Final Assault Read online

  “I wish you had,” Portia said. “I didn’t know the streets were so bad. I had to keep hitting reset on my car’s navigator”

  “I thought I’d tell them about the research,” Bradshaw said.

  “That was the plan,” Portia said. “Then I got to thinking about it. I want everyone to understand exactly what we’re doing. Can I explain it now?”

  She hadn’t even gotten off the elevator. The security guard looked nervously around the room.

  “Not everyone’s here yet,” Britt said. “Come on in and have some pastries.”

  “Pastries?” Portia stepped off the elevator. The security guard looked relieved as the doors closed and took her away from the meeting. “You guys are gorging while people are looting grocery stores?”

  Shane put down his cinnamon roll. “I guess you could look at it that way,” he said. “Or you could say that, unlike the people on the street, we assume that civilization is going to continue ”

  “My stomach likes your philosophy better,” Portia said. She walked to the table, keeping the stuffed dog tight against her ribs.

  “How’d she get in?” Cross asked Bradshaw softly. “Maddox gave her security clearance two meetings ago,” Bradshaw said. “She just preferred to send me. I think she’s here this time because she’s nervous.”

  “I am not,” Portia said, but the way she held that dog belied her words. “I just want to make sure everyone understands what’s going on.”

  A door on the side of the glass wall hissed open, and General Clarissa Maddox entered. Through the door, Cross caught a glimpse of a wide corridor, and several military personnel. Then the view vanished.

  Portia hurried to one of the few remaining chairs and set the dog on the table beside the pile of cookies she had taken.

  Bradshaw raised an eyebrow at Cross, a silent signal that Maddox’s arrival confirmed his suspicions.

  “Thank you all for coming,” Maddox said as she took her position at the head of the table. “Britt, would you mind grabbing me a cinnamon roll? I haven’t eaten yet this morning.”

  Things had changed in the last six months. Early in their relationship, Britt would have bristled at the order, but now she did it without complaint.

  “Let’s get started,” Maddox said. “I don’t have a lot of time here, and I suspect none of the rest of you do either.”

  Then she paused and frowned at Portia.

  “I’m Portia Groopman.” Portia’s voice shook. “From NanTech? You said you wanted to hear about my research. I know that was a while back, but—”

  “I know who you are,” Maddox said. “I don’t understand the purpose of the stuffed dog. If it’s for demonstration, then place it beside you until you need it.” Cross opened his mouth to explain that Portia usually had a stuffed animal with her, but before he could say anything, Portia had hidden the dog under the table. “All right,” Maddox said. “Let’s get underway.”

  Britt set the roll in front of Maddox along with some regular coffee, then slipped into her chair. Maddox ran her finger along the edge of the table, and as she did, the walls sprang to life. Tiny screens appeared and on them, the rest of advisers to the Tenth Planet Project.

  Representatives from every major country in the world appeared on the screens, as well as science advisers and specialists. Most of them were sitting at old-fashioned conference tables, although a few of the Middle Eastern countries seemed to provide only chairs.

  The effect was eerie: dozens of screens against the blackness of the wall. Britt ran a hand along the table-top, where the screens were reflected.

  “Thank you all for coming,” Maddox said. “We have a lot of ground to cover, so let’s limit any discussion to important questions and clarifications. Any details can be dealt with later.”

  Cross pushed his plate away. He suddenly found himself not interested in the food.

  “I understand from the vid reports and the updates we’re getting here that the rioting we’re experiencing in the United States has spread worldwide,” Maddox said.

  Several leaders from several of the countries started to speak at once. Maddox held up her hand for silence. It surprised Cross that they had spoken up so soon after she had warned them not to, but it didn’t seem to surprise Maddox.

  “If you remember, we expected some unrest when it became clear that we hadn’t destroyed the aliens. The key now,” Maddox said, “is to contain it.”

  “These are national concerns,” said Maddox’s Japanese counterpart.

  “No, they’re not,” Maddox said. “Right now, we face a threat to our entire planet. If we can’t respond as a unified force, we may as well kiss our respective asses good-bye.”

  Cross wrapped his fingers around his coffee mug, grateful for the warmth. Britt was looking down. She really didn’t seem to want to deal with the unrest at all.

  “The diplomats have already resolved the jurisdiction issue,” Maddox was saying. “I’m just here to inform you all of the plan.”

  Cross straightened. He hadn’t expected a plan on this issue to be addressed here.

  “The president of the United States will speak to the world tonight,” Maddox said. “He will explain the preparations we have made to fight the aliens. He will tell the average citizen what to do and where it will be safe for them to go. He will lay the fears that are causing this rioting to rest.”

  “Pardon me, General,” said the British representative, “but there is no way your president will actually reach the rioters. Those people will be on the streets destroying property while he attempts to address them.” “As I said,” Maddox’s fingers ripped at the cinnamon roll. It looked like a nervous movement to Cross. “The diplomats have already worked this out. It’s my understanding that the president’s speech will reach several billion viewers, and the idea is that those viewers will then spread the word to the people on the street.”

  “We certainly can’t expect the military to continue to quell the unrest,” Shane said. He was looking directly at Maddox, but Cross knew that Shane was speaking for the benefit of the other countries. “We need our forces to concentrate on the alien threat.”

  “I think the main problem here isn’t the deployment of the military,” Maddox said, “but the fact that we want as much of the infrastructure to remain. Right now, people lack a plan, so they are reacting—some are cowering, others are acting out. Once they know what they can do, the theory is that they will do it.” She didn’t sound convinced. Cross thought the idea had merit, though. The quicker this unrest died down, the better for all of them.

  “Ms. Groopman,” Maddox said. “Since you’re our guest, update us on your nanotechnology work.” “Before she does,” Cross said, “let me explain to our allies that Portia has been the person in charge of our nanotechnology research from the beginning.”

  He didn’t mention that some of the nanotechnology research had been funneled to the U.S. government and was now top secret. He figured that Maddox didn’t want the other governments to know that.

  He went on. “Portia’s the one who identified the fossils Dr. Bradshaw found as some form of nanomachine and she’s the one who correctly discovered their purpose. She’s been working with the live nanoharvesters that we recovered from the Monterey site.”

  And getting no sleep doing it, he knew. She had worked harder than any of them, and she had made some tremendous breakthroughs.

  “Do I have to stand?” Portia asked softly.

  “No, honey,” Jesse Killius said. “But you will have to speak up.”

  Color stained Portia’s cheeks. She reached for the dog, then seemed to think better of it.

  “You told them about the nanorescuers, right?” she asked Cross.

  He nodded. Nanorescuer was the name of the nanomachines that Portia had designed to neutralize the aliens’ nanoharvesters. The harvesters were pernicious little things, smaller than a speck of dust, that dissolved and stored organic material. They didn’t move, fortunately, but they did “ea
t” until there was no organic material left near them.

  Initially Portia and her team had tried to find a way to shut off the nanoharvesters, but she had been unsuccessful. Cross believed the government scientists were still working on just that and hadn’t found one either. So one day she had gotten an idea that she could create a nanomachine that would attack the harvesters. Cross told her to follow up on it, without consulting the Tenth Planet Project, thinking that there was no point in duplicating the other research—she was better doing research on her own.

  Portia created the nanorescuers, which were drawn to the nanoharvesters like magnets were drawn to metal. Once they touched the harvesters, they sucked all the energy from the alien machines, rendering them useless.

  Cross had informed the Project of her discovery weeks ago. Since then, Bradshaw had kept them up to date. This was Portia’s first appearance before the group. He wondered why she thought today important enough to come herself.

  “Urn.” Portia glanced at Maddox, then at the screens on the walls. “We have twenty different facilities working around the clock to make nanorescuers. These facilities are at full production. NanTech has devoted all of its resources to this, and so have other U.S. nanotech companies.”

  Maddox folded her hands on the table. The gesture seemed to calm Portia. Bradshaw was nodding his encouragement.

  Cross just watched her, knowing that almost anything could throw her off her rhythm.

  “By the end of the week, a hundred plants, government and private, will be making the nanorescuers. It looks like, by the week before the aliens arrive, another thousand factories around the world will be on mass production schedules.”

  “Thank you, Ms. Groopman,” Maddox said. Portia bit her lower lip as if she’d been chastised. “Now—” “Wait,” Cross said. “Portia hasn’t come to see us before, and I know she could have had me or Edwin give that report. There’s something else, isn’t there, Portia?”

  Portia’s glance darted nervously around the table. “Yeah,” she said as softly as she had before. This time, she grabbed her dog and clung to it like it was a lifeline. “We could use more factories to make the nanorescuers. And we’re going to need some more specialists to oversee production and to train people. NanTech doesn’t have the resources to do much more than we’re doing, and building the prototypes as we bring new factories on-line is exacting work.”

  Maddox gave the dog a sharp glance, but wisely said nothing. Cross wondered if anyone else even noticed it.

  “What do you suggest?” Maddox asked.

  “We’ll train specialists at NanTech if they can arrive this week,” Portia said. “We want to do the training all at once. That prevents us from diverting our own resources”

  Maddox nodded. “We’ll handle the details of this after the formal meeting. What else?”

  Portia licked her lips. “We have no idea how many nanoharvesters the aliens are going to release. I’m planning for worst case. We don’t want to be caught by surprise.”

  “Agreed,” Maddox said, but her tone was measured.

  “I want to have enough rescuers to blanket the world twice over,” Portia said. “Right now we’re barely going to make once over, and I’m afraid we’ll miss areas.”

  “I think we will miss many areas,” Maddox said. “The other problem is delivery of the nanorescuers.”

  “We talked about dusting the Earth with them. I mean, didn’t you?” Portia was looking at Cross now. “That’s what I understood—”

  “Yes,” Cross said. “I told them. That’s what we plan.”

  “The problem,” Shane said, “is with delivery. I’ve been put in charge of coordinating this section of the Project.”

  Cross knew that was because of his position with the Air Force, but Portia obviously didn’t know who Shane was. She was staring at him as if she were trying to figure that out.

  Shane turned toward Maddox, as if to get approval to give his part of the report now. She nodded almost imperceptibly. Portia pulled the dog tighter and leaned back in her chair.

  “Every small working plane in every country is being impounded and fitted for crop dusting of the nanorescuers,” Shane said. “We’ve also drafted every person who can fly small planes—or at least everyone we can find. Most of the countries have a standing request out for volunteers.”

  Some countries had made no requests, Cross knew. Some had ordered compliance. Shane was tactfully skipping over the different methods of the varied sovereignties. Everyone had been skipping over those things. Right now, as someone had pointed out earlier, the most important thing was for the world to work together, not to fight over differences in methodology.

  “We hope to be able to blanket the world, as Ms. Groopman said,” Shane continued, “but the way it looks—based solely on delivery methods—we’ll only be able to dust cities and towns.”

  “But what about the people who live in villages or the country?” Britt asked. She sounded shocked.

  “That’s part of the president’s speech tonight,” Maddox said. “He’s going to tell people to move to populated areas for safety reasons.”

  “So the cities are going to be overrun,” Cross muttered.

  Britt elbowed him.

  But that didn’t stop him. “General,” he said, “people can go to deserts as well. The aliens aren’t going to touch areas that aren’t lush. I think we should also launch as many ships as possible, oceans only, of course. That should take some of the pressure off the cities.”

  “Good point,” Maddox said. “I will make sure that gets mentioned as well.”

  “That still won’t take all the stress off the cities,” Bradshaw said.

  “We have a month to make this transition,” Shane said. “It’s not like people have to be to a major city tomorrow. In fact, the dusting won’t even start until two days before the aliens’ arrival, and it will continue throughout the attack.”

  Portia was shaking her head. “Two flybys should be enough,” she said. “Let’s spread the rescuers other places. I mean, these aliens are going for crops, too. If they destroy the unpopulated areas, how are we going to feed people?”

  Her words echoed in the large room.

  “We have to make it through the attack first,” Maddox said. “Then we worry about the aftermath.”

  Portia leaned forward. “But if we do it my way— “Ms. Groopman, the issue has already been decided.”

  “But we can’t. We have to spread them all over—•” “Portia,” Cross said quietly. “No one here made the decision. It came from upstairs and is already being implemented.”

  “Idiots,” Portia mumbled. “They should have consulted with me.”

  They had seen her recommendations, Cross knew. He also knew that the world leaders were trying to solve two problems here: they wanted people to survive the alien attack and they wanted to stop the unrest.

  Then Cross glanced at Maddox. She seemed to be working to suppress a smile. Apparently, she had agreed with Portia.

  “I think Ms. Groopman has a point,” Maddox said. “Let’s make sure that when we report to our superiors we mention the possible future food shortages. I’m sure FEMA and the equivalent organizations in other countries have already thought of making sure enough food is in the cities to feed the added population. But we should also be stockpiling seeds—things will grow in that ash, won’t they?”

  Cross nodded. “If the aliens do as they have in the past,” he said. “We discovered soot layers buried under centuries of organic material. They don’t permanently harm the Earth, but I’m not a biologist. I can’t guarantee whether we’ll have a growing season at all after the nanoharvesters land.”

  “Forgive me for interrupting,” said one of the members of the Argentinian team. “We have already seen plants begin to recover in the rainforests.”

  “Good,” Maddox said. “Then the next growing season will go on as usual.”

  “But that doesn’t make up for all the lost food,” Po
rtia said.

  “We’re getting off track,” Maddox said firmly. “This work is very important, and if I had the power to alter the commands of the world leaders, I would do so. But right now, we are dusting only major population centers, and we will make sure people are in those centers.

  Dr. Shane, if you or someone can guarantee us a better delivery method, I might be able to bring an altered plan to the president. Otherwise, this plan remains.” Cross felt a shiver run down his back. It was a minimal damage plan. People would die in the country and villages. Some of them would just refuse to leave. He hoped that his assessment was right; that the aliens would continue to target fertile areas only.

  Portia looked down. She obviously didn’t like this plan at all. Perhaps she was still young enough to believe they would all survive this. Or perhaps she was in denial about the extent of the problem that faced them.

  Maybe, with all the work she’d been doing, she hadn’t even had time to think about it. Cross decided that he’d try to talk with her later. He didn’t want her angry at the program so that she stopped working hard. She was one of their very best assets.

  “Anything new on the ships?” Maddox asked Britt. “We haven’t been able to observe much yet,” she said. “At the moment, we estimate that there are one hundred and eight ships coming our way.”

  This sparked discussion among all the groups— worry that this was just the first wave of ships, and concern that the ships would use more nanoharvesters than before. Some worried that the aliens were going to use new, different weapons on the Earth.

  Maddox agreed that all of this was possible, but that there was no evidence to support any of it.

  While the discussion continued, Cross watched Portia. She had left her cookie stack alone. She was cuddling the stuffed dog and plucking at its fur. The conversation about the nanorescuers had bothered her. She obviously wanted to blanket the entire planet, and she was disturbed at the changes in the plan.

  After a moment, Bradshaw entered the discussion, explaining what his grad student group had discovered about the aliens. Some of the biologists talked about their studies of the dead aliens, and what the theories were.