up, and David read the numbers and chart quickly—what he could understand.
Blood Pressure: 92/47
Pulse: 31
She’s hurt. Or worse—dying. What happened to her?
“Alpha, why are Dr. Warner’s vitals abnormal?”
“That information is class—”
“Classified.” David kicked the chair into the desk.
“Does that conclude your query?” Alpha asked.
“Not by a long shot.”
David stepped to the double doors, which hissed open. He paused, then grabbed his sidearm. Just in case.
David had been marching down the dimly lit corridors for almost ten minutes when he heard a figure moving in the shadows. He halted and waited, wishing his eyes would adjust to the faint lights at the floor and ceiling. Maybe the Atlanteans could see in less light or perhaps the ship—the piece of the ship they occupied—was operating in power-saving mode. Either way, it made the alien vessel seem even more mysterious.
A figure stepped out of the shadow.
Milo.
David was surprised to see the Tibetan teenager this deep in the ship. Milo was the only other person who shared the ship with Kate and David, but he spent most of his time outside of it. He slept outside, just beyond the inclining shaft that led from the buried ship to the mountaintop, where the Berbers left food for them. Milo loved sleeping under the stars and rising with the sun. David often found him sitting cross-legged, meditating when he and Kate went to join him for dinner each night. Milo had been their morale officer for the last two weeks, but through the dim light, David now saw only concern on the young man’s face.
“I haven’t seen her,” Milo said.
“Call me on ship’s comm if you do.” David resumed his rapid pace.
Milo fell in behind him, pumping his legs to keep up. David’s muscular frame and six-foot three-inch height dwarfed Milo, who was a full foot shorter. Together, they looked like a giant and his young sidekick barreling through a darkened labyrinth.
“I won’t need to,” Milo said, panting.
David glanced back at him.
“I’ll be with you.”
“You should go back up top.”
“You know I can’t,” Milo said.
“She’ll be angry.”
“If she’s safe, I will not care.”
Same here, David thought. They walked in silence, the only sound the rhythmic beating of David’s boots pounding the metallic floor followed by Milo’s fainter footfalls.
David stopped before a large set of double doors and activated the wall panel. The display read:
Auxiliary Medical Bay 12
It was the only medical bay in their part of the ship, and it was David’s best guess about where Kate went each day.
He moved his hand deeper into the green cloud of light that emerged from the wall panel, worked his fingers a few seconds, and the doors hissed open.
David crossed the room quickly.
There were four medical tables in the center. Holographic wall displays ran the length of the room—the empty room. Could she have already left?
“Alpha, can you tell me the last time this bay was used?”
“This bay was last used on mission date, 9.12.38.28, standard date 12.39.12.47.29—”
David shook his head. “How many local days ago?”
“Nine million, one hundred twenty eight thousand—”
“Okay, fine. Is there another medical bay within our section of the ship?”
“Negative.”
Where else would she go? Maybe there was another way to track her.
“Alpha, can you show me which sections of the ship are currently consuming the most power?”
A wall screen lit up, and a holographic model of the ship materialized. Three sections glowed: Arc 1701-D, Auxiliary Medical Bay 12, and Adaptive Research Lab 47.
“Alpha, what is Adaptive Research Lab 47?”
“An Adaptive Research Lab can be configured for a variety of biological and other experiments.”
“How is Adaptive Research Lab 47 currently configured?” David braced for the response.
“That information is classified—”
“Classified,” David muttered. “Right…”
Milo held out a protein bar. “For the walk.”
David led Milo back into the corridor, where he ripped the wrapper open, bit off a large chunk of the brown bar, and chewed in silence. It seemed to help with the frustration.
David stopped in the corridor, and Milo almost slammed into the back of him.
David squatted and examined something on the floor.
“What is it?” Milo asked.
“Blood.”
David walked faster after that, and the blood on the floor increased from a few drops to long stretches.
At the double doors to Adaptive Research Lab 47, David worked his fingers in the green light of the wall panel. He entered the open command six times, and each time, the display flashed the same message:
Insufficient Access
“Alpha! Why can’t I open this door?”
“You have insufficient access—”
“How can I get inside this door?”
“You cannot,” Alpha’s voice echoed through the corridor with finality.
David and Milo stood for a moment.
David spoke quietly. “Alpha, show me Dr. Warner’s vital signs.”
The wall display transformed, and the numbers and charts appeared.
Blood Pressure: 87/43
Pulse: 30
Milo turned to David.
“Dropping,” David said.
“What now?”
“Now we wait.”
Milo sat cross-legged and closed his eyes. David knew he was seeking the stillness, and in that moment, David wished he could do the same, could put everything out of his mind. Fear clouded his thoughts. He desperately wanted that door to hiss open, but he dreaded it as well, dreaded finding out what had happened to Kate, what experiment she was running, what she was doing to herself.
David had almost fallen asleep when the alarm went off. Alpha’s voice thundered through the cramped corridor.
“Subject medical emergency. Condition critical. Access overrides executed.”
The wide double doors to the research lab slid open.
David rushed in and rubbed his eyes, trying to understand what he saw.
Behind him, Milo spoke in awe, “Whoa.”
CHAPTER 2
Alpha Lander
1,200 Feet Below Sea Level
Off the Northern Coast of Morocco
“What is this?” Milo asked.
David scanned the research lab. “No idea.”
The room was vast, at least one hundred feet long and fifty feet deep, but unlike the medical bay, there were no tables in the room. In fact, the only things on the floor were two glass vats, at least ten feet in diameter. Yellow light glowed inside, and sparkling white elements drifted from the bottom to the top. The vat on the right was empty. The other held Kate.
She floated a few feet off the ground, her arms held straight out. She wore the same plain clothes she had left their bedroom in this morning, but there was something new: a silver helmet. It covered her entire face, even the bottom of her chin. Her recently dyed brunette hair fell out of it and onto her shoulders. The small visor that covered her eyes was black, revealing no clues about what was happening to her. The only hint was a stream of blood that flowed out of the helmet, down her neck, and stained her gray t-shirt. The stain seemed to grow with each passing second.
“Alpha, what’s… going on here?” David asked.
“Specify.”
“What is this experiment? Procedure?”
“Resurrection memory simulation.”
What does that mean? Is the simulation what’s hurting her?
“How can I stop it?”
“You cannot.”
“Why not?” David asked, growing impatient.
“Interrupting a resurrection memory sequence would terminate the subject.”
Milo turned to David, fear in his eyes.
David searched the room. What to do? He needed some clue, somewhere to begin. He threw his head back, trying to think. On the ceiling, a single small dome of black glass stared down at him.
“Alpha, do you have video telemetry of this lab?”
“Affirmative.”
“Begin playback.”
“Specify date range.”
“Begin the second Dr. Warner entered today.”
A wave of light emanated from the left wall, slowly forming a hologram of the lab. The vats were empty. The double doors slid open, and Kate strode in. She marched to the right wall, which lit up and began flashing a series of screens full of text and symbols David couldn’t make out. Kate stood still, her eyes darting slightly left and right, reading, taking in the screens, each of which remained for less than a second.
“Cool,” Milo whispered.
David felt himself take a step back. In that m