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Authors: Stel Pavlou

BOOK: Decipher
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THE NANOSWARM
He who fights with monsters should look to it that he himself does not become a monster … When you gaze long into the abyss, the abyss also gazes into you …
 
Friedrich Nietzsche, 1844-1900
Matheson didn't think first. His response was swift and instinctive. He raised his gun, an instrument of power he'd derided his whole life, and pumped as much lead into the effigy of Jack Bulger as he could. Screaming in absolute terror as he did so.
The Golem punched another hole in the ice and attempted to grapple the weapon away from the engineer. “Come now, Ralph,” it said calmly. “Is that any way to treat an old friend? Tell me something, how is Wendy?”
It swung again.
Suddenly, either side of the main gates and all along the main city wall at evenly spaced intervals, crystal arms and legs started kicking and punching their way through the ice in an effort to get at the team. Ten, fifteen, maybe even twenty more Golems shattered the ice in a bid to escape their confines.
The so-called Guardians from myth and legend had awoken in earnest.
Hillman gave a belly-wrenching scream as he loosed volley after volley from his machine gun. But it was to no avail. Most bullets simply bounced right off the creatures. And those bullets that plowed straight through appeared to have even less of an effect.
“Now would be a really great time to get these gates open!” Hackett shrieked at Scott.
But the epigraphist simply shot him a look of pure rage and contempt. “Do you see a way to open these things?” Then he went for his own gun and let off a couple of covering rounds allowing Matheson to back up and retreat.
Jack Bulger shuddered under the impact but kept going. He was becoming increasingly irritated; eventually the crystal effigy produced a crystal gun and loaded in a crystal bullet. He took aim, as ice exploded all around him and other Golems came up behind. But just as he was about to fire, he saw Sarah and stopped dead.
“My, my … the pretty one,” he said.
Sarah glared across the gulf of ice that stood between them, stunned by the bizarre sight, but composed enough to
respond. “Hello, Jack, I thought you were in the Amazon,” she said. “I thought you were dead.”
The effigy faltered. Contemplating the comment. As though it really were Jack Bulger, it seemed confused. “I … I am everywhere … now,” was all it managed to say.
Scott picked up on the cue. Was it possible to reason with these things? Were they sentient? He was about to try and find out when the expression on the Golem's face suddenly darkened.
And it fired.
 
The bullet ripped through the top of Sarah's left shoulder, exploding out the back and sending a grisly spray of blood up Scott's face.
She collapsed heavily, her backpack catching on the pick hanging from Scott's belt. The material ripped open and the entire contents of the pack spilled out as Scott made a move to catch her. He knelt down instinctively and cradled her, while across the floor rolled a collection of artifacts—the strange objects she had discovered under the pyramids in Giza and had forgotten all about.
“Oh my God, no!” Yun screamed, as if teetering on the edge of sanity. For coming up beside Jack was a pretty, petite Oriental girl who was also disturbingly constructed from blue crystal. The manifestation of a billion molecule-sized nanoes working as a single entity.
She smiled. “Chow,” she said. “You've come back to me.”
Hackett stepped protectively in front of the distraught man, asking: “So this is Yan Ning. Pleased to meet you, Miss Ning.”
“How the fuck are they doing this?” Matheson bellowed as Sarah wept in agony at his feet. “Are they reading our minds?”
“Don't you know your scripture?” November said with chattering teeth as the Golems closed in. “‘On the Day of Judgment, the dead shall also walk the earth.'”
“That's fine, if all they want to do is walk,” Hackett replied. “But this bunch seem intent on killing us.”
Gant's clip was spent. He pulled out another but like the first it was empty. “Fuck!” He went for his pistol. Fired shot after ineffectual shot until the damn thing went—
click!
And that was when they all realized. They were surrounded.
When Corporal Peter “Squeeze” Barton drove the Rasit ground surveillance radar up to the prow of the ridge at Havola Escarpment he didn't expect to have to call the
Truman
so soon. But call he did.
As feared, a massive column of Chinese forces had moved up past the Forrestal, Neptune and Patuxent Ranges and were now 50 kilometers out of Mount Tolchin and headed on their way toward Mount McKelvey. It was there, around King Peak and the Thiel Mountains that the major encampment of Chinese reinforcements was building up.
The Chinese were as aware of the catastrophic natural disasters befalling America as the people of America themselves. So the feeling of the Top Brass was clear: push on and let the Chinese know that America was still a force to be reckoned with.
To the west, just outside of
Jung Chang,
the U.S. already had ground troops massing at Hart Hills, while a column of tanks and heavy artillery were steadily rolling through the Ohio Range to the north. At the Amundsen-Scott station on the South Pole, the airstrip was being used to ferry in further forces and the whole battlefield was shaping up nicely to form a three-way pincer movement on Mount McKelvey.
At sea, a barrage of Tomahawk cruise missiles had been made ready with first-strike capabilities predicted on a possible simultaneous launch of between 200 and 250 cruise missiles in the initial wave. This did not take into account any of the air defenses, which were formidable.
The Chinese, however, were no sitting ducks and it was estimated that their response/first-strike capabilities were similarly immense.
But the United States wanted the upper hand and issued a direct challenge to the Chinese. It was clear and simple: Do not move on
Jung Chang
. Our forces are inspecting your facility. Any advance of troop positions will be taken as an act of aggression.
There had been no reply.
Which was what brought Squeeze Barton and his crew out to Havola Escarpment in the first place. To monitor Chinese activity and ground-troop movements.
He'd tried calling home on the satellite up-link and was worried sick about his wife and kids back home in Philadelphia, but he hadn't managed to get through. And by the time lines did free up he was constantly having to make reports back to Dower aboard the
Truman
.
Barton was handed another round of data before being invited by his men to come take a look at something. Bulky in his polar gear, he clambered over the seat to the nerve center behind, to the array of consoles and main boards that operated the dishes and aerials on the roof. On the scopes—there was movement. And it wasn't American.
Having come up the Hercules Inlet and situated behind the Ellsworth Mountains, a massive column of Chinese heavy artillery had gathered and waited before splitting into two phalanxes. Emerging slowly, the first detachment was traveling east around Heritage Range and was moving to within shelling distance of Hart Hills. While the second unit was moving west, emerging from behind Sentinel Range and moving to within shelling distance of two U.S. communications bases: Ski-Hi or Eights Station, and Siple.
Cutting those stations would cause severe communications problems to any elements of the fleet that were still moving through the Bellinghausen Sea, and would hamper any air cover that would have been used to protect the ground troops at Hart Hills.
As a result of this move America's ground troops were vulnerable, caught between two sledge-hammers. Should the communications bases fall, America's forces would be forced to retreat and risk losing the Amundsen-Scott base entirely.
It forced the Top Brass into a corner and a quick decision. Maybe it was time to bring the strike on Mount McKelvey forward. Even though it would mean sending their men into a war zone they had had little time to scout.
But China had moved her pieces.
And it warranted a response.
Scott gulped.
He could see the curved and twisted Atlantis glyphs stretched across the surface brows of each individual Golem. Petrified, he eyed the advancing automatons, as he gently cradled Sarah, bleeding in his arms.
He shifted on his knees as the Golems lumbered forward, accidentally knocking one of the artifacts that lay scattered on the ground and sending it spinning across the ice to come to rest a few feet away.
And that's when the closest Golem reacted.
It spotted the artifact—and hesitated.
Hesitated long enough for Scott to pick up on it. He locked eyes with the thing as Sarah groaned and he stroked her hair. “Honey, what are those things you brought back from Egypt?”
Sarah tried to focus. On the verge of passing out, she said: “What things?”
The rest of the group huddled closer together, having long since run out of ammunition.
“Jesus! Fuck, man! Fuck!” Hillman shrieked, going out of his mind and leading the panic.
Only Scott seemed to have the presence of mind to deal with the situation. Still eyeing the Golem, he tilted Sarah's face and directed her gaze at the cylindrical stone-like tube artifacts that had tumbled from her pack.
There were four altogether, and they were all, by and large, identical.
Scott leaned forward and snatched one of them up. “What is
this
?” he asked her.
“I'd forgotten about those,” she gasped, biting her lip with the pain. “I don't know. I was hoping we'd all find out … together.” She pointed at the Golems. “Look.”
For the Guardians had come to an abrupt halt.
Even the one who was in the middle of swinging a clawed hand at Hillman. Its fist froze just inches from the marine's throat.
Hillman took the opportunity of getting the hell out of the way.
The Golem lowered its arm. And like its counterparts, awaited the next move.
 
“What did you do?” Hackett asked quietly out of the corner of his mouth.
“I don't know,” came Scott's amazed reply. Gently he moved Sarah to one side and got to his feet, brandishing the tubular artifact like a weapon. “I just picked up one of these.”
That was all the prompting Hillman needed. He scrabbled around on the floor and snatched one up for himself. Swinging it at the Golems closest to him, the marine watched with satisfaction as they took a couple of precautionary steps back. “Not so tough now, huh, big guy?”
“Amen to that,” his superior agreed, getting one of his own. “What
are
these things, Professor?”
Pearce collected the last of the artifacts and studied it along with Matheson while Scott turned his over in his hand. “I have no idea.”
Scott could feel the device quivering in his hand, like an electric razor, or a pager set to vibrate. He ran it through his fingers while he read the glyphs again etched on the faces of the Golems. Of course—he remembered now! “A sacred word is carved into the face of the Golem,” he quoted aloud. “By removing that sacred word you deactivate the monster.”
On a hunch he held his hand out in front of the device.
Immediately he could feel his hand tightening, as though it were freezing. Crystallizing. He was about to announce his proposal when he realized that Pearce was trying to jam his device into what he considered to be the lock mechanism of the main gates.
It was entirely the wrong thing to do, for it alerted the Golems to the fact that the intruders didn't know what to do with these things.
Hurriedly Scott stepped forward. “No!” he bellowed, raising the device to his mouth like a microphone.
The Golems came thundering to a halt.
Hackett was perplexed. “Cute,” he mused. “But I don't think now's really the time for a sing-along. Besides, look at 'em. They don't got rhythm.”
“This is the key to opening the gates,” Scott revealed. “You speak into it.”
“What are you gonna do? Turn around and shout
Open Sesame
?”
Scott shrugged without a hint of irony. “The myth had to come from somewhere.” Then he spun on his heel to face the doors, pulled the device up to his mouth and in clear ancient Sumerian pronounced:
“Doors, open!”
There was a clank, loud and laborious. The sound of lock mechanisms disengaging, of hinges and counterweights swinging into action as slowly the main gates to the City of Atlantis swung open.
 
“Everyone, inside—
now!
” Gant barked. “Move!”
The team shot through the opening as fast as their legs could carry them, not giving a thought to what might lie beyond.
Sarah stifled a scream as they dragged her inside, and welled up with a flood of snot and tears. When Scott was sure she was safe he spun back around to face the waiting Golems who stood just over the threshold—and stared at them.
He held the sonic device up, and again in Sumerian commanded:
“Close doors!”
His voice echoed around the crystalline chamber as the mechanism buried deep within the city walls obeyed his commands.
Agonizingly slowly, the heavy main gates began their slow, tortuous journey toward closure.
“Hurry up, hurry up!” November flapped, and in doing so, caused Scott to take his eye off the Golem nano-swarms.
In that instant, the effigy of Yan Ning decided to pounce. Striding forward, the tiny feminine Golem stood between the two gargantuan doors and thrust her arms out to block them. What followed was a massive, ear-splitting screech as the internal mechanisms fought to overcome the obstacle. The ground forcibly shook. But the Golem held fast, while behind her, the others advanced. But there was no way they could get past her.
So, unable to move, the Yan Ning Golem simply glared at
the humans, while Jack Bulger came up to watch, puffing impassively on his fake cigar. Yun watched the effigy of his long-dead girlfriend, a mixture of sorrow and horror on his face.
Pearce stepped up next to him. “Jesus, look at that girl go.” And when Yun didn't answer: “Out of curiosity, how did she die, y'know, the first time?”
Yun seemed about to heave. “She was archeologist,” he gulped. “She was working at Wupu.”
“Ah, of course,” Pearce realized. “She must have come into contact with Carbon 60 and those microscopic nanoes floating around inside. That doesn't really explain how she and the rest of the gang wound up here though.”
Jack Bulger cocked his head and zeroed in on Pearce. “News travels,” he said. “Good news travels a long way. We are all so much information. A code. This facility is mostly carbon and water. You are all mostly carbon and water. The same building blocks,” he tapped his chest, “different design, that's all. It's like fucking Lego.”
Matheson was shocked. “What are you saying?”
“You're an engineer, Ralph, Jesus Christ, you figure it out. I was digested, Ralph baby. Then reconstituted. What you see now is like three-dimensional TV.” Bulger grinned and pumped a crystal shotgun that was newly forming in his hands. “He's back—and he's pissed.”
Matheson understood. “The sonic streams. It's like the Internet. All the sites are interacting and communicating.”
“Like the Internet,” Bulger confirmed. “But no five-knuckle-shuffle news groups on this server. Sorry, Ralph, you're all outta luck.”
Matheson shook his head. “This is sick.”
Hackett assessed Yan Ning. Marveled at her formidable strength. Then eyed his own hand. “Nanoes are molecule-sized. We've all come into contact with C60. Theoretically these nanoes could have been transferred to us. Passed through our skin and already be at work in our bloodstream.”
“You're a smart cookie,” Jack Bulger said. “Ain't decomposition a bitch?”
“We're dying?” November panicked.
“Don't look on it as dying. Think of it as … going through the change. Look on the bright side: compared to
the rest of this doomed planet, at least you'll have achieved immortality.”
“We're not about to roll over and die,” Scott growled icily.
He'd been staring at the Golems intensely, studying the glyphs on all their faces. The same set of glyphs over and over. And when Bulger eyed him, the automaton was in for a surprise, for the epigraphist did not flinch. It was time to put myth to the test.
 
“The sacred word,” Scott said simply, “on your forehead. In Hebrew it was
Emmet
.
Em
means truth.
Met
means death. Truth and death.”
“So what?” Bulger shrugged glibly. “Why don't you step outside and we'll settle this like a couple of men? Well, one man. One master creation.”
“Why don't
you
step in
here
?”
Bulger glowered.
Scott smiled. “You can't, can you? You can't physically step inside this building. That's the great flaw of the Golem. It took its orders too literally. You were created as Guardians, to protect sacred ground and bar entry to intruders. But now that we're inside, your job's over. And you failed. You should have deactivated but you haven't. Afraid of dying?”
Bulger aimed his shotgun right at Scott. “Who isn't?”
“To deactivate you,” Scott explained, “I have to translate that word on your head. Translate it into a language your body will understand.”
“Impossible.”
Scott held up his palm-top computer. “Quite possible. I've already translated one of the sixty base languages right here.” That got Bulger's attention. “But I don't even need to refer to my notes to be able to tell you what's written on your forehead, Jack.”
“What are you doing, Doc?” Gant demanded under his breath in desperate incredulity.
“In Sumerian,
úš
and
nam-úš
mean death. And
nanam
means truth.”
The Bulger Golem smirked knowledgeably as if Scott had gotten it wrong.
But Scott smirked back.
“However,” he cautioned, “
Ug
also means death. And in its plural form that word is
marû
, which stems from the word
hamtu
, meaning reduplicated.”While
zid
, or
zi
also means truth. But it also means faith.”
Bulger's face darkened.
“In death, like the phoenix rising, there is resurrection, reduplication. In truth, there is faith. If you join those words together, Jack, you get—
zihamtu
.”
 
As Scott said it, he knew the sonic device would react. And he knew too that Bulger would fire his weapon.
He
might not be able to enter the building, but his projectile certainly could.
The moment Jack Bulger fired, a visible shockwave blasted out from the sonic artifact in Scott's hand. Both men dived for cover, and in the same instant the shockwave found a target. It smashed into the nanoswarm effigy of Yan Ning.
The Golem convulsed, as if it had stuck its finger in a power socket. Gasping, it looked Scott right in the eye before doing what myth said it would when its lifeline had been cut: it disintegrated into a thick, heavy cloud of dust. A billion nanoes reduced to no more than a fog with its own internal lightning storm as the communications between each separate nano broke down and frazzled.
The other Golems backed up as the main gates finally slammed shut with a tremendous, deafening
slam!
The team watched the doors in disbelief. They were safe.
 
“You guessed?” Gant ranted and raved, swinging Scott around as if he was going to punch him.
Scott grunted in agony, clutching his leg and gritting his teeth. “I didn't guess,” he protested. “I knew.”
“You knew, my ass! You were supposed to
translate
what was written on their faces, not guess! You endangered the lives of everybody here.”
“Calm down, man,” Matheson cut in. “It worked, didn't it?”
“I just didn't need the computer,” Scott added, pulling his hand away from his leg. There was blood on it. “Damn, I think my wound reopened.”
November rushed over to help the epigraphist while the others tended to Sarah and the bullet wound that had ripped straight through her shoulder.
“Argh!” He winced as November made a closer inspection of his leg.
“You didn't open your old wound, Dr. Scott. You've been shot again.”

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