They approached a door, and Sif watched as Johansson produced an entry card, which he held up to a reader on the wall. After a green light came on, Sif heard a click as the lock released.
“In here, please.”
Sif and Hunter followed him into a containment area, with another door down a short hallway. The lens of a security camera stared at them as they approached the second door. The captain looked up at the camera and said, “This is Johansson. Three to come in.”
The door lock released, and it swung open.
Sif saw this portion of the facility was much smaller—a series of rooms connected to a short hallway. There was no guard inside, so apparently entry was controlled from somewhere else. They were met by a woman in white hospital scrubs.
“Lieutenant Colonel Webb, Commander Wagner, I’m Nurse Trish Hammond.”
“Miss Hammond. Nice to meet you,” Hunter replied.
“Call me Trish, please. I understand we have some patients here that you’re anxious to see?”
“Yes,” Sif replied. “Two females, two males.”
Sif watched the nurse glance down at her clipboard. “Litsa, Talia, Conrad, and Geller. Correct?”
“That’s correct.”
“As I’m sure you’ve been told by now, each of the indigenous people we bring here has to go through a quarantine process before we relocate. During that time, we treat them for any diseases they may be carrying or any physical ailments they may have.” She set her clipboard down and grabbed a handful of surgical masks. “We’ll need to wear these, just as a precaution. One of the side effects of the treatment is a reduction of the ability of their immune systems to fight off an infection. Their treatment is almost complete, but we don’t want to take any chances. These are for their protection, not yours.”
Sif slipped her mask on, as did Hunter, the nurse, and Johansson.
“They’re right in here,” the nurse said. “We’ve got the lights dimmed because their eyes are so sensitive. Also, they’re still sedated, as the treatment can be a little rough on them. We find it’s easier this way.”
The nurse opened the door, and they all entered.
Sif was immediately struck by how small and helpless Litsa looked. She had an IV line in her arm—as did the others—and an oxygen mask covering her mouth.
Hunter stepped to the side of the bed first, knelt down, and laid his hand on Litsa’s arm. “Litsa? Can you hear me? It’s Hunter. Sif is here with me.”
Her eyes were barely open, but when Litsa looked at Hunter, Sif caught a glint of recognition.
“I’m here, too, Litsa.” Sif put her hand on Litsa’s other arm, gave it a squeeze. “You’re going to be up and out of here before you know it.”
“The others are more deeply sedated than this one,” the nurse said. “I understand you took a bullet out of the younger girl’s leg.”
Sif nodded. “Yes. One of yours.” She saw the nurse frown for a second, then it was gone.
“An unfortunate accident. As I’ve been told.”
“Yes, I’ve been told that, as well,” Sif said coldly.
“You did a superb job. Probably saved her life.”
“Thank you. And we did save her life. How much longer are they going to be kept here?”
“Based on their progress to date, I believe they’ll be back on their feet in another week or so.”
“And after that?” Hunter asked, still staring into Litsa’s sleepy eyes.
“I assume they’ll be . . .” The nurse paused, glancing quickly at Johansson as if looking for guidance.
“They’ll join their other people as part of the relocation process,” Johansson replied. A little too quickly, Sif thought.
The vibes she first felt in the mess hall at Ellsworth were back and stronger than ever. Litsa and the others were alive, but these people were hiding something.
Sif walked over to Talia, who was still sleeping. The IV bag hanging by her bed was labeled “Midazolam HCL”—which she assumed was a sedative, but she would have to ask Lucas about it later. The same bags, she saw, were over each of the beds. It was good to know they were all alive, but she had seen enough. “Captain, I think we’re ready to continue on to Level Four now.”
“Yes, ma’am. This way please.”
Sif stepped behind Hunter and placed her hand on his shoulder. “She’s going to be okay, Hunter. Let’s go.”
Chapter 48
Sif found Level Four much like she expected, seeing that Jacques described it as the industrial part of the complex. It included a series of spoked tunnels extending from a central hub, just like Level Two, except each tunnel was dedicated to a specific purpose, such as manufacturing, power generation, and air handling. This was the guts of the facility, where the Phoenix Complex was given life. It smelled of oil, fuel, and machine exhaust, like an auto garage on a hot day.
“The people selected to work on this level work on a three-shift rotation,” Johansson explained. “Twenty-four hours a day, seven days a week.”
“Selected by aptitude tests, I assume,” Sif commented.
“Correct, ma’am.”
“And this is their life, then?”
“Everyone has a function to perform, Commander. Every person contributes in their own way, based on their abilities.”
“‘From each according to his ability, to each according to his needs,’” Sif said. “Karl Marx, 1875. He stole the phrase from a Frenchman, but I guess that’s not really important now, is it.”
She could see Johansson had no idea what she was talking about.
“Never mind. I tend to ramble now and then.”
“Yes, ma’am.”
“Your research labs are on this level also, correct?” Hunter asked.
“Yes, sir. As a matter of fact, that’s the area we’re scheduled to go to next. Far tunnel, to the right, just past the air handlers.” As they walked, the captain added, “I heard while you were on the outside you had a run-in with the Riy.”
“That’s right,” Sif said. The very thought of the horrific creatures sent a shiver down her spine.
“You’re going to get to see one up close.”
Sif stopped in her tracks. “We’re going to do what?”
Johansson laughed. “It’s completely safe. We captured a hive a few years back—one of the small ones—and brought it here to study. We’ve learned quite a bit about the Riy since then.”
A hive. She and Hunter had seen the drones and the jumpers, but not a hive. “As long as it’s behind five-inch glass, I guess I’m game.”
“Believe me,” Johansson said, “if it wasn’t, I wouldn’t go near it, either.”
The containment unit itself was at the end of the laboratory corridor, and like the quarantine unit on Level Two was sealed behind a remotely controlled security door. There was no card reader this time, Sif noticed, just a camera and a cipher lock.
“Johansson here. Three to enter.”
The lock released, and the three of them stepped inside.
It was a relatively small space, filled with scientific instruments Sif couldn’t identify. Two men approached, clad in white lab coats.
“This is Dr. Granby and Dr. Williams,” Johansson said, introducing the two.
They were both older men, probably in their late sixties as far as Sif could tell.
“Commander Wagner and Lieutenant Colonel Webb, so very pleased to finally meet you,” Williams said. “The director wanted to be here to greet you personally, but he’s somewhat preoccupied at the moment. He’ll be here shortly.”
“Doctors,” Hunter said. “Nice to meet you, too.” His gaze, like Sif’s, was fixed to the far wall, where a large plate of glass revealed a room beyond. It was dark, but the shadows within seemed to move, to pulse with a regular rhythm.
The hive was behind that glass.
“I see you’ve noticed our specimens,” Granby said. “Please, come closer and take a look.”
Together, they stepped toward the glass. S
if could tell it was thick—maybe three or four inches, judging by the depth of the frame surrounding it. “Plexiglas?”
“Correct. More than strong enough to keep the specimens inside.” Williams turned a knob at the edge of the viewing window, and the light level increased inside the chamber.
Sif jumped back, startled. “Jesus Christ.”
A drone—just as horrible as she recalled—stood just inches away from her on the other side of the Plexiglas, its body black and contorted, patches of bone visible through the tar-like mass. There were five of them, lined up near the glass, and behind them, nearly filling the containment chamber, was the hive.
Her own encounter with a drone was at night, so she never got a really good look at it. But now, in the light, never in her worst nightmares could she have imagined something so ugly.
“It’s moving,” Hunter remarked.
The hive’s surface seemed to undulate slowly, pulsing, stretching. “Doctor,” Sif said, “these things are active in the light, correct? Is that why you keep it so dark in there?”
“The overheads are designed to simulate sunlight, Commander,” Williams said. “Watch what happens when we bring the lights up.”
Before Sif could say, No, that’s okay, we don’t need to see it wake up, Williams turned the knob all the way clockwise.
The room was bathed in a bright, white light, and the reaction was almost immediate.
The drones stretched their arms high, lurched forward, and slammed against the Plexiglas, dull thuds resonating in the small lab.
Sif and Hunter both took a few steps back.
Behind the drones, the hive pulsed, its surface rippling with motion.
“Good God, it’s trying to get out,” Hunter said.
Dr. Williams turned the knob counterclockwise, and the room returned to darkness. Slowly, the thuds faded as the drones resumed their previous postures, the short burst of energy from the overhead lights now spent.
“As you said, Commander, they are active in the light. Quite a thing to see, don’t you agree?”
Sif most definitely did not. “How the heck did you get this thing down here?” she asked. From the size of it, there was no way they could have brought it down on one of the elevators they had ridden in.
“It’s much bigger now than when we first acquired it,” Granby said. “It’s grown quite a bit.”
Sif studied the frame surrounding the Plexiglas and noticed it was hinged at the top, with a set of locks at the bottom. “And this is strong enough to keep it inside?”
“Very much so, Commander. There’s no way it can escape.”
Sif was startled by a voice from behind her.
“Dr. Granby is correct. We’re completely safe.”
“Ah, the director has joined us,” Granby said.
Sif turned and saw an older man, also clad in a white lab coat, who stepped forward and held out his hand.
“Lieutenant Colonel Webb and Commander Wagner, I presume,” the man said. “Welcome to the Phoenix labs. I’m Dr. Mattis. Johannes Mattis.”
As Sif reached to take his hand, she felt the same odd sensation she experienced when first meeting President Carlisle: Dr. Mattis looked familiar.
But she didn’t have time to consider it.
The pressure wave traveled down the laboratory corridor and through the lab’s open door before the sound of the blast reached them. The concussion knocked Sif to the floor, her breath torn from her lungs.
In the second before she passed out, Sif recalled a Marine friend telling her that being close to a bomb blast felt like stepping off a curb and getting hit by a Greyhound bus.
He was right.
PART IV: DESCENT
Chapter 49
Sif smelled smoke. Muffled sounds—screams, the wail of an alarm—penetrated her numbed senses. She struggled to open her eyes. She propped herself up and checked to make sure everything was where it was supposed to be. Two legs, check. Two arms, check.
The lab didn’t seem damaged, but it was full of dust and smoke. She could see others on the floor beside her—wearing white lab coats—and they were moving, apparently just knocked down by the concussion as she was. She whipped her head around, searching for Hunter, and spotted him. He was already on his feet, heading her way.
Hunter knelt beside her. She could tell he was speaking, but she still couldn’t hear him clearly.
“Sif,” Hunter yelled. “Are you okay?”
She nodded, reading his lips.
He grabbed her under the arms and pulled her to her feet.
Captain Johansson appeared beside them and gestured for them to follow.
Sif turned and looked at the containment unit. Behind the Plexiglas, illuminated by a set of emergency lights that snapped on, she could see the drones, standing near the glass, oblivious to what had just happened. Behind them, the hive sat silently, its surface rippling ever so slightly in response to the glow from the emergency lights.
More importantly, the Plexiglas looked intact. The specimens were still safe and sound. Thank God.
“What the hell happened?” she heard Hunter yell at Johansson.
“I don’t know yet. Just follow me.”
They made their way out of the lab tunnel and ran headlong into a chaotic scene. There was a blast, all right, and people were injured. Sif saw bodies lying on the floor—some were moving, crawling, and others looked like they would never move again. The scene was littered with debris, some of it human.
The alarm grew louder, and Sif could see security personnel filling the center space—they had their weapons drawn and were waving them from side to side, looking for . . . targets? Sif realized the response she was witnessing didn’t imply mechanical failure or accidental explosion.
It implied bombing.
Someone just kicked the anthill, and the ants were pissed.
Fuller felt the complex shudder and looked up at the clock. A few minutes later than planned, but still, they had done it. He quickly put on a mask of surprise and jumped to his feet.
“Security response alpha, Level Four. Security response alpha, Level Four. All available personnel respond” blared from the overhead speakers.
Alpha meant they already knew who it was. It also meant that he would be able to see what they had accomplished. Up close.
“All right, grab your weapons,” his sergeant bellowed. “Let’s move.”
He was raised to do this job since he was a child—not by choice, but it was his lot in life for as long as he could remember.
He remembered other times, though, with other people.
On the outside.
They trained him well, and that was their first mistake. Their second was telling him of the astronauts and their ship in orbit. The moment he saw the two people from the past enter the facility, he knew the time to act was finally at hand.
This was the trigger that would hopefully ensure their cooperation, and he would seek them out soon.
Fuller grabbed his rifle and ran toward the emergency tunnel, which would take him and the rest of the response team to Level Four.
He slipped on his breather and helmet and, behind the visor, risked a smile.
Sif moved toward an injured man, but Johansson grabbed her arm. She spun at him and saw he was holding his other hand up to his ear, receiving instructions again. “You have to come with me, Commander.”
Sif yanked her arm away and glared at him. “Tell your fucking bosses there are injured people down here.” He lurched for her, but she jumped away from his grasp.
“Back off, Captain,” she heard Hunter yell. “She’s going to help. And so am I.”
Ignoring Johansson, Sif ran toward the injured man, and as she got closer, she wished she hadn’t.
He was too near the blast. His legs were gone. One was missing below the knee, and the other was torn away midthigh. His clothes were shredded, bloody, and every inch of exposed skin was burned, bleeding, and pocked with shrapnel.
He was right n
ext to the damn thing, Sif figured, and he wasn’t going to make it. She knelt down and looked into his face, trying to keep her eyes off the rest of his torn and mangled body. His eyes were wide, and he was gasping for breath, but he was smiling.
Sif grabbed his hand. “It’s all right,” she said. “You’re going to be okay.” She needed to give the man some sort of comfort before he slipped away.
Behind her, fire crews were spraying retardant on the flames, and she felt the heat subside.
The man looked at her. Blood trickled from his mouth as he tried to speak. Sif leaned close, put her ear close to his mouth. She could hear the rattle, the clanking of death’s chains as the end approached. She had heard it before, on a battlefield far away in a time since passed, but it was a sound one never forgets.
“Astr . . . astronaut . . .”
Sif nodded at him. He knew who she was.
“The—the—”
“Go ahead, I’m right here,” Sif said softly. “I’m listening.” She squeezed his hand. It was cold.
“The old ones, they have—have—no—”
Sif leaned closer. Her ear was nearly pressed to the man’s lips. And then with his dying breath, he spoke his last word.
“. . . souls . . .”
Hunter appeared beside them, and he put his hand on Sif’s shoulder. “He’s gone, Sif. Come on, there are others over here.”
Sif rose, shaken by what the man said.
She and Hunter helped some of the other injured people to their feet and dragged those who were badly wounded away from the scene of the blast. There was commotion all around, security people running, shouting orders, and through it all, Sif heard one of them speaking into his collar mic. “Yes, sir. Level Five is secure. No breach.”
Level Five? Sif wondered. She turned toward Hunter, but caught Johansson’s gaze instead. He was standing nearby, staring at them. “Are you going to help, or just stand there?” Sif yelled.
“You need to come with me now, Commander. It’s not safe here.”
“Ya think, Einstein?”
Then it dawned on her. Most of the people, like Johansson, weren’t doing anything. Those who weren’t hurt seemed almost oblivious to the cries of the wounded. There were medical people on scene, walking among the injured and spending a few seconds with each, then moving on, triaging, seeing who they should help first. Problem was, they were ignoring those who seemed to be in need of the most immediate care.
The Phoenix Descent Page 23
