The Omega Project (41 page)

The Space Energy Agency had developed SPARE—Solar-Powered Air Rechargeable Equipment. The closest units were stored on the lower level. None of the breathing apparatus would fit Oscar.

An overcast sky yielded a mere twenty-two minutes of air. Dharma would remain outside with the cephaloped, attempting to fill another tank while I searched
Oceanus,
checking a list of equipment to see what still functioned.

There were thirty-three different ways to construct an EMP weapon, and ABE carried the designs of all but seven of them in its data files. Our goal was simple: As I made my way through the ship, opening targeted control panels and climbing through crawl spaces, the bio-chip would catalog everything on its lists that functioned until one of the design requirements was complete. Then Dharma or I would go back and remove the part—assuming we had fulfilled one of the weapon specifications.

Unbeknownst to my two companions, I would also be searching for a weapon or fast-acting poison that would allow my female companion and I to quickly and painlessly commit suicide.

Donning the mask, I reentered the sphere and headed straight for the nuclear reactor, the control room located beneath the lower level’s removable deck panels. I removed two heavy steel grates, revealing an aluminum ladder that led below into darkness. Guided by ABE, I was searching for a large capacitor and high-voltage thyristor … whatever the hell that was. ABE knew, and cross-referencing the ship’s schematics, it led me to the correct control panels … no easy feat in pitch black.

And then there was light.

A pair of luminescent white specks glowed like fireflies before me, magnifying into holographic images of a man and a woman! Both humans were dark-haired, pale-skinned people in their midforties. They wore matching black bodysuits that appeared to be powered by a half-dollar-size object that radiated a soft white light along their sternums.

The man spoke, his English lacking any recognizable accent. “Dr. Robert Eisenbraun. It is truly miraculous to finally communicate with you.”

“Who are you? Where are you? And how the hell do you know my name?”

“I believe you already know these answers,” replied the woman. “What you seek are the details. For instance, you know we are the descendants of the survivors from Alpha Colony, specifically the international team sent to analyze the lunar soil samples collected by GOLEM back in 2028. What you really want to know is how we survived and evolved over the last twelve million plus years. The answer, stated simply so as not to exhaust your diminishing supply of air, is that the asteroid impact struck a different quadrant of the moon than the one where Alpha Colony was located. The devastation, as you can imagine, was still crippling. Forced into subterranean caverns, our survivors discovered that the internal heat generated by the collision had melted ice deposits, providing scientists with water and air and energy to grow food from the seed stores GOLEM had arranged to be brought on board.”

“The computer arranged seed stores? Why?”

“Because of your protocol,” the man stated. “GOLEM had supplied our transport ships with the basic necessities of survival; at the same time the AI prevented us from returning to Earth.”

“How? You had the lunar shuttles—”

“They were damaged in the firestorm.”

“Still, your descendants represented a collection of the most brilliant minds on the planet. Are you telling me that, having survived for millions of years, the Alpha Colonists still couldn’t figure out a way to return to Earth?”

“They had the means,” said the female, “but several hundred thousand years passed before the atmospheric debris subsided enough to allow the sun’s rays to again reach the Earth’s surface and foster vegetation. By that time, the prolonged exposure to gravity one-sixth that of Earth’s had permanently altered the colonists’ DNA, leading to physiological adaptations that, over eons, prevented us from reinhabiting the planet. We have recently discovered a remedy to the problem, and are preparing to recolonize Earth—pending the success of your own mission.”

“And what mission is that?”

“The destruction of GOLEM, as well as the computer’s hives. This must be accomplished before tomorrow evening’s cosmic event—before the AI spreads its seed beyond the subcontinent.”

“I don’t understand. Why can’t
you
destroy GOLEM? Your drone took out that giant croc, and you did a real nice job on those crabs.”

“GOLEM’s crater is surrounded by an impenetrable radar detection system. If one of our drones comes within fifty kilometers, it is destroyed.”

I checked my air gauge—down to six minutes. “If you can’t get close enough, how am I—”

“The transhuman hovercraft created with your fiancée’s genetic code remains close by, awaiting your next communiqué. The mutation can be used to transport the explosive. Detonated over the crater, the device will release an electromagnetic pulse powerful enough to short-circuit GOLEM.”

“What device? I see no—”

A slice of white light fractured away from the male’s holographic projection, illuminating a twelve-by-thirty-inch oval canister set on a control panel.

“You must instruct the hovercraft to fly at an altitude of twenty thousand feet at a velocity of seventy miles an hour. Proceed east to the Holy City. The moment you cross over the crater’s western border, press the control switch twice and the device will become active. Count eight seconds and release the device over the side, then instruct the hovercraft to turn around and execute a rapid descent to three hundred feet. The blast will be contained in the crater, shutting down and incinerating the computer and its brood.”

“Wait … what blast? I thought this was an EMP?”

“Dr. Eisenbraun, the device you see before you is a fifteen-kiloton nuclear bomb, carrying roughly the same charge as the atomic bomb used on Hiroshima. The plutonium was salvaged from the
Oceanus
reactor.”

“How did you recharge the plutonium? Never mind. I’m sure you’ve accomplished greater endeavors over the last twelve million years. But there’s a problem with nuking the Holy City—the cephalopeds want the clones spared.”

“They are unique creatures,” the man said. “However, they cannot possibly comprehend the dangers of allowing their masters to live.”

WARNING: LESS THAN TWO MINUTES OF AIR REMAINS IN YOUR TANK.

“Dr. Eisenbraun, there is much to discuss. Tomorrow night’s lunar event will allow us to bring both you and Dharma Yuan to Alpha Colony so we may brief you in person. For now, it is imperative that you collect the explosive and leave the habitat before you lose consciousness.”

I still had a million questions, but they would have to wait. Grabbing the sixty-pound lead capsule in both arms, I struggled with it up the aluminum ladder. My brain was operating in a fog and the egress passage was spinning by the time I made my way out the exit to daylight. I dropped to my knees, carefully laid the explosive down in the sand, and tore the suffocating mask from my face as Dharma rushed to my side.

36

Humanity is going to need a substantially new way of thinking if it is to survive.

—A
LBERT
E
INSTEIN

The electrical storm had passed while I was inside
Oceanus.
Oscar used the break in the weather to locate his baskets of provisions. Alone with Dharma, I quickly briefed her on my contact with the Alpha Colonists, grateful our cephaloped friend was not around to question the nature of the device lying on the ground before us.

“Ike, you do realize that using a nuclear weapon to wipe out GOLEM violates your agreement with the cephs? They specifically wanted the clones spared.”

“I didn’t create the poison pill, Dharma. Right now, it’s all we’ve got.”

“Then inventory the rest of the ship. Have ABE create another option.”

“And what if this is the best option?”

“Since when is mass murder the best option?”

“If you had seen how they torture the cephs you’d realize this is more like an act of self-preservation.”

“Those you wish to preserve don’t see it that way.”

“Well, maybe I was placed here in order to act in their best interests.”

“That is the spirit of the Hungry Ghost talking. The anger experienced during your past lives is dictating your actions.”

“I don’t remember any past lives. But if I could go back in time to World War II and wipe out the Nazis before they exterminated six million of my people, then I’d do it.”

Before Dharma could respond, we both felt a deep reverberation in the sand.

“Ike, what was that?”

“Tidal waves, beginning their run on the shoreline. The ocean is rising with the approaching moon. We need to get to higher ground fast. This entire area’s going to be underwater pretty soon.”

Reaching into my sweat suit pocket, I squeezed the remains of Transhuman Andria’s severed finger, praying the neurons within the digit were still active enough to allow us to communicate.
Andie, it’s Ike. If you can hear me, baby, we need your help. We’re at
Oceanus
. Please try to get to us.

Oscar returned with the food basket. Dharma and I ate while the cephaloped examined the small nuclear device, pressing one of its sucker pads to the protective lead casing.

Touching my arm, he communicated—ABE translating the creature’s thoughts internally for me:
IT IS WARM ON THE INSIDE. LIKE THE SUN’S HEAT.

Yes.
I replied, avoiding eye contact.

“Explain it to him, Ike. It’s his species’ future; let him have a say in it.”

God, she could be annoying.
“Oscar, we’re going to use this device to destroy GOLEM—the ball of energy calling itself the Creator. We’re going to stop your kind from being hunted down and slaughtered.”

YES. THIS IS WHY YOU ARE HERE.

I glanced back at Dharma—catching sight of a seven-foot-high wave as it blasted its way up the beach like a wall of blue-green foam.

“Look out!”

Oscar was first to react—looping a powerful tentacle around each of us, clutching the nuke in another as it dragged us behind
Oceanus
. The sphere rattled as it split the wave, shielding us for the moment.

The tide rushed inland another two hundred yards before beginning its retreat. Oscar timed the back flow, maneuvering us around to the front side of the sphere to avoid the powerful suction.

When the roar of water had finally passed, we made our way back east toward the cliff face, careful to avoid the gurgling crab holes, the surface of the slowly draining pools shimmering beneath the clearing afternoon skies.

Oscar cradled the explosive in one of his sucker pads, still oblivious to its destructive power. There was no time to inform him—the next wave was minutes away—so my thoughts turned inward, using ABE to analyze my conversation with the holographic colonists.

Query: Were the transmitted projections of real people or holograms made to appear human?

ANSWER TO QUERY: UNKNOWN.

A distant thunderclap abruptly ended my internal conversation. The three of us stopped jogging, turning in unison to face an advancing ocean still too far away to see. From the sound, I guessed the wave bearing down on us in the distance had been three to four hundred feet when it broke; from my gut I estimated the source of the rumbling beneath our feet would be upon us within a few short minutes, its advance gobbling up beach at eighty miles an hour.

We sprinted to the periphery of boulders that formed a rise along the base of the cliffs. Escaping into the cave system was not an option—to get to the Holy City we needed the Hunter-Transport, which meant we needed to remain accessible.

It was like a bad déjà vu—we needed to climb.

Oscar made short work of the boulder field, carrying the two of us and the nuclear device three hundred feet to the highest perch—seconds before an eighty foot wall of water smashed like a freight train into the rocks below, igniting a blast of foam that splattered us like a cold, heavy rainfall. Shivering, Dharma and I held on to one another until the late-afternoon sun warmed us.

I gazed up at the journey still to come—an expanse of rock that had taken all my willpower to conquer. Oscar had descended the face with me weeks earlier, but that was down and this was up, and there was two of us to carry, plus the nuke.

Oscar remained on his boulder, no doubt exhausted from having just scaled the boulder field.

“Dharma, have you ever done any climbing?”

She looked up, her almond eyes widening. “You will teach me, yes?”

“One day. Not today.” I reached out to Oscar.
Dharma can’t handle the climb. Can you get her and the device up to the summit?

ABE translated the reply.
OSCAR SAYS YES. HE IS CONCERNED ABOUT ROBERT EISENBRAUN.

Tell him I’ll climb as high as I can, but he needs to go. The waves are getting larger; the next one will easily reach this perch.

The cephaloped rose, extending one of its powerful arms around Dharma’s waist.

“Ike, wait—”

“You take the elevator. I’ll manage the stairs.”

And up they went, Oscar’s sucker pads adhering to the small crevices and creases in the rock, the cephaloped drawing four to five feet higher with each extension, the fatigued creature adding a second appendage to secure Dharma as the first one tired.

I watched until they melded into the stone, then reached up to find my first handhold—a four-inch wedge of slab that led to nowhere, forcing me to retreat back to the boulder.

EIGHTEEN MINUTES UNTIL THE NEXT WAVE.

“Shut up, ABE!” Taking a moment to survey the potential routes, I made my way to another boulder and reached up with my right hand to a crack in the rock … yet was unable to muster the strength to pull myself up.

Get your mind right. You’re relying on Oscar. You need to climb … now!

I fought on scraped knees and elbows for the next perch, refocusing my eyes on the rock directly above me. For several minutes I bore down, no songs in my head, only ABE’s intermittent warnings.