Deep Storm (31 page)

Of course he wasnt the only one whod made a breakthrough. Asher had as well. But now he was dead: spontaneous pneumothorax, gas emboli, and third-degree burns over 80 percent of his body.

Bishop was right: he had been unnaturally silent in the aftermath of Ashers death. It wasnt only the shock, though that was part of it. It was also because of what he couldnt say. Hed wanted so badly to tell her what hed discovered, to share it with someone. But she didnt have the necessary clearance. Unable to speak of it, hed found himself saying nothing.

He couldnt put off the PM reports any longer.

He sat back down at his terminal, brought up his desktop. A blinking icon told him he had incoming mail.

With a sigh, he booted up his mail client, moused his way to the in-box. There was one new piece of electronic mail; curiously, no sender was listed.

There is a time for many words, and there is also a time for sleep.

Homer, Odyssey, Book XI

Dr. Asher was a man of many words. Important words. Now, he can only sleep.

It is a tragedy indeed.

Too much death and we have not even reached it yet. I fear the worst.

The burden is all on you now, my dear doctor. Im forced to stay here; you are not. Find the answer, then leave, quick as you can.

If one must labor in darkness, one should not labor alone. Find a friend.

Im afraid our irrational numbers here on the Facility have grown since we spoke in your cabin. But perhaps theres a silver lining, because, after all, the answer to your puzzle lies with them.

I bid thee good morrow.

F.

Crane frowned at the computer screen, unsure what to make of this cryptic message. Find a friend

There was another knock on his door: Bishop, no doubt, returning with the meds hed said he didnt need. Come in, Michele, he said, closing the note.

The door opened. Hui Ping stood in the entrance.

Crane looked at her in surprise.

Im sorry, she said. I hope Im not disturbing you.

Not at all, Crane said, recovering. Come in.

Ping stepped in, took the seat Crane offered. I just learned of Dr. Ashers death. I would have found out earlier, but Id stumbled across something strange in the lab. Anyway, as soon as I heardwell, funny, but you were the only person that came to mind to talk to.

Crane inclined his head.

Abruptly, Ping rose. Its selfish of me. After all, you were there. You must be feeling

No, its all right, Crane said. I think I need to talk, too.

About Dr. Asher?

No. Thats still too raw, he thought. About something I discovered.

Ping sat down again.

You know how Ive been running every test I could think of, following up leads, looking for the cause of whats making people ill.

Ping nodded.

I was getting nowhere until something occurred to me: people were complaining about two completely different kinds of symptoms. Some were physiological: nausea, muscle tics, a horde of others. Others were psychological: sleeplessness, confusion, even mania. Id always believed there had to be a common factor involved. But what kind of factor could cause both? Thats when I got the idea the underlying cause had to be neurological.

Why?

Because the brain controls both the mind and the body. So I ordered EEG tests. And just today I got back the first set of tests. Every patient had spikes in the theta waves of their brains waves that are supposed to be quiet in adults. Even stranger, the pattern of spikes was exactly the same for every patient. Thats when I got a crazy idea. I plotted the pattern of spikes. And you know what I discovered?

I cant imagine.

Crane opened the drawer of his desk, pulled out a manila envelope, and handed it to Ping. She opened it and pulled out a computer printout.

This is Ashers digital code, she said. The one the sentinels are transmitting.

Exactly.

She frowned in incomprehension. Then, suddenly, her eyes widened. Oh, no. You dont mean

I do. The spikes in the theta waves match the pulses of light. Its the same message as the one the sentinels were first transmitting.

But how is that possible? Why didnt we detect anything?

Im not sure. But I have a theory. We already know those sentinels are broadcasting their message on every conceivable wavelength of electromagnetic radiation radio waves, microwaves, ultraviolet, infrared. We also know whatever created those sentinels has technology far beyond our own. So whos to say theyre not also broadcasting their messages on other channels, other types of radiation we dont even know how to detect yet?

Such as?

Quark radiation, maybe. Or a new type of particle that can pass through matter, like Higgs bosons. The point is its some unknown form of radiation, undetectable by our instruments, that interferes with the electrical impulses in our brains.

Why doesnt it affect everybody?

Because biological systems arent equal. Just as some people have heavier bones, some people have more resistant nervous systems. Or perhaps there are structures in the Facility that inadvertently act as Faraday cages.

As what?

Faraday cages enclosures built to isolate things from electromagnetic fields. But I think everybody here is affected just in different degrees. I havent exactly felt like myself recentlyhave you?

Hui thought a moment. No. No, I havent.

There was a brief silence.

So are you going to take this to Admiral Spartan? Hui asked.

Not yet.

Why not? Sounds to me like your work is done.

Spartan hasnt been very sympathetic to any viewpoint other than his own. I dont want to tell him prematurely, give him an excuse to dismiss it. The more evidence I have, the better. And that means finding the other piece.

What other piece is that?

Before he died, Asher discovered something. There, in the hyperbaric chamber. I know, because he told me so, over the phone. Its all on the laptop, he said. I need to get that laptop, find out what he discovered. Because he was desperate to tell me something, there at the end. He kept repeating one word: whip.

Hui frowned again. Whip?

Yes.

Whip who? Or what? And why?

The secret to thats on his computer if the hard drive is salvageable.

Another thoughtful silence fell over the stateroom. At last, Crane roused himself and turned toward Hui Ping. Want to head down to Times Square, get an espresso?

Hui brightened. Sure.

They stepped out into the hall. Perhaps I can help you, she said.

How?

As part of my computer science degree, I spent a summer interning at a data recovery facility.

Crane turned to her. You mean, you can retrieve data off ruined hard drives?

I didnt actually do the recovery myself I was just an intern, after all. But I watched the process plenty of times, assisted in several.

They stopped at the elevator. Earlier, you said youd stumbled over something strange in the lab, Crane said. What was it?

Sorry? Oh, yes. Remember those absorption lines I showed you? The ones the sentinal in my lab was emitting?

The ones you said could only come from a distant star?

Right.

The elevator doors whispered open, they stepped in, and Crane pressed the button for deck 9. Well, Hui continued, just for kicks, I ran that set of absorption lines against a database of known stars. You see, every star has a unique absorption signature. And guess what? I found an exact match.

Between your little sentinel and a faraway star?

Hui nodded. One hundred and forty light-years away, to be exact. Cygnus Major, otherwise known as M81.

You think thats where the marker came from?

Well, thats just it. That star, Cygnus Major, has only one planet. A gas giant, with oceans of sulfuric acid and a methane atmosphere.

Crane felt puzzled. No mistake?

Hui shook her head. Absorption line signatures are as unique as fingerprints. No mistake.

You think that on top of everything else theyre trying to tell us where they come from?

Looks that way to me.

Well, thats strange. Because what could a planet of methane and acid possibly see in the oxygen and water of Earth?

Exactly. And as the elevator doors opened onto Crew Support, she turned and gave him a speculative look.

Chapter 37

The floor of the hyperbaric therapy suite was thick with debris: empty extinguisher casings, bandage wrappers, disposable gloves. Commander Terrence W. Korolis stepped around it all with the finicky precision of a cat.

Two commandos in black ops fatigues stood outside the doorway, barring entry to what was being treated as an active crime scene. Another stood guard by the control room. Korolis found their chief, Woburn, in the waiting area next to the hyperbaric chamber itself, speaking to a technician. The entrance hatch to the chamber was open; heavy scorch marks ran along its upper edge and across the nearby ceiling, which was caked with soot.

When Woburn caught sight of Korolis he nodded to the technician and stepped away, following Korolis into the control room. The commander waited until Woburn had shut the door behind them.

Update, please, Chief, Korolis said.

Sir. Woburn carried his well-muscled body with stiff precision. The safety circuits were deliberately bypassed.

And the internal sprinklers?

Deactivated.

What about the fire? Any theories how it started?

Woburn jerked a thumb in the direction of the observation window. The compressor, sir. The technician believes it was tampered with.

How?

It seems the step-down transformer was disengaged while the compressor was running at maximum.

Korolis nodded slowly. Forcing the RPMs to spike.

And the compressor to overheat, first, then basically explode into flame. Yes, sir.

Where could this have been performed?

Theres a support closet beyond the hyperbaric suite, tucked between two of the science labs. All the work could have been done from there.

Would it have taken long?

The technician said if the person knew what he was doing, it might have taken two, maybe three minutes, tops.

Korolis nodded. The person knew what he was doing, all right. Just as hed known how to score the inside of the dome with a laser cutter. A good saboteur was trained in how to wreck or blow up almost anything.

Korolis knew all about that kind of training.

He turned back to Woburn. Any cameras tasked on that support closet?

Negative, sir.

Very well.

Korolis paused to glance out the observation window. The technician had ducked inside the hyperbaric chamber and was now out of visual contact. Aside from the operatives in dark fatigues, there were no witnesses.