Attacked Beneath Antarctica

by Dave Robinson

  Back in the wardroom, Vic slapped the chart on the table and unrolled it with an audible snap. “Let's take a look.”

  Ming dragged the German charts over beside the one Vic brought down and the three of them leaned over. “See, it looks like they arranged their flight plan to avoid this point here, where the two lobes of the lake intersect.”

  Gus rubbed his chin. “You're right.”

  “That still doesn't answer why they came here now? Or what they were looking for?” Vic glared at the German map. “It just seems fishy that the Germans showed up so soon after we did.”

  Ming put her hand on Vic's. “Any idea when they left?”

  Vic poked at the map with her free hand. “Figure about eighty knots ground speed for the Fokker, the dogleg makes it about two hundred miles. I'd say about two and a half hours or so?” She shrugged. “Depending on winds.”

  “So they would have left shortly after Doc and Kehla disappeared,” Gus rumbled, snapping a pencil between his fingers. “Either it's a tremendous coincidence, or they knew when the two of them went down.”

  #

  Doc slipped into the forward seat and fastened the harness around himself as the submarine settled deeper into the water. He flipped on the floods, only to see one of the creatures clinging to the glass in front of him. It shivered as the light caught it and then sprang away, covering its face with a tentacle. The last Doc saw of it was its open mouth; teeth spinning like a buzz saw.

  “Here we go.” Doc rested one hand on the throttle and slid it forward. The submarine hummed, came forward a few feet and then jerked to a stop. He backed the power and took a look around the controls until he found the one for the anchor. As it rattled up into the hull, he fed the propellers a little more power and took the submarine forward.

  Once they got down about thirty feet he opened it up to about five knots and took them through the archway. Kehla caught her breath behind him, as they slipped out into inner space. Surprisingly, it was not completely dark in the subglacial lake. Faint glimmers of light trailed off to both sides, marking out a stone wall.

  Looking upwards, Doc caught a glimpse of the underside of the icecap. He aimed one of the lights upward so that it pierced the surface and splashed off the ice above him. It had been hidden from the surface world for millions of years, and his eyes followed the channels fresh melt had carved out over aeons of deep time. This was something even his artificial mentors could only guess at.

  “Uh, Doc?” Kehla's hand fell on his shoulder. “Focus. We still need to find Gilly.”

  He blinked, then turned his attention forward. This was a whole new world to explore, even if he wasn't the first one to discover it. Doc smiled, no wonder Hansen had been drawn down here. A faint star shape drifted through the edge of his vision, making him wonder how life had adapted to conditions so far below the cold.

  But scientific exploration would have to wait; he had Gilly and Hansen to find.

  They were far enough south that a compass was useless, but the German engineers had fitted a gyrocompass in the front instrument cluster, along with the depth gauge and log.

  “Where to?” Kehla gestured to take in the entire underwater landscape in front of the window.

  “Well, according to this chart, the Nazis have another base at the far end of the lake, but I'd rather not pay them a visit if we don't have to. Still, it may be a way out if we can't figure out how to work the elevator.”

  Kehla raised an eyebrow. “And that leaves?”

  He stabbed his finger at a mark in the shallows that divided the two lobes of the lake. “Right there.”

  She leaned closer, almost pushing him out of the way with her heavy shoulder. “What is that?”

  “According to these symbols, it's what Hansen was looking for.” Doc shrugged his shoulders. “It's also about a hundred miles from here, well inside this submarine's range. If I remember the design, it should have enough battery power for five days at five knots, more than enough to get us there and back.”

  “Then I had better find us something to eat.” Kehla smiled. “Gus isn't all that fond of my cooking, but now I have a captive audience.” She swallowed. “I'll see what I can find.”

  #

  Gus sighed. “So who wants to question our uninvited guests?”

  They had gathered in the wardroom again after feeding the prisoners. Ming was cooking something that smelled delicious, though every time Vic tried to get a look she was driven off with a wooden spoon.

  “One of you would be best,” Ming said, stirring her concoction. “I could try Dutch, but most Germans don't understand it.”

  “I say we use English,” Vic said. “No reason they should know Gus and I speak German.”

  “I agree,” Gus said, glaring at his sling. “I just wish my arm was better.”

  “It's already better than it has any right to be.” Ming brandished her spoon. “At this rate you'll be back to normal in weeks instead of months. Don't be a greedy-guts like her.”

  Vic smiled innocently, though the expression on Ming's face told her she wasn't fooling anyone. She pushed her chair back. “I'll go see what they're willing to share.”

  Throwing a jaunty salute to her companions, Vic left the wardroom and down the corridor to the cabin she shared with Ming. Once in the cabin, she changed into a fresh pilot's outfit, complete with leather jacket. She also picked up one of the dart pistols Doc insisted they carry for use on the airship.

  Vic frowned, bouncing the pistol in her hand, and then slipped it into her pocket. It felt more like a toy than a real weapon, but better a threat she could use. She had never liked them, but they were accurate enough and they wouldn’t damage the lift cells.

  The prisoners were sitting on the bunks, two on each side, and talking quietly among themselves in German. The cells were small but solidly built, with barely enough room for the six humans and two gorillas they had captured.

  Vic rapped on one of the bars. “Which one of you is in charge?”

  A short heavy-set man stood. He had looked solid when she brought him in, but without the parka he just looked pudgy. His wire-rimmed glasses hid rapidly blinking blue eyes. Even in the Antarctic, he wore a black uniform, complete with what she thought was a major's insignia. “I am, Fräulein.”

  “Then perhaps you can tell me what you are doing here?”

  He clicked his heels. “Serving the Third Reich.”

  Vic fought back a sneer as she looked down at the little man. “Then tell me how being here is serving your precious Third Reich.”

  “At the moment, by forcing you to expend energy keeping us as prisoners, rather than disposing of us.” He smiled in a way that did not reveal his teeth. “You really are too soft.”

  “Soft?” Vic laughed. “I could rip you apart with my bare hands and you know it.”

  “I meant morally soft, Fräulein.” He smiled a little wider. “You foolish Americans are all the same. You will keep us housed and fed, you will not even torture us. We have no reason to tell you anything.

  “Now run along, Fräulein.”

  Vic turned back down the corridor. She had only gone a few steps, when she looked back at the German who was smiling as he watched her leave. Putting one hand on the hatch, she spread her lips in a predatory smile.

  “You're right, Americans are soft.” Vic let her smile widen. “Luckily for you...”

  His expression brightened and she clenched her fist, fighting the urge to punch the smugness out of him.

  “Luckily for you,” Vic continued. “I'm Russian.”

  With that, she stepped through the hatch and locked it. Vic headed back towards the wardroom, and then a thought caught her mind. Grinning, she went back to the hatch, and flipped off the light in the cells.

  Vic whistled all the way back to the wardroom.

  #

  Twenty hours later, Doc came back forward and tapped Kehla on the shoulder. “I'll take it from here.”

  “Aye, aye sir.” She deftly
maneuvered her bulk out of the seat.

  Doc settled in and took a moment to glance over the gauges. They were about fifty feet down, still holding steady at five knots. He had shut off the floodlights earlier, not wanting to waste the battery. Without the lights, it was almost like looking out onto the lunar night when he was a boy.

  Faint phosphorescence marked the surface of the lake, throwing just enough light to give a sense of direction. Strange fish floated at the edge of perception, glowing softly in the darkness. Doc fought the urge to shut off the power, and simply drift with the currents. This was a scientific wonderland, an almost alien world buried beneath the ice.

  Focusing his attention on the gauges, he absentmindedly wiped a bead of sweat from his forehead. Speed, depth, battery; all were good. Water temperature, thirty degrees. Doc frowned and tapped the thermometer, thirty degrees? Then he took another look; it read in centigrade.

  “Kehla, did you see this?”

  “What?”

  “Look at the thermometer.” He pointed. “It's getting very hot out there. Did you notice when it started climbing?”

  Kehla shook her head. “Not really, I didn't think it was important. I figured it would stay just above freezing.”

  Doc shook his head. “I should have thought of it, there had to be something to keep the lake from freezing down here.”

  “What do we do?”

  “The only thing we can do, keep going and hope it doesn't get too hot.”

  She grinned. “You're the boss, boss.”

  Doc put his attention back to the charts. If he read it right, they were only about three or four miles from the mystery point Hansen had sought. Resisting the urge to throw on the floodlights, he drove on into the blackness.

  #

  An hour later, they were as close to the mark as the map would take them. The temperature seemed to have stabilized at around thirty-five centigrade; hot but not too hot. Pulling the throttles back to just give steerage way, Doc flipped on the lights, and aimed the beams downward. The light knifed through the darkness, carving tunnels of visibility though the surprisingly clear water. Strange shapes caught the edges of the light, like shadows hundreds of feet below. According to the charts, the water was very deep here, but there was something just at the limit of visibility.

  “Hold on,” Doc told Kehla, “we're going down.”

  Doc opened a valve and air hissed from the ballast tanks sending a cloud of bubbles past the upper windows. Still easing gently forward, the submarine began to settle slowly downwards, following the path of the floodlights.

  Dropping into the subglacial darkness, Doc kept one eye on the pressure gauge and the other on their surroundings. The hull creaked and groaned as the pressure rose, sending shivers through the boat.

  Doc sat quietly, watching the needle sweep across the dial. A look to his right showed Kehla's eyes glued to the instruments. Each time the needle passed one of the radium-illuminated markers, she took another breath.

  “There's no need to hold your breath.”

  Kehla gave him a quick glance. “I've never been underwater before.”

  “It's no different than being underground really. There's no more pressure on top of us.”

  She dug her fingers into his shoulder, making him wince.

  “It feels different.” Kehla hunched her shoulders. “Rock feels solid, like a roof; water feels like it's trying to break in and get me.”

  Doc nodded, unable to think of anything to say.

  A few moments later, they passed through ten atmospheres, and the hull groaned loudly. Kehla swung her head from side to side as if something was coming to get her. Her fingers dug into Doc's shoulder like a vise.

  “Are you all right?” Doc reached to try and gently pry her fingers loose.

  “I'm sorry.” Kehla pulled her hand away. “I don't know my own strength.; I'm so used to having Gus around.”

  “Unfortunately, I'm not quite as strong as a gorilla.” Doc grinned ruefully, and tried to rub the indentations out of his shoulder.

  “Ummm, Doc?” Kehla pointed through the window. “What's that?”

  Doc looked out through the portholes and caught his breath. A city spread out below them, buildings of black stone as far as the eye can see. Roadways limned with green light spread out like the spokes of a wheel, intersecting with rings dividing the city into districts, or sectors around a series of towering hubs. None of the buildings were square, they all curved towards sharp corners and inwards. Walls that shouldn't meet somehow formed right angles.

  “I think that is what Hansen was looking for.”

  He halted their descent, and took a look around. The city stretched out of sight, perhaps a dozen miles across. From above it looked like the creation of a mad geometer, something drawn out with a compass and pencil. The nearest tower stood out, glowing with a harsh white light that seemed out of place in the blue-green depths. Strange figures flitted across the scene, looking as much like birds as sea creatures.

  Adding a little power, Doc steered their submarine towards the lighted tower.

  Doc swung the submarine around, so that they approached from well below the top. The light emanated from a sphere floating between two pillars rising at the corners of the upper platform. Other lights shone from a series of arches that surrounded the base of the platform. As they got closer, Doc saw the arches were built to the same cyclopean scale as the city below them, more than big enough for the submarine.

  Ten minutes later, Doc broke the surface of a calm pool inside the dome. Water flooded down the sides of the hull, streaming over the glass in front of them. A dozen figures lined the edge of the pool, looking apprehensively at the submarine. From a distance, they looked human, but as Doc got a better look, he became uncertain.

  Oh well, there was nothing he could do from in here.

  Pushing his seat back, he dropped anchor, safed the controls, and turned to Kehla. “I'm going up, but I want you to keep me covered. Something doesn't feel right about this.”

  “You're the boss, boss.” Kehla grinned, showing her teeth. “I need something to do anyway.”

  Doc led the way to the conning tower, where he spun the wheel to undog the hatch. Once he was sure it was unlocked, he pushed on the handle. It didn't move.

  “What's the matter?” Kehla asked from below.

  “Pressure.” Doc shook his head ruefully. “I forgot to account for the pressure differential; it must be at least ten bars down here. We'll have to go out the bottom.”

  He redogged the hatch, making sure it was sealed and then followed Kehla down to the diving chamber. She had obviously been busy during the hours Doc had spent at the helm. Rather than the Thule Society and Nazi emblems, the suits had been scoured clean except for a red V picked out on the left shoulder.

  “A V?”

  Kehla grinned. “I didn't have enough paint to do 'Vandal Antarctic Expedition.'“

  “Good point.” Doc reached for the nearest suit.

  “I tested the rebreathers,” Kehla volunteered. “They should be good for several hours at least.”

  Doc nodded and stepped into the suit. Like everything he had seen down here it was in good condition. He had to squeeze his foot through the bellows-like joints at the knee and ankle, but once he had it on, the heavy rubberized canvas was surprisingly comfortable. With the suit on, he cinched up the wrists before looking for his helmet and gloves.

  As he was dressing, Kehla had donned another of the suits. Hers didn't fit as well as Doc's, being sized for someone more like Gus than Kehla, but at least the joints were in the right place for her arms and legs. She reminded him a little of the Michelin Man, but he wisely decided not to say anything about the resemblance.

  “Does this suit make me look fat?” Kehla reached for a helmet, concealing her face.

  “Pardon?” Doc swallowed. “The diving suit?”

  She turned back towards him, holding the helmet. “Sorry, I couldn't resist.” She smiled. “You did at l
east as good a job of answering as Gus, maybe better.”

  Doc just shook his head and focused on the job at hand. The helmet came with chest and back plates that hooked to rings built into the suit. The rear plate held the oxygen tanks, while the chest unit held the absorbent canister.

  Once they both had their helmets on, they took turns tightening down the gaskets and checking the airflow. The whole assembly weighed about a hundred and fifty pounds with all the weights attached. Finally, they put on their gloves and Doc led the way toward the airlock. It was a tight fit for the two of them, but they were able to squeeze in, though Doc had to shift sideways to allow Kehla to get to the controls.

  She flipped a lever and a blast of water caught Doc in the chest, knocking him against the bulkhead. Moments later, it was joined by another. More jets followed, and Doc was content to let the water rise around them. It only took a couple of minutes for the water to reach their helmets, and it finally came to a stop with about a five-inch air gap at the top of the chamber.

  Kehla bent down and opened the bottom hatch, gesturing to Doc to lead the way.

  Stepping into the opening, he let his weighted boots carry him downwards into the pool. The water was cool and clear, giving him a full view of the pool. Geometric patterns covered the walls and the floor beneath him. Doc turned in a slow circle and saw a stairway near the entrance.

  A moment later, Kehla appeared, climbing down a rope ladder from the bottom of the submarine. She let the weights carry her down the same way Doc, and soon joined him on the base of the pool. She turned and looked around the pool, and then nodded towards Doc.

  He smiled within his helmet and led the way toward the steps. The suit had just enough weight to keep him balanced upright, and the water's natural buoyancy made him feel like he was walking on the Moon again. The steps were odd, with no two risers being exactly the same height. There was no handrail, but the steps were wide enough for the two of them to walk easily abreast.