The image sharpens. Increases magnification again. And again.
“8,000x…” Mitzy continues, the resolution increasing. “Wait, there’s something…”
“That’s not corrosion,” I say, my voice controlled, measured.
“You’re right.” Mitzy’s voice carries the weight of discovery.
At 10,000x magnification, the “corrosion” resolves into distinct structures. Mechanical. Organized. Purposeful. Along the power coupling, clustered like metallic barnacles, there are hundreds of microscopic machines.
“My God,” Mitzy breathes, fingers freezing over the controls, “those are nanobots. Advanced ones, no less.” Mitzy pulls up comparative images. “Nothing like this exists in any unclassified research I’ve ever seen. They’re targeting power regulation systems, communications interfaces, anything that processes data or manages energy flow.”
“They’re concentrating around the communications, security, and tactical systems.”
She immediately switches to our phones, examining the battery connections. The same microscopic machines appear at the same magnification.
“They’re in everything.” Her voice is tight with disbelief. “Every device the Kazakhstan survivors touched. And from there, they spread to other systems through proximity or direct contact. It’s an infestation.”
“Can you determine their function?” I ask.
“I’ll need to analyze their architecture first,” Mitzy responds, capturing detailed scans of the nanobots. “But based on their positioning near power and data connections, they appear designed to siphon energy and intercept information.”
“Surveillance?” Gabe states, the word sharp with rage. “Do you mean Malfor’s been watching us through our equipment?”
“Surveillance and interference, more likely than not.” Mitzy studies the magnified structures.
The door to the lab slides open, and Doc Summers enters. Her expression is grim.
“I’ve been reviewing the medical data from the Kazakhstan extraction. The scanning equipment began malfunctioning exactly 47 minutes after first contact with the survivors. Malfor must have introduced these nanobots into their systems during captivity. Most likely through topical application—medical procedures, contaminated surfaces, even something as simple as a handshake with an infected handler.”
“On them?” A bad feeling comes over me. “If they were on their skin…” I don’t want to think my next thought. Fortunately, I don’t have to.
“I need skin samples from everyone,” Doc Summers says. “We can start with those closest to them.” Doc Summers turns her warm brown gaze on me and Gabe. “I need to take skin swabs from you both. Call Walt in, as well. The three of youhad the most contact with them. If you’re infected, then we start testing everyone.”
“I don’t like the sound of that.” I turn to Gabe and see the same thought swirling in his head. He dials Walt, calls him in, then notifies Ethan.
“Give me a moment to get swab kits. I’ll be back soon.” With that, Doc Summers disappears.
Walt and Ethan arrive a few minutes later, and that’s when the questions begin. Questions for which no one has any answers. When Doc Summers returns, she makes quick work of collecting skin samples from our hands, forearms, and faces.
One of Mitzy’s technicians takes the swabs and preps them for scanning via electron microscopy. Doc Summers and Mitzy settle down in front of the controls and examine the samples.
“I found something.” Doc Summers transfers data to the main screen. Microscopic images appear, and among the dead skin cells and normal bacteria, tiny metallic structures cling to the surface like technological parasites.
“Nanotech,” she explains. “They’re on your skin. Explains the spread from device to device. I’ve never seen anything like this outside of experimental research.”
“That’s how they got past our security.” The pieces fall into place. “No alarms because the security system itself was compromised.”
But infiltration technology can be reverse-engineered.
“Mitzy.” My voice is flat, controlled. “Can you isolate an intact specimen? They have to communicate somehow. Can we trace them back to their source?”
TWELVE
Contamination Protocol
HANK
Mitzy extractsanother nanobot specimen from Ally’s laptop. Each second burns through my control like acid eating through steel. Ally could be anywhere by now—another continent, another hemisphere, another grave.