by D. M. Pruden
“Then what is it? You seem exceptionally protective of her.”
“No more than I would be of any of my crew.”
I raise a skeptical eyebrow. “If you say so.”
He sighs. “She’s a nice kid who doesn’t deserve what’s happened to her.”
“Okay.” I turn to leave, but he isn’t finished.
“She is my only connection to Nan. She is the last person who saw her, and I’m afraid of what I could lose if she dies. That sounds selfish when I say it. I really do care about her.”
I touch his arm. “I understand, so don’t trip over yourself trying to explain. You’re a decent guy.”
“I am not.”
“Sorry, but that is my professional diagnosis.” I rise on my toes to kiss his cheek. “Your secret is safe with me; doctor–patient privilege and all that.”
He coughs to cover his embarrassment.
I should feel a little guilty for teasing him. My feelings toward Chloe are similarly protective. She’s always seemed so vulnerable, probably because of the condition I discovered her in when she was a stowaway. But after her display with the firearms and discovering that she holds a martial art black belt, I do her an injustice.
The woman is a fighter. She would have to be, growing up with that asshole of a father. She demonstrated her courage when she escaped Vostok and hid on Requiem. I must stop thinking of her as a victim and trust in her will to survive. She’s going to need it if there is any chance to cure her.
Going to sit at the workstation, I begin the task of determining what is changed in her nanite population. The vials of blood that Doctor Hardy took from her before Chloe became a Popsicle are the only thing available to work with. Even if I can learn what Willis did, that still may not get me any closer to a solution.
Time passes quickly, and before I know it, someone taps me on the shoulder.
“You demonstrate phenomenal bladder capacity, Doc,” says Chambers.
“Huh?”
“The staff told me you haven’t moved for almost eight hours.”
I check my CI to confirm the time. Fatigue suddenly looming, I yawn and stretch.
“Did you learn anything helpful after all that time?” he asks.
“Yes and no; when I had you guys set up the equipment here, my hope was that I could crack the code for Willis’s bugs and figure out a method to deactivate them. I can’t decode the pseudo genome, but I learned how they work and why they seemed to multiply so fast.”
“Can you dumb it down for me?”
I smile. “I’ll try.”
I turn to the terminal and put some graphics up on the screen. “Chloe’s original infection, the one that the Jovian Collective employs, is designed to consume the host’s internal organs unless that trigger is subdued with a specific nutrient formula.”
“The pills they had her hooked on and the injections you were giving to her.”
“Yes, the injected compound isn’t a perfect match for the pills, but with the increased potency I formulated, it lasts longer and does most of the job of keeping the nanites dormant.”
“Most?”
“It slows them down but doesn’t shut them off. They are still gradually eating away at Chloe’s innards, but that rate is balanced to her body’s natural healing ability. It’s a stalemate, not a cure. If her immune system becomes compromised, the nanites will gain an upper hand.”
“Why is it so hard for you to replicate the antidote?”
“The nanites’ behaviour is governed by what is essentially a hard-wired computer code. Over the last century, drug companies, to protect their patents, developed exotic encryption techniques to thwart reverse engineering. Unless you employ the coding key, you can’t even look at the program, let alone alter it. The pills work the same way, employing an encoded delivery molecule that speaks to the nanite, telling it to shut down.”
“So, Willis must have the encryption key. That’s how he changed the nanites’ behaviour.”
“No, I thought so too, but he’s employed a brute force technique. He injected a new, much more aggressive species into her. They are designed to consume the original nanites, break them down for raw material, and create a different strain that does not respond to the inhibitor compound at all. What’s worse, for each one they destroy, they produce two more, making their growth geometric.”
“Holy shit, that is just evil.”
“Yes, it’s also the work of a fucking genius.”
“What does this mean for Chloe? Can you cure her?”
I cross my arms over my chest and swivel my chair to look at the display. “No.”
“Fuck!”
“At least, I can’t in the short term.”
“What can you do?”
“There are two possible ways to approach this. One is for me to begin working on the design of my own, which is not a trivial undertaking. They will be required to do two things: seek out and destroy all the new nanites Willis put into her system, and it must be done at ridiculously low temperatures.”
“But you can do that, right?”
“Theoretically, yes; all the equipment right here, courtesy of my friend Tessa. Programming them to eat the other ones is trivial. The problem is that conventional nanotechnology will only function within the temperature norms for the human body.”
“That is why freezing her worked?”
“Exactly, except the nanites inside her are thermally dormant, not dead. I must invent an entirely new species of nanobot that can function at subzero temperatures. They will basically be required to drill through her frozen blood and find and consume the nanites trapped in it.”
“But it’s possible, right? You can do it?”
I sigh. “Given enough time and luck, maybe I can dream something up. If I had the genius of whoever built Willis’s pets, it would be a lot easier, but we just have little ol’ me.”
“What about your friend, Tessa?”
“She is definitely a brilliant researcher, and I will ask for her help on this, but this thing will tax her ability too. In addition, we must take into consideration that even if we kill them, Chloe may not survive being thawed. Cryothermal suspension was abandoned because of its dismal survival rate.”
We lapse into silence as the real possibility of us not being able to save Chloe sinks in.
“You mentioned that there are two ways to approach this problem,” he says. “What is the second one?”
“It might be more impossible; find the genius who invented Willis’s nanobots. If anyone knows how to shut them down, it will be that person.”
“Then I guess I know what we need to do,” says Chambers. “Hunt down Willis.”
Chapter Twenty-Three
Requiem’s galley is cramped. Schmaltz, Shin, Miller, Mikey, and Cervantes are gathered around the table with Chambers and me. I think it is the first time we’ve all been together at the same time in this room.
Laid out on the tabletop is an assortment of firearms from Chambers’ personal armoury. Three snub-nosed automatic flechette rifles are neatly lined up next to four pistols. Three belts festooned with grenades are draped over the table’s edge. On a chair against the wall hang a couple of armoured vests.
As the boys drool over the collection like a bunch of teenagers gawking at their first naked woman, I nudge Chambers in the ribs and whisper in his ear. “Where the fuck did you get all this shit?”
“After that incident with the pirates a few months back, I decided we need a better insurance policy.”
“That doesn’t tell me where it came from. Did you buy all this, or...?”
He flashes an angry look at me. “Of course; I know people.”
“But this must have set you back a lot.”
“Some people owed me favours.”
He turns away from our hushed conversation, indicating that I’ll get nothing from him about it.
Chambers addresses the crew. “Most of you guys served, so I don’t need to go over all the blah-b
lah that will keep you from killing anyone unintentionally. Or do I?”
His gaze travels between each of them. Cervantes and Miller look hungry, like dogs awaiting permission to attack a food dish. Mikey and Schmaltz both appear resigned, like they’ve seen too much already.
Poor Shin is sweating. He displays the excited but scared expression of a virgin with a pocket full of money on his first visit to a whorehouse.
“I’m not risking the whole crew on this. Schmaltz, you and Mikey will remain on Requiem. I can’t afford to anything happening to my pilot or engineer.”
Mikey nods, and Schmaltzy appears relieved.
“You too, Shin. No offence, son, but you need some training. Cervantes will go over the basics with you when we’re done, but you’re staying on the ship. Understand?”
The young man’s expression is like a child who has been told that Santa isn’t real. He works up the courage to ask, “What about Mel?”
Chambers regards me then shrugs. “Do you want to try to talk her out of coming?”
Shin takes one look at me then clamps his mouth shut and lowers his head submissively.
The captain turns to me. “Tell us the plan, Doctor.”
I lift my chin. “Maggie, display the map, please.”
A hologram floats over the table, showing the labyrinth of tunnels. A green dot appears at the end of a tunnel on the edge of the map.
“This is the last known location of the cargo we transported from Terra. I planted a transponder on it, and the signal went dark ten hours ago when it was moved.”
Miller asks, “Where was it taken?”
“That is what we need to learn,” says Chambers. “There is a network of undocumented mining tunnels beyond this point that go deep into Phobos. Our mission is to pick up the trail and follow the package.”
“Why all the firepower, Cap’n?” Cervantes says.
I clear my throat and ask Maggie to bring up the next display. Carson Willis’s official identity picture comes up.
“You guys remember this creep. He’s the one who had his goons storm the ship and put some of you in the hospital. We are sure he is the intended recipient of the cargo. He is the one we are after, and he is a very dangerous man.”
Chambers says, “Three highly trained Martian agents are in the morgue because of him, so we are not screwing around with this guy.”
Miller says, almost too eagerly, “So this is a hit?”
“Fuck no,” I say. “We need Willis to be taken alive.”
“We don’t know what kind of tactical situation we will encounter,” says Chambers. “The firepower is for our protection only, and to facilitate our egress...and to encourage Willis’s cooperation.”
“We think he may be alone but don’t want to take any chances in case he’s recruited people,” I say. “Please don’t shoot anyone unless your life is in danger.”
“Mel,” says Chambers, “you don’t bring a gun if you don’t intend to use it.”
“Bring, yes; threaten, yes, but don’t pull the trigger unless necessary.”
“You guys are trained, so use judgement,” says Chambers. “That said, if one of you yahoos kills Willis for no justifiable reason, I will shoot you myself. We need him to save Chloe. Understand?”
“No probs, Cap’n,” says Cervantes. “This will be just like the recons we used to run, then?”
“Yeah, only without incoming ordnance and crazed loonies hunting for us.”
“A contact will meet us here.” I point to the map. “He will bring updated information about the old tunnel system. Since most of those deep mines are exposed to vacuum, we’ll be using full EVA gear.”
“Security is a bit of a joke on Phobos,” says Miller, “but even these poorly paid clowns won’t be able to overlook an armed task group in vacuum suits leaving Requiem and heading into the tunnels.”
“Maggie, put up the next graphic,” says Chambers.
The hologram map zooms out to show Phobos, with the station flashing in green and another red indicator on the surface a quarter of the way around the moon.
He points at the red dot. “This is an old mining shaft. We will split into two teams. One will approach from inside, while the other will be taking a little walk outside.”
The map zooms back in on the location where the cargo signal vanished. “The exterior team will enter via the shaft and join the rest of the group here, bringing all the gear.”
“Why aren’t we all going together?” says Cervantes.
“Partly because I don’t do well in near zero G,” I say, “but mostly to give Willis somewhere to focus his attention and not notice you. We believe he is monitoring the surveillance feeds. If he spots an armed group coming his way, there are too many ways he can escape in that unmapped tunnel network. Chambers and I will meet my contact here, to draw Willis’s attention, and then join you in this unmonitored section.” I point at the map.
I don’t want to mention my worry that Willis isn’t finished exacting his revenge on us and might have a hit crew waiting for a chance to take any of us out. While I don’t relish the idea of having a target on my back, Chambers promised me the body armour. Besides, I haven’t exactly been too subtle in my wanderings about Phobos; Willis had plenty of opportunities to get me if that is his intention. The more I consider what happened, the more I am convinced that his attack on Chloe was an opportunistic test of his nano-weapon.
The remainder of the briefing revolves around tactical details of the rendezvous. It finishes with Chambers announcing we will be departing in ten minutes.
He approaches me as the lads file out of the galley with their new toys.
“I’m not comfortable with you exposing yourself,” he says.
“Well, I’m sure as hell not going to clamber to the surface and hike around the moon carrying a bunch of shit. Besides, I’m the only one Owen knows.”
“It will be more like flying than clambering, and the equipment won’t weigh anything, but I’m not going to force the issue. You’re sure you can trust this guy?”
“Trust is not a term that easily applies to me, Roy, but yes, I do.”
“Well, considering you’re you, that is probably as good an endorsement as any.”
Trying not to show I’m offended, I say, “I never played well with others before. I’m not sure how to do it; how do I learn to rely on others?”
He puts a hand on my shoulder. “I’m glad you’re putting in the effort, because, frankly, if you aren’t going to be part of us, then you probably shouldn’t be here.”
He slaps me on my back and says, “I’ll meet you at the airlock in five.”
I watch the patronizing son of a bitch walk away, and I want to scream at him.
This team thing is going to be a lot harder than I imagined.
Chapter Twenty-Four
Owen waits for us at the designated place. He carries a pack on his back. After I introduce Chambers to him, he gets down to business.
“The junction you just passed is the last actively monitored one,” he says as he points back the way we came.
He pulls a handheld holo-projector from his bag and displays a map of the tunnel system. At first glance, it is like the one we examined on Requiem. On closer examination, though, a dendritic maze of faint blue trails extends beyond the bright orange track we followed to get here.
“These are the old mining tunnels?” I ask.
“Yes, they were sealed off over a century ago, and any reference to them was deleted from the public record.”
“Why?”
“Originally for safety reasons; the newer tunnels have better environmental seals. The old mine system was susceptible to breaches, and much of it is now exposed to vacuum.”
“Much?”
The corner of Owen’s mouth turns up slightly. He points to a portion of the old network that is amber instead of blue. “The military uses them, hence the real reason for hiding their existence. These orange areas are environmentally sealed and
fully pressurized.”
Chambers eyes him suspiciously. “How did you get access to military files?”
“He’s talented that way, Roy,” I say. “Stay focussed.”
I point at our location on the map. “It doesn’t look like there is a route to those areas.”
“Not one that doesn’t involve pressure suits,” says Owen.
He indicates the dark tunnel behind us. “An undocumented airlock exists about a hundred metres down that way. That is where we’re to meet your men.”
He puts the projector back in his pack, slings it over his shoulder, and begins walking.
Chambers grabs my arm and whispers, “You’re sure about this guy?”
I shake off his hand. “Are you developing trust issues?”
“I don’t know him.”
“Well, I do, so either be a team player and put your faith in me or go back to the ship.”
I turn my back on him and follow Owen. A few seconds later, Chambers comes up behind me. I indulge in a grin, happy to be able to turn things back on him for a change.
We reach a rusted metal door. Owen drops his pack and pulls out an oversized wrench, which he promptly uses to bang away the rust on the door’s hinges. He then employs it to force the latches open before he calls on Chambers to give him a hand turning the locking wheel.
They struggle with it until it squeals and yields to their efforts. Together, they turn the stubborn wheel counterclockwise as far as it will go. Then they reposition themselves and pull on the door until it gives way and opens.
Wiping the perspiration from his brow, Owen smiles at me as he kneels and empties the contents of his pack. A helmet and EVA suit tumble from it to the ground.
“I’ll go in and work on the outer door to let your men through. There is no power for the pressure pumps, so you two will have to operate them manually. Access to it is behind that panel.”
A clang comes from within the chamber.
“Good,” he says, “they’re here early.” He picks up the wrench and hammers on the door frame to signal to the boys that they are at the right place. Banging starts as Cervantes and Miller begin to work on the outer door.
