Micro

The room was a concrete bunker. It contained spartan living quarters. Tiered bunks were stacked along two walls. There were laboratory benches, equipped with basic lab supplies. There was a dining area, with a table and benches and a cooking stove. A door led to the bunker’s power source: a pair of D-size flashlight batteries, looming far above their heads. Another door led to a toilet and shower. A chest held some freeze-dried meals in pouches. The bunker was secure against predators, a sort of bomb shelter in a dangerous biological environment.

“It’s not a Disneyland ride out there,” Peter Jansen said. He sat slumped at the table in the bunker, exhausted. He felt unable to think clearly. Images of Kinsky’s death ran through his mind.

Karen King leaned against the wall. She was splashed with ant blood. The blood was gooey and clear, with a slightly yellowish color, and it dried fast.

Danny Minot sat hunched at the dining table. He had resumed picking at his face and nose with his fingertips.

A computer sat on the lab bench. “We could learn something from this,” Jenny Linn said, and switched it on. The computer booted, but a password screen came up. Of course, they didn’t know the password. And Jarel Kinsky wasn’t there to help them with things like that.

“We’re not safe here,” Rick Hutter remarked. “Drake could show up.”

Amar Singh agreed. “I propose, let’s stock up with food and gear and leave immediately.”

“I don’t want to go outdoors,” Erika Moll said, her voice trembling, as she sat down on a bunk. Why had she ever left the university in Munich? She longed for the safe world of European research. These Americans played with fire. Hydrogen bombs, megapower lasers, killer drones, shrunken micro-people…Americans were demon-raisers. Americans awakened technological demons they couldn’t control, yet they seemed to enjoy the power.

“We can’t stay here,” Karen said to her, speaking gently. She could see how frightened Erika was. “The most dangerous organism we face is not an insect. It’s human.”

It was a good point. Peter Jansen suggested that they stick to the original plan: go to the parking lot, try to get on a truck to Nanigen, get into the tensor generator somehow. “We have to get restored to normal size as soon as possible. We don’t have much time.”

“We don’t know how to operate the generator,” Jenny Linn said.

“We’ll cross that bridge later.”

Rick said, “We have some good tools for getting ourselves on the truck, including the rope ladder we found in the pack.” He had been poking around in the supply boxes, and he’d pulled out something: another pair of radio headsets. This meant they now had a total of four communication radios.

“There is only one thing to do,” Danny Minot murmured. “Call for help.” He held up a radio headset.

“You call Nanigen,” Rick said to him, “and Vin Drake will come around looking for us, and not with any magnifying glass. With the toe of his boot.”

Peter suggested that they keep radio silence except in an emergency, in case Drake was listening for them.

“I don’t see the point,” Danny said. “We need to call for help.”

Jenny Linn did not take part in the conversation. Instead, she opened all the cabinets, one by one, and went through them carefully. She found a lab notebook. She opened it and began flipping through the pages. Somebody had jotted handwritten notes on the first few pages-weather readings, logs of sample-gathering activities, mostly. It didn’t seem useful, until she came to the map.

“Look at this, guys,” Jenny said, spreading the notebook on the table.

On a page of the lab notebook, somebody had sketched a rough map of the Manoa Valley. The map showed the locations of ten supply stations, scattered through Fern Gully and partway up the mountain slopes toward Tantalus Peak, at increasing distances from the greenhouses and parking lot. The supply stations were designated by letters of the NATO alphabet, from Alpha, Bravo, and Charlie, up to Kilo. There was an arrow marked TO TANTALUS BASE-GREAT BOULDER. Tantalus Crater wasn’t shown on the map, nor was the base.

The map, as crude and incomplete as it was, still contained valuable information. It showed the basic layout of the supply stations. The location of each supply station was indicated by landmarks around the station-trees, rocks, clumps of ferns-making it possible to find the station as long as you could locate the landmarks. There was a station next to the parking lot. It was Station Alpha, and it was located under a clump of white ginger plants, according to a note on the map.

“We could head for Station Alpha,” Peter Jansen said. “Maybe not stay at Alpha, but at least we could search it for more supplies and information.”

“Why should we go anywhere?” Danny said. “Kinsky was right. We have to negotiate with Vin.”

“Don’t you dare try!” Rick was practically shouting.