Майкл Крайтон - The Andromeda Evolution

Kline had constructed a tower, a tether, and a counterweight—leaving one final component.

The platform in the center of the room was a robotic climber—a cargo platform that could scale the miles-long tether. It ascended using a simple device that looked like two rolling pins. As the pins rotated they would compress the ribbon and pull the platform up. The electric motors were powered through the conductive material of the tether itself.

It was a simple and elegant design.

The dam had been constructed both to provide hydroelectric power for the climber and to create a lake on which the ground station could eventually float—affording the entire base station some degree of movement. In this way, the tether could be maneuvered around potential debris or obstacles in orbit.

But understanding the function of the anomaly had done nothing to save them.

Tupa had remained occupied for a little while, leaping between wooden pallets loaded with crates and untying the ropes. Bright and curious, the boy had proven extremely capable. He had soon wrenched the lids off each crate. Inside, they found no food or water. It was all construction material and tools to be used to complete the elevator.

One particular crate had triggered a shout of surprise from the boy.

Rushing over, Stone looked inside, only to see his own incredulous face staring back from a gold-mirrored visor. It was a neatly packed space suit. Throwing the lid of the crate to the ground, Stone found there was a set of two—one large and one small. The pristine white and gold outfits were lying on a bed of packing peanuts, looking like overweight kids sinking into a ball pit.

“Those aren’t regular issue,” said Vedala. “Kline must have used her connections in NASA to get hold of prototypes. The Z series.”

Vedala pointed to an insignia on the shoulder of one suit. In plain lettering, it read “Z-3.” On examination, the suit was smaller and sleeker than the traditional bulky white “extravehicular mobility unit” suit known as an EMU. The upper torso was a hard shell, and the back opened up neatly for a person to slide quickly inside. Made of advanced composite materials and Kevlar-laced ortho fabric, the entire outfit was light enough for Stone to lift with one hand.

A variety of other NASA-issued accessories accompanied the suits, including a collection of “tether hooks”—modified carabiners used to secure astronauts to the exterior of the International Space Station during EVAs.

The astronaut gear was almost comically out of place in the middle of the Amazon jungle, yet it made the purpose of this room feel all the more real.

Stone and Vedala sat together on the hard floor, out of ideas. Before them, they had laid out every item they had available. Their final manifest included a few MRE meals, a bladder of water from Vedala’s kit, some battery packs, and the dead canary drone. Most frustrating, they still had the Iridium satellite phone. But the shaft had proven too narrow to allow a signal. Without a clear line of sight to the sky, the phone was a useless hunk of black plastic.

“If we drink river water from the hatch, I think we could survive in here for over a week. But it won’t be pretty,” said Vedala, with resignation. “It’s likely that Stern or someone else will try to destroy this structure before then.”

“How could he even begin to do that?” asked Stone.

“Probably not with a nuke. They learned their lesson on that. I’m guessing conventional explosives. Or napalm.”

Stone took a deep breath, letting his eyes travel upward again. He imagined a waterfall of liquid fire coursing down the throat of the shaft. Then Stone’s eyes stopped moving.

He blinked several times, putting a hand to his forehead.

“Wait,” he said. “Wait. The tether conducts electricity to the climber, right?”

“Right.”

“Then it will also conduct a radio signal. We’re sitting here staring at the world’s biggest—”

“Antenna!” exclaimed Vedala, climbing to her feet. “How could we have been so blind?”

THE SATELLITE RADIO had been weighing down Vedala from the beginning of the journey. Cradling it in her hands, she connected the external antenna mount to the filament wire. Stone had already wrapped the other end of the exposed wire around a contact point on the climber. Now, in theory, the phone should have finally become operational. Even so, she held her breath as she activated it.

The cool blue screen flickered, numbers swirling.

It was attempting to reach the Iridium satellite constellation located in polar orbit above the continent of South America.

The satphone numbers blinked and disappeared.

“Well, it was worth a try—”

Stone was interrupted as the satellite phone chirped a connection. A digital warble came from the handset, punctuated by a connection beep and a series of inscrutable clicks.

“This is Northcom, come in,” said a familiar voice over the satphone speaker phone. “Wildfire? Is that you?”

Vedala lifted the satphone.

“General Stern, this is your field team. It’s nice to hear your voice,” she said.

“Copy that,” said Stern. “The feeling is mutual. What’s your status?”

“We entered the anomaly yesterday. The main structure is a hydroelectric dam. The secondary structure is a space elevator, but I’m sure you already know that. During the exploration we were joined by a boy from a local tribe, and . . .”

Here Vedala paused, swallowing.

“And myself, Dr. James Stone, and the boy are the only expedition members still alive. We are now located at the base of the elevator.”

The line was silent for fifteen seconds as Stern absorbed the news.

“You’re at the bottom of the spire?” asked Stern.

“That’s right.”

“I’m sorry to hear about the losses,” Stern said, finally. “There’ve been major operational changes. Have you heard from Kline?”

“We believe Kline is responsible for our casualties. She reverse engineered the Andromeda Strain and built this anomaly. She’s on a crusade.”

“I agree with you, but this is out of my hands. Your orders are to stand down and wait for evacuation. That device is now the property of the United States government. It’s valuable beyond belief.”

Vedala held out the satphone, thunderstruck. Stone gently took it from her hand. A theory had been coalescing in his mind, and now it had finally taken shape.

He just needed the evidence to back it up.

“Sir?” said Stone. “I need to ask you an important question. Have you seen any indication of another mutation on board the ISS? Anything strange?”

There was no response for thirty seconds.

“What do you know, Stone?” came the reply.

“It’s only an educated guess, sir. But if I’m correct . . . you should be seeing another type of mass conversion. This one is probably spreading through the Wildfire laboratory module. And it’s outside Kline’s control.”

“How could you know—”

“Yes or no, General?” urged Stone.

“Yes,” Stern said finally, in a weary voice. “It hasn’t been easy with the ISS twenty-five thousand miles up. But our orbital imaging assets have revealed some kind of . . . infection, spreading across the outer surface of the Wildfire module. An hour ago, it began to consume a portion of the adjoining Leonardo module. It’s made of a different material. Dark purplish strands, almost organic looking.”

Stone handed the satphone back to Vedala.

“We’ve got to go up,” he said.

“What the hell are you talking about?” she asked. “Even if it were possible, why?”

“My pet theory. The first Andromeda evolution was triggered on contact with life. The AS-2 variety adapted to eat polymer and escape the confines of Wildfire. Since then it’s been floating in the upper atmosphere, waiting to evolve again. And now I believe Kline has triggered the next evolution.”