Robin Cook - Invasion

INVASION

Robin Cook

In the frigid vastness of interstellar space a pin-point of matter-antimatter fluctuated from the void, creating an intense flash of electromagnetic radiation. To the human retina, the phenomena would have appeared as the sudden emergence and expansion of a blip of colors representing the full spectrum of visual light. Of course, the gamma rays, the X rays, and even the infrared and radio waves would not have been visible to a human's limited vision.

Simultaneous with the burst of colors, the human witness would have seen the emergence of an astronomical number of atoms in the form of a rotating, black disciform concretion. The phenomenon would have appeared like a video run in reverse of the object falling into a crystalline pool of fluid whose ripples were the warping of space and time.

Still traveling at nearly the speed of light, the huge number of coalesced atoms rocketed into the distant reaches of the solar system, streaking past the orbits of the bloated outer gaseous planets of Neptune, Uranus, Saturn, and Jupiter. By the time the concretion reached the orbit of Mars its rotation and velocity had slowed significantly.

The object could now be seen for what it was: an inter-galactic spaceship whose gleaming outer surface looked like highly polished onyx. The only deformity of its disc-form shape was a series of bulges along the top surface of its outer edge. The contours of each of these bulges mirrored the silhouette of the massive mother ship. There were no other distortions of the outer skin: no portholes or exhaust vents or antennae. There weren't even any structural seams.

Streaking into the outer fringes of the earth's atmosphere, the outside temperature of the space ship soared. A burning tail appeared to light up the night sky behind the ship as the heat-excited atmospheric atoms gave off photons in protest.

The ship continued to slow both in terms of rotation and velocity. Far below, the twinkling lights of an unsuspecting city appeared. The preprogrammed ship ignored the lights; it was by luck that the impact occurred in a rocky, boulder-strewn, arid landscape. Despite the relatively slow speed it was more of a controlled crash than a landing, sending rock, sand, and dust billowing into the air. When the craft finally came to a stop, it was half buried in earth. Debris sent skyward in the impact rained down on its polished topside.

After the surface temperature had fallen below two hundred degrees centigrade, a vertical slitlike opening appeared along the ship's outer edge. It was not like a mechanical door. It was as if the molecules themselves worked in concert to create the penetration of the ship's seamless exterior.

Vapor escaped through the slit, evidence that the interior of the craft was deep-space frigid. Inside, banks of computers busily ran automatic sequences. Samples of the earth's atmosphere and soil were hauled inside to be analyzed. These automated procedures functioned as planned, including the isolation of prokaryotic life forms (bacteria) from the dirt. Analysis of all the samples, including the DNA contained therein, confirmed that the proper destination had been reached. The arming sequence was then initiated. Meanwhile, an antenna was extended up into the night sky to prepare for quasar frequency transmission to announce that Magnum had arrived.

10:15 P.M.

"Hey, hello!" Candee Taylor said as she tapped Jonathan Sellers on the shoulder. At the moment Jonathan was busily kissing her neck. "Earth to Jonathan, come in please!" Candee added while she began rapping on Jonathan's head with her knuckles.

Both Candee and Jonathan were seventeen and juniors at Anna C. Scott High School. Jonathan had recently gotten his driver's license, and although he was not yet permitted to use the family car, he'd been able to borrow Tim Appleton's VW. Despite it being a school night, Candee and Jonathan had managed to sneak out and drive up to the bluff overlooking the city. Each had eagerly anticipated this first visit to the school's favorite "lover's lane." To help set the mood, as if they'd needed any help, the radio was tuned to KNGA, home of nonstop top forty hits.

"What's the matter?" Jonathan questioned while probing the tender spot on the top of his head. Candee had had to hit him pretty hard to divert his attention. Jonathan was tall for his age and thin. His adolescent growth spurt had been all vertical, much to his basketball coach's delight.

"I wanted you to see the shooting star." As a gymnast, Candee was significantly more physically developed than Jonathan. Her body was the source of the admiration of the boys and the envy of the girls. She could have dated almost anyone, but she chose Jonathan because of a combination of his cuddly good looks and his interest in and abilities with computers. Computers happened to be one of her interests as well.

"So what's the big deal about a shooting star?" Jonathan whined. He glanced up at the stars but quickly returned his gaze to Candee. He couldn't be sure of it, but he thought that one of the buttons of her blouse that had been buttoned when they'd arrived was now mysteriously unbuttoned.

"It went all the way across the sky," Candee said. She traced her index finger across the windshield for emphasis. "It was awesome!"

In the half-light of the car's interior, Jonathan could just make out the imperceptible rise and fall of Candee's breasts with her breathing. He found that more awesome than any stars. He was about to lean over and try to kiss her when the radio seemingly self-destructed.

First the volume jumped to an ear-splitting level, followed instantly by a loud popping and hissing noise.

Sparks leaped out of the dashboard and smoke billowed up.

"Shit!" Jonathan and Candee screeched in unison as they reflexively tried to push themselves away from the sparking receiver. Both leaped from the car. From the safety of the exterior they peered back inside, half expecting to see flames. Instead the sparking stopped as abruptly as it had started. Straightening up, they eyed each other across the top of the car.

"What the hell am I going to tell Tim?" Jonathan moaned.

"Look at the antenna!" Candee said.

Even in the darkness Jonathan could see that its tip was blackened.

Candee reached out and touched it. "Ouch!" she exclaimed. "It's hot."

Hearing a babble of voices, Jonathan and Candee looked around them. Other kids had gotten out of their cars as well. A pall of acrid smoke hung over the scene. Every radio that had been on, whether playing rap music, rock, or classical, had blown its fuse. At least that's what everybody was saying.

10:15 P.M.

Dr. Sheila Miller lived in one of the city's few residential high-rises. She liked the view, the breezes from the desert, and the proximity to the University Medical Center. Of the three, the last was the most important.

At age thirty-five, she felt as if she'd been through two lives. She married early in college to a fellow premed student. They'd had so much in common. Both thought that medicine was to be their consuming interest and that they should share the dream. Unfortunately, reality had been brutally unromantic because of their arduous schedules. Still, their relationship might have survived if George hadn't had the irritating idea that his career as a surgeon was more valuable than Sheila's path, first in internal medicine and then in emergency medicine. As far as domestic responsibility was concerned, it had all fallen on her shoulders.

George's undiscussed decision to accept a two-year fellowship in New York had been the straw that broke the camel's back. The idea that George expected her to follow him to New York when she'd recently accepted the position of head of the University Medical Center emergency department showed Sheila how mismatched they were. What romance had once been between them had long since evaporated, so with little argument and no passion they divided up their collection of CDs and back issues of medical journals and went their separate ways. As far as Sheila was concerned, the only legacy was a mild bitterness about assumed male prerogatives.