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Triangles used many stem cells to make their cellulose framework and become full-blown hatchlings. Sometimes old stem-cell lines produced bad s.h.i.+t: defective cells, even cancerous cells. When that happened, the reader-b.a.l.l.s and herders and builders identified bad stem cells and simply removed them.
The stem cells producing crawler strands, on the other hand, worked as solo operatives. They were in a hurry. Herders focused on finding and converting more stem cells, not doing quality control.
Donald, being the oldest of the three infected Jewells, had more shortened telomeres than Betty, and far more than Chelsea. Most of his modified stem cells produced defective muscle strands. Some of these strands were dead on arrival, just floating bits. Others lived long enough to send and receive the I am here signal and join up with other strands. Still others made it to full crawler size and began their mission along the nerves, although this effort alone was usually enough to make them shut down after a little bit of distance.
And when they shut down, the rot began.
Slowly at first, a low-level exponential reaction. But as the number of dead strands grew, so did the level of rot-inducing chemicals.
Each modified muscle strand carried both the apoptosis catalyst and a strong counterchemical that blocked the catalyst. If there were more living strands than dead strands, the apoptosis couldnt gain a foothold. But when there were more dead strands than living strands, that balance tipped the other way.
Throughout Donnys body that balance was tipping fast. Tiny areas of cell death expanded and multiplied. Particularly in his left hand, the apoptosis compounded on itself and started to spiral out of control.
While he slept, Donny Jewell began to dissolve from the inside out.
THE LITTLE BLUE BOOK
Zero casualties. Well, one if you counted Private Domkus tripping on a branch and spraining his ankle, but other than that, nothing. So if it was his most successful hatchling encounter yet, why did Colonel Charlie Ogden feel so anxious?
Air transport had pulled all of Whiskey and X-Ray companies out of Marinesco and taken them back to Fort Bragg. North Carolina wasnt exactly a central location for the missions, but it wasnt that far, only a forty-five-minute flight to Detroit on a C-17 Globemaster transport jet.
Fort Bragg was a big base. Big enough to sequester an entire battalion for five weeks and counting. Aside from missions, the men hadnt left the base or had any contact with people outside the unit save for CIA-screened letters, or CIA-monitored phone calls to immediate family only. Ogden was no exceptionhe hadnt seen his wife in over a month. It sucked, but that was war.
Fort Bragg also housed the USASOC, the United States Army Special Operations Command. Unconventional warfare, special reconnaissance, ant.i.terrorismall kinds of aircraft, coming and going at all hours. No one asked where they went, no one asked why they went. That was life 24/7 for the USASOC, and it provided ideal cover for Project Tangram operations.
Throw in all the aircraft available at the adjacent Pope Air Force Base, including plenty of those C-17s, and you had a perfect mixbuilt-in secrecy, endless options for transport. The DOMREC came and went; no one wondered why.
Ogden sat alone in his quarters, performing his nightly ritual. It consisted of three things:
A letter to his wife.
The Bible.