Текст книги "Summon the Thunder"

Автор книги: Dayton Ward

Соавторы: Kevin Dilmore
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Текущая страница: 5 (всего у книги 30 страниц)

9

Squinting into a desk-mounted viewer, Lieutenant Ming Xiong ignored the gritty sting of his tired eyes as they played across yet another chromatographic analysis of samples taken from around the Erilon encampment site where he had lived and studied these past weeks. His mind fogged a moment as he scanned over the colored bands of data. Were these soil samples? Rock samples? Ice samples? Yes, ice samples, he remembered, ones from cores drilled a few meters from the base of the massive black structure—the artifact,as the survey team now called it—that rose from the surface of the cold, hardened soil almost half a kilometer from the encampment.

The artifact that had consumed his every thought since its discovery.

Xiong had spent weeks sorting through dozens of new affinity readings relating to proteins collected from various depths of the planet’s glaciated ice pack, hoping to unlock even the slightest clue to the meta-genome. While Starfleet researchers of the highest caliber had been subjecting samples of the complex genetic structure to battery upon battery of tests, Xiong still spent what time he could doing his own intensive study. It was either that or sleep, as he did not have much inclination to mingle with the several dozen of his colleagues “doing time on this ball of ice,” as he heard a few put their situation.

What he possessed that those Starfleet researchers did not were samples of the artifact itself. However, particles of the construct raised more questions than they answered. The material alone was a conundrum, not completely glass and not completely stone. There were no detectable seams in the artifact’s assembly, leading to speculation as to whether it was cast whole or perhaps even grown organically. The material’s age was indeterminate, at least so far as the latest scans could detect. In Xiong’s mind, it only reflected in substance all of the mystery embodied in the artifact as a whole.

As he looked through the new samples and compared them to the artifact’s base material, Xiong let his enthusiasm fan the spark of his unspoken hunch that, somehow, the meta-genome and the artifact were connected. More time and study, he was convinced, would reveal how a key woven deeply within the meta-genome’s bases and sequences would unlock just the information necessary to reveal the artifact’s unknown nature—and its true purpose.

So, I just keep looking,Xiong thought.

“Lieutenant?” The voice’s ring through the darkened and otherwise quiet room startled him, prompting a sharp intake of breath that in turn offered a vivid reminder of the coppery tang of the stale air within the encampment’s enclosed spaces. “I need to interrupt you, sir.”

“No, you don’t, Ensign,” Xiong said, recognizing the voice as that of Colleen Cook, one of the junior archaeologists assigned to the site. He turned his head from the viewer just enough to let its bluish light spill forth onto his chin and cheek before speaking again. “I’m sure someone else can assist you because right now, I’m busy.”

“But no one else can assist me,Mr. Xiong.”

The crispness of the words was like a blast of cold air rushing down his spine. He jolted upright and spun around to find himself staring into the implacable expression of Zhao Sheng.

“Captain!” Xiong said too loudly as he noted the other man’s narrowed eyes. “This…is a surprise, sir. What brings you down here?”

Zhao nodded a dismissal to Cook, who appeared more than happy to duck back outside the research room. “You missed our meeting this morning,” he said. “I decided to collect your report in person.”

Xiong felt a pang of sheepishness and found it hard to hold the captain’s gaze. “I…don’t have a report for you, sir,” he said. “Speaking freely, sir, I don’t report to you in this matter.”

“ Permissionto speak freely granted, by the way,” Zhao replied, his eyes narrowing as he crossed the small room until he was less than a meter from Xiong. The young researcher squared himself against the uneasy encroachment on his personal space.

“I am well aware, Lieutenant, of the command structure and that your detached duties place you under the direct authority of Commodore Reyes on Starbase 47,” Zhao said evenly. “Your report on your activities here is expected as a courtesy to me, particularly when it’s my ship and crew who are acting as chaperones for this little field trip of yours.”

Xiong swallowed, realizing that Zhao would interpret that as a sign of weakness of will. So be it,he thought. The lieutenant knew all along that such a dressing-down would be coming, but his intentions had been honest, even though Zhao was the last person who would hear his excuse at this moment. He simply had not found the time to prepare for the captain a complete report that would truly be useful. Xiong could have submitted the finished “alternative” version of his research that Starfleet Command had ordered he draft for personnel with lesser clearance—one written with the intent to obfuscate the true nature of his findings—but that would have brought him more problems with Zhao than he had even now.

Besides, the very idea of that alternative report gnawed at Xiong’s conscience. Given the choice, he would proudly share with Zhao—or anyone else, for that matter—everything he knew to date about the meta-genome and the artifact.

But I have my orders.

With that in mind, he simply nodded. “Yes, sir,” he said, continuing to meet the captain’s stern glare.

“And this is your last reminder that your presence at my staff meetings is expected,” Zhao continued. “I might phrase it as a request for you to be there, but you will regard it as an order.”

“Understood, sir.”

Zhao held his stance for a moment before stepping back. He drew a breath and released it through his nose as he took a look around the room, and Xiong noticed the captain’s eyes had settled on a makeshift cot with rumpled bedding shoved against one wall. Zhao rubbed his chin before continuing in a somewhat warmer tone, “You look worn, Lieutenant,” he said. “Can I assume that your studies have kept your attention more tightly than they should?”

Xiong released a small laugh as he allowed himself to relax. “I’d like to say that we’re finding more to examine each day, but in truth it seems that we’re finding more to examine about every ten minutes.”

“And what haveyou found?” Zhao asked with a glimmer of interest in his dark eyes.

“I could tell you, sir,” Xiong said with sincerity, “but we’re just not sure what it all means yet.”

Zhao nodded, seemingly willing to accept that for an answer, at least for now. As the captain turned away and quietly paced a few steps, Xiong felt compelled to offer at least a few morsels of undiluted factual information. Besides, engaging someone in actual conversation was something that had eluded him since his arrival on Erilon. “I can tell you that the artifact, what you see on the surface…”

“Yes?”

Xiong smiled. “It’s nothing compared to what we’ve seen underneath it. We didn’t expect there to be any kind of structure supporting the thing at all. I was sure it was grounded in bedrock. But there’s an entire system of subterranean chambers and passages, all artificial in origin. We’ve found interface consoles and storage and who knows what else is actually there. For security reasons, investigations have been restricted to sensors-only except for a couple of key areas.”

“Key areas,” Zhao repeated. “Such as?”

“Well, the most interesting one is what we think is a control room,” Xiong replied. “The problem is, we’re not sure just what it controls or what anything else actually does.”

“So,” the captain said, “there’s equipment connected with the artifact at a central point?” When Xiong nodded, he added, “And it’s completely powerless?”

“No, sir. Not completely,” Xiong said. “We’ve tried interfacing a generator to what we think is a power-distribution coupling, but nothing’s worked. Candidly, sir, we’re not even sure it’s a power hub that we’ve hooked into.”

A table-mounted intercom panel next to his viewer beeped twice, and he reached across to activate it. “Research Room. Lieutenant Xiong.”

“ Ming, it’s Spence,”said a voice in tinny but audibly excited tones. “ We’re picking up a new power reading down here. It just popped on. You might want to see this for yourself.”

Xiong felt a surge of excitement charge his tired frame. “On my way!” His mind whirling with what such a reading could mean, he crossed to an equipment locker, threw open its door, and started rummaging through his belongings—all before remembering that he was not alone in the room.

“Uh, Captain,” Xiong said as he tugged a parka from the locker, “Ensign Spencer is working in the artifact control room and I need to join him there.”

Zhao’s face sobered a bit, his own eagerness to learn more about the unknown visibly dashed. Then he stood a bit straighter, almost as if accepting the unpalatable situation that he simply would be nonessential personnel in the control room. “Understood, Lieutenant,” Zhao said. “I won’t keep you from your duties.”

Xiong slid into the parka and headed past Zhao, but then he stopped. He could not push himself through the doorway, not if doing so meant leaving another explorer behind. He paused, recognizing in that moment that he and Zhao were very similar in certain respects. They likely had joined Starfleet with the very same hopes and dreams of seeing just what awaited them in the farthest reaches of uncharted space.

Despite a nagging, cautioning voice in the back of his mind, Xiong turned back into the room.

“You’re welcome to join me, Captain,” he said, and offered a small smile, “but only if you brought your winter coat.”

Zhao’s expression brightened in amusement, displaying more emotion than Xiong could recall seeing before now. “I’m always prepared, Lieutenant,” he said, “but I’ll have to bring a few friends along as well. Regulations, you know.”

Xiong shrugged. I’ll guess I’ll just have to swear them all to secrecy when we get there.

10

“A little groggy there, son? You look all slumped over!”

Ensign Stephen Klisiewicz raised his head from his console at the sciences station and looked across the Endeavour’s bridge to the source of the voice. Pointing to where his attention had been focused, he said, “This device is a viewer, sir. It requires the user to hunch down and look into it. I understand how that might be a new concept to an engineer such as yourself, Commander. You’re more used to crawlinginto things rather than just looking into them.”

Bersh glov Mog released a laugh that sounded more like a belch—one that rose over the rest of the bridge’s ambient noise—and that was enough to set Klisiewicz to laughing a bit on his own.

“Well, we all learn by doing,” Mog replied, offering the Tellarite equivalent of a smile, which to Klisiewicsz still looked like the fierce rictus of a rabid dog.

The engineer’s sentiment underscored the sense that, in its own slow way, the Endeavourwas becoming something of a teaching vessel. Mog seemed to run engineering more as a training lab, mixing up duty rosters and making sure his staff became highly proficient at all aspects of operations rather than focusing on a single area of specialization. Khatami seemed to follow his lead by rotating untried personnel into roles of greater responsibility when opportunities arose. Even Captain Zhao seemed to make himself available to officers fresh out of the Academy, such as Klisiewicz, to discuss matters of life and duty aboard a starship.

Okay, so maybe not so much in sickbay,he thought, but every place else is pretty open to a new guy like me.

Two hours into his duty shift, and the chief engineer had started tossing wisecracks across the bridge at his expense. Had the remark come from someone other than Mog, he surely would have held his tongue in reply. While Klisiewicz was becoming fast friends with the Tellarite chief engineer, he noticed in his first scan around the bridge that other than Mog’s, there were few familiar faces.

He knew Commander Khatami, of course, who in Captain Zhao’s absence now occupied the Endeavour’s center seat, but his conversations with her typically did not stray from whatever task was at hand. Specifically, she was the one to pass to him any information he might need in the course of his duties regarding his continual search for class-V forms of life, otherwise known as anything containing the Taurus meta-genome. Those conversations rarely were chatty; it seemed to be a sobering subject for her, he sensed.

The communications officer looked familiar, but his name escaped Klisiewicz at the moment, and the navigator, Lieutenant McCormack, well, he did recognize her, as she was one of his favorite objects of secret unrequited affection on the entire ship.

Turning back to the science console, the ensign noted the white blinking indicator and toggled the controls to transfer the sensor data to an eye-level display. Looking over the readings, he knit his brow before turning to Khatami, who already was regarding him expectantly.

“Commander,” he said, “we’re registering a new power reading from the surface.”

“Location?” Khatami asked, spinning her chair to face him.

Klisiewicz keyed in a few commands, allowing the computer to correlate the sensor data. “It’s about five kilometers northwest of the encampment and…about two kilometers beneath the planet’s surface.”

“Anything else?” Khatami asked.

“The energy signature is weak, but pretty distinctive, Commander,” Klisiewicz replied as he entered new commands to the console, self-conscious of getting her more information as quickly as he was able. “It’s definitely a geothermal source, and it’s slowly building in temperature.”

“Keep an eye on it, Ensign,” Khatami said, her eyes turning to the main viewer, “Provide regular updates as appropriate, and relay those sensor readings to the survey teams on the surface.”

“Aye, Commander,” Klisiewicz said as he keyed the required commands to route the data. The swiftness of a starship’s response to human command was something for which he was sure he would never lose a sense of marvel.

Then another alert indicator flashed on his console.

“Commander!” he called out to Khatami even as he bent over the hooded viewer once more. Reviewing the new stream of sensor telemetry being fed to his station, he said, “We’re picking up a second power reading now.”

“And?” Khatami asked.

“It’s confirmed, sir. Same energy signature as before,” he said, checking his calculations. “Bearing due south of the encampment this time, less than five kilometers out.”

“Any ideas, Mr. Mog?” the first officer asked after a moment. “Could they be activating the artifact?”

“Well, we could ask,” the engineer replied before turning back to his station.

“Mr. Estrada, hail Lieutenant Xiong at the encampment,” Khatami said, “and let’s see what’s going on down there.”

Activate the artifact? Can theydo that?

Klisiewicz involuntarily rubbed his arm as he felt goose bumps rise beneath his sleeves. His thoughts turned to Ravanar IV and the destruction dealt to the research facility there by the Tholians, who apparently had taken issue with a Federation presence on that world. According to what he had learned from rumors and other scuttlebutt around the ship, Lieutenant Xiong, who had been there along with a landing party from the U.S.S. Enterpriseinvestigating the aftermath of an earlier Tholian attack, had barely escaped with his life.

And Ravanar didn’t even have an intactstructure, he thought, but the Tholians still wanted us to leave it the hell alone. Could the same thing happen here—or something worse?As he turned his attention back to the incoming stream of data from the planet’s two newly energized power sources, Klisiewicz could not help thinking that someone, somewhere, would learn what was happening on Erilon—and not like it one bit.

Xiong jumped from the driver’s seat of the encampment’s all-terrain vehicle, his face chilled by icy wind as he made his way quickly to a black, manually operated hatch—the only distinct feature on the snow-encrusted front of a temporary structure at the base of the artifact. He turned and squinted through the bright white of swirling snow to see his five passengers step out of the side hatch of the vehicle, which had been adapted for use on Erilon with rear treads and an assembly of shock-absorbing skis mounted in place of its front axle.

He waved them forward, unable to hear any crunching of their boots on the snowpack from the howling of the arctic wind. Xiong had not been on the planet long enough to get a feel for impending white-out conditions, but as he placed his gloved hands on the hatch’s center wheel and strained to turn it, he had to wonder whether this was the start of some weather he did not want to witness firsthand. A form stepped alongside him to grip the wheel as well, and they both attempted to turn it again.

“The automatic locks keep freezing shut!” Xiong yelled over the wind to his helper, whom he now recognized as Captain Zhao. The two tugged to break the wheel loose of the outdoors’ frozen grip, and after spinning it freely, Xiong pushed his weight against the door and opened it enough to admit them into the airlock.

Stepping back so the others could pass, Xiong clanged the hatch shut behind the last of them and started to twist the interior mate to the locking mechanism to seal it. Once the wind’s whine was shut out, the room filled with the clatter of feet stamping against floor plates and hands slapping against parkas to loosen the ice crystals that had accumulated on their protective clothing just in the short amount of time they had stood outside. Xiong pushed back the fur-lined hood of his parka and moved to the opposite door.

“This one’s a bit easier,” he said, slipping his hand from a glove and keying a security code into a panel next to the door. As it slid open, a rush of warmer air greeted the new arrivals. They made their way briskly into a darkened, ebony-surfaced corridor, one with a graded slope that led under the planet’s surface, with Xiong leading them toward a dim source of light and sound several hundred meters into the structure. Their footsteps rang crisply against the smooth floors and walls of the low-ceilinged corridor, and no one spoke as Zhao stepped up into the point position of the group a few strides before they entered the control room, a move that Xiong dismissed as being more out of habit than arrogance.

“Report,” the captain snapped in a voice loud enough to capture the immediate attention of the three researchers in the room. Xiong saw Lieutenant Spencer, the young, blond-haired officer with whom he had worked most closely since his arrival, draw himself up from a crouch next to a power generator and approach the group.

“Uh…yes, sir,” Spencer said hesitantly to Zhao before looking at Xiong. “Isn’t this information…?”

Nodding as he slipped out of his parka, Xiong said, “Captain Zhao’s presence is authorized, Spence. Just tell us what’s going on.”

Spencer spoke as he turned and walked deeper into the room, prompting Xiong and Zhao to keep up. “When I called you, we’d just picked up a power source activating below the surface a few kilometers from the artifact. We thought that was interesting enough to notify you. But now we have three of them.”

Xiong felt his jaw go slack, and it required physical effort to keep his mouth from dropping open in surprise. “ Three?Where?”

Spencer turned and pointed to the screen of a portable computer viewer propped up on a pitch-black console top in front of them. “One northwest of us and two others south. They’re building in output, and we’re detecting some deep melt—there!” Spencer poked at the screen where a blinking amber dot indicated a fourth budding power level, this one situated northeast of the artifact and apparently equidistant from the others. “They just keep activating, no rhyme or reason.”

“Lieutenant Spencer,” Zhao spoke, “how long have you been attempting to transfer power from that generator into the artifact’s control center?”

“Not long, sir,” the younger officer replied. Looking past the captain’s shoulder, he called out, “Hey, Bohanon, how long has our generator been up and running?”

A large-built Denobulan in a blue jumpsuit stepped to the pulsing generator and stooped over it. “Two-point-three-seven hours, Spence.”

Looking to Zhao, Xiong asked, “You think we may be activating those power sources, Captain?”

“Or,” Zhao countered, “are they activating as a responseto your activities here?” Any further discussion was interrupted by the sound of the captain’s communicator beeping. Unzipping his parka, Zhao retrieved the device and flipped it open in a practiced motion. “Zhao here.”

“ Khatami here, Captain,”said the voice of the Endeavour’s first officer, filtered through the communicator’s small speaker. “ We’re not getting a strong signal….”

“I can hear you,” he spoke back. “What’s your status?”

“ We’re fine, sir,”Khatami continued, “ but we’re monitoring multiple power spikes from the planet in the vicinity of the artifact.”

“We’re on top of the situation, Commander,” Zhao said in a voice that exuded more confidence than Xiong himself was feeling at the moment. “I’ll presume you are transmitting your readings to the research base?”

“ You know me too well, sir,”Khatami said, her voice easing a bit. “ We’ll keep you apprised.Endeavour out.”

As Zhao closed his communicator, Xiong said, “If this is a response, I don’t see why it’s…”

The ground trembled beneath his feet and he reached out toward the nearby wall to steady himself as a heavy metal clanking suddenly rang once, then again from within the structure. Everything in the chamber seemed to register the vibration, which also rattled equipment and made Xiong look to the ceiling for any sign that they might be facing a cave-in. He fell silent along with the rest of the men in the control room and, just like each of the others, found himself instinctively looking to Zhao.

Evenly, almost quietly, the captain said, “We’re leaving. Collect any data you can carry and get moving, now.” Pointing to Bohanon, he added, “Disconnect that power coupling.”

“Wait!” Xiong said in a loud whisper, drawing Zhao’s narrowed gaze. “That’ll kill the computers. I need time to transmit our data to the Endeavour. We can’t afford to lose it.” When Zhao did not answer after a moment, the lieutenant took a step forward, his expression anxious. “Captain, please!”

“Do it quickly,” Zhao ordered before turning his attention to the others. “The rest of you, continue the evacuation.”

Xiong dashed to the portable console and his fingers sped across the buttons and switches, dumping all of their accumulated raw data into a central file and pushing it upstream into a communications feed. Once he had begun the data transmission to the Endeavour’s main computer, he snatched his parka from a chair back and was just beginning to shrug into it when another resounding crash echoed through the room. Instead of the low rumble that just moments earlier had washed over everything and everyone in the chamber, this clamor was localized, sounding as though it had come from the control room.

Frowning in confusion, Xiong looked toward the adjoining room in time to see a pair of Endeavoursecurity guards scrambling back through the entrance, their phasers drawn and aimed toward the way they had come.

“Everybody out!” one of the men shouted. “Now!” Even as he shouted the order he punctuated the words by firing his phaser into the control room.

“What’s going on?” Zhao shouted over the weapons fire, and Xiong saw the captain reaching into his parka to extract his own phaser an instant before the entire room was plunged into darkness. The sound of the generator faded, as did the gentle hum of the portable computer and communications equipment.

“Report!” Xiong heard Captain Zhao shout as other members of the team cried out in alarm.

Fumbling into one of his parka’s larger pockets, Xiong drew out a flashlight and activated it, its narrow beam playing across the darkened interior of the ancient control room. He quickly found the group of Endeavoursecurity guards and other members of his own team gathered near the airlock.

“There’s something in here!” another voice shouted, and Xiong recognized it as the Endeavoursecurity guard who had fired his phaser. “It came through the damned wall!”

Xiong felt his heart beginning to race as he sprinted across the room to join the group. A loud crash echoed in the chamber somewhere behind him. Spinning around, he aimed his flashlight beam toward the source of the noise in time to see a blur of movement in the control room. A cry of pain echoed through the room, followed by a flurry of phaser fire as beams of blue energy sliced through the darkness.

Something was attacking? What was it? How could it have forced its way through solid rock? Was it native to this world?

Later!his mind screamed at him. You need to move, now!

“The door won’t open!” said another voice from somewhere to his left, sounding like Bohanon’s.

“Force it!” shouted Zhao.

Nervous bile stung Xiong’s throat as the screeching howl of metal against metal pierced the air and echoed against the hard, flat surfaces of the corridor. A second, longer grinding moaned from the yielding door as several men grunted from their effort, which sent a blast of chilled air from the airlock to surround them and immediately permeate Xiong’s uniform.

As he felt the huddle of men start to push beyond the doorway into more darkness, a frantic scream stabbed his ears. He looked toward it only to have his eyes burned by the flash of phaser fire. The brightness of the beam held for a couple of seconds, plenty of time for a vivid image to sear into the young researcher’s mind: one security officer’s grimacing face glowing sapphire in the flare of a thin, lancing beam, and that beam finding its mark against…something else—a shapeless, black form that seemed to envelop another guard and squeeze him at the torso, compressing his body to inhuman thinness.

Blind panic reached out to snare Xiong in its grip, his eyes wide as he looked all around for potential threats. Memories of Ravanar IV exploded in his mind—scrambling from danger, the near-blinding pain of his shattered knee, the shock waves of the energy blasts unleashed by Tholian demolitions as they obliterated all evidence of the similar artifact on that world.

“Where the hell’s the door?” he heard a voice shout, before another flashlight beam flared into existence and he saw Spencer, Bohanon, and one of the Endeavoursecurity men moving toward the airlock’s inner door.

“Xiong!” Captain Zhao called out, and the lieutenant saw him standing near the door, waving the others into the airlock. “Move it!”

He pushed his way into the airlock, followed by Zhao, who pulled the inner door closed behind him and engaged the manual lock. While Bohanon and Spencer fought with the outer hatch’s wheel, the captain reached into his parka and drew his phaser before turning his attention to Lieutenants Nauls and La Sala. Both security officers had drawn their own weapons, with Nauls standing near the outer hatch while La Sala had taken up a defensive stance, her back to the wall of the cramped vestibule.

“Once the door’s open,” Zhao said in a quiet voice that managed still to convey the tension of the situation, “sweep the area outside and make sure our way to the transport is clear.”

After some tussling and slight groaning of metal on metal, Xiong heard the hatch wheel give way and spin with the slapping of bare hands over hands to punctuate its process. Without warning, a thick slice of whiteness cut the room in half, the abrupt change in illumination momentarily blinding him as crisp, cold wind flooded the airlock.

One by one, the group began to duck quickly through the hatch and onto the cold, snow-covered ground outside the artifact just as a loud surge against the inner bulkhead rocked the temporary airlock and spilled Xiong and the others off of their feet. As he tried to regain his footing, another blow hit and a visible dent appeared in the airlock’s inner door.

La Sala suddenly stuck her head back into the airlock, her dark hair already smattered with snowflakes. “All clear! Let’s go!”

Xiong was almost through the outer door when another thunderous hammer blow rocked the airlock, and he turned to see that the inner door now was partly caved in.

A dark, amorphous blur sprang from the forced gap of the doorway, striking Spencer and yanking him by the arm against the door and wall. Xiong froze in shock, unable to look away as the researcher howled and kicked his feet, lashing out to free his limb from the gap. A hand slapped Xiong on the shoulder and spun him around, and he found himself looking at Zhao.

“ Go!”the captain yelled as he all but tossed Xiong out of the airlock. Behind him, Spencer’s shouting turned more guttural for a moment before stopping altogether.

Shoving Xiong toward the all-terrain vehicle and nearly knocking him to the snow-covered ground in the process, Zhao shouted, “Get that thing moving!”

As he rushed for the vehicle’s driver compartment, Xiong looked over his shoulder to see the captain and La Sala frantically climbing aboard through the passenger door. Throwing himself into the driver’s seat, Xiong stabbed at the control to start the vehicle, relieved when the engine powered up and the array of gauges and display readouts flared to life.

“Move!” Zhao shouted just as Xiong fed power to the transport’s drive, remembering at the last moment that a fast acceleration would cause more problems than it solved while trying to navigate the snow-laden path. As the vehicle came up to speed, he heard Zhao flip open a communicator. “Erilon base! This is Captain Zhao of the Endeavour. We are under atta—”

Bohanon’s shout cut off Zhao’s words. “Whatever it is, it just destroyed the airlock! It’s coming right at us!”

Trying to keep his attention on the snow-covered trail in front of him, Xiong still managed to look at one rearview monitor set into the panel above the windshield. He saw fragments of the airlock strewn across the frozen ground, though this was quickly obscured by a dual wake of snow and ice flying several meters high, stemming from a dark, undulating blur in the center of the path left by the vehicle’s passage through the snow.