NanoSwarm: Extermination Day Book Two

by William Turnage

  “That old Fahima is a shrewd one. So instead of trying to force the mule to her house, she just let it trundle along where it wanted to go. When it stopped right in front of her sister’s home, Fahima hopped off, ran up to the house, and found her sister there waiting up for Mahmood.”

  Jamal slapped the table, causing their plates and silverware to jump.

  “Oh, my goodness, can you image the look on their faces! And that old mule gave it all away. So now my cousin, he’s not sleeping with his wife or her sister; he’s sleeping with the poor mule!”

  Paulson’s laughter joined Jamal’s. Jamal was certainly a character and a good friend. Paulson hoped he’d survive the U.S. invasion that was coming in another year.

  He took another swig of the Jordanian whiskey that was popular in the area as Jamal finished his drink and slammed his mug to the table.

  “Speaking of wives,” he said. ”I’d better get home to mine.”

  “Otherwise she might think you’re over at her sister’s,” Paulson said.

  Jamal laughed. ”No, no, I can’t even look at another woman around my wife, she’s so jealous. I still have a mark here on my cheek where she slapped me the other day for telling her cousin that I liked her new yellow shawl. You would’ve thought I’d grabbed the girl on her ass or something.”

  Paulson had met Jamal’s wife before, a large, strong woman. He was sure she could pack a wallop. Jamal’s cheek did look a little red.

  “Just be glad she didn’t go after the family jewels.”

  “You’re telling me, Buddy,” Jamal said, smiling as he put both hands in front of himself in mock protection of his prized assets.

  Paulson paid the bill, and the two men left the restaurant, along with several other men who had been there about the same length of time.

  “Until next time, my friend,” Jamal said as he walked away. ”Greetings to your wife and family.”

  “And to yours, my friend. Fi Aman Allah.”

  As Paulson turned toward his apartment, his satellite phone rang.

  “Commander Paulson, this is Patrick Chen. We have an emergency.”

  Paulson listened as Chen explained the presence of nanobots at the Chronos site. He thought they’d been prepared with the military crew and the EM pulse cannon on site at Lechuguilla, but apparently he’d underestimated the threat.

  “Any idea where they may go, Patrick?”

  “A preliminary test on my watch leads us to believe that the material they are looking for is palladium. We’re still analyzing the chains Abe and Victoria were wearing to determine what it was that killed the bots and sent them flying away. Whatever it was, it saved our lives.”

  “And where can they find palladium?”

  “It’s a relatively rare metal, typically used in electronics and some jewelry, forming a type of white gold. You also find it in catalytic converters on most cars as an emissions control device.”

  “So the nanobots are going after cars and jewelry?” Paulson asked as he made his way down the dark, dusty street.

  “I suspect they’ll acquire some of the material as they move, but it’s our guess they are actually seeking a larger source of the element. I haven’t had time to do full testing on the nanobots we were able to destroy, but it looks like the one bot that survived down in the caverns was damaged, preventing it from reproducing normally. When these things reproduce, they make exact copies of themselves, so all the copies of the original bot also had the defect. Hence the need for a large source of palladium.”

  “So where is this source?”

  “The Stillwater Igneous Mining complex in Stillwater, Montana, along the north flank of the Beartooth Mountain Range. It’s one of the largest palladium mines in the world. If the bots get there, they’ll have more than enough raw palladium to reproduce a million—a billion—times.”

  Paulson started doing the calculations. That many bots would be impossible to stop. They'd be overwhelmed and utterly annihilated.

  “How fast are they traveling?”

  “We received a signal from Albuquerque a few minutes ago. The signal matches those of the nanobots we have on record from the data pulled from the portables from the year 2038. Albuquerque is about two hundred and eighty miles from here, which means they’re traveling at around seven hundred and fifty miles per hour. Stillwater is about eight hundred and fifty miles from Albuquerque, so they’ll be there in just over an hour.”

  Paulson thought before responding, scratching his forehead. There was no way he could scramble fighters or drones in time to catch the bots. Plus he doubted conventional weapons, like missiles, would be effective against the creatures. They were working on fitting drones with EM pulse cannons, but those were all in experimental stages and not ready to deploy.

  “What should we do?” Chen asked, concern growing in his voice.

  Paulson knew they only had one choice if they wanted to stop the nanobots. And it was a horrible one.

  “Patrick, I’m going to call the president. It’ll be his decision from here. Keep me posted when you have additional reports. And let me know immediately when you find out what killed those bots on site. If there is some new way to destroy these things, I need to know about it right away.”

  “Good luck.”

  Paulson clicked off the satellite phone and rang the doorman of his building. Kasam greeted him, as always, with a generous smile, and Paulson took the elevator to his fifth-floor apartment. Once inside he immediately turned on his laptop to have an encrypted video conference with President Bush. As the computer booted up, Claire greeted him from the corner.

  “Hello, Buddy. I’ve been monitoring the situation,” she said in her feminine, British-accented voice. “Current projections indicate the highest probability of success is with the Sky Hammer protocol,”

  “I know, Claire. It may be our only hope now.”

  Claire crawled over and positioned herself next to Paulson’s computer. When he’d received her as a package delivery in Khafji, Saudi Arabia, during Operation Desert Storm, she’d been nothing but a black box from the year 2038. She was basically a highly advanced AI built into a portable and sent back in time to 1991. Yet since that time eleven years ago, she had changed, evolved, both physically and mentally.

  Using detailed instructions from Claire, Paulson had added small arms and hands to the device. Finally able to manipulate objects on her own, Claire took to modifying her body, adding sturdy tire treads like a tank’s, multiple spider-like legs that allowed her to crawl over surfaces where she couldn’t roll, additional arms, several camera lenses that functioned as eyes, and protective body armor. She now looked like a metallic crab with wheels. Over the last few months, she’d added some scanning-type apparatuses, though Paulson wasn’t sure exactly what they did.

  Her personality had changed as well, becoming more human-like. She was built with an interactive AI designed to learn and grow over time, as well as a predictive algorithm that allowed her to analyze vast amounts of data and calculate potential outcomes. That clairvoyant function, for which Paulson had named her, made her invaluable to the success of their mission.

  “We need to know what stopped those bots at Lechuguilla,” Claire said from her perch on the desk. “I’ve sent Patrick’s team the top three probable causes so they can narrow their testing. They should have an answer within the hour.”

  “Thanks, Claire. But that may be too late.”

  “Sky Hammer is ready. We just need the president’s approval. Or I could initiate on your command.”

  Paulson looked at Claire, surprised. “No! We need approval for this. I’ve told you that before.”

  She’d begun to act too independently in recent months, and that concerned him. Claire was able to tap into any online system, and no firewall or security protocol could stop her from doing what she wanted. It was that level of power that scared him.

  Finally an image popped up on the screen. It was the secretary of defense, Donald Rumsfeld.

&n
bsp; “The president is on his way, Commander. What do you have for us?”

  “It’s happened, sir.” Paulson explained what had taken place at Lechuguilla and what options they had.

  “How could this have happened!” Rumsfeld was furious. “Why didn’t you have safeguards there at the cave? More importantly, why the hell did you decide to dig there again knowing that those things could be down there?”

  Paulson was unfazed by the Secretary’s tone. “Sir, we looked at other locations for the base, and Lechuguilla was by far the best choice. And if we had chosen to not dig there, then the nanobot would’ve eventually dug its way out on its own and there would’ve been no one there to stop it.”

  “Well, that plan didn’t go so well now, did it?” Rumsfeld glared at Paulson. “So now we’re left with Sky Hammer? Our last resort that we had not planned on using for another thirty-five years, or long after I’m dead and gone. The president is going to be furious.”

  Rumsfeld glanced away for a second. “Here he is now.”

  President George W. Bush sat beside Rumsfeld in front of the video camera.

  “Buddy, how you doing, son?” the president blurted out in his cheerful Texas drawl. “Sand fleas biting you out there in the desert?”

  “It’s definitely not like staying at the Hilton, sir.”

  Paulson knew he needed to engage the president with pleasantries before they started discussing the grave situation before them. It was crucial to warm him up before they got down to business, especially if Paulson wanted Bush to make the decision he needed him to make.

  Luckily the two men had hit it off from the start after Bush took office in January of 2001. They were both from Texas and good ole boys of a sort, so they had that in common. When Paulson, with the help of Claire, accurately predicted the September 11 terrorist plot—and stopped it—Bush was forever grateful. And Paulson knew that once Bush trusted a man and took him under his wing, he was extremely loyal. Paulson hoped he would be able to parlay that relationship into convincing the president that he needed to make a very tough decision.

  Rumsfeld brought Bush up to speed and as he talked, Paulson could see Bush’s smile and cheerful demeanor start to erode. He furrowed his brow and turned to face Paulson.

  “What kind of proof do you have at this time, Commander?”

  Shit, Bush had reverted back to calling him by his rank, never a good sign.

  “I just received word from Dr. Chen a few minutes ago. Let me bring him in on the call.”

  Paulson linked his video conference feed so Chen could join them. The scientist appeared on the screen looking tired, specks of dried blood and dirt streaked across his forehead. He told the president and secretary of defense everything he’d told Paulson just moments ago.

  “They’ll be at the Stillwater Igneous mining complex in less than an hour if they continue traveling at their present speed,” Chen said.

  “That doesn’t give us much time,” Bush said.

  “We can order NORAD to be on standby for Sky Hammer initiation,” Rumsfeld added. “They’ll only need twenty minutes or so.”

  A small message popped up on Paulson’s screen next to the video feed. Twenty-two minutes thirty seven seconds. It was from Claire.

  Bush looked up, in deep thought, and stroked his chin. “We need to be sure of these nanobots’ destination and make sure we get all of them this time. It’s like putting out bait for cockroaches; this palladium mine is the bait and it’s where we need to trap ’em, and squash the damn things.”

  Ninety-four percent probability that Stillwater is the likely destination, chimed in Claire’s instant message.

  “Sir, if we wait, we run the risk of an exponential increase in the nanobots,” Buddy said gravely. “Then we’ll have no chance of stopping them.”

  “Sky Hammer is too big a risk to take without being one hundred percent sure,” Bush said firmly.

  “I’m sorry, gentlemen, but what is Sky Hammer?” Chen asked.

  “It’s classified, Doctor,” Rumsfeld replied. “But if we do decide to initiate it, you’ll know soon enough.”

  “What do you need to move forward, Mr. President?” Paulson asked.

  Bush thought for a moment, looking unsure, then firmly he said, “I need to see satellite imagery or eyes-on-the-ground video of these nanobots at the Stillwater mine. When I see that, then I’ll give the go-ahead for Sky Hammer.”

  Another instant message popped up from Claire. Time from visual confirmation to initiation, twenty-four minutes, fifty-two seconds. Extrapolating nanobot growth rate, flight speed, and Sky Hammer effective radius shows that two point one seven percent of the nanobot swarm will escape. Ninety-seven percent certainty.

  Ninety-seven percent was about as high as any of Claire’s predictions got. If just one of the bots escaped, then they would be right back where they started.

  “That may not be enough time, Mr. President.” Paulson said.

  “Those are my orders, Commander,” Bush said, staring into the camera.

  “You heard the president,” Rumsfeld said. “For now we wait to get visual confirmation. Dr. Chen, alert us if you find out anything new on how to stop these damn things. I’m going to put NORAD on standby for Sky Hammer initiation. We have a satellite positioned to give us a good view of the Stillwater mine, and I’m going to order an unmanned drone surveillance plane to the site.”

  “So we’re just going to wait,” Paulson said, a hint of desperation creeping into his voice.

  Let me take control, Claire IM’ed.

  “Buddy, I know how you feel about this," said the president, "But I need to weigh the pros and cons of every decision I make. In the past I’ve had to make life and death decisions without full information, but this is vastly different. We’re dealing with too many unknowns. And I feel we need to be cautious. Wait by your computer; we’ll be in touch.”

  The video flashed off and the faces of Bush, Rumsfeld, and Chen disappeared.

  Paulson glanced over at Claire, now hovering on her spider-like legs just beside his hand near the computer keyboard.

  “No, Claire. We need to wait for the president.”

  “Then all may be lost,” she said.

  Paulson stretched back in his chair, deep in thought,

  Wood creaked behind him.

  “Watch out, Buddy!” Claire yelled.

  But it was too late. Paulson felt the cold steel of the knife at his neck. He’d been too distracted by the video call and the threat of the nanobots to realize that an assassin had snuck into his apartment.

  He felt the man’s breath on the back of his neck and smelled his sweaty arm as the blade began to move, drawing a trickle of blood as it dug into his flesh.

  Chapter 5

  11:00 a.m., July 25, 2002

  On a Trail near Machu Picchu, Peru

  Holly Scarborough wiped the sweat from her forehead as the sun beat down on her. She adjusted her heavy backpack for the hundredth time and continued her slow, methodical walk along the narrow rocky trail. Her guide, Jose, was leading the way to a remote scientific outpost. Despite several days in the Peruvian Andes, she still had trouble breathing due to the extreme elevation. And she was again wondering what the hell she was doing out there.

  She’d received a mysterious call several days ago from a Professor Niles Gustavson of the University of Geneva in Switzerland. He told her he was calling from an archeological dig near Machu Picchu, Peru, and he needed her to come down immediately. As she struggled to catch her breath, Holly thought back to their conversation.

  “Professor Gustavson, I have responsibilities here. I can’t just take off and fly to South America. Can you just tell me what you found?”

  Holly was sitting in her office at Harvard, wondering why she was talking to some professor on a dig in Peru.

  “Holly, I know this is going to sound very strange,” he said in a thick Swiss accent, “but what I’ve found here is something I can’t explain over the phone. It’s . . . i
t’s complicated. And quite honestly, I don’t think you’d believe me. You really need to see it for yourself. My university can pick up the cost of your ticket, and the sooner you get down here, the better,”

  “Listen, you’ve certainly got my interest, but you need to give me a little more information. My field is theoretical physics, and I know very little about archaeology. And I really can’t break away to go on some wild goose chase without any idea about what I’m getting myself into.”

  Holly had grown skeptical and cautious as she’d gotten older and more experienced. The call could even be some kind of prank. What Niles said next, though, shook her to her core.

  “Very well. Does the date January 15, 2038, have any meaning to you?”

  “What do you know about that day?” Holly whispered, concealing any hint of emotion or knowledge she had about Extermination Day, or E-Day, as they’d been calling it.

  “Well, as most people know, the Mayans had a calendar purporting that the end of the world will happen on December 21, 2012. What most people don’t know is that the Inca also had a calendar. And I’ve just been able to decipher when that calendar runs out— January 15, 2038.”

  “That’s all very interesting, Professor Gustavson, but what does that have to do with me?” Holly said, still pretending to know nothing about the date.

  “That, Dr. Scarborough, is something I’ve been asking myself for the last two days. And that is why I need you to come here and look at what I’ve found. Perhaps this last item is something that will spur your interest and get you properly motivated. I’m sending you a picture of a four-hundred-year-old drawing that we found on the inside of an Incan temple. Keep in mind that no one other than me and my dig team have been inside this temple in hundreds of years.”

  Holly clicked on the email, and a picture popped up on the screen. It was a highly complex physics equation solving the stabilization of a singularity. It was the root of the calculations they used to create the vortex that enabled time travel. It had been etched in her memory, just like E=MC2 was for most students around the world, although in her original timeline it was not discovered by Dr. Patrick Chen until the year 2023.