Майкл Крайтон - The Andromeda Evolution

“But why would it explode?” she asked. “Odhiambo says this area is volcanically dormant for five hundred miles in every direction. It’s not likely to have been a natural process.”

“I don’t think it was,” said Stone. “I’m not ready to reveal my pet theory without more evidence, but I think what happened was a mistake. A human mistake.”

Vedala shot Stone a look of concern. She lowered her voice and faced forward as she spoke her next words.

“I look forward to hearing your theory. As you’ve seen, elements of this expedition have been compromised. Some people have been keeping secrets. And I need to be able to trust you, James.”

“Look, I know it wasn’t your idea to bring me, Nidhi, but I’m not some kind of a spy—”

“That’s exactly what I mean. You’re trustworthy because you were never supposed to be here. You’re a wild card, Stone, and possibly a very lucky accident.”

BY 11:03:24 UTC, the Wildfire field team was assembled at the mouth of the anomaly. They were watched from a distance by a wary Tupa. Respirators hung around their necks, and they wore headlamps on their foreheads. The team had reapplied the last of the inhibitor across their clothing and skin.

They were as prepared as they could be.

“All right,” said Vedala. “I want everyone to march in single file. We’re going to move slowly. If you see something, say something. Stone’s canaries are going in first, so we’ll have a map to work from. Slow and steady. No surprises.”

The river murmured quietly in the background as Vedala added, “Remember, a certain someone doesn’t want us here. Which is exactly why we’ve got to investigate.”

“Deploying canaries,” replied Stone, gesturing to the drones as they flitted one at a time into the tunnel. Turning to look into the forest, he added, “I just need a moment.”

Stone tilted his head toward Tupa, who squatted on a nearby log with the blowgun across his knees. The boy hadn’t left Stone’s side since they’d made first contact, and his unhappiness now was not concealed. However, it had been decided that the safest scenario was for Tupa to wait outside for their return.

Vedala watched as Stone approached the boy with a smile and confident words. Asked to stay behind, Tupa was looking away from Stone with the distinct sheen of tears in his eyes.

Vedala couldn’t suppress a sad smile.

Harold Odhiambo strode to the threshold of the tunnel, leaning inside with bright, curious eyes. For the xenogeologist, this was the realization of a literal childhood dream. The black tunnel had begun to blink with light as the canary drones illuminated their LEDs, flickering like fireflies into the dark throat.

Beside Odhiambo, Peng Wu was struggling not to hyperventilate. Sensing the onset of a panic attack, she was in the process of employing a deep-breathing routine taught in the taikonaut basic training regimen.

Odhiambo spoke to her in a calm tone, without any trace of judgment.

“Whatever is in there, Major Wu . . . we have no reason to believe it is hostile. Theoretically, this entire structure could be no more than an expression of a microparticle that doesn’t know we exist. It is a natural wonder. Something ancient, possibly even from another star system . . . but here now entirely by accident.”

“We don’t know that,” said Peng. “Not for sure.”

“No, I suppose we don’t. But Andromeda has never been found outside our own upper atmosphere. It is unique to our planet, some strange accident of evolution . . . unless you know something I don’t?”

Their eyes met, and Peng almost began to speak before stopping.

“A prerequisite of information sharing is trust , Dr. Odhiambo. And I’m afraid there isn’t enough of it going around.”

Odhiambo noticed that Peng was staring coldly over his shoulder. Nidhi Vedala stood nearby, listening to the conversation. She seemed tense, her eyes sharp and calculating. When she spoke, there was a harsh edge to her voice.

“If you’re aware of any danger to my team,” said Vedala in a low voice, “now is the time to divulge it.”

“I . . .” began Peng, before her mouth snapped shut. “I am not.”

Odhiambo frowned. It seemed as if an opportunity for cooperation had just passed them by. Unfortunately, it was a chance that wouldn’t come again.

Peng continued, “Regardless, I do see good reason to listen to Dr. Kline. She has the most intimate understanding of the microparticle. And she warned us not to proceed for a reason.”

“Her warnings weren’t backed up by evidence,” countered Vedala. “And her judgment can’t be trusted, for obvious reasons. Why are you so afraid?”

In response, Peng Wu said something very odd.

“I have . . . an intuition.”*

The very mention of the word intuition caused Vedala to blanch. She was behaving as most scientists were trained to—immediately discounting the results of an emotion, a feeling , not backed up by solid evidence.

She chose her next words carefully. Everyone knew that the loitering canaries would be recording this exchange.

“Our field team has a job to do, Major Wu. We are to enter and investigate the anomalous structure. Those are still our orders. If you wish to defy them, you may, but you do so with full knowledge of the repercussions.”

Peng’s machete was still in her hand, fingers flexed tightly over the grip. Each beat of her heart sent her arm quaking. She appeared to be experiencing hyperarousal, better known as the fight-or-flight response.

“I’ll elucidate,” Vedala added, stepping closer. “Since you are military personnel, you will likely be discharged. As a civilian, you will be prosecuted. Your career will be over. Possibly you’ll lose your freedom, although I’m not overly familiar with the workings of the People’s Republic military judicial system. I will assume they don’t celebrate cowardice.”

Peng nodded, shoulders slumping. She looked at the machete in her hand and forced herself to drop it to the jungle floor. Satisfied, Vedala turned sharply and moved to collect Stone from his goodbyes with Tupa.

Harold Odhiambo put a comforting hand on Peng’s shoulder. He leaned in with excitement dancing in his eyes.

“Try and remember,” he said, stepping over the threshold and into the tunnel mouth. “This is a scientific adventure .”

Peng nodded without much enthusiasm, following Odhiambo into the structure.

Vedala followed a few seconds later.

Stone was the last to enter. At the opening, he turned to wave goodbye to Tupa. The boy was now sitting on his heels, perched on a hard-case full of extra food and supplies. He waved back listlessly. It had taken the last five minutes of arguing via the translating canary to fully convince the boy to stay behind.

The featureless black tunnel swallowed Stone quickly. The lights of the teams’ headlamps danced on smooth walls. Deeper inside, the fluttering canary drones twinkled like distant stars.

Tupa, left alone in the hot, silent clearing, watched until the last flicker of light disappeared.

He paused for about thirty seconds and then hastily hopped off the hard-case and popped it open. Inside, he dug out an inhibitor-soaked shirt Stone had left behind. Shrugging on this “armor,” he pulled a spare respirator over his head and wrapped the band of a headlamp around his fingers, dimming the bright light with his clenched fist.

At the entrance, he paused to pick up Peng’s abandoned machete. Taking a last deep breath, he stepped across the threshold in pursuit of his friends.

The steel blade flashed once as the boy loped away into darkness.

Primary Descent

ONE AT A TIME, THE FIELD TEAM STEPPED INTO THE suffocating blackness. Coated in layers of inhibitor spray, each member wore long pants and sleeves, bright purple exam gloves, and a wing-shaped respirator tucked over nose and mouth. Four headlamps bobbed in the clear, hot air. Four sets of boots thumped off the hard flat ground, sending echoes racing up and down the seemingly endless corridor.