Fantastic Voyage: Microcosm (9 page)

Chapter 13

Time to mission: 16 minutes

Wearing full Proteus jumpsuits, the four micro-explorers walked together toward the miniaturization chamber with serious, ponderous steps. Tomiko shook her head. “This looks like a scene from one of those 'brave astronaut' movies.”

Devlin raised an eyebrow. “Like Nolan Braddock's
Reentry Burn?”

She regarded him with just the hint of a smile. “For example.”

Throughout her college years, Tomiko had downplayed her parents' fame. She'd once declined going with friends to a Braddock film festival, afraid they might recognize her from
Little Orphan Assassin
—or worse, that they might make rude jokes about her father's cornball, high-powered action scenes.

Although Tomiko had always liked athletics, she actively avoided the public eye, so participating in professional or even Olympic sports was out of the question. She had many diverse interests, but no deep ones. She flitted from fascination to fascination, believing in the philosophy of diminishing returns: Beyond a certain point, if a subject didn't keep giving worthwhile information, she moved on.

Years ago, she had befriended one of Nolan Brad-dock's young female costars, and as they had walked away from a coffee shop late at night, they'd been accosted by two switchblade-wielding youths. After Tomiko had finished with them, the young men could barely limp out of sight, leaving bloodstains and a couple of teeth behind. Awed, the starlet had hired Tomiko as her personal bodyguard. “It's perfect! Look at you. You're tiny and pretty. Nobody expects you to be a landmine like that.”

Tomiko had guarded her friend for four months until it became apparent that the starlet's star had burned out and she needed no further protection. Tomiko then told her parents she wanted to become a military policeman or security guard. Though he'd played MPs, Marines, and Army veterans in many roles, Nolan Braddock had been concerned. “You deserve something better than that, Tomiko.”

“I don't want people fawning all over me, Daddy. I know you and Mom love it, but I'd rather keep a low profile.”

Braddock had smiled at her. “Sweetheart, with what I've got in mind, you won't have to worry about
anybody
noticing you.”

Nolan Braddock had met Felix Hunter at a celebrity fund-raiser for international relief. Though he didn't know exactly what work the mysterious “Proteus” comprised, he knew Hunter was putting together some sort of top secret project… and he wanted his daughter to have a chance at working in high-end security.

Tomiko had bested some of the top-notch Marines who also vied for her position. She possessed the right combination of fast reactions, cleverness, and sheer body strength, and Director Hunter had hired her immediately. Her father didn't know exactly what Tomiko did, and he drew satisfaction and excitement from the realization that she couldn't tell him.

Oh, how he would love to see his daughter now…

Tomiko gave Arnold Freeth an encouraging nudge as they approached the door of the miniaturization room. The UFO expert had removed his ID badge from its chain and clipped it to the right pocket of his jumpsuit, just above the Proteus logo; now he looked like a genuine member of the team.

Just before they entered the bright chamber, Director Hunter made a point of shaking every team member's hand. With the same formality he had used when speaking before important Congressional committees, at the United Nations, or behind the closed doors of government residences, he said, “The four of you represent the best we have. You're all qualified, all fully trained in your fields—”

Arnold Freeth raised his hand as if to argue the point, given his few hours of crash-course instruction, but Hunter did not acknowledge him.

“You are about to embark on a great adventure, into a landscape no one on Earth has ever seen. Your success will prove the worth of Project Proteus.”

Devlin leaned close to Tomiko and muttered, “If he mentions 'where no man has gone before,' I won't be able to keep a straight face.” She smiled and endured the speech as part of their mission.

“We'll be following you, and praying for you. Once Major Devlin pilots you into the sealed lifepod, you will be on your own, with only your resources and your imaginations. You will have a maximum of five hours to learn what you can and return with as much knowledge as possible for humanity.”

“Roger that. Back in time for dinner, Felix,” Devlin said.

Inside the chamber, the prismatic focusers glowed on stand-by around the waiting
Mote.
Technicians checked and double-checked readouts on control panels behind the safety barricades.

Devlin led his three crewmates through double doors into the clean-room area. A noticeable breeze blew in their faces from a positive-pressure current that kept foreign particles out of the room.

“Is that it?” Freeth asked, visibly shaking but also enthralled and eager. “Is this where it happens? Is that our ship?”

“Affirmative, Mr. Freeth.” Devlin smiled with pride, looking at the
Mote.
“Beautiful, and she's got brains, too.” He gestured for Cynthia Tyler to climb aboard, using the lower hatch. “You first, Doc.”

Arnold Freeth was gray and sweaty, and Tomiko teased him. “Don't worry, Arnold. We haven't had an accident in… oh, quite a while.”

Devlin looked over at her. “Not since this morning.”

Freeth struggled to maintain his composure. “If it's so safe, why do we need a microscopic-sized security specialist?”

Tomiko tossed her black hair. “Hey, if you find yourself face to face with a mean macrophage,
I'm
the one you want at your side.”

Rattled, the UFO expert climbed aboard. “Believe me, this isn't exactly the way I'd imagined my first real extraterrestrial experience.” He began looking for where he was supposed to sit.

Dr. Tyler pointed him toward the seats in the main compartment. “But you already did work on an extraterrestrial like this for your alien dissection video. We're counting on you to help focus our efforts.” She checked her analytical equipment, running a quick diagnostic of the systems before she strapped herself in.

Her eyes regarded him intently, and Freeth seemed to squirm under the scrutiny. “Um, er—no. The alien cadaver I studied seems to have been a… different species.”

Tomiko swiveled in the copilot's chair, intent on her banks of weapons controls. As he strapped into the pilot seat, Devlin looked across the miniaturization room to where Felix Hunter stood behind the shield barrier. He looked deeply concerned. Devlin gave him the high sign through the cockpit window.

Moving to her seat beside the UFO expert, Tyler said congenially, “This technology's been perfected by both the Soviet Union and the United States.” She adjusted her seat belt, checked his, then looked out the side window, anxious to go. “We've all been miniaturized plenty of times with no ill effects. Nothing to worry about.”

From her seat in the cockpit, Tomiko turned with an impish grin. “Unless, of course, someone steps on us.”

Freeth didn't say another word until the miniatur-ization began.

Chapter 14

Mission clock: Five hours remaining

When the shrinking beams came on with a pulsing hum, Devlin drew a deep breath to steady himself. No matter how many test missions he had completed, the activity never became routine for him. He leaned back in the pilot's seat, hands stroking the controls. “This one's for real.”

Though it went against common sense, Devlin felt no physical change when the miniaturization process began. Seen through the cockpit windows, the outside chamber suffered an odd, disorienting perspective shift. The walls rushed way from them.

His body, his cells, even his DNA, were being made more compact. His mass was somehow shunted to an “imaginary quantum reservoir,” or a “diagonal matrix transformation,” or whatever the project physicists had built into this technology.

Think small.

The humming resounded until the
Mote
itself vibrated. Ambient light sparkled and fizzed behind his eyes. Devlin looked down at his arms, expecting to see his skin rippling and puckering, but he felt only a giddy sensation of falling that was more his imagination than an actual effect of the process.

“Is it really happening?” Freeth said from his back seat. “Right now?”

“Just look out the window,” Tyler said, her own eyes narrowed with fascination. She smiled at him, then turned back to watch outside.

“Team Proteus.” The comm speaker crackled to life. Hunter's rich voice boomed so loudly that Devlin adjusted the volume with a flurry of fingertips. “This is Project Director Hunter, checking on your progress.”

Tomiko leaned over and said brusquely into the voice pickup, “We know who you are, Felix. Who else would be calling—a telemarketer asking about our long-distance phone service?”

“Has he got a deal for you,” Devlin said with a smile.

Hunter's voice was dry, barely tongue-in-cheek. “Thankfully, Ms. Braddock, others have a bit more patience.”

The pulsing lights from the prismatic projectors flickered and stopped.

“Stage one complete. The
Mote
is now two centimeters in length,” Hunter continued. “We are bringing in the glass capsule. Major Devlin, if you could engage your engines, we'll need you to move your vessel.”

With thunderous footsteps, two technicians entered the chamber dressed in sky-blue clean-room outfits. They wheeled a cart that held a thick-walled glass cylinder a meter long. Viewed from inside the reduced
Mote,
the cylinder looked as big as a fallen skyscraper. The cart wheels rumbled forward, and each step sounded like the approach of a tank platoon.

“Roger that.” Devlin fired up the impeller turbines and raised the
Mote
on a cushion of air. The engines strained, designed to work best when the micro-exploration ship was even smaller. “On our way.” He raised the ship above the prismatic grid as the cart came to a halt. Cruising in a circuitous route, Devlin tested the
Mote,
checking out its handling, then flew up toward the glass cylinder. The technicians looked like titanic redwood trees.

“The
Mote
actually functions better under her own power.” Devlin looked over his shoulder. “It's easier to trust me than to hire suitably delicate workers. And finding a delicate worker with a security clearance is a thousand times harder still.”

The UFO expert looked from side to side so quickly he was bound to hurt his neck. Dr. Tyler said, “Earlier missions used precision apparatus to move the miniaturized vessel. But every motion caused a lot of shock and jostling. Very cumbersome. Our chief pathologist, Trish Wylde, even sprained her wrist in one accident.”

“Believe me, I'm familiar with Dr. Wylde,” Freeth said with a groan, “I'm just glad to have missed out on her 'gelatin tank.' ”

“Still got five more orders of magnitude to go in Stage two,” Devlin said. “Everybody, prepare yourselves to move a few more decimal points.”

When the vessel was safely inside the glass cylinder, the technicians screwed a cap on each end, one of which had an opening large enough for the miniaturized
Mote
to fly through.

Once the ship flew free inside the big glass cylinder, like a fly trapped in a soda bottle, the technicians withdrew beyond the prismatic floor grid. Soon they vanished into the distance. The horizon of the room was too far away.

Though he was in charge of the whole project, Director Hunter felt like a mere observer. He stood behind the protective barricades, from which he had watched the experimental rabbit reduced to microscopic size and enlarged again.

Unlike Fluffy Alice, though, he could converse with Team Proteus. “Prepared for Stage two, Major Devlin?”

He could hear Tomiko drumming her fingers on the weaponry panels. “We don't want to stay
this
useless size for very long. Let's move it, Felix.”

Hunter wished Deputy Foreign Minister Garamov had gotten here in time, but he could not scrap the detailed schedule because Congressman Durston wanted to stop for a hamburger, or whatever had delayed them.

Hunter signaled the technician at the miniaturization controls. She adjusted a flux parameter, and the pulsing beams came on again. The brightness emanating from the interlocked prismatic focusers hurt his eyes, but he refused to blink as the cylinder shrank. Marc Devlin was inside there, in command, ready to launch into the unknown.

When the beams faded, the
Mote
was no longer visible inside the syringe-sized cylinder. “Stage two complete, sir.” The technician stepped away from her controls and wiped a strand of sandy hair from her forehead.

“Team Proteus, you are now at optimal size.” At the control panels, Hunter set the mission chronometer running. “Establishing zero point for miniaturization field integrity, Major Devlin. Five hours.”

“Affirmative. Time remaining, five hours.”

Two handlers cautiously came forward, approaching the small glass tube like dog catchers facing a rabid St. Bernard.

“I hope you did your math right, Felix,” Devlin said into the voice pickup. “If we're miniaturized to the wrong faction, we won't be able to get through the hole in the base of this glass cylinder.”

Hunter replied in his calm voice, “Marc, if our people can handle the quantum miniaturization technology, I'm confident we can manage simple percentage calculations.”

Devlin still sounded doubtful.
“I've
got a degree in engineering, and I still have trouble balancing my checkbook.” Indeed, Kelli had always handled the couple's financial matters.

One of the men grasped the slick cylinder with a gloved hand. Devlin broadcast, “Whoa, remember to handle with care. Every tiny movement gets amplified by many orders of magnitude.”

While one man carried the cylinder with precise, ponderous steps, the other handler went to the chamber wall where a sterilization cabinet led into the Class IV containment room.
Where the alien was.

Following strict procedures, the tech opened the autoclave door. Inside the Class IV room, Sergei Pirov and Rajid Sujatha had already suited up to receive Team Proteus.

Hunter transmitted an update to the miniaturized crew. “The technician is now opening the sterilization portal.”

“Just tell him not to drop us, Felix.”

Operating his impellers, Devlin balanced the ship against stray air motions. The
Mote
swayed back and forth, but the thrusters and stabilizers kept them on an even keel. “Smooth ride so far.”

All details of the room were so huge and far away that the ship was surrounded by a blur. Even the cylinder's glass walls had faded into a distant curved barricade. Devlin's eyes couldn't comprehend what they were seeing.

Outside vibrations and distant rumblings must have been noises or conversation in the containment room, but on their tiny scale nothing was comprehensible.

With a loud thump, the miniaturized glass tube was set down inside the autoclave, originally designed to sterilize items passing in or out of the containment room. Then a sound like a reverberating gong clapped through the hull—the outer door of the transfer chamber being sealed.

The chronometer on the panel clicked down the time remaining before the miniaturization field began to lose its integrity. Four hours, fifty-five minutes to complete their mission.

With a rumble like a series of far-off explosions, disinfectant mist sprayed down upon the outer capsule wall in raindrops the size of asteroids. But the
Mote
remained high and dry. Her external hull and everything aboard had already been sterilized before the initial miniaturized process.

“We're wasting so much time before we even start,” Cynthia Tyler said, looking to Freeth as a kindred spirit. “We won't have enough time to explore the alien's biosystems as it is. You and I are going to have to work overtime.”

The inner hatch of the autoclave opened, and Devlin could see the shadowy shape of a gargantuan gloved hand reaching toward them like King Kong grabbing Fay Wray.

“Dr. Pirov is extracting you manually,” Hunter said.

“All conditions optimal, Felix,” Devlin said. “Team Proteus is ready to proceed.”

The Director paused, as if pushing aside all second thoughts. “Prepare for insertion into the alien's lifepod.”