James Rollins - Excavation

Shrugging out of his lab coat, he hooked the garment on a coat rack, then loosened his tie and rolled up his sleeves. He crossed to his desk and settled into the leather chair with a sigh.

He wanted to dictate the last of his annual review, so Marcy could type it up tomorrow for his inspection. He opened a drawer and removed his personal dictation device. Thumbing it on, he brought the microphone to his lips.

“Status Report. Conclusions and Assessments,” he dictated, then cleared his throat. “Nanotechnology has always been a theoretical science, more a field of conjecture than hard science. But with the discovery of Substance Z, we are now prepared to bring the manipulation of atoms into the practical sphere of science and manufacturing. For the past two years, we have studied the effects of the ‘nanobiotic’ units found in Substance Z on early embryonic tissue. We have discovered the manipulation has proven most effective at the blastula stage of the human zygote, during which time the cells are the most undifferentiated and pliable. By observing these nanobots at work, and through a process of reverse engineering, we hope to be able to construct the first prototypes in the near future. But for now, we have made a significant discovery of our own, the first step in making nanotechnology a reality: We now know the programmed goal of the nanobots found in Substance Z.”

Frowning, Dale switched off the recorder and stretched a kink from his neck. He was proud of his research, but a nagging doubt still itched at his conscience. Carrying the dictation device, he crossed to the sealed window.

Once there, he pressed a button and louvered blinds swung open, revealing the contents of the incubation chamber in the next lab. A yellowish broth bubbled and swirled. Small sparks of gilt floated like fireflies in the mix. Flakes of nanobot colonies. Substance Z.

But it was not the special nutrient broth that had drawn Dale here.

Hanging from two racks were the twelve developing human fetuses. He leaned slightly forward studying them. The pair in the second trimester were already developing their wing buds. Heads, bulbous and too large for the tiny frames, seemed to swing in his direction. Large black eyes stared back at him, lidless for now. Small arms, doubly jointed, slowly moved. One of the fetuses sucked its tiny thumb. Dale spotted the glint of sharp teeth.

He raised the recorder again and switched it on. “I have come to believe that the gold meteors discovered by the Incas were, in fact, some form of extraterrestrial spore. Unable to transport themselves physically, an alien civilization seeded these nanobot probes throughout the stars. Like a dandelion gone to seed, the probes spread through space, hoping to find fertile ground among the countless planets. Responsive to the patterns of sentient life, the gold probes would attract the curious with their shapeshifting nature and lure in their prey. Once caught, the nanobots would manipulate this “raw material” at the molecular level, ultimately consuming a planet’s sentient biomass and rebuilding their own alien race from it, thus spreading their civilization among the stars.”

Dale clicked off the recorder. “But not here,” he muttered.

Leaning forward, Dale studied the largest of the developing fetuses. It seemed to sense his attention and reached tiny clawed fists toward him. Sighing, Dale rested his forehead against the glass tank. What will we learn from each other? What will we discover ? The lips of the tiny figure pulled back in a silent hiss, exposing its row of sharp teeth. Dale ignored the infantile display of aggression, content with the success of his handiwork. He rested one palm on the glass.

“Welcome,” he whispered to the newcomers. “Welcome to Earth.”

This novel would not have been possible without the invaluable help of both friends and colleagues. First and foremost, I wish to express my gratitude to Lyssa Keusch, my editor, and Pesha Rubinstein, my literary agent. It was their determination, skill, and labor that helped hone this story into its present form. But I also would be remiss without acknowledging and thanking a group of friends who helped pick apart and polish the first draft: Inger Aasen, Chris Crowe, Michael Gallowglass, Lee Garrett, Dennis Grayson, Debra Nelson, Dave Meek, Chris Smith, Jane O’Riva, Judy and Steve Prey, and Caroline Williams. And the most heartfelt thanks to Carolyn McCray and John Clemens for standing by me through the ups and downs of this past year.

For technical assistance, I must also acknowledge Frank Malaret for his knowledge of Peruvian history and Andie Arthur for her help with the Latin translations. I wish also to thank Eric Drexler, PhD., whose book Engines of Creation was the inspiration for the science behind this story.

James Rollinsis the bestselling author of five previous novels: Subterranean, Excavation, Deep Fathom, Amazonia , and Ice Hunt . He has a doctorate in veterinary medicine and his own practice in Sacramento, California. An amateur spelunker and a certified scuba enthusiast, he can often be found either underground or underwater.

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