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She scrolled further ahead. ‘His code shows the creatures emerge with a need to build up resources for the reproductive stage of their lifecycle.’

            ‘What resources?’ asked Coleman.

            Vanessa scanned the code again. ‘Nitrogen. They’re born starving for nitrogen. They also need proteins, amino acids, trace metal elements. But mostly lots of nitrogen.’

            ‘Where would they get that?’

            Vanessa looked up from the screen. ‘Blood. They would get those things from human blood.’

#

Gould’s face hurt like blazes.

            With shaking fingers he squeezed the tube of antiseptic gel. Wincing, he tried his best to apply the cool blue gel to his weeping burns. It proved difficult without a mirror, but the lightning bolts of pain provided a pretty clear indication of where Cairns had joined-the-dots on his face with the blowtorch.

            He didn’t expect any assistance from the gunmen in the comms room. Two sat at computer terminals, ignoring him completely as they tracked the radio messages of the teams working around the Complex.

            Three others watched him impassively, their cold eyes revealing nothing.

            The burns zigzagged twice across Gould’s left cheek, up through his left eyebrow, and then down across the corner of his mouth and under his jaw. Cairns had really gone to town. Ironically, Gould’s own agonized thrashing had defined the blowtorch’s path across his features.

            What was I supposed to do, sit still and let him burn my face off?

            Finished with the gel, Gould broke off another brittle chunk of burned hair. He examined the blackened fragment for a second.

            Cairns, you bastard. You’ll pay for this.

            All the hair from his left temple was singed away. That burnt hair reek permeated his clothes. He couldn’t escape the dreadful smell.

            Gould let his gaze slide around the room, a habit acquired during his visits to Vanessa Sharp’s labs. He had never let his eyes rest in Sharp’s labs, never let himself be seen paying special attention to any one piece of equipment, but he absorbed every detail.

            When he worked in this Complex, gathering information, Gould trained his eyes to reveal nothing.

            He spent his nights rehearsing answers to questions.
What was he doing here? Why was he looking at that?
He found himself disappointed if the anticipated question was never posed. The majority of scientists here were dullards, but a few were dangerously unpredictable. Vanessa Sharp was one. Unfortunately she was also the most influential. She had single-handedly rejected most of his proposed research. Her formal reason never varied from, ‘Potential Military Application’, but Gould knew it ran deeper. Vanessa Sharp disliked Gould the moment they met. She constantly acted guarded and careful in his presence.

            Not careful enough though.

            And after all Gould’s planning and hard work, Cairns expected him to just hand over Sharp’s research data? Not likely. Even if he
could
access the data, he’d never do it. Once the terrorists possessed Sharp’s research, they no longer needed Gould.

            He’d be killed. Cairns wouldn’t do the killing himself. He would delegate the undignified task to Lieutenant Bora.

            Gould shivered as he remembered Bora. The huge, quiet man represented an unknown quantity. His strange behavior disquieted Gould. He just didn’t look around himself enough, and Gould got the clear impression that Bora didn’t
need
to look around to monitor his surroundings. Bora always stood in the strangest places, always with one or two fingers resting lightly against a desk or a chair or a door jamb.

            Very strange.

            Cairns was an evil bastard, that was a given, but Bora was something else. Equally as dangerous, but different.

            Gould’s eye’s stopped on the huge digital screen showing the damaged systems blossoming around the Complex.
We’re in deep trouble now. The creatures are destroying everything.

            ‘Cairns said to make me useful,’ Gould reminded the gunmen at the computer terminals. He pointed at the screen. ‘Your problems are getting more complicated by the second. I know these systems better than anyone else here. I know how best to distract the creatures.’
And I don’t trust you with my life.

            The gunmen at the door nodded confirmation of Cairns’s instruction. Another relinquished his chair at the terminal for Gould. The gunman looked relieved to have passed on the responsibility.

            These guys are realizing they’re out of their depth.

            Gould raised the mechanical services schematic. He studied the elevator plant rooms. The first plant room appeared already out of action. Two others flashed orange warning signs. The creatures worked faster now. Their nitrogen cravings were becoming more urgent. They were frantic for fresh blood.

            Nobody understood the creatures like Gould. Nor did they understand the power they had just relinquished by giving him the seat at the terminal. With the operation spiraling out of control, whoever could influence the creatures had the greatest chance of survival, and the greatest weapon. A weapon that Gould could just as easily turn on Cairns and Bora. He’d just have to do it carefully.

            Now we’ll see who gets burned.

            He looked around at the gunmen with their machine guns.
Guns won’t help them now. They have no idea of the scale of forces they are trying to control.

            If any of them got out alive it would be a miracle.

#

Tucker knew something was wrong inside the Complex.

            He trusted his gut instinct.

            No message had arrived from the Marines or weapon inspectors. The electronic jamming hardware hadn’t been disengaged.

            Frowning into his interlocked fingers, he needed more options. ‘What about the
Coronado’s
Electronic Counter-counter Measures?’

            Chief Warrant Officer Daniels stood in front of the Knowledge Wall. The wall displayed a satellite image of the Complex. Flashing icons highlighted the C-Guard jamming transmitters. They looked tiny compared to the scale of the Complex. Daniels zoomed in.

            ‘If there were fewer C-Guards we might get a message through using frequency hopping or our broad spectrum capabilities, but we’re dealing with more than a dozen units surrounding the Complex. Plus every unit is programmable and directional, so they’re blocking multiple frequency bands in overlapping directional spreads. You name it, they’ve got a blanket over it.’

            Daniels clicked a remote control. A layer superimposed over the image to represent the blackout zone. ‘The way things stand, we can only get a message through if their hardware is turned off from the inside.’

            ‘What about a surgical strike from the air?’ suggested Captain Boundary. ‘The Pave Hawks could turn back and take down the C-Guards. They could stand-off and use the fifty mills on the antennae.’

            ‘Okay,’ reasoned Tucker, trying to think laterally. “Suppose we do that. What if the weapon inspectors have left the jammers operating intentionally? What if they are trying to stop something being broadcast from the Complex? For all we know, the hardware might be serving its desired purpose. If we take out that hardware, we’re leaving that place wide open. We recommended that equipment for a very good reason in the first place.’

            ‘We never anticipated it would be used against us,’ said Daniels.

            ‘I think we’re avoiding the main question,’ added Tucker. ‘What kind of a scenario could take out fifty Marines in such a short time frame?’

            After a few moments reflection, Captain Boundary articulated what they had all been thinking. ‘Someone could have panicked and released a pathogen. An airborne pathogen could have incapacitated the entire Complex in a few minutes. The Marines might have walked right into it. It could be one of the weapons we’re looking for.’

            Tucker had reached the same conclusion. ‘If a biological agent has been released, there’s a strong chance it’s isolated in the Complex. If that’s the case, we don’t have many options.’

            For all Tucker knew, a bio-pathogen released in the Complex had killed everyone in seconds. Sending in more Marines wasn’t an option. He wouldn’t send more people into harm’s way until he knew what was happening.

#

Bora rode up the freight lift.

            This was a change of plan.

            As far as plans went, he liked it. It was a simple plan.

            After losing his team in the falling carriage, Bora had climbed the elevator shaft. Reaching the engineering level, he spotted the Marines heading towards the offices. Concealed from view in the dark shaft, he relayed their position to Cairns.

            Cairns outlined his improvised plan with clipped precision.

            Two teams would use forklifts to transfer gas canisters, one large canister to the humidity tents and a load of smaller canisters to the freight lift. The forklift teams gave no indication they knew the Marines’ location. One team would take the second forklift down the freight lift.

            But the forklift wouldn’t come up again.

            Instead, twenty-three gunmen including Bora and Cairns rode back
up
on the platform.

            They made the swap perfectly. As the forklift rolled off the platform, Bora’s men had rushed into its place. The four gunmen guarding the forklift had stayed on the platform. Now they were all assembled in the corner of the platform out of sight of the Marines.

            Cairns didn’t speak. He hadn’t spoken since joining Bora’s men at the freight lift and outlining his plan in short, terse sentences. He hadn’t even explained why the first forklift maneuvered a massive gas canister around the humidity tents. Bora guessed the forklift was a diversion - a ploy to distract the Marines while Cairns moved his force into attack position.

            A second before the platform reached the engineering level, Bora activated his radio. ‘No matter what happens, don’t fire until we’re right on top of them.’

            He jerked back the cocking mechanism on his submachine gun. Leading the gunmen storm trooper style, he planned to flood the offices with a force large enough to absorb any casualties that four Marines and a scared scientist could deliver.

            He leapt from the platform and ran straight along the offices’ outside wall. The gunmen streamed single file behind him. The doorway to the corner office stood open just twenty meters ahead, then ten, then five meters….

            Bora waited for gunfire to erupt. The Marines still weren’t reacting.

            This is going to be easier than I expected.

            His team would be right on top of the Marines before they suspected any attack.

            He ran in front of the doorway. His surprise appearance flashing across the doorway should have drawn fire from the startled room occupants, giving away their exact location, but no fire came. The second and third gunmen in line charged straight into the room. Bora ducked in behind them, scanned the empty office, and ran straight across the room and into the network of offices beyond.