A few seconds later, a woman appeared. Smartly dressed, slim, with brown hair tied back in a bun. She had a hard face and clutched at a tablet with claw-like hands. She was a secretary of some kind, wearing a skirt and blazer.
‘The president will see you now,’ she said abruptly, typing things into her pad.
Gertlinger nodded and stood, following her into the Oval Office.
As they walked in, the dozen or so people inside all stopped what they were doing and looked up. There were seven people crowded around a large digital table surface that displayed a map of the United States. There were red pins and circles drawn all over it, with lines intersecting and joining them. Out of the seven people around the table, Gertlinger recognised three instantly. The first was McPherson. He nodded gravely to Gertlinger as he entered. The next two he recognised were the president himself, and the vice president. The other four he couldn’t identify.
The rest of the people in the room, just technicians and analysts, continued what they were doing without hesitance as Gertlinger was introduced.
‘Mr President,’ the secretary who led Gertlinger in began. ‘Doctor Florian Gertlinger.’ She nodded to the group and backed away quickly.
‘Ah, Doctor, good of you to join us,’ the president said with a politician’s smile. ‘Although you are a little later than we were expecting.’
‘Your security screening process is very… thorough.’ Gertlinger smiled back.
The president laughed disarmingly, perhaps a little annoyed by the delay, but eager to press on nonetheless. ‘Yes, quite. Anyway, we’ve been hard at work here and we’re all ready to hear what you have to say. Please.’ The President motioned to the table and Gertlinger approached.
‘Let me introduce my Vice President, the Secretary of Defence, the Secretary of Homeland Security, the Director of National Intelligence, and the Chairman of the Joint Chiefs of Staff.’
The five men and women nodded in turn as they were introduced. ‘And you already know Mr McPherson of course.’
‘Of course.’ Gertlinger nodded politely.
‘We’re doing our best to track these monsters of yours, but it’s proving difficult.’
‘I’m sure it is,’ Gertlinger said with a sigh, hateful of the idea that they were his at all.
‘The last sighting was made by a woman driving home from work at around three AM this morning on a country road in southern Illinois, which means that they are still pushing outwards at a steady rate. We thought that it would make them easier to contain, if they were split up, but now, eleven weeks after the crash, they’re spread so thinly it’s impossible to know where they are going to be. We’ve got every drone, chopper, and plane that we have in the air looking for these things but containment is becoming tougher by the day. And all this air traffic is attracting a lot of attention from our neighbouring nations. They want to know what we’re up to. The public is starting to take note, too. We’ve got an army of technicians working around the clock to quash all the forums and sites that are popping up. Conspiracy theories are circling, as are the rumours to match. We’ve got to figure this out fast. If we lose the support and the faith of the people, we’ll be looking at nationwide panic and rioting. So please, doctor, tell us that you have an idea, or a plan, or even a little bit of good news for us. As I understand it, you oversaw the autopsy of the two specimens that were killed three weeks ago?’
‘Yes,’ Florian nodded. 'I’ve been flying here, there, and everywhere, briefing military and air force bases on how best to deal with the situation, so I only had chance to get to the lab and see them for myself a few days ago.’
‘Well, go on,’ the president urged. ‘McPherson said that you found something during the autopsy that is of importance, but that you would be the one to explain it as he didn’t have the pertinent information — I’m hoping it’s a weakness you’ve identified?’ He sounded almost desperate.
‘Not exactly,’ Gertlinger said cautiously.
‘What do you mean not exactly?’
‘Well, it’s an anomaly. We thought it impossible, and when the original plans for Argus were put into place, it wasn’t really considered.’
‘My God, doctor, just tell us!’ the President blurted out impatiently.
‘They are pregnant,’ Gertlinger said flatly.
The president blinked in shock. ‘Excuse me?’
‘Pregnant, Mr President. Or at least the females are,’ he said with a smile, which quickly faded as he read the indignation in the president’s face.
‘You’re joking?’
‘I’m afraid not, Sir. We didn’t think it possible. We thought that the alterations to the genetic code would hinder their ability to reproduce and it may well have done had the environment been as harsh as we predicted. Judging by the residual levels of radiation contained in the bodies of the dead Varas, we suspect that the atmospheric makeup on Orsus isn’t dissimilar to that of Earth… A billion years ago. Radiation, carbon dioxide, and oxygen levels were much higher then, which accommodated a much more accelerated evolutionary trend.’
‘English, please, doctor,’ the Chairman of the Joint Chiefs of Staff interjected.
Gertlinger cleared his throat. ‘We never programmed them with any sort of sexual instinct. We removed the parts of the brain that called for it. Coupled with their genetic makeup — a mishmash of reptile and mammal, all the simulations that were ran said that there was no way that they could reproduce. The radiation, along with the other environmental factors there — an abundance of food, a lack of predators… their other biological imperatives were suppressed. How it happened, we can’t say for sure, but somehow, they were able to conceive. They were designed as carnivores, but the remnants of what was left in their gastrointestinal tracts was all organic matter. Various plant species similar to those here found here on earth during the Neoproterozoic era, which also attributes to the evidence that Orus is in a primaeval state. The air, the earth, the water, and everything else is very rich in minerals and the plants grow and cycle much more quickly there than here on Earth. The vitamin content of the organic matter there is vastly higher, and was capable of providing huge amounts of nourishment—’
He was cut off as the president raised his hand. ‘That’s all well and good, doctor, but the problem we are discussing is here on Earth, not a million miles away. I’m happy that the expedition was a success, but the fallout has been nothing short of catastrophic. I was promised that this was not even a possibility when we commissioned the project. And yet here we are. So if you could give your full attention to the issue at hand, we’d all be very grateful.’
‘Sorry,’ Gertlinger said, folding his mouth into a line.
‘Now, iterate on this pregnancy issue,’ the president sighed, leaning forward.
‘We rewired their brains to find sustenance and to survive. The need to reproduce was given a backseat and shouldn’t have even occurred to them. But with the abundance of food and lack of predators they had there, the need to survive became instantly satisfied, allowing the reproduction prerogative to surface. Of the two specimens that we dissected, one was male and the other female. The female was carrying a clutch of eggs, and going by the reptilian gestation cycle, would have been ready to nest. Because of the mix of DNA that they possess, it was difficult to predict how the offspring would be born, as reptiles or mammals. The best case scenario was mammals. Born as small litters totally reliant on their mothers.’
‘And how were they actually to be born?’
‘As reptiles. The clutch was twenty-six eggs. The mix of DNA means that the eggs were to be born with fully matured foetuses.’
‘Meaning?’ said the president, struggling to keep up.
‘The eggs incubate in the womb. They don’t need to be laid in a nest and protected while they grow, like with most lizards, the clutch is born ready to hatch.’
‘Twenty six at a time?’ The president gasped.
‘Yes, sir.’
‘And how long
is the incubation period?’
‘We estimate about four months.’
‘My God, and how often can they reproduce?’
‘Biannually,’ Gertlinger said plainly, trying to outlay the information as quickly as possible.
‘Once every two years?’ The president laughed with relief. ‘Thank god for that.’
'No, sir… biannually is twice a year.’ Gertlinger coughed awkwardly and cleared his throat.
The president’s face twisted into a rageful scowl. ‘So you’re saying that these beasts could lay up to fifty eggs a year?’
‘Unfortunately.’
The president whirled around and pointed at McPherson. ‘You knew this, and said nothing? This is the worst possible news! We’ve got to hunt these things down before they lay a single goddamn egg!’
Gertlinger swallowed. ‘Mr President?’
‘What is it?’ he snapped.
‘I think that’s why they are so quiet.’
‘Quiet? We’ve got a death toll in the hundreds!’ he roared.
‘Believe me, sir, if they wanted, they could have killed a hundred times that. They are hiding — finding a safe place to birth their young. In the next few months, when the young are old enough to hunt on their own, expect that figure to explode. The young are born and then hatch almost immediately. After two weeks, they’ll be the size of a fully grown domestic cat and about as mobile. They’ll shadow their mother to learn to hunt and then be integrated into the pack. The packs can be as large as thirty we suspect, so with each litter, we think a new pack may emerge through division. Things will start slowly but within a year’s time, their population will have skyrocketed. When they are strong enough, they’ll go where the food source is most abundant.’
‘Farms? Ranches? Livestock?’ The president said, eyebrows raised, his voice incredulous.
Gertlinger drew a slow breath, not wanting to correct him. ‘Cities,’ he said after a few seconds.
‘Good god,’ someone murmured from the other side of the table.
The president rubbed his head. ‘So what are our options?’
‘Pridefully? Or honestly?’
‘You think this is a game?’
‘Run. Hide. Survive,’ Gertlinger said.
‘And just hand the entire country over to these things?’ The Secretary of Defense scoffed. ‘You must be mad!’
Gertlinger let out a breath and shook his head earnestly. ‘If you start now, you can wall in the major cities before they become overrun. Once the population is protected, you can start working on contingencies. But we need safety for that. Numbers. We cut off their food source, work on a long term strategy… It’s our best chance. But you’ve got to break the news to the other countries so they can begin preparations, before it’s too late,’ Gertlinger urged them. ‘At this point, we’re looking at a global crisis. If we don’t consider it one, then it’s already over.’
‘So you’re saying there’s no hope?’ the president asked quietly.
‘I’m not sure there is. But it’s still all we can do…’ Gertlinger swallowed and looked at every face in the room. ‘Hope.’
THIRTY-SIX
THE VEIL
2122 AD
Aaro took stock of the situation quickly.
They were almost there.
The core still had to be disconnected in the correct order but it was almost done. In about fifteen minutes, he and Thea would be down to the last few bolts. Everything was ready.
Nils would be calling the truck in imminently.
They’d finished cutting the hatch out of the hull, and sunlight bled into the interior of the sub through the weld seam. Now, all that remained was the removal. The truck would be backed down to the edge of the jetty and a chain would be secured. Using the brute force of the truck, they’d pull the flap down, bending the steel to form an opening and makeshift gangplank in one. The back of the truck would be positioned and the crane moved inside.
Aaro been calculating throughout the day, and he saw just one way to do it without arousing suspicion.
He’d only have one chance.
It would need to be an accident — or at least appear that way.
‘Okay, we’re good to go,’ Thea said, pulling away from the core and nodding to Nils before standing up.
He called it in. ‘Robin, we’re set.’
‘Affirmative,’ came the grainy voice in reply. The muffled startup of an engine echoed through the comm as Robin fired up the truck. In a few minutes, they were there. The noise of the engine was audible through the gaps in the hull. It was just outside. They already had their masks on, and had done since the welding had started.
Aaro heard doors opening and closing, and then the squeaking of the tailgate lowering outside.
He pretended to busy himself, tidying his tools away ready for the move. He gave a quick glance to make sure Nils and Thea were otherwise occupied and checked his Glock. Loaded and ready. He laid it carefully on top of his tools and pulled the bag closed to cover it.
He was acutely aware of his heart hammering in his chest as he stood. He tried to calm himself but he knew that this was it. He’d either live or die in the next couple of minutes.
Nils was with Thea at the hatch. They’d carried chains in with them and threaded them around the seam now, feeding both ends through the gap and outside. In another minute, they were secured. The engine flared and the chain pulled taut against the metal.
Everyone backed up and the truck pulled. The power of the engine was more than a match for the weakened steel and it peeled away like the skin of an orange. It bent with a groan and warped downwards to form a gangplank. In the darkness of the interior, Aaro’s eyes had adjusted and he had to shield them now from the afternoon sunlight. A cold wind blew in and he shuddered.
It was time. Through the gap, roughly two meters square, the truck and the four gunners were visible — Ek, Bjork, Berg, and Strom — indistinguishable from one another in their suits. They weren’t carrying rifles, but Aaro didn’t doubt they had pistols tucked in their belts. Still, everything seemed normal, for now.
They were on the jetty, wheeling out the crane. It bobbled on the concrete but between the four mercs, it was an easy job to force it up the gangplank. It jostled inside with the men in tow and suddenly it was very crowded inside the reactor compartment. Aaro quietly beckoned to Sorina and she moved next to him. She cast a strange glance at him through her mask and he nodded a little, gesturing to the next room along. Each section was segregated by a thick blast door designed to lock down the sub in case of a leak. It was what would keep her safe in the fray.
Berg looked stern, his eyebrows fastened into V, and stood in the opening with hands on hips. Even in his mask, Aaro could see his stony expression — the job. It’s not killing people or doing anything wrong. It’s just the job.
Aaro exhaled shakily.
The crane was wheeled up to the core and Aaro approached. Nils and Thea stood next to it, prepping for the final removal, with the mercs waiting in the wings.
Aaro avoided their eyes as he knelt next to the reactor. He took the socket wrench he’d left there earlier and loosened the final bolts as the core was chained to the winch.
He turned the last bolt and it popped free.
The crane groaned as it took the weight of the reactor and the whole thing swung heavily before settling under tension.
There was a sigh of relief in the comms. ‘Well, the hard part’s over,’ Berg laughed.
The others laughed with him, bullies in the schoolyard. They thought the easy part was to come — just tying up loose ends.
They stood back, far enough to see everyone, as Aaro and Nils started to move the crane. Nils took the front and guided it as Aaro pushed.
This was it.
He pushed hard and then stumbled.
‘Shit!’ He cursed, dropping the wrench in his hand. It landed and bounced forwards. The crane skidding across the metal floor, moving sideways as Aaro fell into it
. One of the wheels caught the wrench and stopped. The momentum carried the core forwards and the whole thing swung violently around, twisting. The centre of gravity shifted and the whole thing went light. Aaro caught a glimpse of Nils’ eyes widening as the back wheels left the ground and the crane toppled towards him. Everything was still for a second as it rocked past the tipping point, and then it fell. He had no time to move before it clattered into him, throwing him to the ground and the following him there.
The crunch of bones filled the room as the reactor collapsed onto the back of Nils’ legs. He wailed into the mic and it crackled in their ears.
Berg and Strom surged forward to his aid, followed closely by the two others. An accident that couldn’t be helped.
Aaro found himself smiling before he could help it. Focus. Stick to the plan. ‘Wait, I’ve got a jack in my kit!’ he yelled, diving for his bag.
Before Berg could tell him not to move he was already on his knee, fingers closing around the grip of the Glock. It was cocked and ready to go.
He twisted and levelled it, taking stock of his targets. Berg and Strom were trying to lift the crane, whether to save the core or Nils’ legs — he assumed the former, but either way, their hands were on the crane on and not on their weapons. Ek and Bjork on the other hand still stood at the hatch, ready to help, but vigilant all the same. Both were positioned the same, braced, one hand lowered, the other behind their backs, hovering on their guns, ready to draw if needed. It was the automated military reaction to something unexpected, defend themselves and their brothers. But their attention was on the crane and Aaro only needed a second.
He levelled the barrel and squeezed two shots into Bjork before he could doubt himself, right over the top of Berg and the core. Bjork took them centre mass and sagged backwards, blown out of the hull and onto the gangplank. It took Ek a second to react, shocked by the development. He tried to rip the weapon from his belt but before it was even up, he took a shot to the shoulder. Aaro had misfired a little, aiming high in the excitement. He hadn’t taken his time but it didn’t matter. Ek reeled backwards and stumbled, firing blindly into the ceiling. The bullet pinged into the hull, ricocheting off the steel in a shower of sparks.
The Veil Page 26
