Deep Storm (36 page)

He turned back to the screen. I attended a medical conference on the dangers of nuclear garbage and deactivated weaponry. Where to dump something so lethal is a huge problem. Hence, repositories like Ocotillo Mountain. But whats the connection to the Deep Storm project? What was Asher driving at?

There was a brief silence.

Did he say anything else? Hui asked. When he called you, I mean.

Crane thought back for a second. He said it was imperative, absolutely imperative, that we didntand then he stopped.

That we didnt what? Continue the dig?

Im not sure. I never stopped to consider.

And then suddenly Crane understood. And as he did, he felt an almost physically overwhelming mix of triumph and fear.

Oh, no, he breathed.

What is it?

The Waste Isolation Pilot Plant? Ocotillo Mountain? Thats what were sitting on top of.

Hui turned pale. You dont mean

Thats exactly what I mean. All this time, weve been positing some benevolent, paternal race thats planted some wondrous technology deep in the earth for mankind to discover when weve become sufficiently advanced to appreciate it. But thats not it at all. The truth is the Earth has been used as a dumping ground for weapons or toxic waste unimaginably dangerous toxic waste, too, given how advanced your friends from Cygnus Major are.

Thats what Asher was trying to tell you?

Its got to be theres no other answer. That thing encased below the Moho, the thing Spartan is digging toward right now? Its a time bomb.

He paused a moment, thinking fast now. That medical conference I mentioned? Finding a place to dump nuclear garbage is only part of the problem. The real problem is that the stuff is going to stay radioactive for longer than recorded history. How are we going to warn somebody, ten thousand years in the future, that theyd better stay away from Carlsbad or Ocotillo Mountain? Civilization as we know it will have been transformed utterly. So the Department of Energy is seeding the sites with what theyre calling passive institutional controls.

Warning markers.

Exactly. Not just one kind, either, but a wide variety pictures, symbols, text. To tell our descendants the site has been isolated and sealed off for good reason. There were rumors of active controls, as well.

But how can you be sure whats below us is dangerous?

Dont you see? Those sentinels we uncovered as weve dug theyre institutional controls, too, in their own way. And those signals theyre sending out are warnings.

Theyre just mathematical expressions.

But think what kind of expressions they are. Theyre impossible. When Asher first decrypted the message and thought hed gotten it wrong, you know what he said? Division by zero is forbidden by all the laws of the universe. And thats the key word: forbidden. Every single expression those sentinals are transmitting zero to the power of zero, the others theyre all forbidden.

Because whoever did this couldnt use a warning that was language based.

Precisely. Only mathematical formulas are universal. He shook his head. And to think of Flyte, and his talk of irrational numbers. He was more right than he knew. I think.

Who?

He gave a soft laugh. Never mind.

Hui thought for a moment. Why did they start with just one expression and then begin broadcasting thousands?

Crane shrugged. Maybe they thought that division by zero was the simplest, most basic thats why it was so pervasive. Maybe my touch triggered new behavior in the sentinel. Or maybe the fact that we hadnt stopped digging convinced the devices that we hadnt taken the hint that we needed supplements.

He turned abruptly, took a step toward the door. All of a sudden, a sense of terrible urgency filled him: with every new minute, the digging brought them closer to an unthinkable oblivion.

Where are you going? Hui asked.

Youre looking at one guy who finally has taken the hint.

What about me? Where should I go?

Stay here. Its as safe as anywhere probably safer, because its already been searched. He took her hand again, gave it a reassuring squeeze. Ill be back for you soon.

She took a deep breath. Okay. Maybe Ill take another look at that initial transmission. The one Dr. Asher didnt translate.

Excellent idea, Crane smiled. Then he stepped up to the lab door, paused to listen, and quickly slipped out into the corridor.

Chapter 44

Admiral Spartan stood silently, looking at Crane. They were standing in a quiet corner of the observation chamber, and the only light came from the long window overlooking the Drilling Complex. The light was not sufficient to betray the expression on the admirals face.

Crane glanced at the technicians and engineers, sitting at their monitoring stations. Then he looked down into the hangar. A crew of workers was prepping one of the remaining two Marbles for its descent. Even from this vantage point, there seemed to be a palpable excitement in the air: it seemed they were now just days, perhaps hours, from reaching the Moho, and any of the next few trips could be the breakthrough dive.

He returned his gaze to Spartan.

The admiral seemed to rouse himself from deep contemplation. He clasped his hands behind his back. Let me get this straight. All the mysterious illnesses, the psychological problems, are the result of a signal?

Its the same digital signal the sentinels first transmitted via light waves. Except this other signal is transmitted in some way our technology cant pick up. And it triggers a highly abnormal spiking of theta waves in the brain. See, the brain works on electricity, Crane explained. When that electricity misfires, it affects the autonomous nervous system. That in turn can cause nausea, visual field defects, arrhythmia all the neurological deficits weve been seeing. It can also affect the frontal lobe of the brain. And that in turn accounts for the problems with memory and concentration, changes in character, even psychotic episodes.

How can we counteract it? Negate its effects?

The signal? We cant even track it. The only solution is to avoid it. Stop the dig, get people to the surface, away from the source.

Spartan gave a dismissive shake of his head. And this signal is transmitting a mathematical expression.

Asher decoded several signals. All mathematical expressions, all impossible.

Youre saying theyre a warning of some kind.

The expressions are all forbidden by universal law. What better way to signal danger, when language isnt an option?

What better way, Doctor? Something more articulate. More direct.

Crane thought he heard skepticism in Spartans tone. Whoever planted these objects beneath the Moho whoever created the sentinels is clearly far, far more advanced than we are. Whos to say they arent transmitting signals that are, as you say, more articulate but we just arent smart enough yet to intercept them?

Spartan pursed his lips. And were the proud owners of an interstellar toxic dump. Or, perhaps, a cache of doomsday weapons from some distant arms race.

Crane didnt answer. The silence lengthened. Over his shoulder, he could hear the distant murmur of conversation, the clicking of keyboards.

At last, Spartan exhaled slowly. Im sorry, Doctor, but it all sounds very circumstantial to me. In fact, I have to wonder whether your own theta waves arent beginning to spike. An alien civilization uses Earth as a waste repository, then sends out signals to warn us.

No, not us. They couldnt care less about us the violence of the original burial event proves that. Were insects to them. The civilization that did this probably comes from an environment of methane and sulfuric acid. Oxygen and nitrogen may even be toxic to them. Theyre not concerned about us; to them the Earth is a useless planet, and were too primitive to deserve consideration. Its only a freakish chance we discovered their message in the first place. Theyre concerned about civilizations far more advanced. Theyre warning them to stay away from Earth.

Spartan did not reply.

After a moment, Crane sighed. Youre right. It is circumstantial. Theres no way to conclusively prove whats down there without penetrating the Moho. But thats like saying a grenade is circumstantial until you pull the pin.

Still, Spartan did not respond.

Look, Crane went on, hearing the urgency in his own voice. I dont know whats down there exactly I only know that its unimaginably dangerous. Is it worth jeopardizing the Earth to find out whats down there? Because the stakes might be at least that high.

At last, Spartan roused himself. And youre convinced of that?

Id bet my life on it.

And this deliberate erasing of Ashers hard drive are you sure of that, as well?

Crane nodded.

Your talents seem to extend beyond the medical profession. Did you resurrect the data yourself?

Crane hesitated. I had assistance.

I see. Admiral Spartan looked back at him, expression still unreadable. Would you know where Hui Ping is?

Crane kept his tone neutral. No idea.

Very well. Thank you, Doctor.

Crane blinked. Excuse me?

You may go. Im rather busy at the moment.

But everything Ive said

Ill consider it.

Crane looked at Spartan in disbelief. Youll consider it? Another dive, maybe two, and itll be too late to consider anything. He paused. Admiral, theres more at stake here than your mission, than whats down at the bottom of that shaft. Theres also the lives of everyone on board this Facility. You have a duty, a responsibility, to them as well. Even if theres only a remote chance that Im right, you owe it to them to examine my findings, the report Im preparing. Because the risk is simply too great to do otherwise.

Youre dismissed, Dr. Crane.

Ive done my job Ive solved the mystery. Now you do yours! Stop this fools task, save this Facility, or Ill

Dimly, Crane became aware that he was raising his voice, and heads were turning. He abruptly fell silent.

Or youll what? Spartan asked.

Crane did not reply.

Im glad to hear youve done your job. Now I suggest you leave the Drilling Complex on your own accord, Doctor. Before I have an armed detail escort you out.

For a moment, Crane stood where he was, rooted in place by anger and disbelief. Then, without another word, he spun on his heel and exited the observation chamber.

Chapter 45

Michele Bishop sat at the desk in her tidy office. She was intently scrutinizing an X-ray on her monitor, her dark blond hair falling over her eyes, chin perched lightly on carefully varnished fingernails. Outside, the Medical Suite was draped in a profound stillness.

Inches from her elbow, the phone rang, shattering the silence. Bishop jumped in her seat. Then she reached for the phone. Medical, Bishop.

Michele? Its Peter.

Dr. Crane? She frowned. It sounded like him, all right; but his normally phlegmatic, almost lazy voice was rushed and breathless. She pressed the power button on the edge of her monitor, then sat back in her seat as the screen went black.

Im in the temporary infirmary on deck four. I need your help, badly.

Very well.

A pause. Are you okay? You soundpreoccupied.

Im fine, Bishop said.

Weve got a crisis on our hands. Another pause, longer this time. Look. I cant tell you everything yet. But whats down below us it isnt Atlantis.