Fantastic Voyage: Microcosm (28 page)

Helping each other in a mad rush, the three survivors of Team Proteus raced along the tunnel. Their panting breath echoed in the narrow space, accompanied by the rush of wind from outside.

Devlin could see he was already ten times his former miniaturized size, and growing fast. The walls were closing in.

At first the pinhole through the glass wall had been big enough to accommodate the
Mote
three times over—a substantial shaft the relative size of a subway tunnel. But now the long shaft constricted around them.

“Keep running!” Devlin shouted.

Tomiko sprinted ahead, leading the way. Freeth staggered along as if barely able to keep his body moving. Devlin pushed him onward. “Dr. Tyler bought us some time. We can't waste her sacrifice.” The UFO expert found a reserve of strength within himself.

Behind them Devlin heard a terrible clicking sound, hundreds of sharp carbon-lattice legs scraping on the fused glass floor. Seeking a way out.

Previously, only two of the nanomachines had been large enough to threaten the entire vessel; now the tiny marauders looked like robotic tarantulas as large as toy poodles. “Don't let them nip at your heels, Mr. Freeth.”

Freeth yelled as one of the nanomachines leaped onto his back, reminding him of his awful last sight of Cynthia Tyler. Devlin smacked the device off before it could do more than scratch the UFO expert.

Another nanocritter fastened onto his own thigh, but Devlin battered it away. Freeth stomped a third under his heel, crushing its outer carbon-weave casing. Both men began smashing and stomping as the nanomachines continued to surge forward. Devlin felt like Gulliver against an army of robotic Lilliputians.

“Don't waste your time fighting them,” Tomiko shouted over her shoulder. “Just run! We're growing too fast.”

Devlin and Freeth left the wreckage behind and raced through the howling wind, ignoring the attackers except for an occasional kick to boot one backward. The relentless nanomachines, focused on escape now, did not even stop to cannibalize components from their damaged comrades.

Ahead, Tomiko could see light, the other side of the window opening. Air pressure from the outside fan whipped them like a storm, seeming to shove them backward like an invisible hand. The gale became stronger as they approached the other end. As they grew, the uneven spots on the glass floor became smaller, smoother… and very slippery.

With the rough ceiling closing down around them, they had to crouch as they ran. Devlin wiped dripping sweat out of his eyes as he duck-walked on bent knees. It was already hard to breathe. “If we're caught inside this pinhole when we return to normal size, it'll squeeze us like toothpaste in a tube.”

Freeth needed no further encouragement. * * *

The detonation button glowed scarlet, the ionization blast ready. The timer remained frozen. Congressman Durston looked as if he would explode first, though. “Now! You must end it now!”

“One more minute, that's all I ask.” Hunter had no idea how close Team Proteus was. Had they entered the tunnel yet? Had some disaster befallen them? He looked over his shoulder.

Trish Wylde grabbed one of the congressman's arms, while Vasili Garamov took the other, after a long and meaningful glance toward Hunter. “Come, Congressman,” said the Russian. “You and I must get behind the barricade. The Director cannot set off the sterilization protocol until we are safe.”

With seconds ticking inexorably away, Hunter hunched close to the needle hole. His heart pounded. He placed a flat microscope slide directly under the opening. If something had happened to the
Mote,
he hoped the team members could jump onto the glass. Marc would lead them through the tunnel.

“Your minute is up, Director Hunter.” From the edge of the lead-shielded alcove, Edwin Durston did not look like a man who was accustomed to being ignored. “I order you to sterilize the room
now.”

Hunter looked up to see all three aliens working together to rip off the wall plates. They had already stripped several layers from one section. Bent plates lay strewn on the floor among the scattered medical equipment.

The Sujatha-alien continued cutting with his laser scalpel. Pirov pushed harder with the bone-cutting saw. The creatures would break through at any moment.

Garamov's plea joined Durston's. “Your crew is dead already. Enter the code!”

As if they had heard and understood, the three aliens stopped their activities. In unison, they turned to stare through the thick glass, daring Hunter to challenge them. He shuddered, but refused to back away.

The extraterrestrials turned back to their destruction.

“You're right.” Hunter's words were like nails hammered into a coffin lid. “We can't wait any longer.”

If the
Mote
itself had been able to pass through, the vessel should have reached the tunnel exit long before now. Even if their communications were down, as the ship grew, he should have been able to see it like a gnat in the air.

Hunter looked one last time at the microscopic slide and the pinprick, and murmured a quiet farewell to his friends, the team members he himself had chosen, to Marc Devlin. Along with Pirov and Sujatha, they would join Chris Matheson as martyrs to the miniaturization project.

“Everyone brace yourselves.”

Tomiko finally reached the drop-off at the end of the passage and lurched to a stop, staring at what looked like a bottomless pit. Ahead of her yawned an immense glass cliff… with the platform of a microscope slide waiting for them. Far too far below.

“Great, we're trapped.”

Hunter must have been trying to hold the glass slide close to the pinhole, but on their size scale, even his fraction of a centimeter looked like an immense drop. She had no way to contact the Director; the nanocritters had destroyed their communication system along with the
Mote.

Devlin and Freeth hurried to catch up, scuttling ahead with bent knees and hunched backs. They dropped to all fours and began to crawl in single file as they grew to fill the tunnel. The voracious machines skittered closer like a stampede of scorpions.

Tomiko held out her thermal grenade, ready to throw it into the tunnel. The flame front would blast back the approaching devices and fuse the glass. And the shockwave would hurl all three of
them
out into open space.

“Move it!” She squatted at the mouth of the hole, barely fitting through, and peered over the edge. “Of course, there's no place to go once you get there.”

Then Tomiko brightened, remembering her physics studies of mass, and air resistance, and gravity. She set down the thermal grenade at the edge of the shaft. “Use this, Marc. You'll have to jump… and hope.”

“Go, Tomiko!” Devlin scrambled ahead with Freeth close behind him. The tunnel had no room for them.

With whipcord muscles, she leaped over the edge, out into open space. Garrett Wilcox would have yelled like a wild man at the top of his lungs, spinning in a cannonball tuck through the air. She preferred to fall with a little more dignity.

As she tumbled downward, Tomiko drifted like a dust mote, jounced along by the fan's air current. Her miniaturized body was blown against the outer glass wall and skidded the remaining distance down to the microscopic slide.

Tomiko landed with a thump, her hands slipping out from her, and she crashed on her face on the slick glass surface. Not exactly graceful, but thankfully no one was watching.

The microscope slide trembled as if from an earthquake, vibrations caused by Hunter's unsteady hands. She got to her feet and stared up at the tunnel mouth, calling after Devlin.

Inside the claustrophobic shaft, he and Freeth pulled themselves forward, belly-crawling. The walls and ceiling squeezed around them like a fist. The now-smooth glass brushed their shoulders.

The swarms of nanomachines were right behind them.

“This is the end of the line. We'll be crushed in here,” Freeth panted, his voice filled more with despair than terror. “At least our bodies will plug the hole.”

“Come on, Mr. Freeth. You can make it.”

When Devlin reached the end of the passage, he grabbed the thermal grenade Tomiko had left for them. Around the UFO expert's body, he could see the nanomachines scuttling like silvery crabs, racing ahead now that the two of them blocked the strong wind.

Four of the devices had clambered up Freeth's legs, but he kicked them off in disgust, smashing them like cockroaches against the glass tunnel wall. He and Devlin slapped at each other's clothes, crushing the nanomachines that clung to him.

“Go, Mr. Freeth. You've got to jump first.”

The UFO expert could barely wriggle out of the mouth of the pinhole. “I'm stuck.”

Devlin shoved him through the bottleneck and sent him tumbling into open air. He hoped Tomiko would catch Freeth—or at least break his fall.

Next, he clasped the thermal grenade in one hand and lowered himself over the edge of the tunnel with the other. He gripped the uneven ledge with his fingers, supporting his minuscule weight.

Above, thousands upon thousands of the tiny nanomachines streamed along the tunnel floor and up the walls, robotic lice anxious to get out.

Devlin thumbed the activator on the grenade and lobbed it up into the opening. The weapon rolled toward the masses of nanocritters. Devlin released his hold on the edge and let himself fall backward.

With a flash, the grenade incinerated all the nanomachines nearby and melted the end of the glass, sealing the tunnel.

Hunter saw the pinpoint of light just as he started to withdraw the slide. “There they are! It's the signal.” Down on the glass, he could now discern tiny specks, flickering dots that moved about. “I've got Team Proteus!” Before his eyes, they began to grow into visible human beings, three of them.

Only three of them.

Hunter pulled the slide away and with his finger slathered a glob of fast-drying epoxy over the pinhole, adding an additional seal to the melted glass. He tried to keep the slide steady as he hurried gingerly away.

Inside the containment chamber, the three aliens threw themselves into their dismantling work with renewed fury, as if they realized the miniaturized team had escaped.

The tiny figures crowded together on the slide had become miniature people about a centimeter tall. If Hunter moved too quickly, he'd knock them off— but he had to get behind the protective barricade.

The aliens would breach the containment any second now.

He handed the slide to Trish Wylde, who had returned to grab him. She cradled the slide to her chest and ducked into the lead-shielded alcove, where the Marines, Garamov, and Durston already huddled. With the crew ready to tumble off, Wylde set the slide on the ground and backed away, careful not to step on them.

As Hunter ran for the protective wall, he caught one final glimpse of the trapped alien invaders. Two of them had been Sergei Pirov and Rajid Sujatha. All three stopped their work and turned to look soulfully at him, as if he'd betrayed them. Finally accessing lost memories, they knew what he was about to do.

Hunter tried not to think of the two good doctors who had already vanished. He ducked back and entered the commit code. “Sterilization sequence
now!”

He squeezed his eyes shut as a searing white blast filled the containment room, accompanied by a muffled boom and a high-pitched blast of static.

The ionization flash incinerated everything inside the chamber, boiling away outer surfaces of glass and metal, cremating the three aliens in a fraction of a second and vaporizing every nanomachine.

The pulse made the lead shield vibrate. Several banks of corridor lights sizzled, then went dark before emergency illumination kicked in.

Beside Hunter, the surviving members of Team Proteus finished growing to full size again. Devlin, Tomiko, and Freeth stood holding each other, trembling from their ordeal.

Chapter 44

Friday, 5
a.m
. (Proteus Facility)

When the radiation alarms finally signaled that the vicinity was safe, the stunned Proteus staff, Marine guards, and shaken politicians emerged from their shelters.

“Not exactly the showcase mission you wanted, Felix,” Devlin said. “But I'm still glad you let me go along.”

“Nobody else could have pulled it off,” Tomiko added, touching his arm.

Hunter started and stopped, his mouth dry and empty of words, but full of emotion. Finally, he could only choke, “Whenever you feel you're ready, we'll need a full debriefing from you and the… surviving crew.”

Devlin nodded, not looking forward to the task.

Hunter placed a strong, paternal arm on his son-in-law's shoulder, and they stepped around the lead barricade together.

The interior of the sealed containment chamber looked as white as snow, every surface dusted with a fine layer of ash, as if a cleansing blizzard had covered all evidence of the aliens and their nanotechnology…

Devlin stared at the aftermath. “Felix, you did more than you should have. Anything else… would have cost us the planet.”

Hours later, when his terror had faded and self-protective arrogance returned, Congressman Edwin Durston prepared to leave the Project Proteus facility, calling for his limousine and escorts. He seemed anxious to take Deputy Foreign Minister Garamov back to the San Francisco airport and see him off American soil.

Garamov had already made several urgent phone calls to Moscow, though the first three had been mis-routed. Finally reaching the correct department and an administrator who seemed ready to listen, Garamov started to explain what had happened to the alien lifepod—but the administrator didn't know what he was talking about. Apparently, the paperwork regarding the extraterrestrial artifact had been lost or misfiled. He asked for Garamov's name and contact number, but the Russian diplomat hung up on him.

Garamov walked with jerky, exaggerated motions as he followed the congressman to the cave opening and the fresh, thin mountain air. A damp mist had settled over the Sierra Nevadas, which began to glow pearlescent with the approach of dawn.

As soon as he stepped into the fresh morning air, the Deputy Foreign Minister yanked a cigarette out of his suit-jacket pocket and lit it in a rapid, smooth movement. He took a long breath of the acrid tobacco and exhaled with a sigh. Director Hunter noticed that he had bought a pack of an American brand, probably at the airport just after he'd arrived.

“All evidence is gone,” Garamov said to Hunter. His tone was difficult to interpret.

Hunter stood beside the two diplomats, looking into the sky, where the stars were vanishing with oncoming daylight. “We both know that any other research protocol would have released the nanotechnology infestation, Vasili.” Even realizing that, though, Hunter's heart felt heavy.

“But perhaps that solves my most pressing problem,” the Russian said. “I no longer need concern myself that my next assignment may be as an environmental monitor in Novosibirsk. It is one of the most polluted cities in the world, you know.” He took another drag, consuming a third of his cigarette in one deep breath. “Considering the alternatives, perhaps this debacle turned out for the best.”

Durston grumbled, his mind already made up. “Well, I'm not convinced this couldn't have been handled better. I intend to file my personal report to the committees in charge of your Proteus funding, Director Hunter. You can expect to answer a lot of questions in closed-door hearings.”

Weary of the politics, Hunter turned to the florid-faced man. “And I will defend them. I stand by my decisions throughout the mission.”

He would have to cope with the disaster, hoping that the miniaturization project would remain intact despite the losses of Sergei Pirov, Rajid Sujatha, and Cynthia Tyler. The Class IV containment room was destroyed and was still hot with residual radioactivity. The sophisticated exploration vessel had been torn apart by the nanomachines.

The official limousine eased out of the fenced parking area and crunched across the gravel toward them. Durston tugged on his tie and jacket, flushing red and sweating profusely. “No excuses, Director Hunter. We are very displeased with how you responded to this emergency situation. Mr. Garamov and I barely got out alive.”

Garamov tossed his cigarette butt on the ground and crushed it into the gravel. “Regardless of Russia's official response when I return home, Congressman, perhaps my word will carry weight in your government's investigations. I will not support any censure against Director Hunter. Bear in mind that
I
was the one who insisted on using the miniaturization technology to attempt a non-invasive investigation.
I
demanded that absolutely secure precautions be instituted. The Director followed the most prudent course of action.”

Hunter's patience finally snapped. “If it wasn't for Project Proteus, Congressman Durston, all of Earth would be infected by now.” He narrowed his eyes and stared at Durston until the congressman backed down, looking impatiently at the approaching limousine.

Politics be damned.
“Think of that while you write your report, sir.”

Under the supervision of Chief Pathologist Trish Wylde, medical technicians collected data on the effects of miniaturization. Inside the Proteus recovery room, medical techs ran a battery of tests and checkups on Devlin, Tomiko, and Freeth, as well as treating cuts and scrapes from their battles with the nanomachines.

The UFO expert sat in quiet shock for some time, staring down at his hands, as if wondering how he could have lost his grip on Dr. Tyler. Minor wounds marked his skin where the nanocritters had attacked him, but he considered himself lucky. Freeth lifted his arms while Trish Wylde poked and prodded him, remembering when she had taken him through his rushed training. He still couldn't believe everything he had been through.

Finally, like a dam breaking, he began to talk nonstop, asking questions and recounting parts of their mission. Trish listened, nodding at appropriate moments; then she jabbed a needle in his arm to take a blood sample and wrapped a cuff around his elbow to take his blood pressure.

Recovering in the infirmary bed on the other side of the room, but wide awake, Garrett Wilcox watched the process, looking from Devlin to Tomiko. “Man, I wish I could have been there.” He shifted his burn-damaged leg and winced. “But considering what happened, maybe I was the lucky one after all.”

“Take any consolation you can get, Garrett,” Tomiko said, watching as crimson blood from her arm slowly bubbled into a syringe. “Major Devlin did a perfectly fine job of filling your shoes.” She coyly raised her eyebrows.

“Roger that, and I still destroyed my own ship.” Devlin tried to relax, knowing his blood-pressure readings would be off the scale. “Garrett, if
you
had wrecked the
Mote,
I'd have given you a couple of black eyes.” He heaved a deep sigh and let his shoulders slump. “At least I've got no one to blame but myself.”

Felix Hunter strode into the recovery room, looking pleased with himself. When he saw Marc Devlin, he stopped short of giving his son-in-law a hug and stood at a professional distance.

Devlin got up off his medical bench, dangling a lead to the blood-pressure cuff behind him, to the consternation of the medical technician. “I knew you wouldn't leave us behind, Felix.”

Trish Wylde turned toward the Director, her short reddish hair in disarray, her pretty face drawn with concern. “I'm very sorry about Dr. Tyler,” she said, looking guiltily at him. “When I came into your office, I never meant to cast doubt on her qualifications. I'm sorry I questioned her place on the team. That was selfish of me, and such jealousy has no place in the Project. I was out of line.”

Trish walked around the padded table so she could face the Director. “Cynthia was an excellent researcher, an invaluable part of the team. What she did probably saved the rest of the crew. Maybe even all of humanity.”

Freeth nodded, his eyes moist. “Believe me, there's no doubt about it.”

“Next time, Dr. Wylde.” Hunter looked at her with his intent, expressive brown eyes. “I made you a promise.”

After his extensive debriefing, Arnold Freeth stood near the portal guard's glass cage. He held out his hand while Director Hunter paid him. In cash.

The bills blurred out, one at a time, like playing cards from a hustler. Freeth could barely follow the counting. “There you are, Mr. Freeth. One thousand dollars, which constitutes your consulting fee of five hundred per day for two days. As agreed.”

The UFO expert was ecstatic to receive such a large payment, more than he usually got as a bonus or a salary, though he wasn't about to confess as much now. Besides, he was proud to have had some small part in saving Earth.

“Uh, can I have some paperwork for this? A receipt or a written record?” He seemed embarrassed. “Because of my profession, I… tend to get audited often. Only serves to enhance my belief in government conspiracies.”

Hunter stood firm, his mustache a dark line across his upper lip. “Sorry, Mr. Freeth. Nothing you can trace back to this mountain facility.”

“You did sign the agreement and confidentiality forms, Mr. Freeth,” Devlin said. “We tend to take those things seriously.”

“Then how do I record this on my taxes?” Freeth looked from one man to the other.

“You don't.”

“Paying way too much for a man with admittedly bogus credentials, aren't we?” Tomiko Braddock said, lounging against the rock wall next to Devlin. She gave Freeth a teasing look. “But I suppose Arnold did turn out to be a good addition to the team.”

Squirming, he seemed overwhelmed. “Thank you for letting me see that I was right all along… even if I did doctor my video a little.”

Devlin placed a brotherly arm on Freeth's shoulder. “You proved to be just as useful as Dr. Tyler had first expected, Mr. Freeth, fake autopsy or not.”

He gestured out into the sunlight, where the government sedan had already been pulled inside the staging area within the chain-link fence. “Let's take you home.”

Later, alone deep within the underground facility, Felix Hunter stood just inside the silent miniaturization room. The lights had been dimmed. He cradled the white experimental rabbit. Absently, he scratched Fluffy Alice's ears, pondering what he would write in his letter to Rajid Sujatha's family.

The Proteus guards, scientists, and technical support staff were stunned and subdued, the near-miss casting a pall too heavy to be lifted by their survival and triumph. No one else had come into the dim chamber.

He stared at the translucent prismatic grid that lined the floor and ceiling inside the focal point of the miniaturization beams. The technical stations were empty. Repairs and further testing would start within a day or so; he wondered if Project Proteus would ever be allowed to conduct experimental missions again.

The rabbit hung in his arms like a furry pillow, plump and content. She sniffed his finger.

It would be such a tragedy to lose everything now. What a boon it would be to worldwide industry if he could establish cooperative research agreements and technology transfers for the innovative shrinking process. Medical uses, data storage, military applications, materials studies, scientific analysis, cargo transportation.

He supposed even micro-tourism was an option.

Feeling stronger than he had since before his daughter Kelli died, Hunter vowed not to let this disaster shut down the project, as the debacle with Chris Matheson had done all those years ago. He would fight, as always, using every weapon at his disposal.

And, in the great chess game of international politics, Felix Hunter knew he could win.