“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.