“Similar disturbances?” Linx asked.
“Similar to what’s being reported here,” Camois consulted some background material, squirted it off the satellite to Table Top. The master display showed a map of the world, with the areas mentioned highlighted. “Constituent gas concentrations all mixed up, oxygen and ozone levels dropping, carbon dioxide levels rising, pressure fluctuations…BioShield is reporting nanobotic activity in or near all spots, so we think that’s the cause. Who or what’s behind it—“ Camois looked up and shrugged, visibly frustrated even on the screen. “The Director General’s meeting with UNSAC this evening, 1900 hours our time.”
Johnny Winger studied the displays, trying to make sense of it all. “There’s no obvious pattern. What makes all these places so special?”
“Unknown, Lieutenant,” said Camois. “We running routines now to try and match a pattern, possibly predict any further outbreaks. So far, the public’s unaware of the disturbances, except in the affected areas…the media haven’t sniffed this one out yet. But the problem seems to be growing.”
“It’s got to be Red Hammer again,” Major Kraft suggested, hoping someone had evidence to the contrary. Quantum Corps had had numerous run-ins with the world’s biggest criminal cartel in recent years and had the scars to show for it. The cartel had recently tried to threaten Earth was an asteroid impact, but UNISPACE had mostly blunted that. Still, the world was only slowly recovering from the remnants of Hicks-Newman that Quantum Corps hadn’t been able to stop.
Nobody had a better idea.
“A distinct possibility,” Camois agreed. “Although after that asteroid, the cartel hasn’t made as much trouble for us the last few months. I think we damaged them severely in that affair.” The Deputy looked slightly pained. “General, would Quantum Corps like the threat condition from UNIFORCE raised? Do we need to raise the alert level here? The Commissioner will undoubtedly ask the same question.”
Linx was reluctant to admit there was something the Corps couldn’t handle, especially when a mandated mission like atmospheric patrol was involved, but he agreed.
“It would be best,” he admitted. “I’m thinking we may need to go beyond BioShield and send in a special ops team…an ANAD unit. I’m not sure BioShield can handle this.”
Camois took that grimly. “Very well. I’ll recommend to the Director General that we go to UNICON Plus.”
Deputy Camois had heard enough. “This tells me we’ve got a crisis on our hands and it’s growing fast. If what happened at Iniquel was somehow created by Red Hammer…then what the hell is happening at all the other sites BioShield has detected?”
“This could explain why BioShield is detecting heightened nanobotic activity,” Johnny Winger said. “The cartel’s obviously got some new tricks up their sleeves.”
“I’ll get tasking from the DG and UNSAC, before the night is over,” Camois promised. The investigative mission will be assigned to Quantum Corps and your ANAD units.”
Linx was satisfied with that. “Thank you, Deputy. We won’t let UNIFORCE down. Major Kraft--?”
“Sir?”
Linx ticked off what he wanted done on his fingers. “Work up a tactical plan, every scenario you can think of, and what resources you’ll need. Work SOFIE until she’s smoking. Get it to me by 1200 hours today. I’ll see the orders are written and scoped to make it all work.”
Jurgen Kraft was already halfway out the door and Johnny Winger was right behind him. The Doc II swarm followed as fast as its propulsors could carry it, but the officers didn’t wait.
Table Top Mountain was situated on a high mesa in the Snake Mountains of southern Idaho, like the palm of a hand with ridges and valleys fanning out in all directions. Hunt Valley and Buffalo Valley swept away in a steep incline to the east and northeast, buttressed by snow-capped mountains. Desolate ravines folded over the land to the south and west. The mesa was an isolated, windswept escarpment kilometers from any town or settlement. The closest town was Haleyville, some thirty kilometers to the east along the twisting, turning Highway 7.
It was in all respects a perfect location for Quantum Corps’ Western Command base.
The Ops center was a glass and earth building half-buried along the mesa’s eastern limb, surrounded by a grassy quadrangle and connected by enclosed tube and walkway with A Barracks and the dome of the Containment Facility directly to the south.
Inside Ops, the sim tank was the center of activity as the new UNIFORCE tasking came through. The tank was a small theater run by SOFIE, the Special Operations Force Information Environment, where scenarios and missions could be simulated and rehearsed ahead of time.
Johnny Winger was there, along with Gabrielle Galland, Major Kraft and a select team of planners from 1st Nano.
They discussed possibilities, and how to put the tasking into effect.
“We’ve got to send a team into Antarctica,” Winger was saying. “That seems to be the source of all of this.”
Kraft was inclined to agree. “I think it’s significant that BioShield ‘bots have had no impact on what’s going on. Whatever’s modifying the atmosphere down there is tougher than BioShield can deal with.”
“And they’re using ANAD 3.0 as a base, aren’t they?” asked Galland.
“Three point two, to be exact,” Winger recalled. He felt a buzzing in the back of his head, it was the Doc II, on the neural circuit. The swarm had finally arrived at the Sim complex.
***Antique jalopy, if you ask me, Johnny. That version couldn’t break a hydrogen bond if its life depended on it***
Winger smiled. “Just got a raspberry from Doc II, guys. He doesn’t think much of ANAD 3.0 either. SOFIE, “he commanded the sim system, “display locations of all atmospheric perturbations detected by BioShield over the last forty eight hours.”
The concave displays of the sim tank flickered and a map projection of the world came up in pieces. Small whirlpools danced along the upper Amazon, among an island chain in the south Pacific, in the central Congo and in the highlands of Tibet.
“Isolated pockets,” Kraft observed. “Widely separated.”
“For now,” Winger said. “SOFIE…best prediction for disposition of these disturbances over the next seventy-two hours….”
The displays changed again, this time showing larger whirlpools and more of them.
“I was afraid of that,” Kraft said. “BioShield data says the disturbances will grow…maybe even link up.”
“We’ve got to find out what we’re up against,” Winger said. “Where’s that toxic gas really coming from…what’s modifying the air.”
“And is it a natural process,” Galland added. “…or something else?”
“Red Hammer,” Winger shook his head. ‘I’d bet money on it. “
***Analysis shows the pools of toxic air are being generated by nanobotic action, Johnny…the thermal and electromagnetic signatures correlate well…the question is what kind of nanobots are we dealing with…that gives me the creeps***
“Doc’s right,” Winger added. “We’ve got to find out what’s behind these bubbles of toxic air that Dr. Gallegos found.”
“Lieutenant Winger,” Kraft looked curiously at the atomgrabber, “I know we approved implanting ANAD into containment in your shoulder, and you’ve got some kind of special link with that the Doc swarm, but hang it, it’s friggin’ bizarre when you get involved in one-way conversations.”
“Yeah, Wings,” said Galland, “think you could clue us in once in awhile?”
Winger shrugged. “Doc was just saying these bubbles of bad air are giving off signatures that correlate well with nanobotic action. He said it’s kind of creepy to think that’s even possible.”
Kraft hmmpphhed and commanded SOFIE to put up the raw investigative files from the BioShield ‘bots that had detected the disturbances. “How can a device the size of a molecule get the creeps, for Chrissakes? It’s starting to act li
ke my teen-aged daughter.”
Winger found himself defending the little assembler all the time. “Doc says ANAD’s processor is that powerful…he’s got the cognitive abilities of a small child.”
“And the temperament too, sounds like,” Galland said. “But what if you have to spank him?”
Winger reddened. “It’s not like that at all—“
“Never mind,” Kraft interrupted. He paced about the tank, studying the displays SOFIE had put up. Real-time feed from BioShield nanobots patrolling the Earth’s atmosphere showed up as undulating virtual cloud masses, as swarms of the mechanisms probed and sniffed for illegal nanobotic activity, biohazards and environmental outlaws, all part of UNIFORCE’s new mandate in the wake of the Serengeti Factor pandemic a year before. Isolated pockets of disturbances were highlighted, with the nature of threat attached as floating tags around dancing whirlpools. The whirlpools over southern Argentina and the other places Camois had mentioned had no descriptive tags at all…only blank fields hovering nearby, as if BioShield couldn’t figure out what was going on.
“We’ve got to get a handle on this before it spreads too far,” the Battalion commander said. “Winger--?”
“Yes, sir?”
“You sit down with Galland and put together a full ANAD team for insertion. People, equipment, tactics, the works. Pull from 1st Nano, 2nd Nano and 1st Bio as well. We might just be looking at a counter-twist mission here and I want to be ready.”
“Yes, sir,” Winger and Galland answered in unison.
Kraft’s stomach churned at the scenarios they’d already played out…none of them had a happy ending. “UNIFORCE has given this thing a UNICON Plus priority. That means we move fast. Lieutenant, I’m forming an ANAD detachment immediately. You’ll be in command but I’m pulling elements from anywhere I can. Get over to Mission Prep and get your gear ready for a little recon trip down to Antarctica. I’ll notify a hyperjet to stand by.”
“On my way,” Winger said. He and Galland hustled out of Ops to head over to the Ready Room at Mission Prep, across the quadrangle, to go over personnel and gear.
On the sprint across the grassy expanse of the quad, Winger and Galland ran headlong into Holt and Reinhart, from 1st Bio.
“Hey, Wings,” called Holt. “I hear you’re off to the South Pole, with half my people. Sure you don’t need some help with all those creepy-crawly things?”
Winger was deep in thought, listening to Doc chatter over his internal neural circuit. The loose swarm had finally caught up with them.
***Looks like the real creeps are here, Johnny. I guess virus-lickers can’t help it…what are they qualified for anyway…wiping cow’s asses? That’s all a virus is…a stupid cow…all bubble head of DNA and some lipids, grazing in a field of cells***
“I think we can manage it, Holt. Maybe your guys will learn some manners after a few missions with 1st Nano.”
They hustled along the pebbled path to Mission Prep, where expeditionary equipment for ANAD detachments was housed: hypersuits, HERF guns and coil-gun rounds by the thousands in the ordnance bunker, plus racks of Super-Fly entomopters for recon, MOB-net canisters for immobilizing the enemy, camou-fog and fully enabled interface controls ready to go.
Beyond the roof of the bunker lay the three liftjet hangars, A, B, and C, and beyond that, perfectly framed by the still snow-covered mountain backdrop of the Snake Range, lay the north liftpad, where a sleek black hyperjet was veetoling in for a vertical touchdown.
“There’s our ride now, Holt. Hope your guys don’t mind riding rear seat to the elite.”
Holt snorted. “Elite, my ass. I’m just waiting for a chance to show you nano guys what a real combat outfit does for a living. Why don’t you stand down and let the adults take over? No sense assigning kids to do what real men do better.”
Winger tapped the soft skinpatch where the ANAD capsule had been implanted in his shoulder a year ago. “You want me to show you what my little brother here does to real men? It takes about two and half minutes…then we have to call Facility Services to come clean up the puddle of protoplasm that’s left.”
Gabrielle Galland turned and faced the 1st Bio puke nose to nose. “Look, Holtzie, lay off, will ya? This deal’s UNICON Plus…and you’re not invited.” She brusquely shoved the taller man back down the steps as they went inside.
“What a creep!” Winger said as they wound their way through corridors to the Battalion Ready Room.
***Let ‘em have it, Johnny…ANAD eats scum like that for breakfast***
Winger smiled at that. “Maybe so, Doc, but right now, we’ve got some packing to do. You and me are taking a little trip across the Pond.”
Galland veered off to sign herself into the ordnance bunker and check out enough ammo to cover the mission. Winger headed for the hypersuit lockers…they’d need twelve at least, and the programming still had to be updated.
***Johnny, I’ve been thinking about what kind of bots could be altering the atmosphere over the South Pole. I’ve got a theory--***
“Shoot, Doc. I’m listening.” Winger pressed a few buttons on the wrist keypad of the first ‘suit and its servos whirred as it clamshelled open.
***The doctor said it may be a colony of nanobots, kind of like me. I’ve got a theory why maybe BioShield didn’t detect any such bots until it was too late***
“And what might your theory be, Doc?”
***Just this: what if the ‘bots don’t really look and act like nanobots? What if they don’t produce the heat signature and atomic activity that I do when I replicate? What if they look just like ordinary molecules of air and dust, floating around like normal? Would BioShield even see them? The latest intel from Q2 indicates that Red Hammer may have a new device from their alien friends…some kind of device that can transmit configs and create angels and swarms remotely…I’ve even scanned reports of strange ‘ice-beings’ and talking penguins around McMurdo Station…***
Johnny Winger paused in his checkout of the first hypersuit, dropping his head back out of the helmet and sitting on the bench seat that served as the control center of the suit.
“Maybe BioShield wouldn’t see anything unusual until it was too late. I don’t know, Doc…I hope that’s not true. From the very beginning, BioShield was installed to be able to detect and prevent illegal nano outside of containment, just to keep the world safe, you know. The whole thing’s predicated on being able to detect nanobot activity….all assemblers produce atomic debris, heat, that sort of stuff. If you’re right and we’re dealing with ‘bots that can go about their work and leave no detectable trace—“ Winger shook his head. “—that’s bad news. Really bad news.”
***Sorry to bring bad news, Johnny…but if I can think of it, somebody else can too***
Winger decided to grab a bite to eat at the mess hall before bedding down for a quick sleep. Once the Detachment departed Table Top, sleep would be a scarce commodity for all of them.
He ran into Gabrielle Galland at the end of the serving line.
“Late night snack, Lieutenant Winger? You do know where all those extra calories will wind up.”
Winger grabbed his burger and fries and headed for a table in the corner. “Sustenance for the journey, Lieutenant Galland. Join me…with that tray of rabbit’s food?”
Galland sat with her salad and picked at the lettuce. “Just one thing bothers me about Operation Quantum Ice. If it is Red Hammer melting the ice caps and poisoning the atmosphere, and they do have some new tricks like Q2 suggests, where the hell are they getting all this stuff? Are their techies better than ours? Nano is nano. Atoms and molecules work the same everywhere, last I checked.”
Winger stuffed a wad of fries in his mouth, slurped down his drink. He was hungrier than he realized. “Scuttlebutt I hear is that they’ve got well-heeled friends out there in the Great Beyond. Maybe it’s these Keeper pods we’ve run across, on the Moon, and here on Earth.
Doc Frost told me these devices were like radios, or like the Net or Aladdin’s Lamp. Ask it a question, request something and if you do it right, out pops an answer. Alien tech. Not everybody believes that, but it is one theory.”
Galland crunched on croutons. “I just hope we’ve prepped and trained right for this mission. Especially, I hope ANAD’s up to snuff…after that asteroid, there’s a lot of muttering in the ranks about how much we can trust him. By the way, where’s your buddy Doc II? I thought you two were inseparable.”
“He’s with the equipment pods, getting staged on Charioteer for the trip south. Honestly, Gabby, you guys shouldn’t be so jealous of a swarm of bots. He’s just configged to resemble Doc Frost. Troopers seem to get hives every time he shows up.”
Galland shrugged. “What do you expect, Wings? He’s not one of us. I mean, he’s different. That’s the trouble with ANAD-grade nano. You can’t tell what’s what anymore. Nothing is solid. Fabs can make anything you can dream of. You can’t tell what is real anymore and that makes you suspicious of everything and everyone.”
Winger looked at Galland. She had a pert little dark brown almost-page boy cut under her cap. Blazing brown eyes, almost like onyx stones. She was athletic, you could tell she didn’t miss many reps in the gym from her broad shoulders. A slightly bemused smile. Winger found her intriguing.
“I’m real,” he suggested.
“That remains to be seen, Lieutenant John Winger. I’ll withhold judgment on that.” The smile grew wider. “But I will say this much…if you’re an angel, somebody messed up the config real bad. Your ears are too big for your face. Your eyelids droop like you don’t get any sleep. Your lips are crooked…I mean, Jeez, what the hell kind of config is this?” Now the smile had become a grin, which she covered by sticking a fork full of salad into her mouth. “A first-week nog could do better than this.”
It wasn’t much of an opening, but Winger figured he’s somehow managed to open the slightest crack in what had long been an impenetrable stone façade. He wasn’t sure how he had done it, only that he wanted to keep trying.