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45
February 7, 11:08A.M.EST
Washington, D.C.
Several floors beneath the Smithsonian Castle, Gray thumped with a cane down the central corridor of Sigma’s buried command center. He checked his watch and scowled. His left thigh stabbed with every step. He passed Sigma’s intelligence nest. The spider of that technological web—Kat Bryant—heard his approach and met him at the door.
She leaned on the frame. “You’re late.”
He shrugged as he passed her. “Physical therapy ran long.”
She called after him. “So it wasn’t because you stopped for a Starbucks?”
Gray grinned. She was definitely the master of her domain. “That was part of my therapy. Plus, for this debriefing, I could use more than just caffeine.”
“A triple espresso wasn’t enough?”
He glanced back, but she had already ducked away. Had she tracked his coffee order or was it simply that she knew him so well? He didn’t know which was worse.
He continued to the director’s office. The door was open, but he still knocked on the frame.
“Commander Pierce, you’re late.”
“So I’ve been duly informed.”
Gray stepped inside. Monk was already seated and welcomed himwith a big grin. Painter Crowe sat behind his desk. The director had shed his jacket and his sleeves were rolled to his elbows. He combed the single white lock in his dark hair behind an ear and waved to the remaining chair.
“Let’s get started.”
Behind him, monitors glowed on three walls. One showed a map of Southeast Asia. Another ran with silent footage of the ongoing rescue operations. The third was a satellite view of Raoul Island. A large ship was anchored offshore. At its aft end, a tall glass sphere glinted in the sunlight.
Gray settled in his seat. It had been two weeks since the region had quieted down, but the world remained tenuously unsettled. The ash clouds from the dozens of eruptions had circled the planet. A dense haze still persisted. It might take months, if not years, until it fully dissipated, with unknown climatic consequences.
“What’s the word out of China?” Gray asked.
“About what you’d expect,” Painter said. “They’re blaming the civilian deaths and military actions on a rogue unit in the PLA, led by an overly ambitious captain. They refuse to talk about the ELF transmission or their lost submarine.”
Monk turned to Gray. “But no one’s fooled. The countries that were affected are holding China’s feet to the fire. Beijing is funding most of the recovery efforts, trying to buy their way out of what happened.”
Painter nodded. “The Chinese have also been chastised enough to open a dialogue and work with NASA’s Artemis program when it comes to future lunar missions.”
Gray frowned. “I wager that’s only so they can share the blame if anything goes wrong again.”
“What exactly happened up there?” Monk asked.
“As near as anyone can surmise,” Painter explained, “the Chinese were right about Theia—the ancient planetoid that smashed into the primordial Earth and created the moon. It left fragments not only under our mantle but also slivers buried in the lunar crust. Apparently, some force still connects those pieces and responded to the drilling of their lander.”
Gray tuned out this explanation. He had kept in contact with Major Xue and had long conversations on this very subject. Much remained unknown. Only it was clear everyone needed to tread lightly from here on out, both on the moon and with the strange ecosystem discovered deep in the sea.
“What’s the possibility of someone using that ELF transmission as a weapon?” Monk asked. “Of triggering more quakes?”
Painter sighed. “Nations around the world have been informed about it and will be monitoring for those transmissions. With the knowledge shared globally about the bullroarers, any hostile usage could be mitigated, making any weapon useless.”
“We had better hope so,” Monk added.
“I also spoke to Dr. Reed about her initial work with the species that was discovered,” Painter said. “She’s continuing to explore how their morphology seems to blur the line between geology and biology. She believes the species utilizes harmonics as a means of communication and to manipulate their environment. As a vast colony, they seem capable of casting out unique frequencies that vibrate the crystalline nature of the Theia fragments. Thus triggering quakes or eruptions. All as a means to protect their territory.”
“If Dr. Reed is right,” Monk said, “we’d better not piss them off.”
