“How long can Bub go without food?” he asked Sun.
“I don't know.”
“I’m immoooooortal,” Bub answered through the bars of the titanium gate. The demon giggled again, making all the hair on Andy’s body stand on end.
“In his claws!” Dr. Belgium shouted, springing to his feet. He'd been scrutinizing one of the squashed little demons. “Yes yes yes. The sheep's leg had a puncture wound. I didn't know where it came from. But now I know.”
“Know what, Frank?”
Andy and Sun came over and looked. Belgium spread the claw open, and a tiny needle came out the center of the palm. When he released the pressure, the needle retracted.
“How Bub reproduces. No sex organs. When he fixed Helen and brought the sheep back to life, he touched them with his talons.”
Sun said, “Go on.”
“Bub uses the syringe in his palm to inject organic matter with some kind of serum, something probably containing hormones and enzymes. This serum can restructure DNA; restriction enzymes cut the DNA up, then it's put back into any order Bub wants it to be in. Maybe he uses a virus, or a retro virus, to take over the cells operating machinery—that's how we splice genes—and then during mitosis the cells change into whatever Bub preprograms.”
“That's how Helen changed into that monster.” Sun said, nodding. “And how Rabbi Shotzen became those batlings.”
“Right right right. Remember, humans are 90 percent intron genes—genes that don't code for protein. But they could be cut up with enzymes and patched back together so they can code for protein. There's a wealth of raw material in DNA, if it could only be activated by enzymes or hormones.”
“That could also explain Bub's rapid healing abilities, and why he doesn't age,” Sun agreed.
“He can program his own DNA to heal itself.”
“So why are the batlings so easy to kill?” Andy asked. “Why can’t they heal themselves?”
Belgium shrugged. “Not mature enough yet. Their systems haven’t fully developed. They’re a generation removed from the host. I’m not sure. But there’s a scientific explanation.”
Andy stared at Bub and scowled. “Not a miracle at all.”
Bub growled, his eyes becoming malevolent yellow slits.
“Did you get a work-up of the proteins involved?” Sun asked Belgium.
“Not yet. Didn't have time.”
“How about the mitochondrial DNA?”
“Hmm? Oh, that. Yes yes yes. The Short Tandem Repeat got a hit on that.”
“And...?” Sun asked.
“His mitochondria encompassed 70 percent of the genome for Methanococcus jannaschii. An archaean.”
Andy blinked. “I speak thirty languages, and I don't know what the hell you just said.”
“It's a microscopic life form,” Sun answered. “It isn't quite a bacteria, isn't quite a plant or animal, and probably predates both, making it one of the oldest and maybe the first life forms on earth.”
“Archaea is an extremophile,” Dr. Belgium added. “It's found in some of the harshest areas on the planet. It thrives in boiling water, in geysers, near black smokers at the bottom of the ocean, in extremely salty brines. We've also discovered archaea that live in rock, more than a mile deep in the earth's crust. Think of it, bacteria living in solid stone.”
The scientist began to pace around the room.
“Archaea can also withstand below freezing temperatures. It doesn't need oxygen. Many archeaens are autotrophic; they get their energy from inorganic sources; iron, sulfur, hydrogen. It's suspected that there may be archaea on Mars, or on Callisto, a moon of Jupiter. Because it can survive in extreme environments, scientists expect archeae to be the first alien life form found in the universe.”
Belgium stopped pacing, and his eyes got very big.
“What is it, Frank?” Sun asked.
“Panspermia!” the biologist exclaimed. “Francis Crick!”
Belgium began to pace, eyes wide with excitement. “Crick won the Nobel Prize for discovering the structure of DNA. He had an idea called directed panspermia. What if an alien race shielded a microbe in some kind of spaceship and sent it to all corners of the galaxy, where it was likely to grow? Crick postulated it could be how life on earth began. It was planted here.”
Sun said, “If archaea was the first life form on earth, and it didn't need oxygen—”
“Which is exactly what earth's early environment was like, no oxygen,” Belgium interrupted.
“—it could have hitched a ride here in a meteorite made of iron, which would not only be a food source but also protect if from radiation. It could survive the deep cold of space—”
“Archaea has been found in five million year old Siberian permafrost,” Belgium exclaimed.
“—and it could also survive the tremendous heat when it entered the earth's atmosphere. So if Bub has archaea in his genes...”
They all looked at the demon. Bub grinned wide and giggled.
“I created yoooooooou,” the demon cooed. “I’m yoooooour god.”
Andy was slack-jawed. He noticed similar expressions on his companions.
“This isn't happening.” Andy shook his head. “Life on earth isn't some garden planted by this bastard.”
“It’s truuuuuuuuue.”
Sun said, “So where's your spaceship?”
“Einstein proved interstellar travel was impossible,” Dr. Belgium concurred. “The nearest star is more than twenty four trillion miles away. That's over four years travel if you were moving at light speed, 186,000 miles a second, and light speed is impossible to attain. The faster an object moves, the heavier it becomes.”
Bub didn’t answer.
“His capsule,” Sun said, snapping her fingers. “It had iridium in it.”
Belgium gasped. “Oh my goodness.”
Andy asked, “Iridium? What's that?”
“It's not commonly found on earth. But it's abundant in meteorites, or other objects that come from space.”
“That gray thing is a spaceship?” Andy said, incredulous.
Sun put a hand on his arm. “Did you figure out the Egyptian glyphs?”
Andy's shoulders slumped. He rubbed his eyes.
“Yeah. They told the story of a god who fell from the sky and helped them build the pyramids.” The linguist shook his head. “I don't believe this.”
“So all that talk of God,” Sun said to Bub, “of heaven and Jesus and fallen angels. That was all bullshit?”
“Fraaaaaank gave me Inteeeeernet access.”
Andy shot Belgium a look. The scientist seemed to shrink.
“Not my smartest move, in hindsight,” Belgium said.
The computer beeped several times and the message bar read INCOMING MESSAGE. Andy clicked on the video icon and the President's face came of the monitor.
“Mr. Dennison? I was just informed that none of you made it to the evacuation helicopter.”
“We had to go into Lockdown, Mr. President. We're trapped in here.”
“Is General Murdoch with you?” the President asked.
“He's stuck in another part of the compound. Hurt bad. His wife turned into a demon. Bub changed her somehow.”
The Commander-in-Chief raised an eyebrow. “He can change people into demons?”
“You need to find a way to get us out of here, Mr. President. Can you get us any sort of weapons? Gas? Explosives? Something to cut through the bars?”
“Is it possible that I could speak to General Murdoch?”
“Just a second, I'll see if he's still alive.”
Andy picked up the phone and dialed Yellow 4.
“Race, how are you doing?”
Race coughed. “Not dead yet.” Though he didn’t sound far from it.
“I've got the President on the monitor.”
“Ask him,” Race said, “if we can go ahead with Protocol 9.”
“What’s that?”
“Just ask him, Andy.”