by Greig Beck
“You let us worry about that.” Mironov sat forward. “My name is Valery Konstantin Mironov, and we’re fully aware of what the creature is, its size, ferocity, and lethal capability. And we are prepared for it.”
“You know what it is? Do you know what’s been happening?” Sam asked.
“Yeah, we do.” Cate sighed. “The shark is a prehistoric remnant known as a Megalodon Carcharodon species. Long story, but our priority is to rescue you guys. We can all talk about it later.”
“Starting ascent,” Jack said.
“We’re coming up on you now, Sam. You might not see us as we’re running dark.” Cate leaned forward. “Do you think we might be able to …?”
Mironov turned. “Mr. Brenner?”
“All clear for miles in every direction,” Brenner answered.
“Good, then let’s light her up. Switching on fore and aft spotlights and hull perimeter lighting.” Mironov moved levers up and flicked switches. Outside the submersible became encased in a halo of light, as well as throwing a strong tunnel of light forward to illuminate the massive trench wall.
Cate’s eyes widened. The cliff wall was nearly sheer and fell away to 20,000 feet below them in this area. It could have swallowed the entire Appalachian mountain range twice over. Being inside the 190-foot craft made her feel like a speck of dust.
“This is a world of giants.” She felt overawed.
“Holy crap,” Brenner said. “It goes on forever.”
“Not quite. Only for another 1700 miles.” Mironov turned and grinned.
“We are at the edge of an abyss and we’re close to being irrevocably lost.” Francis Williams spoke as if in a trance.
“Yes, David R. Bower, and we have no intention of being lost. So please stow that kind of talk,” Mironov said evenly.
“Yes, sir. Sorry, sir.” Williams’ lips compressed.
“Hey, I can see you – thank you, thank you, thank you.” Sam’s hushed but excited voice floated from the comms system.
“Me too; it’s Andy McCarthy here, and I’ve never been so glad to see someone since all my cousins turned up to shout a few rounds on my birthday.”
“Nice to hear from you, Andy. Next round will be on us.” Jack grinned and turned to Cate, who gave him a thumbs-up.
“We’re going to light up our Christmas tree as well.” Samantha whispered something in the background, and suddenly a speck of light appeared above them.
“We see you, and we’re coming in.” Jack eased the Nautilus higher, and began to slow it.
“Coming out of cavitation,” Mironov said as their sleeve of air vanished. Immediately around them came the pop and squeal of steel under pressure.
“Nothing to worry about; we’re just adjusting to the pressure differential.” Mironov must have seen Cate wince because he reached out a hand. “We’re fine; we can take much greater pressure than this.” He turned back, and exhaled as he looked over the Alvin’s predicament.
“And now we see the size of our problem.”
“Ho-lee-y shit,” Jack said.
The dot of light that was the Alvin was attached to the side of an entire ship, around 400 feet long, balanced on its nose on a narrow ledge, and with its stern leaned back against the trench wall. The Alvin seemed to have slid several hundred feet down from the abyssal plain, and through sheer luck, had struck the jutting lip of rock.
“Jesus; those guys should buy themselves a lottery ticket,” Brenner said.
“I’m not so sure they’d count themselves as lucky,” Cate countered. “Especially not Wade.”
“Sorry, I meant …” Brenner hunched back over his console.
“Don’t be sorry,” Mironov said. “Luck, good and bad, plays a part in everything we do. A few more feet, and that ship would have slid into the trench, and we’d only be left with a sonar shadow so far out of our reach it would forever remain a memory.” He turned to Cate. “And we still have two people alive, and we’re here now.”
Cate ran a hand through her hair. “You’re right, you’re right. I’m just feeling on edge and a little prickly right now.” She looked past Mironov to Brenner. “Looks like the lottery tickets are on me.”
Brenner nodded, but didn’t turn.
“Ms. Britt, Valery Mironov here,” The Russian tilted his head and waited.
“Please to meet you, Mr. Mironov, call me Sam.” Samantha sounded eager.
“Very good, Sam, and you can call me Valery. Please state your understanding of your position and … dilemma.”
“Well, we’re hooked up by our drop cable. Wade managed to get most of it cleared, before …” she paused to collect herself. “… before he was lost. But there’s still a single loop tying us to the Archimedes.”
“You have an escape pod on the Alvin, yes?” Mironov asked.
“Yes, we do but, for all the dumb luck, that damn cable is wrapped around that as well. Until it’s fully removed, we can’t disengage from the submersible’s superstructure.” She snorted softly. “But if we were free of the cable, then we wouldn’t need the escape pod to be released.”
“That’s true, and I suggest we go with that as our plan A. We’ll cut you loose, and when that’s done, you float free. We’ll run defense for you on the way up, but we hope that won’t be necessary.”
“Running defense? I’d prefer it dead.” Sam exhaled, as if letting out some pressure.
“We’d all like to see that big bastard blown to smithereens as well,” Cate said as her eyes slid to Valery. “As long as we can keep the head intact, right?”
Valery smiled, and turned back to the window. “And now, Ms. Britt, we all have work to do. We’ll come in a little closer for a better look, and then, hopefully, we can use the laser to sever those cables.”
“We’ll be here, just hanging around.” Sam had a smile in her voice. “Hey, did you just say laser?”
CHAPTER 29
Aboard the Kanaloa, fifty miles west of the Middle America Trench – one device lost
Scott Markesan paced on the deck of the Kanaloa, the Nexxon Corporation’s oil exploration vessel. It was amazing what a bit of political, military and corporate pressure could do when combined with a billionaire’s drive and determination.
The seismic blasting was continuing apace, and this time the quadrants they were servicing were ones that were normally off-limits; but not now – Valery Mironov had convinced the government to approve the tests. They all knew it was a sham, and what he was looking for was no oil bed buried beneath the rocks and silt of the sea bottom, but something rarer … and more dangerous.
Scott could feel the thumps through the soles of his shoes as he watched the feeder cable extend out from the rear crane. Several hours back, they’d lost a device, or fish as they were affectionately known. Twenty million dollars of tech gone. That was going to piss a lot of people off.
Scott and the other techs had to clamber out onto the crane strut and load another. At this point he didn’t want to think about how the other one had been lost. And one thing that he was damn sure of was there was no way he was going in the water – if another device got hooked up by something, then they’d just cut it loose. After all, this time Valery Mironov was paying.
Scott had set out with three sensor buoys ready to fire their blasts into the seabed. Mironov obviously expected they’d be taken. Scott shuddered and looked out over the steel-blue churning water. Something out there was tracking them. He could feel it in his gut.
He wiped his nose. The rich Russian guy was paying him and the crew a small fortune in bonuses to be here again. Scott’s only stipulation was that if they devices were lost, nobody went into the water after them. Once they broke free, they were gone.
He began to pace again, letting his mind wander, when the 413-foot long and 105-foot wide ship jerked hard in the water. Even a man with good sea legs can be taken by surprise, and Scott nearly fell to the deck. There was a sound like a guitar string breaking, and his head snapped around in time to see t
he cable whip away.
“Fuck it.”
He also noticed that the crane end had become slightly distorted. They had one spare torpedo-shaped device left. After that, their job was over. And he’d be damn well glad of it.
He lifted the walkie-talkie from his belt and held it to his mouth. “Gonna load up our last fish. Tell Roy and Bill to come on down, pronto.”
As far as he was concerned, he wanted the third one lost as well – get it over with and get the hell outta here, he thought.
Scott walked toward the rear of the ship, put his hands on his hips and looked out over the water. It was still hours away from dawn and there was a slight breeze, which carried with it the smell of salt, iron, and a hint of diesel fuel. The Kanaloa eased to a full stop as the new fish was to be loaded, hopefully quickly so an unbroken chain of “shots” could be fired.
From somewhere out behind him in the darkness he heard the sound of dripping water, and then caught a whiff of something like a wharf at low tide, and he turned to stare.
He frowned; was that a lump on the surface, looking like a glistening hill? There was only a fingernail moon that was heading fast to the horizon, and with dawn yet to creep up on them it was dark as a coalmine out there. Damned imagination playing tricks, he thought.
He crossed himself, thanking God for not having to go into the water.
* * *
The Megalodon shark let itself drift to the surface. For the time being the agonizing pounding had stopped. It was still confused; the silver fish it had attacked was all hard shell and with no meat, but they seemed to be the source of the sound.
It used a few sweeps of its massive scythe-like tail to raise its ten-foot wide head from the water, and just hung there, watching.
It could see the small creatures moving about on the huge floating thing. They were in its territory. There was only one question remaining: could it eat them?
It slowly sunk back down into the inky water, and began to move closer.
CHAPTER 30
Aboard the Kanaloa, fifty miles west of the Middle America Trench
Scott Markesan put his hands on each side of his mouth. “Hurry it up, boys. Last one, then we’re home.”
He turned away to pace back to the stern of the ship, and stopped to stare out over the water. The kicker was the fact the seismic devices were being taken meant one thing and one thing only – that big sonofabitch was out there somewhere.
“Yo!”
Scott spun to see two of Kanaloa’s crewmembers, Juan and Roy, jogging toward him.
“Good card game, was it?” He grinned, and walked to the cradle that held the last seismic blaster. After they’d loaded it, they’d run it via the rails to the rear of the ship, anchor it to the crane, lift it over the side and then lower it into the water. From there, they’d simply let out cable until they had it at the desired depth and recommence their seabed pounding.
“Let’s get this done; lucky last.” Scott pointed, issuing instructions and also assisting as the trio maneuvered the long silver fish toward the rear towing crane.
It took them longer than expected, as the lead winch and rollers were slightly deformed from the loss of the last fish. They lifted it into place, and prepared for the drop.
The cable fed out just a few feet, before it made a god-awful grinding noise and then stuck. The end roller simply refused to travel smoothly along its spindle. The grinding reached a crescendo.
“Shut it down, shut it down.” Scott pounded his leg. “Goddamn it; I knew it. The winch end is deformed.”
Roy took off his cap and wiped his brow. “Couple of good hard hits with a ball-peen hammer will see it right.”
Scott pursed his lips, and after a moment nodded. “Good thinking. Get out there and start banging away.”
“Me?” Roy’s head jerked back on his neck.
“Sure, it was your idea … and it was a damn good one. Come on, Roy, let’s get this done.” Scott clapped his hands. “We’ve got to restart the blasts or the continuity will be broken and our bonuses will be in jeopardy.”
Roy looked from the winch end hanging out over the water and back to Scott. “What’s the hurry? The seabed isn’t going anywhere.”
Scott feigned ignorance and hiked his shoulders. “I’m just a small cog in a big wheel like you. Seriously, we might miss some important readings, so …” He thumbed at the winch end.
Roy cursed softly and looked at Juan, perhaps hoping for a counterargument.
Juan just grinned. “I’ll get you the hammer, buddy.”
“Oh yeah, thanks.” Roy shook his head, as he watched Juan scamper away, rustling around in a deck toolbox until he found and returned with a medium-sized hammer with metal ball on one end and flat side on the other.
“Here you go, Thor.” Juan’s grin widened.
Roy snatched it from him, and threatened Juan with it, making the smaller man flinch away. He began cursing again. “Me and my big ideas. I shoulda just keep my trap shut.”
“Hurry up,” Scott said brusquely.
Roy scaled the back of the crane, throwing a leg over the long arm and edging himself out, horse-rider style. The crane extended ten feet beyond the wide stern of the boat, and the seismic device was already in the dark water, every now and then banging into the stern.
Scott leaned over the railing and stared down at it. He was thankful there was no swell as the device had plenty of sophisticated electronics built into it, and a few good knocks might render it inoperable.
The sound of iron banging on iron made Scott wince. Up on the bridge behind them, the ship’s 2IC wandered out to look down on them before shaking his head and walking back into the well-lit bridge. The captain wouldn’t be up for another few hours … unless the din woke him.
Scott ground his teeth as the sound traveled out over the ocean’s surface. “How long?”
Roy stopped, panting and wiped his brow. “It’s tough. Really should be replacing the spindle and probably the entire winch-tip – send it all off to the welders for repair.” He leaned forward to rub a hand over the slightly deformed end.
“How long?” Scott folded his arms.
“I think a few more minutes, but it ain’t gonna be perfect.” Roy rubbed his chin. “At least we should be able to get some play on the cable – won’t be pretty but it’ll work.” He stuck the hammer into his belt, and used both hands to feel around the twisted iron. “Hey, I need the chisel – the large flat-end one.”
“I got it.” Juan jogged back to the toolbox and rummaged again for a few seconds, before pulling two chisels out. He jogged back, and climbed up underneath Roy. He edged out, straining to lean further over the water, while holding both tools up.
“Which one?”
“Hmm, eeny-meeny …” Roy grinned as he pointed a finger at each.
Scott groaned. “Jesus Christ, will you two just—”
The dark mountain rose up behind the stern so fast that Scott didn’t have time to do anything but stare. He had an image of a massive black glass-like eyeball, and row after row of shovel-sized teeth, horribly sharp, and an odor like from the bottom of the deepest seas.
In another second, the mountain slid back into the water and was gone.
Then the shock hit him and Scott fell back onto his ass. Fear made it feel like a flashbulb went off in his face, and everything tingled from his scalp to his fingertips.
Scott turned to Roy and Bill on the crane. “Did you guys see …?”
They were gone.
Both men.
And also the crane.
The. Entire. Fucking. Crane.
There was a mass of bent rivets where the crane had once stood, and a huge puddle of water. At least he hoped it was water. But everything else was just … gone.
Scott’s head spun to the water, and he began to crab-walk backwards along the deck. The boat moved in the water as surge swells lapped up against its stern gunwale. He slowly got to his feet, just as there came a splash and movement
just beyond the railing. He held his breath and crouched. He felt light-headed from terror and suddenly became aware of something hot and wet at his groin. He continued to stare out over the inky black water, his mouth twisted down.
The silver seismic blaster, their fish, bobbed back to the surface. It seemed the monster had taken what it came for.
Scott turned and sprinted to the steps leading to the bridge. Without the seismic pounding, that big bastard had no reason to hang around.
He needed to tell the captain, and he needed to tell Valery Mironov.
CHAPTER 31
Abyssal Plain, edge of the Middle America Trench, 2397 feet down
The Nautilus eased in closer to the Alvin. Samantha Britt could just make out human shapes behind the eye-like windows. She marveled at the futuristic design of the craft. If she hadn’t known what it was, she might have been terrified by the sleek appearance – it looked like some sort of leviathan creature of the deep. It was long and slim, and tapered to a point at the rear. The head was stingray broad with a designated cockpit, and two wings protruding from each side at the front. Underneath she saw two robotic arms drop from recessed panels and begin to unfold. She also saw what could have been the barrel of a long thin gun.
“Ready to go home.” She turned to grin at Andy.
“I was ready the moment the Archimedes began to tip over.” Andy had a hand on the bubble glass as he watched, eyes wide. “That craft … it doesn’t even look real.”
“I’m still pinching myself.” Sam turned back to the glass and sucked in a deep breath. “And I’m scared shitless.”
“That makes two of us. Plus I’ve got every finger and toe crossed.” Andy sat down slowly. “We should get ready. As soon as we’re free, we’ll eject the pod and float away.”
“Thank you, God; thank you, Neptune; and thank you, Cate Granger.” Sam sat down and strapped in.
* * *
“Oh shit.” Michael Brenner hunched over his screens, one hand pressed to his earphone. He turned. “I’m not picking up the seismic blasting anymore. It might have ceased.”