The Void

CHAPTER 16

Alex stared down into the thick mist. It was impossible to see anything through it, and it hung in a layer over the crater floor that extended for miles. Whatever had come out of the Orlando had massively spread.

He exhaled slowly; he had a bad feeling about this one. With any luck, they’d be gone within another eight to twelve hours. Without luck, they had breathable air for two days — one day, if it was high activity. He set a timer on his wrist that would begin counting down when he engaged his oxygen.

Alex then quickly sent off a message to Hammerson: Reached peak, zero casualties, commencing search, over. The message screen on his forearm screen rotated for a few seconds, before giving him back a single word — failed.

Shit, must be the effects of the atmosphere blister already. He’d expected it, and they’d planned for it. He’d have to send up communication bullets as they went. This meant he could get brief messages out, but nothing could get in — one-way comms only — as good as it got.

They were above the strange mist layer, and with his visor still up, he couldn’t smell any unusual odors, but he could feel the warmth against his face. He’d give the team another few minutes to acclimatize before dropping down. The temperature differential would be too extreme for the civilians, so better to ease them into it.

As Alex watched something seemed to lump in the center of the sea of cloud like a whale coming to the surface but not quite breaching. The huge dark shape traveled for several hundred feet before sinking from sight.

“I hope that was a trick of the light.” Sam had appeared beside him.

“You and me both,” Alex said, continuing to watch. “Hammerson said they detected movement, so…”

“Can’t see a goddamn thing.” Sam retracted his quad lenses, held up an arm using his wrist scanner, and moved it over the crater. He read some data and whistled. “The actual floor of the crater is still another 500 feet down, and given the mist only starts about half way, we still got some climbing to do.”

“At least it’s all downhill.” Alex grinned up at his friend.

Sam nodded. “Yep, there is that.” He lowered his arm. “What the hell is keeping it from blowing away?”

“Good question… and next one is, where is it all coming from?” He checked his wrist communicator again. “Comms are down. So its electromagnetic influence is reaching us even up here. I can’t smell anything, but we’ll need to permanently hood up as soon as we start to descend.”

Sam grunted. “Can you see anything?”

Alex knew what he was asking, and turned back to the smog. His vision was far superior to anyone else’s, and could even see changes in thermal radiation. He stared, concentrating, and saw that further out over the mist, there was the occasional swirl and eddy, as if whatever he thought he saw before was still swimming just beneath its surface.

“There’s certainly movement down there. But I can’t tell what it is, or whether it’s a single signature or multiple objects moving together.”

“Our Russian friends… or maybe survivors?” Sam raised his eyebrows.

Alex continued to stare. “Don’t think so.”

Sam sighed. “Why do I get the feeling that this was never going to be a simple rescue and recovery mission?”

Alex snorted. “If that’s all it was, they wouldn’t have needed us. So let’s find the Orlando, and get the hell out of here.” He turned. “Knight.”

The young HAWC joined them. “Boss?”

Alex nodded toward the crater. “Give me a direction on the Orlando.”

Steve Knight held up a tracker, the screen showing a 3D representation of the crater basin, cutting it up into a grid, and then identifying a quadrant where the main shuttle fragments rested. He pointed with a flat hand.

“North, northeast, 4,569.3 feet. Terrain is… wait a minute.” He frowned as he looked at the formations. “Hard to get an accurate geographic reading; there’s plenty of weird formations down there, maybe rock, but…” His frown deepened.

“What is it?” Alex watched him.

“System must be screwy. Formations that were there a few seconds ago are now gone.” He turned slightly, angling the scanner. “No, not gone… just somewhere else.”

“Could it be that the magnetic disturbance is giving us some distortion?” Sam’s brows rose slightly.

Alex looked at Sam whose face said he didn’t believe it for a second. Alex nodded and looked back out over the murky air. “Okay, that’s enough sightseeing. Let’s find us some holiday snaps and maybe a few dead astronauts.”

The group shed a lot of their clothing. The HAWCs now stood at the cliff edge, gazing out over the crater basin in their armored suits, hoods up and looking like a group of heavily muscled black-clad robots. The NASA crew donned a modern version of lightweight HAZMAT suits and breathing equipment, and Morag and Calvin wore the borrowed same. Piles of cold weather clothing lay at their feet. It wouldn’t be needed down lower where the temperatures reached fifty degrees and well above that in humidity.

Alex watched the group begin to scale down and then paused to briefly look up at the clouds above. He could just make out the thrum of a helicopter he knew was up there somewhere. He didn’t like the odds of being able to grab the sample from the sky, but if Vincenzo said he could do it, then Alex had to believe him.

He turned to his team. “Franks, Dundee, take us down.”

“Yo.” Casey leaped over the side, followed by the Aussie, and then the rest of the group.

Scaling down, even with his insulated suit, Alex felt the warmth embrace him. The air was thick, and he knew it wasn’t just the humidity, but the mix of strange gases being given off by something the Orlando might have brought down with it. He paused to look at his gloved hand — it glistened, like it was coated in oil. And the mist seemed to be small particles rather than a gas.

Alex let go of the rope and dropped the last dozen feet, and on landing his feet squelched. He looked down, seeing the green-gray sludge.

Nice. “Knight, give me an LF check.”

The young HAWC pointed his forearm reader at their surroundings and turned slowly. “Holy shit. Life forms off the chart.” He shook his head. “Hard to get any sort of clear reading. I’m overloading the sensor.”

Alex grunted. “Probably the free-floating bacteria — basically this fog is a living thing.” He looked down at the muck he stood in. “As well as this stuff.” He frowned, listening. “Anyone else hear that?”

“Yeah,” Sam said. “Like some sort of whine, like when you got a goddamn mosquito in your room. Where’s it coming from?”

Alex shook his head, turning slowly. It seemed to be coming from all around them. Everywhere.

“This mist… it’s not a gas,” Anne Peterson said, waving a hand slowly in front of her face. “This is suspended particular matter. Bacterial clumps, maybe algae, or maybe something else entirely.” She waved her hand in front of her face again making the mist swirl. “It has weight, so the lighter form is suspended, and after a while it sinks, clumps, and becomes this slime matter.”

“Could this have been here before?” Alex moved some of it with the toe of his boot. It lumped up, and stayed that way. “Under the snow and ice, I mean?”

“Maybe, or maybe it came from the shuttle and has been growing. We’ve all seen the bloom spread after the crash.” Anne also pushed at it with her toe. “It’s like a lichen, but…” she lifted her foot and some stuck. “But a bit more like a slime mold.” She turned about. “And it’s everywhere — could be the basis for a food chain, anyway. I’ll take a sample. At least we can get this back to the lab.”

She took out a canister from her pack and crouched. Anne went to scoop the jar across the organic matter.

Russell Burrows lunged. “Wait.” He held up a hand. “Careful, Anne, don’t get any on you.” She froze and he straightened. “Sorry, we don’t know exactly what happened to our astronauts, but we do know that it occurred after they took the space debris onboard. And if this stuff has anything to do with the space debris…”

She grimaced. “Right, right, sorry, could be some sort of contaminant.”

“And we’re fucking standing right in it.” Dundee bristled.

“Shut it, soldier,” Sam shot back.

“Don’t worry, I believe it’s too large to get in through our sealed suits.” Anne took out a small spatula and used it to scoop some into her jar. She screwed the lid closed, held it up and shook it. The sample settled for a moment, before sliding up one side of the canister. She peered at the sample and shook it again. “Strange. Doesn’t look like anything I’ve ever seen before. Don’t know if it’s plant, eukaryote, or animal. Almost like mucus.”

Anne shook her head. “I can’t really tell whether it starts as particles that eventually sink to clump into the slime. Or it starts as the slime, and then separates to become the free-floating particles. What state comes first?”

Russell crouched beside her and squinted. “Is that stuff moving?”

Anne jiggled it. “Doubt it.”

“Gross.” Casey Franks bent to stare into the glass jar. “Looks like snot.”

“Thank you, Professor Franks.” Alex stared at the greenish gloop. “So this mold or fungus might be responsible for giving off the gas?”

Anne shrugged. “Sure, why not? Plants and fungi can give off everything from methane and oxygen to microscopic spores. We won’t know for sure until we get it back to the lab.” She held up the container and jiggled it again. “And even if it isn’t off-gassing, it will be saturated with it.”

Alex looked up at the cliff face. “Seems to like warmth. As soon as it gets closer to where the atmosphere bubble ends, it stops growing.”

“Most life on Earth prefers warmth and moisture.” Anne looked around. “This is a perfect bio-environment for life. I should probably try and collect more samples.” She held out the small specimen jar.

Alex reached toward it, but then paused — he was sure the small whine had become louder.

“What is it?” Anne asked.

Alex moved his hand away, and then back toward the jar. The whine increased and decreased as if the substance inside was reacting to his hand.

Anne scoffed. “Don’t be scared.”

He lowered his hand. “I don’t think I’m the one who’s scared.” He knew only he could hear or sense the reaction. But he also knew that it knew he was here. He turned slowly; it probably accounted for the feeling he had that they were being watched — maybe by a billion eyes, for all he knew.

No. He straightened; there was something else out there. Something bigger.

Anne stared in at the glob, turning it slowly in her gloved hand. There was a small smile on her lips.

“Let’s hurry this up.” Alex turned to stare out into the curtains of biological brume. He caught Sam’s eye, who nodded and also began to scan the near-impenetrable living fog.

“Hey, Dundee.” Casey was grinning at Dunsen. “There’s something on your boot.”

Dunsen curled a lip. “Yeah, right; I’m not falling for that one, Franks.”

“Okay, sure.” She nodded toward his boot. “But maybe you should toss it on the barbie.”

Monroe chuckled. “She’s right. You got a passenger there, buddy.”

Dunsen cursed under his breath and was about to turn away, when he must have felt something. He looked down.

He started to kick his leg. “What the fuck is that?”

There was something making its way up his leg. It looked like some sort of glossy-green, muscled crustacean, with long spindly legs.

Dunsen drew a long, outback hunting knife, and in a single swift motion sliced the thing free. He growled, closing in on it.

“Don’t.” Anne held up a hand.

Dunsen’s huge boot came down on the critter with a satisfying crunch. “Fuck you, prawn,” he said, and ground his boot for a second. When he lifted it, only shell and goo remained.

Anne scowled. “I could have collected that.”

“You still can. I caught it for you.” He grinned. “And now it won’t bite.”

Monroe smirked. “Dundee making friends with the locals.”

Dunsen resheathed his huge knife. “Yeah, and I don’t come in peace.”

“Idiots; we need more samples.” Anne placed hands on her hips.

“Sorry, no time for more,” Alex said. “Your existing sample has some of the particle gas as well as the biological material. Everything else you need should be locked in its cells. Send the package up, doctor, and let’s get your labs looking at it.”

Anne looked about to protest but Alex held firm. “If you don’t do it now, the chopper is likely to leave and then we’ll get nothing back.” He waited.

Anne sighed. “Damn it. So, it’s this or nothing, huh?”

Alex just held out a hand.

She tsked, and then handed the canister to him. Alex looked in at the sludge for a few seconds before tossing it to Sam. The HAWC opened his pack and took out a squat gun, which he telescoped open. He then put the small vial in a large bullet-shaped plug, snapped the barrel closed and pointed it skyward.

“Fire in the hole.” Sam pulled the trigger.

Alex watched as the small projectile sped away. He tracked it for only a short while before it vanished in the cloud.

“That’s it?” Anne asked.

“Yep. The rest is up to Vincenzo and his butterfly net.” He faced her.

“How do we even know if he got it?” She tilted her head, her brow furrowed.

“We don’t.” Alex looked back to the sky. “We trust him to do his job.”

The small canister burst from the cloud cover, heading straight up. As soon as it passed out of the interference zone the chopper’s instruments were alerted and Vincenzo swung back hard and accelerated.

The pilot knew he had less than half a minute to grab the speeding capsule while it was on its upward velocity. At its zenith, it would deploy a small aluminum balloon, but given the wind speed, this would act more like a sail than a parachute. Instead of the sample capsule hanging in the air before floating slowly back to the ground, and giving him many more minutes to line up his snatch, the wind would grab it and blow it all the way to the damn Arctic.

Vincenzo leaned forward, pushing the big helo to its limits. From the front of the chopper the twenty-foot pole extended with a v-shaped clasp, ready. The small canister reached about 500 feet in the air at the peak of its arc, hung there for a second or two, and then as programmed, a silver balloon burst open.

Several things happened: the canister didn’t drop but now floated, and then as expected, the wind caught it and it accelerated away, with Vincenzo in determined pursuit.

He leaned forward in his seat, his lips pulled back and teeth bared as he bore down on the speeding dot in front of him.

“Don’t you try and side-step me now, baby.”

Yards, feet, inches, and then he caught the small rope between the balloon and the canister, and the clasp locked down on it.

“Got ya!”

He sat back and exhaled. “Walk in the park.” Vincenzo grinned, and then spoke into his mic.

“Sample package recovered; coming home.” He banked hard and looked down into the weird boiling fog that filled the crater basin.

“See you on the flip side, Hunter. Good luck.”

In another minute, he was gone.

Alex quickly entered a message into his forearm screen. Arrived, no casualties, no sign of hostiles, search commencing. He added information about the environment, the weird slime that seemed to move, and the mist. He then sent it to a numbered communication bullet, and pointed his arm upward. A small tube appeared on the back of his wrist unit — he flexed, and the bullet was fired.

The communication gun was a similar design to Sam’s, but it was miniaturized and used only for compacted data squirts. Alex stared upward, but already the projectile would have risen approximately 4,000 feet, and in a microsecond, sent an encrypted packet of information that would be bounced off secure satellites all the way back to his boss, Colonel Jack Hammerson.

The small projectile would have one more task — as it came to the end of its upward velocity, and its compressed data was well away, the explosives would be triggered, obliterating it. Nothing above dust-sized fragments would fall back to earth.

Alex lowered his arm, and the small tube retracted back into the forearm unit. He continued to watch for a moment more before sighing and beginning to pivot back to his team. He suddenly spun to the wall of mist.

He could sense something big. Close by, but just out of sight. And there was something else. Beneath his feet, he felt a slight tremor or vibration. He closed his eyes and tried to concentrate to get an image of what it might be, but whatever it was, it had either stopped or moved away.

It was too big; had to be some sort of tremor. Alex opened his eyes and turned slowly. Around him the haze was swirling slightly. The back of his neck tingled and every fiber of his being told him there was danger ahead. At this point they couldn’t see anything, and nothing showed on their instruments — if they could even still be trusted. He then saw Calvin Renner trying to film, but cursing at the lack of clear vision.

He knew his HAWCs were watching him. They could sense his unease and were on edge. The group was exposed and vulnerable. “Armor up, DVP — Franks at point.”

“Yo!” Casey fist pumped.

The HAWCs responded by pulling their RG3s and spreading into formation. DVP stood for Defensive ‘V’ Pattern — like an arrowhead, and Casey Franks would be its tip.

Sam Reid organized them, his huge body pushing, glaring, and overseeing Alex’s orders. He pointed to the NASA crew. “Civilians to the center of the group, now. We expect hostiles, people, so stay alert.” He walked around them, and once satisfied turned to Alex. “On your orders, boss.”

Alex grunted. “Knight, find me that shuttle.”

“Boss.” Knight fell in at Casey’s shoulder. The stocky female HAWC would cover him, as he would be partially distracted by the tracker.

Knight looked up momentarily and then pointed with a flat hand. “This way, 448 feet.”

“And counting down,” Casey said, and led them in.