Still the creature struggled.
“Not dead yet,” murmured Sax.
Brambell fixed the open incision in place with another set of pins, then removed the initial pins. Now it was splayed open on the dissection table, the skin held open, which caused the inner organs to pop upward, ready for dissection. They quivered and flexed, the black threads or wires contracting and relaxing as the thing, still alive, fought against the dissection. Brambell felt faintly sick. It just wouldn’t die.
“May I look, Dr. Brambell?”
Brambell stepped away from the oculars with relief.
“It’s too perfect, too well arranged, to be biological. It looks like a machine—don’t you think?”
“I’m not sure I agree, Dr. Sax. It might just be a different mode of organization. The bioassays show the thing is carbon-silicon-oxygen instead of carbon-hydrogen-oxygen. This could very well be the product of carbon-silicon evolution.”
Brambell could see the ugly little brute was now trying to saw away at one of the metal pins with its tooth. “I think all those threads are the creature’s central nervous system,” he said. “Let’s follow them to the brain.”
“Good idea.”
With exquisite care, Brambell teased apart the sheaths and tissues covering the black and translucent threads, exposing them. Working his way forward, he saw they led to a cluster of black granules between the eyes, just behind the tooth—right where one might expect the brain to be.
“That must be it,” said Sax.
“Agreed.”
“Kill it, please.”
“With pleasure.”
Choosing a finer scalpel, Brambell inserted the gleaming tip into the cluster and made an incision. The reaction of the creature was sudden and dramatic: it made a sound like a high-pitched moan.
Brambell hesitated.
“Keep going, for God’s sake.”
He continued the incision, opening up the brain-like organ. Through the stereozoom, many complex structures could be seen. The creature gave one last piercing whistle, vibrated violently, then suddenly went still.
“Dead,” said Sax. “Finally.”
“Let’s hope so.”
He continued to dissect the tiny brain, removing slivers to be sectioned and examined with the scanning electron microscope; another sliver for biochemical analysis; others for various additional tests. Slowly, he worked through the brain until it was completely exposed.
Through the stereozoom it was obviously complex, spheres within spheres, connected by countless bundles of tiny thread-like wires—neurons?—and translucent tubes.
Silently, he continued the dissection of the head. The tooth, black and exceedingly sharp, was shaped like a small shark’s tooth; its root was attached to a massive bundle of wires that looked mechanical, and could contract or relax to control the motion of the tooth. The tooth obviously wasn’t made of silicon dioxide; SiO2 would not cut steel like that. He felt confident it was a carbon allotrope, probably related to diamond.
The creature’s mouth led to nothing: no gullet, no digestive system, no stomach or anus. It just ended in another cluster of black and translucent threads. Maybe it was a machine—but if so, what a machine! Unlike anything created by humankind.
They worked rapidly but accurately, until they had dissected every visible organ and taken tissue samples for additional research. As with any dissection, the final product was a mess.
“Let us move on to the cadaver,” Brambell asked.
“Before we do that,” Sax said, “I would feel better if we put the remains of that thing in a blender and then incinerated it.”
“Capital idea.” Brambell chopped up the remains, put them in a small container, sealed it, removed it from the hood, dumped it in a bio blender, reduced it to gray mush, and then spatulated the mush into the small laboratory incinerator and turned it on. He heard the comforting sound of the flame popping to life, the gentle roar of the burner, the fan pumping the gaseous waste products out of the ship. It went on for a while, and then the unit indicated complete combustion had occurred.
“Shall we see what’s left?” asked Sax.
“Why not?” Brambell opened the door to the incinerator and pulled open the drawer. A small bead of deep blue was present in the bottom of the container; no ash, no grit, just a gleaming ball of glass.
“How curious,” said Sax, removing it with a pair of tweezers and holding it up to the light. “What a lovely color.” She put it in a test tube and sealed it, labeling it for future analysis. She turned. “Dr. Brambell, I believe a cadaver awaits.”
“Yes, indeed.”
As they turned back to the body on the gurney, the ship’s emergency public address system alarm went off, red lights flashing, a siren sounding. And then a voice sounded over the PA. Brambell was startled; this was the first time the emergency system had been employed.
“Attention: All personnel. Attention: All personnel. The specimens brought back on board from the organism appear to have escaped the prep lab. They may have calved into a number of smaller entities resembling small snakes, each with a single tooth. They are to be considered aggressive and extremely dangerous. All personnel are expected to remain on high alert. If you see such an organism, alert security and keep your distance. All personnel not engaged in essential business are instructed to meet on the hangar deck now—repeat, now—for further instructions.”
Without a word, Brambell picked up the long knife and began to make the Y-incision from the xiphoid process to the pubic bone. “As far as I’m concerned, we’re engaged in essential business.”
As if in response, the ship’s phone rang. Sax picked it up. “It’s Garza. He wants us on the hangar deck. Glinn is requesting a brief.”
Brambell laid down the long knife with regret. For now, at least, there would be no retreat into the comfort of the familiar.
45
GIDEON JOINED GLINN and a few other mission leaders at the far end of the DSV hangar. Glinn—who was in urgent conversation with Dr. Brambell and Antonella Sax—gave him a distracted nod. The golden orb of the sun had set into the ocean, leaving an orange glow across the horizon. The deck lights had just been turned on and were bathing the hangar in a ghastly yellow sodium-vapor light.
The hangar deck was a crowded and restless scene, some people talking in tense murmurs, others in loud expostulations. As Gideon looked over the crowd, he was shocked at the depth of anxiety, if not terror, he saw on many of the faces.
Glinn stepped forward. Gideon hoped he could work his calming magic, but given this crowd he was doubtful.
Glinn held up his hands and a hush fell. “As you all know, the specimen we brought on board—what we had assumed to be a long root or tendril—has vanished from the prep lab. We know that small, worm-like appendages, calved off from the main specimen, have managed to parasitize at least three people so far, and probably four, all assigned to the exobiology lab. Craig Waingro, the lab assistant who accidentally shot himself in a struggle in mission control, had a parasitic worm in his brain. CT scans have shown that the other two exo lab assistants, Reece and Stahlweather, are also infected, harboring worms in their brains. They are now anesthetized, restrained, and locked in the brig.”