Майкл Крайтон - The Andromeda Evolution

It didn’t hurt that the boy Tupa was an exceptionally quick learner.

With her arms crossed, Vedala watched Stone and Odhiambo conversing over the monitor. She forced herself not to fidget. The backpacks were prepared, and the morning mist had evaporated. She had even set aside extra supplies for the young newcomer. Making first contact was clearly a delicate operation, and the boy surely had valuable information, but she could feel the urgency to set out rising along with the morning sun.

The field team desperately needed to reach the anomaly and reestablish contact with NORTHCOM. Throughout the entire march, not a single break had appeared in the canopy large enough to establish radio contact. The clearing beside the anomaly would be their last best hope.

Vedala assumed that missing the midday rendezvous with General Stern would be construed as a mission failure, with probable nonsurvival of the team. Though it was ludicrous, she couldn’t shake a horrifying vision of a nuclear strike engulfing the quarantine zone, imagining the blood-boiling heat of a supersonic blast wave front ripping through the jungle.

As Vedala half listened to the conversation and puzzled over their next steps, Peng Wu finished breaking camp. She had packed her samples and portable laboratory, and was now laying out a midmorning meal in the form of military rations that were too heavy to bring along. Three backpacks were loaded and ready to go. The fourth was sitting beside James Stone and Harold Odhiambo, its batteries powering the laptop that was processing their exploratory conversation with Tupa.

As Peng worked, she watched the others and tried to determine who among them could be trusted.

“We need to move soon,” Peng said to Vedala in a quiet voice. “And we need to figure out what to do with the child.”

Vedala nodded.

Tupa sat on a winding tree root with his blowgun across his knees. He spoke softly to the hovering drone, scarcely paying attention to the collection of human beings only a few yards away—a group of people of many colors, but clearly none of them his kin.

The boy was reeling from the violence of the morning, yet he was able to accommodate the questions of this magical speaking bird, whom he immediately took to calling “Sashi.”*

Whether the bird was magic or science, it made no difference.

“Boom!” called the boy, gesturing with both hands before continuing in the stuttering syllables of his own language.

The canary watched and listened via camera and microphone, occasionally speaking to the boy through its speaker, and Stone’s portable computer translated out loud into English: “It began with a loud noise.”

The following paraphrased transcription was completed by the team at Translingua Expressar do Brasil. Advanced technical support (including audio and video data reconstruction) was provided by students of the US Military Academy at West Point under the direction of Dr. Pamela Sanders.

The account is based on translated gestures as well as language, employing civilian builds of the CIA-funded Universal Translation Library (UTL) and the Gesture Recognition Engine Analysis (GREAn) Machine. Words are chosen by probability, and perfection is not guaranteed. For access to a full word-for-word transcription, or raw audio and video files, please contact the United States National Historic Register.

How did you get here, Tupa?

Three [days | suns] ago, all was good. We were moving between [family | communal] maloca huts along the river. My [uncles | older men] were digging up [turtle] eggs on the riverbanks. One day’s hike. I was helping.

Then a roar shook the jungle. Like thunder without the smell of rain.

What did you do?

We waited. Uncle said it was the shout of an angry god. The other men thought it was a great jaguar, hunting. I felt very [scared | worried]. The noise was from the direction of our family [camp | home].

The jungle became quiet.

The men were quiet, too. We heard, very [faint | distant] . . . screaming. Fierce screams. I began to pray. There were more shrieks, closer. I put my head between my knees. Everywhere was wild noise.

The light in the [high canopy] grew dark. Tree branches shook and jumped. Leaves were falling and we covered our heads. Then a [large group | horde] of monkeys passed by in the trees overhead. Hooting and screeching. They were running away from something.

I was [happy | relieved] it was only monkeys. The men were angry [we had] only one blowgun. There was [good meat] moving through the trees.

But something was wrong.

Monkeys [forage] slow. Take their time. These were crazy. Some fell, hitting the ground like [large seed pods]. The fallen ones who lived kept trying to run with [broken bodies]. It was a panic. And not just the monkeys.

All of the jungle was running away.

All of the jungle? Who is that?

Monkey. Sloth. Birds and [pigs | peccaries]. Even the snakes. They all ran away.

Where did you go then?

We moved along the river, toward the thunder. But the river had also run away. The banks were muddy. Pale [catfish] were flopping. We followed the [river’s corpse] until we found an [evil | bad thing] in the jungle.

It was a black mountain, with a mouth that breathed smoke and fire.

[side conversation]

WU

It sounds like ( . . . ) an explosion. Do we have intel on an explosion near the anomaly?

VEDALA

Sure. Something had to eject an ash cloud over the site. That’s what Eternal Vigilance detected. It matched Andromeda and triggered Project Wildfire.

WU

Then there could still be particulate in the atmosphere. It could be as highly infectious as the Piedmont site—

ODHIAMBO

The boy is upset. Let us get this back on track.

[end side conversation]

What did the men decide to do next, Tupa?

Uncle told me to stay back, to hide among the trees. Near the black mountain, dark ash was falling like [slow raindrops] or [cotton wood fluff]. Smoke came from the empty mouth ( . . . )

The [smoke | ash] got in their eyes. The men coughed. I heard them complain their lungs were burned. It was not a sacred smoke.

On the ground were pieces of black rock. Some were very jagged. The men picked them up. The rock was even sharper and lighter than the thing called steel.

The stone flakes were good. My uncle replaced two ax heads right away. He argued the flakes were a gift from the gods. Others said the place was cursed. They would not touch the stone of the black mountain. After a little while, they decided to follow the monkeys and recover their meat.

I was glad to leave behind the bad place.

Were all the men sick? Or only the ones who touched the stones?

I don’t know. I was sent [home] with the turtle eggs. Uncle told me to warn our family. I ran home ( . . . ) but the maloca was empty. The others were gone. Maybe the roar frightened them. And they ( . . . ) they left behind ( . . . )

Is there something else?

More stones. At our maloca. I did not touch them. Someone else [had also] visited the black mouth. I stayed there for two nights, waiting. Nobody came back.

[crying]

It’s okay, Tupa. Take your time.

I decided to go and find the men.

But when I saw them ( . . . ) they were different. Their faces were [injured | wrong]. And they were angry, painting for [battle]. I was scared. I watched from the trees. They were shouting about [intruders] in the jungle. They had [found | tracked] enemies. I painted my face, too. But I was too scared to join them.

And then ( . . . ) and then they [attacked | fought].