David Brin - The Heart of the Comet

The purple…things…must’ve broken through to a crevice leading up to the surface.

He launched himself across the shaft. The wind blew him several meters before he hit the far side and managed to hook a temporary clip into the insulation. He hung on and watched the nearest of the purple worms twist and pulsate, rivulets of ocher sweat running down from the pointed tip. The wind blew the drops away, sucking them back into the gaping hole that ringed the base of the worm.

The horrible thing bloated, contracted, bloated again—each time prying the insulation wider, admitting more of it into the shaft. The nearest was at least a meter long and visibly growing, convulsing in a slow agony of swell and clench, swell and clench. Its maw glittered with what looked like crystals of native iron.

They’re after the green gunk , he realized as the worms pressed against the layers of mosslike growth within their reach. They seemed to absorb it directly. They’re grazing on the stuff!. And sucking threads out of the air.

Around the aluminum and steel collar of 3E’s entrance Carl counted thirteen of them. He played out some line and the howling gale sucked him down, toward one of the eyeless, slime-sweating things.

Carl clenched his teeth. He was breathing bottled air now but he’d swear he could smell it—cloying, thick, humid, like ripe, moldering leaves.

He unhooked his laser cutter, thumbed it to max, and fired at one. The beam drove a thin red line straight through it… with no significant effect.

He made the next bolt last longer and sliced the thing off a few centimeters above the base. A spray of purple-red whipped away into the wind. The top wobbled and fell aside, then tumbled slowly away.

More fluid seeped from the wound and then it began to film over. As Carl watched the thing began growing a thickening crust. The new matter had a rich, glossy purple skin like an eggplant. Then it began to thrust outward, sideways, outward again—onward, into the shaft, the wound only a momentary interruption.

Carl felt the hair rise in prickly fear along the back of his neck.

—… it like now? Repeat, can’t pick you up, want to know…—

The rest was lost. Carl could see no one in the shaft. Where were they?

He pulled his patch gun from its holster on his left calf. It was intended for small work, but he couldn’t think of anything else to do.

To get closer he played out another meter of line, then hastily drew some back in as the burgeoning thing waved his way. Could it sense him? Without eyes or any visible organs? Maybe his body heat. He wasn’t going to take any chances.

The patch gun spat a wad of yellow gum at the hole. It splattered over the opening, spreading quickly as the long chain molecules grasped for the maximum surface area to bond. The suction bowed it inward but the yellow patch held.

For almost a minute. Then the worm butted against the cloying yellow film, wrenched, flexed—and shook it free. The wind tore at the loose edge. It flapped futilely like a ragged flag.

“We’ll need the big stuff,” Carl sent. “Bring all we got.”

—… can’t hear… any other measures… take to be sure…—

“Yeah. Seal all locks. Everywhere .”

—… don’t under… we’re sending all…—

“If we run out of sealant, the locks are our only backup.”

And if that fails, he thought, we’ll have to live in suits.

Ten minutes later, that didn’t seem so unlikely.

Only Lani and Samuelson and Conti were available to help right away; crew was stretched thinly everywhere. Lani was a spacer, quick and smart, but the other two had been pressed into jobs they didn’t know.

They worked as fast as possible. Chopping the tendrils was simple, but more pushed in before the sealant could harden. Carl and Samuelson discovered that to make any progress at all, they had to get close into the tip in the insulation and clear out the whole area, cutting all the way back to the ice.

—Got to slice it clean away,—Samuelson said. The large man licked his lips nervously. —Damnedest stuff I ever saw.—

“Watch out there with that torch, you’re close to the ice.” Carl had to hold Samuelson on a rope to keep the man from being sucked directly against the hole. The team had rigged a set of linchpin stays and lines to keep the howling wind from plucking them off the shaft walls. Now the shrill, hollow shriek slowly dulled as the air in Shaft 3 finally ran out.

Carl shouted. “Don’t get to close!”

Too late. Samuelson’s big industrial laser had finished off the purple stuff, all right—and then hit a vein of carbon-dioxide ice, vaporizing it instantly. A gout of steam shot out of the hole and blew Samuelson away, spinning.

“Lani! Slap that sealant in now ,” Carl sent. He released the line, letting Samuelson get clear. It was going to be messy around there in just a second.

Lani maneuvered at the end of a tether, holding the snaking blowline in both hands. —Here goes.—

Sticky yellow sealant spattered over the cleaned holes. Carl and Conti played fan lasers on it at the lowest setting, to flash-dry it.

Lani worked her way around the collar of 3E, shooting thick coats of yellow over the rents. Here and there it buckled from pressure, but she quickly spewed more on to reinforce the barrier.

—Not supposed to use it this way,—Conti sent. —Too thick. We’ll run out.—

Samuelson returned, velcro-climbing the walls to rejoin them. —Anything thinner, she’ll crack right through.—

—There’ll be none left.—

“Cut the crap,” Carl said sharply. If you let a crew bitch they lost concentration and didn’t give their best to the job.

Lani called, —I’m done.—The steam petered out.

The sudden silence was startling. Carl cast off from the shaft wall, able to hover now that the sucking draft had stopped. There was hardly any air pressure left. “Maybe that’ll hold it.”

Samuelson sent, —What the hell was that?—

—Something that grows in the ice,—Conti said.

— —Come on, in ice ?—Samuelson asked sarcastically.

—No other way possible,—Conti said flatly. —Perhaps they get through cracks? Through softer snow veins? This is not any terrestrial form!—

—But so big ,—Lani said. —What Saul found were mostly microorganisms, correct?—

—Yeah,—Conti added. —And the green gunk and the threads, they don’t chase you around, last I heard.—

Samuelson laughed. —These ’uns are bigger all right.—

“And strong. It breaks through insulation,” Carl said.

They hung in the near-vacuum, staring at one another. Samuelson kicked off the wall and gestured upward, where splashes of phosphors dotted away into a long V with perspective. —Could happen anywhere in th’ shaft.—

Carl shook his head. “It came through close to the collar, nowhere else. What’s special about this spot?”

Conti said, —Something about the collar, where it fits to ice?—

“We’ll have to check every collar, every intersection.”

Samuelson said, —Damn right. We better collect all the bits of it that got blown into this shaft, too.—

“Good idea,” Carl sent. “Let’s get to work.”

They spread out through the shaft and nearby tunnels. Carl snagged several drifting purple glops and stored them in a plastic carry bag. Blobs of jelly floated free or had stuck to walls. It was sticky and left a smear on whatever it touched. He kept a running commentary to Central, describing the lifeform to Malenkov. Saul Lintz came on, peppering him with questions. He had no idea how to answer. Saul demanded samples immediately.