Aftershock (25 page)

Cyber Control was abuzz, and seated at the centre of the maelstrom was Tom Erickson. He was in his element. The atmosphere was charged, techs rushing around, the giant screen on the wall flickering with images. They had spent the past few hours using remote systems on Tintara to try to improve the images from BigEye 17. It was a delicate operation, but a necessary one. The interference affecting the region of the Gobi Desert in which they believed the Silverback might be located was proving resistant to E-Force probes and sensors. They had started to lose hope. Then one of the technicians, Madeleine Alexander, had thought of realigning the imaging filters.

‘The picture is clearing,' Madeleine said excitedly. She was running her expert fingers over the control panel in front of her and watching a hovering holographic image as it flickered and flashed.

Tom span his chair to face the screen. The picture began to clear revealing a perfect, high definition image.

‘Transfer it to the wall screen, please, Maddie,' Tom said.

It was just after 6am and still dark in this part of the Gobi Desert, but the cameras on the BigEye could pick up radiation across a wide range, and shift it to the visible spectrum almost instantaneously. This meant that the picture beamed to Tintara could be viewed in any way the team wished. By adjusting the settings on the panel in front of her, Madeleine Alexander was able to shift the image into the visible part of the spectrum and the desert suddenly lit up as though it were noon.

They could all see a fragmented landscape, unlike any other desert on earth – 2000 square kilometres of the southeastern Gobi, a vast swath of orange flecked with brown and grey and patches of green, as seen by the satellite.

‘Okay, Martin,' Tom said, turning to a tech sitting at a workstation close to the back of the room. ‘Set the search parameters on the BigEye to detect the largest manmade structures in the area.'

The technician adjusted a set of controls and stared at a holographic image in front of him. ‘There are two that have come in on the first sweep, Tom.'

‘Take the biggest first,' Tom replied.

‘Position: 116.23 degrees east, 42.55 degrees north.'

‘Well, whaddya know?' Tom exclaimed. ‘Smack on the money.'

‘Close in,' Tom said crisply, and the camera on BigEye 17 slowly modulated the image. The edges of the picture tumbled over the rim of the screen and vanished. Tom watched a set of figures on the edge of the picture change. The numbers displayed the longitude and latitude of the centre point of the image. Slowly, the 2000 square kilometres on the display reduced to 500, then 100.

Gradually, a set of rectangular shapes appeared in the centre of the image. As the camera zoomed in, the shapes became clearer. It was obviously a military-style base. A set of half a dozen camouflaged buildings. One was much larger than the others. The compound was surrounded by a 5 metre high wire fence with guard towers at each corner. A road ran east from the base and disappeared off the edge of the image. There was a helipad close to the centre of the compound. Two choppers stood close by, another occupied the pad itself. A bank of ground-to-air missiles had been positioned along the western perimeter. There was a rectangular patch of tarmac close to the eastern edge of the camp. A set of military vehicles was visible – three armoured cars, four large troop carriers and a motley collection of supply trucks. As the camera moved in from directly overhead, those working in Cyber Control could just make out human figures moving around, walking from building to building. A truck came into view from the far eastern rim of the picture and went through the camp gates.

‘What do we have on this place?' Tom asked.

‘Nothing,' one of the techs responded.

‘Nothing?'

‘Not on the Chinese military database, Tom.'

‘Sybil,' Tom asked. ‘What can you make out from the images?'

‘Chinese military-style compound,' the computer replied. ‘Not in any official party records. The area is known as Hang Cheng, a desolate plateau in the desert. There is no record of any habitation in the area. Only official mention of this patch of desert is in a 1933 survey. There used to be a small town on the site.'

‘Well it ain't there now,' Tom remarked.

‘The compound area is approximately 1.2 square kilometres. Building area is...'

‘Okay, Sybil. Thanks,' Tom interrupted. ‘How far is this from the nearest centre of population?'

‘The nearest community is Fung Ching Wa, 193 kilometres south-east of the military base. Population at time of last census in 1969 was 1345. The nearest population centre with more than 50,000 inhabitants is...'

‘Cool, thanks,' Tom said and Sybil fell silent. ‘Okay, Martin,' he added, turning back towards the technician. ‘So much for the biggest manmade structure. What's the second largest?'

The image shifted, a smudge of colour ran down the screen as the camera on BigEye 17 tilted a fraction to show a 20-kilometre wide strip running south-east of the military base. In a few seconds, it slowed and stopped. They could all see a new shape on the screen. The image began to grow and fall away at the edges.

‘This lies just over 60 kilometres south-east of Hang Cheng,' Martin reported.

At first, they could not fully understand what they were seeing. It was a uniform shape, a manmade structure as Tom had requested. Nothing in the natural world could have produced so regular a configuration among such desolation. Tom raised a hand. ‘Slow the zoom,' he commanded.

The techs in Cyber Control all stood rigid, staring at the screen. Tom was the only one moving. His motorised chair whirred and he circumvented a control module to approach the wall. Then he stopped a few metres from the screen, his head moving almost imperceptibly left, right, up, then down. From the centre of the vast room, he looked puny against the massive image towering over him.

He turned his chair to face the others and broke into a smile. ‘That, guys,' he said pointing back, ‘...is one hell of an advertisement.'

The image showed a cross, 100 metres wide, made from bits of Silverback wreckage.

Mark opened the forward cargo hatch of the sub and equalised the pressure differential. A rail ran the length of the hold. It was used as a platform for launching mini-subs and subaqua scooters. Now, though, there was a metal sled on the rail and on top of the sled lay a 2-metre wide hoop of Morphadin, the multipurpose rubber-like material devised by CARPA that could be moulded into any shape one wished.

There was an extra feature built into this particular piece of Morphadin. It contained 400 million nanobots, give or take a few.

The whole science of nanotechnology had been advanced incredibly by CARPA. Indeed, from an outsider's perspective, it was probably the greatest single achievement of the organisation. And it was an amazing resource for E-Force. Its earliest days were back in the 1950s when it had been postulated by great minds like that of Richard Feynman who had a completely fresh approach to physics. He made the prophetic statement: ‘There's plenty of room at the bottom'. By this he meant: how about starting with the basic building blocks? Would it be possible to put atoms together one by one? To link individual molecules to build something bigger, and to grow outwards from there?

Nice idea, but in the 1950s it was as fantastic as inter stellar travel. It was only half a century later that conventional science had caught up with the concept and had started the basic experiments to put Feynman's fantasy into practice. Meanwhile, secretly, the scientists at CARPA had already constructed nanobots and had a fully fledged nanotechnology capability.

By the time E-Force was established, CARPA eggheads could build simple machines atom by atom in vats in the lab. Indeed, some of the tools used by the team on Tintara had been constructed by nanobots, ‘from the bottom up'. And now, Mark was going to use the same technology.

The sled rolled along the rail and the hoop of Morphadin shot out of the hatch and somersaulted the 10 metres from the end of the sub to the wall of Dome Gamma. A few seconds later, watched by the small group of survivors at the window, the hoop came to rest flat on the side of the hotel, 3 metres away from the window.

‘Looks good,' Mai said into her comms.

‘Sure does. Now the bots have to do their bit,' Mark replied, and ran his fingertips over the control module in front of him.

For a few moments, it seemed nothing was happening. The hoop was stuck fast to the metal shell of the hotel. It was bright red and caught the light from the beams of the sub. But then, as all of them watched, the hoop began to shimmer and vibrate. It took a few more seconds for the first signs of expansion to become visible, but it soon became obvious what was happening – the hoop was growing outwards from the shell of the Neptune. Gradually, the flat hoop began to form the beginnings of a cylinder. After a few minutes, the shape had transformed. It was now a red tube half a metre high, stuck to the hotel wall. As it grew, it maintained its cylindrical shape and supporting struts appeared around its circumference, giving it the appearance of oversized airconditioner ducting. After five minutes, the tube was 3 metres long and its growth rate seemed to keep increasing.

Ten minutes after the hoop landed on the skin of the Neptune the tunnel had almost reached the submarine positioned 10 metres from the hotel. The end of the tube swayed gently in the underwater current, making it look like a gigantic hydra. But the nanobots knew what they were doing. They were following a program written by the onboard computer of the submarine and were snapped into action by a high frequency signal, their minuscule selfcontained power systems coming to life. They worked like a colossal ant colony.

The end of the tube grew molecular hooks that locked into receptors in the outer skin of the submarine, and millions of nanobots positioned on the rim of the tube meshed with the docking port of the
Drebbel
. A minute later, the hotel was linked to the sub.

‘Connection complete,' Mark announced through the comms.

Pete looked around at the faces of the survivors. They showed a blend of awe and confusion. ‘Excellent work, Mark.'

‘I'm on my way down to open the connection,' Mark said and headed for the tube. He was there in 30 seconds. ‘Make sure everyone's well away from the wall,' he told them through his comms. ‘Oh ... and prepare them for a bit of noise!'

The sound began as a dull rumble from the outer wall of the hotel.

‘What's happening?' Michael Xavier asked Pete.

‘Mark is using a machine called a Sonic Drill. He'll punch a hole in the skin of the hotel.'

‘And that thing...' Kristy Sunshine said, waving a hand at the view of the ocean through the window, ‘is meant to stop the ocean rushing in?'

‘It certainly will,' Mai interjected. ‘Better still, it will hold our weight and we can get through it to the sub.'

Kristy turned pale and looked away.

‘Bloody amazing,' Archie Barnet exclaimed. ‘You lot are just the dog's boll...'

‘Okay,' Pete interrupted with a grin. ‘Let's save it for when we're all safely aboard the sub, shall we, Archie?'

Suddenly, the pitch of the sound from the Sonic Drill changed dramatically, shooting up half a dozen octaves to a piercing screech. Then came the crash of masonry and metal cascading onto a hard surface. A hole appeared in the wall and the sound stopped as suddenly as it had started. A man in an E-Force cybersuit appeared in the opening, ducked as he pushed through the gaping hole, took a step into the room and straightened.

‘Okay, people,' he said. ‘Let's get you the hell outta here.'

Mark led the way back through the opening, with Mai and Pete at the rear of the group. The structure of the tunnel was amazingly rigid. It did not even move in the water now that it was fixed at each end. The floor was flat and level, and it was easy to run along. None of them wanted to hang around.

Mark arrived at the sub a long way ahead of the others. He kept going along the corridor, headed straight for main control. As he pulled himself into the pilot's seat, the voice of the onboard computer came over the speakers. ‘Attention, attention. Unidentified vehicles approaching at high speed.'

‘On screen.'

The monitor burst into life. At first, it showed nothing more than a hazy blue-black. A school of yellow fish slithered past the lens of the starboard external camera. Then two dark shapes appeared out of the gloom, slowing as they approached.

‘Computer. Identify the vessels.'

‘Checking ... No identifying marks.'

‘What type of subs are they?'

‘Dyong Class nuclear submarines. Chinese-made.'

Mark stabbed at the plastic control panel. ‘Base One. Come in. This is Mark Harrison aboard the
Drebbel
.'

The line was dead.

‘Tom? You there?'

Nothing.

‘Must be blocking our comms,' Mark mumbled to himself. He went to speak again then changed his mind. ‘Computer. See if you can open a channel to the commander of each vessel.' He paused for a moment and heard a click as a radio link was established. ‘Interesting!' he said under his breath. ‘This is Mark Harrison, E-Force. We are currently in the middle of a rescue operation. Please identify yourselves.'

The blast came as Mark finished the sentence. He was thrown across the control room, smashing his head against a leg of one of the panels. For a second, he thought he was going to lose consciousness, but he pulled himself to his feet, gripping the plastic panel to steady himself. He heard a scream from the corridor beyond the control room. Michael Xavier and his son Nick appeared at the opening and Mark could see Hilary Xavier and Emily clinging to the back wall of the passageway.

Then the second blast hit, and they were all thrown to the floor again.

Mark pulled himself up.

‘Grip something solid,' Michael shouted to his family. Kristy and Jim appeared in the corridor. Behind them came the remaining survivors. Mai and Peter pushed through the group and ran over to join Mark at the main control panel.

‘What the hell's happening?' Pete said.

Mark nodded towards the screen. ‘We have visitors. And they don't seem terribly friendly.' He turned away. ‘This is Mark Harrison of E-Force. We have a group of survivors from the Neptune aboard our sub. Why are you firing at us?'

The sub rocked again. This time the shock was more violent.

‘Depth charges,' Pete said. ‘They're not trying to hit us, just shake us up.'

‘But why?' Mai said, anger clear in her face.

Mark was about to reply when a voice cut through the comms. ‘Prepare to be boarded.'

‘You called Tom?' Pete asked.

‘Comms are down again. I think our friends have blocked them.'

‘Excellent!'

‘But they're working ship-to-ship.'

‘Yeah, I think that's about the extent of it,' Mark replied. He turned back to the console. ‘That won't be possible,' he said, responding to the command from the other sub. ‘We've accomplished this phase of our mission. Just let us be on our way.'

Silence.

‘Prepare to be boarded.'

Another blast. Much closer this time. The sub shook violently. Archie Barnet yelled and tripped over a box bolted to the floor. He landed hard against the wall of the control room, groaning. Harry hobbled over to him. ‘You okay, son?' he asked and helped the boy sit up. Archie shook his head and put his fingers to a new cut just over his right eyebrow.

‘Yeah, must be getting used to this malarkey. Either that or I 'ave a steel 'ead,' he said and Harry ruffled his hair before offering a hand up.

Across the room, Mark was growing angry. ‘Please explain. Why are you attacking us?'

When the next blast came, they were expecting it. It was becoming a little predictable. This time everyone had a grip on something, or someone.

‘Prepare to be boarded.'

Mark looked at Mai and Pete and shook his head slowly.

‘I think they mean business, Mark,' Mai said gravely.

‘Yeah, so do I.'

‘We could try to outrun them,' Pete offered.

Mark gave him a sceptical look.

A loud thud echoed throughout the sub. It made the vessel shake violently.

‘Shit! What was that?' Kristy Sunshine screamed. She was clinging to a pillar close to the centre of the room, a look of terror on her face.

A second loud thud. It came from the other side of the submarine. Mark stabbed at the control panel. The cameras outside swivelled round. They could all see the 10 centimetre thick metal cables that had shot out from the strange visitors. Moving the cameras to look along the hull of the
Drebbel
, the source of the loud thuds became clear. Huge clamps had been secured to the outer shell of the E-Force vessel. These were connected to the metal cables which stretched a few dozen metres through the churning water and disappeared into openings in the side of the intruder subs.

They heard a loud crack as the tunnel from the Neptune snapped and felt a jolt as the
Drebbel
started to move. On the screen, they could see the outlines of the two huge nuclear subs and hear the engines change pitch. The pair of black shapes turned in unison. The
Drebbel
began to accelerate, heading north-east, away from the hotel.