MILDRATAWA

by Nigel Clayton

  The second in command came back: “None from us.”

  Anthony: “No, Dave.”

  “I want you all to keep your eyes open for any man-made rock-surface disturbances. George, commence sonar activities, a distance four hundred metres or as far as possible.”

  “Got that.”

  “I don’t want any idle chit chat from here on in. Dave out.”

  They continued with ease, the current helping to preserve the air on board. Time soon ticked by though, it always did during the act of a mission. Nothing was said during the remainder of the trip and nothing unusual seen, even the swells of whale food and other microscopic forms of life had diminished.

  The channel slowly closed in on both sides; the x-ray wasn’t far wrong. Thanks to the current they had only just switched to tank oxygen. Dave looked hard at his control and pondered: ‘Will it be with us or against us on our return journey?

  George came on air. “Dave, the cave closes right in, another two hundred and fifty metres up. We’re going to have to go it alone shortly.”

  “Give me a count.” The distance to the closing cavity decreased slowly. ‘The task should be relatively simple,’ thought Dave, and he considered the lake itself. ‘Salt water. The drainage of the lake must be consistent for such a large flow to be present through the length of the channel. The turnover rate of salt water, to that of a consumable fresh, must be quite large.’ And too he considered how such a flow could exist. If the lake was higher than the sea, then such a flow should be impossible. Could human intervention alter the physics of such a huge mass of water? Was there more to the hidden strengths of the dome than were known?

  George watched the counter. “One hundred and counting.”

  “Forty.”

  “That’ll do it; bottom out here and monitor for any alien reading, a two minute scan only.” The front and rear vehicle now monitored the scanner drive for any indication of human life forms and anything unnatural looking with concern to the surrounding rock formations.

  The two minutes passed without cause. “Flood compartments, release hatches, and grab the external tanks. I’ll see you all up front when you’re ready.”

  The mini subs were flooded before the glass domes were released under control. The water pressure was only slight and compartments filled relatively quickly. All of the team met with the squad commander inside of three minutes. They swam out together towards the channel’s end, assisted by the current. “Five hours forty remaining in the first tank Dave.”

  “Thanks, Mark.” He addressed the squad. “I want arrow head formation, single file if dictated by our surrounds; five metres minimum between each man; Brian take point.”

  They pushed forward another fifty-five metres and the sides of the channel continued to close in on their flanks. A faint object came to view, grey thin lines drawn on a murky background, the spacing between each indicating it as being man-made, each at an equal spread. Vertical bars. Each was one-foot in diameter.

  Still in silence Dave quickened his short objective kicking to close the distance between himself and Brian. The mouth of the opening became easily defined as he approached. A 1.8 metre stretch separated the roof from the floor and the walls were 2.5 at its widest width. A set of vertical bars, four in all, appeared to be set hard and deep within the crust of the channel’s throat.

  “Hold it there a minute, Brian.” Looking past the bars, a beam of light suddenly lit up the area. Shimmering streaks gave life to sting rays as they dashed into a mass of green growing from a cliff of rock and coral, gliding away with the sinking lake floor as it pushed out past Dave’s view; away into the depths of darkness. Strings of coloured fish could also be seen swimming through the beam of light, to play delightfully amongst the sloping coral’s edge. Speaking clearly into the helmet’s device Dave brought the remainder of the team into secure positions. “It must drop steeply there. Anthony, move up on the left and cover the far flank, away from the light.” As though on cue the glimmering beam vanished, cloud vanquishing the sun’s rays of light. “Keep your laser cannon handy. Mark; remain to the rear. George to me.” George was soon at Dave’s side. “How much of a horizontal distance do we have here? Point it straight ahead in line with the channel.”

  He pulled a range finder from its velcro fastener on his left thigh and held it into his chest. Looking down onto the illuminated surface he tapped the gadget with his finger.

  “Can you get a reading?”

  “It reads seventy.”

  “Metres?”

  “No, kilometres.”

  “It must be reading the far side of the lake. Shift it to the left slightly.”

  “Twenty-three kilometres.”

  “Ometepe Island. El Pasadora more than likely has observation towers and monitors of various descriptions up there, so we’ll have to make sure we go around it.” It was given in their brief that the circumference of the shield passed over this particular portion of the lake at the channel’s mouth, as well as on Lake Nicaragua’s southernmost edge. The domed shield also bisected Lake Managua, but here a wall similar to that of a damn extended the shields penetrability to the lake’s rock solid floor beneath its surface. Along the coast towards the east, the rivers such as San Juan, Punta Gorda, and the regions around Zelaya, were also made impenetrable via fortresses of similar concrete and metal construction. The target of importance however, was the city; near the old San Ubaldo. It hadn’t yet been proven but it was believed that the dome would in fact confirm to the ground shape regardless of the concrete constructions: they were considered more as border markers than anything else.

  “John, you there?”

  “Very weak but readable.”

  “We’ve come across a set of metal bars. Looks like their designed to keep out – well; large submersibles I guess. We’ll be able to squeeze ourselves through no problem. We’re going to continue on through, stay on net.” He paused for a split second, John having no further remark. “George. Have you got the electro sensor with you?”

  “Sure.”

  “Best check out those bars before we continue. It’d be too bad if our presence was picked up as we departed the channel and entered the unknown.”

  George kicked up to within a half metre of the bars and scanned the entire circumference to the opening of the lake. “I’m not getting any reading. It appears to be clean.”

  Dave gave the thumbs up. “Alright, Anthony, let’s take a look.”

  The weapons expert led the way through the bars, followed closely by the others, with Mark purposely covering the rear approach.

  The squad continued on and the walls of the channel suddenly grew wide, revealing the lateral and ominous size of the murky expanse. George spoke: “The range finder reveals the same as before, distance varying, but to a greater degree on either side of our present course.”

  Brian peered down at his pocket sonar, his brain taking hold of a mental appreciation as to the situation; the confirmatory silent nod to himself being missed by all.

  “How far to the surface?”

  “Twenty-five metres.”

  Periodic beams of light put on a show for the small team as they swam; there one minute and gone the next; cloud formations to the outside of the shield wall continuing with their dance across the sky. It was likely then, that such shadow would melt away with time and the distance gained on the centre of the dome’s circumference. “We can’t chance surfacing. Brian, set the bearing for zero eight hundred, changing to sixteen hundred on reaching a distance of one kilometre. We’ll push on for a further two kilometres and surface there. John, you get that?”

  “You’re— ting— a— try— relay.”

  “Shit.” Dave looked out towards the bars behind him. “Okay, George. Take Sean with you and set up a relay to the other side of those bars. It must be giving off some form of interference.”

  “Roger that.” They disappeared for a short time and returned within two minutes. A small antenna now lay at the base of th
e bars, relaying the messages from both call signs through the interference. George pulled a metallic cube from his harness and clipped it into place on the squad’s main comm-net antenna of Dave’s suit. “Try that.”

  “John, this is Dave; do you hear me?”

  “Loud and clear, big buddy. Coming in strong as an ox.”

  “You too. We’ve cleared the channel and are going to head on a bearing of zero eight hundred for a kilometre before changing to sixteen for two. I’ll give periodic radio checks en route and again on surfacing.”

  “Understood.”

  “Dave out. Alright, Brian, let’s go.”

  They started off again towards the centre of Lake Nicaragua. The readings on the different types of sensors gave information on their immediate surroundings. The water temperature dropped slightly; the further they proceeded, the more it dropped. The direction was easily maintained, and taking into consideration the slow shifting currents weren’t hard for Brian to counteract, due mainly to the specialised equipment carried.

  The depth rose and dropped, inconsistent, like that of an undulated ocean of sand in any desert. A few small shoals of fish were detected from time to time but seemed to avoid the divers like an unwelcome slick of petroleum.

  The slow pace was maintained during the trip so as to help preserve the oxygen in the tanks, and so far so good.

  They had travelled 1.2 kilometres when a major sonar contact was picked up, a large blip to their front. Brian was quick to bring warning to the remainder of the squad. “Dave; sonar readings are picking up a large mass of something to our front, I can’t be accurate as to what it is, but an educated guess would be an extremely large school of fish.”

  “How far out?”

  “Just past visual, coming in faster now, sixty metres; I can’t understand why we didn’t pick it up earlier.” A tone of uneasiness came over Brian as he offered the news. Was it an unseen rock formation; or an abyss of some description – an error in his sonar? An unexplainable phenomenon had sent his mind into temporary confusion. “It doesn’t look good, Dave, I don’t like this; picking up more speed now. Forty metres – we should be able to see it any second now.”

  “Prepare weapons, Anthony get up with Brian, now!” No one had any inclination as to what they were up against, but it came, out of the murky darkness, thirty metres to their front. Shark. Large, threatening and numerous in number, sharp teeth bearing that essence of horror which struck the strongest of beings in the mind like a Verton mind scan; and these sharks in particular were made more awesome, for many species of shark were largely extinct or in severe decline from within all the oceans of the world.

  “What have you got, Dave?” John’s anxiety was ignored as he stared down into the mike from within the comfort of the Nemo.

  Anthony fired his laser pistol with eyes opened wide, hitting a white pointer in the side of its hulk, it sinking its gleaming white rows of teeth into the lead man. Brian’s torso was now in the killer’s mouth and his legs descended slowly to the ocean floor with blood pouring out from the trunk of where his limbs once were. His torso was still held tight in the menacing jaws as the great white rolled and rolled uncontrollably, over again, blood and death curdling Anthony’s gut to sheer fear. The gurgling sound of a man choking in his own blood echoed throughout the helmet monitors as he was rolled over and over again in the shark’s mouth. Brian’s now amputated body felt no pain, his face frozen in time and eternally, petrified in the sculptured contortion of death.

  “Close in! Turn and face out! And get that weapon burning! Anthony!” His friend’s mind was quickly jogged back to reality.

  Sean’s eyes opened in horror. “Anthony! Behind you!” Another shark came in from behind, manoeuvring onto its side. Moving in, it removed the leg of Anthony from the knee down in one smooth motion, allowing more blood to tease the very noses of the sharks that started to feed feverishly on the sinking limb, followed instantaneously by his echoing screams of pandemonium,

  Anthony swung around in drifting weightlessness and in half darkness, his mind empty. With a cloud of red encasing him quickly, he fired his weapon again and again, the brilliant red bolts missing the shark completely, one shot hitting Sean in the stomach. Death was met and Sean’s body commenced the slow drift to the floor of the lake, many sharks taking interest in the now lifeless form, commencing their play with the doll dressed in a rubber suit.

  “Sharks everywhere, nowhere to run; aahhuugh!” Dave shot a glance to where his left hand used to be. “Uurrrggh, it’s no good!” John listened intently from the safety of the Nemo along with the remainder of his squad, helpless to do anything but listen to the torturing sounds of their dying friends. “It’s a grey.”

  George consciously dropped his spear gun, the bolt having already been fired. He pulled his knife from its sheath. With his back turned towards Mark, and Mark’s towards him, a tiger came in low, followed closely by a hammerhead. “All types, together— ugh, its no—” George’s head was snatched off and blood gush from his gaping neck.

  Mark spun on seeing a shadow and caught the tiger in the side as it swam by in slow motion, flesh and bone hanging from its jaw. Dave kicked to join Mark in the pursuing battle as another grey nurse approached from below, from the lakes floor, straight up, nosing Dave in the stomach, knocking him of all wind before allowing the hammerhead to sink its jaws into the soft suit and pale skin. The death of Mark soon followed. Many others soon joined in on the tearing of flesh from the two bodies.

  Silence fell.

  “Dave! Come in Dave! Do you hear me?” John looked up at the others.

  Nakatumi, the medical specialist, stood. “We have to go and help.”

  “Sit down, and shut up!” John bellowed; Nakatumi obeyed. The squad leader’s self-control had reached its peak. He soon calmed himself and fought to think logically. “Let’s think for a minute. Marcus, you’ve done some minor study on the historical behaviour of shark, haven’t you?”

  “Sure; seven years back, but only as a hobby; nothing too in-depth.”

  “What do you make of this?”

  “Doesn’t sound right. Dave said he saw all types, together. He must have been mistaken; and so many. Where’d they come from?”

  “I don’t know; but I do know that Dave wouldn’t have been mistaken.”

  “He said that there were sharks everywhere; some of them would never purposely go attacking humans.” Marcus thought for a short second. “As for sharing a habitat with one another, well that has to be an error, but I’m no marine biologist or anything like that. These fish just came out of nowhere and attacked; it just doesn’t sound right.”

  “What other possibilities are there?”

  “Your guess is as good as mine. To be able to see them with my own eyes might help.”

  Julius spoke: “You’re not getting me in that water with those things.”

  “It’s your job, Julius. I’m in command; I’ll say what’s best, and how we go about it.” John wiped beads of sweat from his brow and placed a finger on his chin. “What if we send in a remote? We can bait it with a suit filled with meat. The vibration from the skimmer may attract the sharks. With a camera mounted we should get some good footage and an idea as to what we’re up against.”

  “Sounds good to me. The smallest of the skimmers should get through the bars no problem.” Neil prompted Marcus with his stare. “All I need is a volunteer to come along with me. We can remote the skimmer from the bars that Dave mentioned. We should be safe from there.”

  Marcus stood voluntarily. “I’ll be happy to go.”

  “What do you think, John?”

  “I think you’re mad, but it’s got to be done. You can take Julius… as you’re the weapons specialist, Julius, not because I’m an arsehole, or because of what you said. Besides that, you’re the only one left here who’s competent enough to run the one man submersible. Be ready to go in twenty minutes. Neil, you can take sub number five. Julius will lead you in and cover you from
inside the sub during the mission. Although he may not have visual to the bars, he’ll have the homing monitor for firing if required. The rest will be up to you.”

  “Thanks, John.” he took stock of the situation within the drawing of a single breath and looked around at the others. “Let’s go.” The three maritime-grunts stood and walked over to the unchained submersibles. Neil quickly pointed to the vehicles required and the men in overalls jumped into action. All was ready within 23 minutes and the emergency sub had been stripped of its oxygen tanks in preparation for the new situation.

  The bait was placed in the wet suit for the journey. The life like dummy was then sealed – along with the remote skimmer – under the empty carriage compartment of the single man operated submersible.

  Julius placed his headgear on and removed the nozzle from the vent, prior to closing the hatch and fumbling through the controls. John saw this from the corner of his eye as he approached the two men in the other vehicle. He leant in and whispered to Neil before allowing him to place his headgear on. “Keep your eye on Julius, and for the mission’s sake, don’t allow him to exit his sub. He’ll have more control of the situation from inside his vessel. Besides, after what happened to him with the giant octopus in the Mediterranean, I don’t think that a close encounter this early after the incident would be a good idea. I can’t help thinking that he should have been removed from within our ranks a long time ago.”

  “Not a problem, John.” He placed his helmet on. “Everything will be fine.”

  John smiled, the small grin wishing luck and conveying his friendship. He slapped him on the shoulder and exited the chamber as the metal door drew slowly to a close.

  The now flooding compartment brought forth the final radio check before the journey through the channel could be undertaken. All call signs were given the all clear and they took off, slowly vanishing into the freezing waters of the Pacific, and then the channel.