confused when you were exposed. All endangered species have their DNA catalogued, and that’s what the tests showed me. Now, how’d that happen?”
“We were attacked by a mountain lion in Dallas,” Kurt said, “when we set out. Bane – our friend who died during our journey – shot it with a crossbow, and Sophie finished it with a spear.”
“OK... but did you drink its blood or something?”
“What? No,” Sophie said. “When I finished her, she swiped my knee, and I had to get stitches.”
Nicole shook her head. “I would think this would require direct contact with live blood cells, not just contact with the animal. This isn’t viral like rabies. Was its paw bloody?”
Sophie thought about it. “No,” she said.
“Oh!” said Kurt. “When I – I had to make sure she was dead, because Sophie was hurt and couldn’t walk, and I needed to go get the med kit. So, I slit the mountain lion’s throat, and some blood spurted onto my shirt, which I tore and used to bandage Sophie’s knee. I just – I didn’t think about it. I mean, I knew it wasn’t perfectly sanitary, but I was worried about her losing blood, and everything we had on was sweaty and dirty. I’m sorry, sweetie.”
“Sorry? This is awesome!”
Kurt smiled nervously and turned to Nicole. “She’s not going to get cancer, is she?”
“As long as the nanites function, no. If they’re deactivated, I don’t know what will happen. It’s just too complex for me to guess. I would imagine some form of autoimmune disease would kick in, like lupus, but worse, not just in the joints. But, that’s just a guess.”
“You’re a good guesser.”
Sophie wasn’t listening. She was just smiling and mouthing the words, “mountain lion.”
They heard voices down the hallway.
“We have to assume everyone aboard has been activated. The XO tried to shoot me, but he didn’t know about the safety. That tells me they’re completely controlled, not sharing knowledge and being influenced. Our people are not people anymore. They’re drones for whatever is in that ship.”
She ejected the clips on the Captain and XO’s pistols and pocketed them.
“We can’t shoot everyone on this ship. We need to get to the away boat.”
“And go where?” said Kurt.
“I don’t know, but if we stay here, they’ll kill us eventually.”
Sophie said, “Couldn’t we pretend to be one of them?”
Nicole smiled. “That’s clever. But we don’t speak their language. Did you hear what the XO said? I know Tagalog, Spanish, Japanese, and Arabic, and I’ve never heard a language like that.”
“Oh,” Sophie said, looking down.
“No, it’s a good idea – keep coming up with them, please. It just won’t work this time.”
Sophie brightened.
“OK, we need to go past the contractors’ quarters to get to the away boat. If we get separated, go to the stern and hide until you hear English. OK?”
They nodded.
“One more thing. The safety can be turned off with your thumb, here. Click down, red dot, ready to fire. Keep it safe until you need it. Don’t engage unless you have to. If we can sneak all the way down, great. But I doubt it’s going to go that smoothly.”
“Keep your pistols pointed to the ceiling until you’re ready to fire. I don’t want anyone getting shot in the back because the person behind them freaked out.”
Sophie raised her hand.
“Yes?”
“How many shots?”
“Two center mass is good.”
“No, I mean, how many shots do I have?”
“Oh! Very smart. I should have thought of that,” she said, touching her shoulder. “You have fifteen rounds each. I’m keeping the two extra clips, because I’m the only one here qualified on this weapon, and I don’t want you getting into a firefight. I want you to defend yourself and keep moving. If there’s a need for heavy fire, I’ll do it. Got it?”
“Got it,” they said together.
They stepped out of the hallway, Nicole, then Kurt, then Sophie, pistols high, rolling their steps along the edges of their feet.
Chapter 15: Stay
The vessels submerged near California and Virginia also raised their antennae, and the three tall wires turned the nearby coasts into Hell.
A thousand people each in New Orleans, San Francisco, and Virginia Beach suddenly coordinated themselves expertly, making AMFO bombs as Kurt and Sophie had, or simply setting fires or throwing rocks en masse, destroying factories, power plants, crops, water reserves, and shelters. When someone was injured or exhausted, he’d say “Jaka na,” and the person nearest would slit his throat, twist his neck, or kick and stomp until he quit moving. Then, another Angel nearby would wake up, and resume the work where the recently destroyed had left off.
When killed this time, they did not come back.
A thousand people, unopposed, with no regard for safety, working non-stop and with instant reinforcements, can destroy a typical American city in a day. For the bigger cities, like Houston, it takes three days. No bullets needed. Just some basic chemicals, fire, and rocks. Tools and weapons make some of it go more smoothly, but not significantly so. When it was hard to break through a door, a man would break his body smashing it down, say “Jaka na,” and be killed. A moment later, a nearby Angel would kick the door in and proceed.
The few drones which were used more than a couple of days started to lose their hair, grow pale, and walk awkwardly. “Jaka na,” they said when they couldn’t stumble further, and wait for their throats to be slit.
* * *
Nicole looked down the hallway. They had to get to the starboard stern of the ship, lower deck, and take the away boat without being caught. They couldn’t shoot everyone on board, even if they had that many bullets, and she wasn’t sure how quickly these new hosts could figure out how to operate the ship’s weapons. Even if they got to the away boat without a sound, if the invaders were smart, they could turn the twin 30 mm Bushmaster chain guns on them and turn them to chum before they’d gotten 100 yards from the ship.
Staying didn’t feel good. Leaving didn’t feel good.
She glanced down the hallway, pulled back. Four sailors were coming their way. She held up four fingers and pointed, then gestured to herself as if to say me first.
Kurt and Sophie nodded, and all three backed up 10 feet into the hallway.
As the first two sailors turned the corner, one pointed and yelled, “Nok!” Nicole was on one knee, holding her Beretta in a Weaver grip, left hand supporting. She shot out the first two sailor’s shins with half a dozen rounds.
The two sailors behind them charged. Nicole didn’t adjust in time, but Kurt and Sophie stood and fired over her, sending half a dozen rounds, two hitting each of them. They slid to a stop at her knee, breathing awkwardly, then expired. Nicole checked them – they were unarmed. She cursed. “That was 12 rounds for four guys. We won’t get far this way.”
“Doesn’t this ship have an armory?”
“Yes. I have to assume they have it now, though. We can’t kill 72 people by ourselves, even if we had the ammo. You saw how they charged. These bodies are disposable to them.”
“Can they communicate?” said Sophie. “I mean, without talking. You know, can they share thoughts?”
Nicole cursed. “God, I hope not.” She glanced back down the hallway while putting a fresh clip into her gun. She handed her half-depleted clip to Kurt, who put three rounds into his gun, and three into Sophie’s. They had nine rounds each.
“I don’t hear a gang running to instantl
y back them up. I’m going to say that’s a no,” said Nicole.
They heard voices. Nicole waved them ahead to the next corner. They had to move; the risk of sitting still and getting cornered in the brig was worse than walking into a new fight in relatively open terrain.
“Nok chuna!” said a sailor, pointing at Nicole. She looked into his eyes, and saw something familiar – a look of disdain. Even two people who are disgusted by the same thing will not respond exactly the same way. Something told her this is the same person. The same controller. He just has a new drone.
She pulled back and held her hand up, fingers wide, telling Kurt and Sophie to spread out.
Sophie slid into an open side door and set her gun on the counter. Nicole couldn’t see it, but Kurt could, and it scared him. What are you doing? He mouthed the words, but she was gone, with the gun in plain sight.
Then, Kurt understood. He motioned to Nicole, and drew her back into the opposite doorway, closing it to just half an inch wide behind them as the aware sailor turned the corner.
The drone looked right, then left, noticing the open door. He let the fire ax handle slide down his grip, and brought his other hand to hold it over his shoulder, ready to strike.
Oh no, Kurt thought.
The sailor saw Sophie’s gun on the table and released his left hand from the ax, resting it on his right shoulder with his right hand. As he reached out for the Beretta, Sophie leapt from his right, holding the axe handle flat against his collarbone with her free hand, and driving the Gerber blade straight into the side of his neck. He spasmed, opened his mouth, but only spat blood, then collapsed on the floor. Sophie didn’t let the ax hit the ground, but held it in the middle of its handle, where she’d pressed it down to keep him from swinging it.
When she looked to her father, now squatting with the opposite door open, Beretta drawn, her pupils were as wide as dimes.
Kurt shook his head. “For a second, I thought you were going to eat him.”
“If I could, I would,” she said. “Joking! Sheesh.” She wiped her blade on his shirt, tucked the pistol and knife into her pants, and then felt for the best grip on the fire ax.
300 Miles to Galveston Page 11
