by Greig Beck
“That’s enough, Jack, and thanks… for unnecessarily worrying the crap out of everyone, I mean.” Cate got to her feet. “Look, I know everyone’s scared. Hell, I’m scared. That Placoderm frightened the shit out of me. But I was nervous and excited before we came, and I think that’s how we all should be down here. We’re explorers, pioneers – in fact, probably the first modern humans to be in these waters. Not only will we go down in history, but think of the things we’ll see? Think of what we’ve already seen.”
She looked to Mironov. “Now would be a good time for your input, Valery.”
Mironov’s eyes were still on Jack. “One thing Jack’s story tells us, is that there are just as many wonders to be found in our deep oceans, as there are in here.” He smiled. “And in many ways, we are safer in here, than out there.”
“How do you come to that conclusion?” Abby asked, her brows drawn together.
“We made some modifications to the submersible. Some countermeasures if you like.” He shrugged. “Just improvements to some existing capabilities. You see, these deep-sea vehicles can run into all manner of things in depths that take a fancy to the lights and noise.”
“Like giant squid?” Greg asked.
“Like the squid, yes. Though the soft-bodied cephalopods can’t damage the hull, they can certainly become fouled in the propeller or tangled in the superstructure. As Dmitry has already mentioned, the Priz Class is able to run a mild electric shock over the hull to discourage these unwelcome visitors.” He smiled. “We simply gave the discouragement factor a bit more juice – five million volts more juice in a short burst. Wouldn’t want to do it too many times, or we might drain the batteries. But it’ll see off the largest of inquisitive visitors, I would imagine.”
Dmitry grinned. “Prusalka is now largest electric eel in world.”
“Exactly,” Mironov said easing back in his chair.
Jack grunted, his eyes on Mironov. “That’s good… if we ever get grabbed.” He turned to the big Russian beside him. “Yegor, can the Prusalka sustain another attack like the one we just experienced?”
His big head bobbed for a moment. “Yes, sure, we can take another few hull hits from big hard-headed fish. But that is not really what I worried about. Submarine is unlikely to be holed by this type of attack. But if big fish thing strikes our propeller and bends shaft or breaks blades, maybe we can surface and repair it, here with big cavern, but…” He grimaced.
“But…” Jack rubbed both hands up through his hair. “Of course.” He looked at Yegor who simply nodded. Jack sat back. “But what happens if we get crippled in an area of the cave that is fully submerged? We’d be dead in the water, and no surface above us.”
“We’d be fucked,” Greg said.
“That’s enough of that,” Cate shot back.
“Very unlikely,” Mironov said, picking something from his sleeve.
“The propeller is a point of vulnerability, and now I’m not sure we’re fully prepared. We need to take a vote.” Jack sighed and then mouthed sorry to her.
Cate couldn’t help her jaw tightening. “We proceed.”
Jack’s expression drooped, and Cate could tell his pragmatism was probably fighting against any old loyalty he felt to her. Finally he shook his head. “I vote we go back. Talk to topside. See what else we can do to ensure we have a safer mission. We’ve run into too many unknowns and we only just started. We have a chance to recalibrate. Next time we might not, and it could be fatal.”
Cate steamed, her eyes on Jack. He wouldn’t look at her.
“I agree, we get some extra armor, firepower or something. Then full speed ahead.” Greg shrugged, as he looked at Cate. “Just a detour.”
“We should go on,” Dmitry said. “I think Professor Granger is good idea to continue adventure now. Besides, what else can we do to Prusalka? Stick harpoons on her, or maybe we go in battleship?” He grinned sheepishly, and made a pointing motion – down.
Yegor spoke without turning. “We go back; create shielding for propeller, at least.”
“We’ll burn through resources going back, I believe, for nothing.” Mironov raised a single eyebrow. “We can expect to be tested, but I do not think that we run home every time that happens. This submersible can deal with anything now. We are already better for the experience. My vote; we proceed.” He smiled at Cate.
“Three for three.” Jack looked to Abby. “You’re the decider.”
The young geologist suddenly looked panicked as her eyes darted from Greg, to Jack, then to Cate.
“I don’t know what to do.” The woman’s eyes glistened.
Cate could see the inner turmoil written large on the young woman’s face. She was being torn apart… by her. Cate sighed, noisily, feeling a momentary bloom of anger, but then dampened it down, knowing Abby was scared out of her mind.
“Ah fuck.” Cate looked heavenward for a moment, feeling defeated. “It’s okay, Abby, don’t say anything.” The corner of Cate’s mouth quirked up. “I change my vote; I think we should go back as well. It wouldn’t hurt to at least see what we can do to protect the propeller shaft – an obvious potential point of failure.”
Abby looked down. “Thank you.”
Jack nodded to her, and immediately turned his seat back to the curved window. “We’ll move well out of the area before coming full about. If that Placoderm is as territorial as we think, then it should remain around here. Mr Gryzlov, stay at depth, and proceed one mile before coming about. We’ll stay low, keep our heads down, and then loop back,” Jack said.
“Da, Captain.” Yegor pushed the wheel forward. “Good idea.”
Jack half turned. “I think we should all stay quiet and in our seats for a little longer. No need to invite something in for a look-see.”
“Gets my vote,” Greg said, swinging back in his seat and hunching over his viewing screen. “Plenty to look at.”
“Steady as she goes, Yegor.” Jack half turned. “Dmitry, eyes open back there… and everyone else, keep watching your port and starboard screens. I want to know the minute you see of hear anything interesting.”
They travelled in silence, the minutes turning into hours, as Yegor took them far out to the northeast, before slowly coming around in a gigantic arc, and heading back towards the underwater cliff face.
“Cliff wall coming up,”’ Dmitry said. “Five hundred feet.”
“Take her in close, and then all stop. We’ll float up, slowly, see if anything is above the cliff line, before proceeding… at speed.”
“Aye, Captain.” Yegor glided in to about twenty feet from the sheer cliff, and then shut down the engines. He increased pressure in the ballast tanks, and Prusalka slowly rose in the black water.
Dmitry counted off the depths. “Coming up to four hundred feet, three hundred, two hundred, coming up to cliff edge.”
“Slow now, hover at the lip. I want to take a peek first,” Jack said.
Dmitry nodded, grinning. “A few small physical signatures, but nothing significant.”
“All clear, here,” Greg said quickly.
“Nothing as well.” Cate looked up.
“Clear and clear.” From both Abby and Mironov.
“Okay, ease us forward, Yegor. We’ll proceed at three-quarter speed; take us about an hour to get back to the drop area. We stay quiet, and we move fast.”
Cate felt herself sink back in her seat as the powerful propeller spun faster, giving them an extra kick under the dark water. After another few minutes, Jack re-engaged the front viewing lights.
“Nothing.” He frowned. “There’s nothing out there other than a few jellyfish. Where’s all that weird and wonderful life we saw on the way in?”
“Maybe the dunkleo-thingy scared everything off,” Abby said, slightly rising in her chair.
“Or we did,” Greg added.
“Maybe,” Jack said. “Coming up on drop zone. We’ll surface and hook straight up to the comm line. See if the engineers can give us some advice on
the prop shielding.”
“Wait.” Cate craned towards her small screen. “Slow down, slow down… what’s that on the bottom, about fifty feet out on my side, um, I think at about forty degrees, starboard.”
They had passed by the object, but she was sure she had seen something that wasn’t there the first time. She got to her feet, as Jack eased the submersible around. Cate went and stood behind him.
“There was something on the bottom. Something, I think not… natural.”
“Yegor, slow to two knots; we’ll do a quick scan and...” Jack sprang forward. “Holy Christ!”
The first thing they saw was the bright red coveralls. The human body, or the remains of it, was missing its legs, and now hundreds of tiny creatures that looked like spindly scorpions feasted on the stumps. The tattered remnants of its clothing were ragged and burned.
Not far away was another body. This one, eyes wide and looking waxen, and anchored to the bottom by wrist-thick worms that had risen from the ooze, their heads buried deep into the dead flesh.
“The ground crew,” Cate said, barely above a whisper.
“My engineers,” Mironov added.
“Something really bad happened up there,” Cate put a hand over her mouth.
There was rubble everywhere, and the water began to become cloudy. Jack flicked on the spotlight, immediately revealing the twisted spiderweb of steel and cable.
“Oh god no,” Jack grimaced. “That’s our goddamn crane.”
“They’re all dead,” Abby said softly.
“I don’t understand,” Greg crowded in beside Cate. “What the hell happened?”
The mountain of tangled remains of the crane was piled on the bottom. Rock, soil and fallen bodies created small islands everywhere.
“That tremor we felt a while back…” Jack stopped the submersible and it hovered in the dark water. “That must have been an earthquake. Maybe we weakened the cave roof, and it collapsed.”
“Hmm, then why would everything look scorched?” Mironov asked.
“We have topside camera.” Dmitry waved Cate over. “Look, hole is bigger.”
Cate rushed to look over Dmitry’s shoulder at the top camera’s feed. At first, it was hard to make out – the circle of light was still there, but instead of the pinpoint of light she remembered, it now looked ragged, uneven and much bigger.
“We should surface,” Cate said. “Maybe we can still get a signal out. Or at least pick one up, and see what happened.”
“Is that a good idea?” Greg asked. “Some of those boulders on the bottom are the size of trucks. What happens if one more decides to drop down on top of us?”
“We risk it,” Jack said. “Take her up, Yegor.”
The big Russian was frowning so deeply, his brows formed a single massive shelf over his dark eyes. “I don’t think so.” He turned his head slowly to Jack. “You look.” He pointed one of his blunt fingers at the radiation counter on his console. It was registering off the scale for plutonium particle count.
“What…?” Jack sat back, rubbing both hands up through his sweat soaked hair. He turned as Mironov cleared his throat.
“Now I think it becomes clear,” the Russian billionaire said evenly. “Why the bodies were burned up, why all the destruction, and why the localized tremor we felt. I suggest, there has been a detonation of some sort of tactical nuclear weapon on the surface – small, compact, undoubtedly low yield, of maybe even less than a single kiloton. But enough to totally obliterate the surface crew.”
Mironov looked at his own monitors, which were duplicates of many of Yegor’s and Dmitrys. “And by the look of that heavy particle count, I‘d say it was an enhanced radiation weapon – a dirty bomb – designed to maximize the ionizing particles. Poison the area.”
Cate sat down before her legs gave way. “They didn’t want to just destroy our means of escape, they wanted to salt the earth to ensure we never could.” Cate folded her arm tight cross her chest, feeling chilled even in the humid cabin. “Even if we got scrubbers in, it’d take months or even years to clean it up.” Her eyes welled up. “We’ve got days.”
“Very bad.” Dmitry rubbed a hand up over his shaven head. “Someone wanted to cut us off.”
“Someone did cut us off,” Greg shot back. “But why? Why would they do that?”
“Why and who?” Jack’s lips compressed.
Cate noticed Mironov ease back in his chair, his eyes narrowed as his vision seemed to have turned inward.
“Does that mean we can’t get home?” Abby’s chin wobbled. “Are we trapped?”
There was silence for many minutes, before Dmitry leaned towards Cate. “We need to find out what happened. Every minute is important.”
“Dmitry is right. And we can’t stay here.” Cate looked across to Jack. “How far did you say it was until we hit that first communication buoy?”
“Fifteen miles,” Jack responded slowly.
Cate saw the worry in his eyes. She also felt the knot of panic in her gut, and a thousand questions tumbled over each other in her head. But she knew that voicing them now was less than useless, and might just panic the team.
“We have no choice now; we go forward – head to the next communication buoy. Find out what happened, and work on a plan to get ourselves out of here.” She looked along their faces; only Jack met her eyes. She smiled back. “And I guess, in the meantime, we get to do the job we were sent down here to do – nothing has changed in that regard.”
“Whether we like it or not – that’s just freakin great,” Greg said sourly.
Cate rounded on him. “Listen, buster; you got an alternative to just sitting there worrying about your ass? And maybe becoming so poisoned from the radiation, your eyes start to bleed?”
Greg held up a hand. “Easy there, Cate. I’m sorry, but I’m just a little nervous, is all. Remember we came back so we can get ourselves better protection from those placasaurs.”
“Placoderms,” Jack corrected, softly.
“Yeah, whatever, and now we’ve got to cross its front yard again… without extra shielding.” He hiked his shoulders. “That’s all.”
Cate stared at the floor, feeling exhaustion drag on her bones. “And my response is the same; what’s the alternative?” She exhaled, lifting her head. “Look, this is a shitty outcome, and I’m betting it was a lot shittier for those poor guys who just got blown away. We could have been topside, or even underneath the explosion and been crushed. Fact is, we’re alive, and we have a plan. So as far as I’m concerned, it’s been our lucky day.”
Greg nodded, but Cate saw his eyes were still evasive. She didn’t want to fight with him or anyone else right now. She turned slowly to Jack. “Can you get us to the communication buoy via a different route?”
“Sure, no problem,”’ Jack said, his mouth set in a tight line.
She looked to Mironov, who nodded and sat back. She saw no more questions behind anyone’s eyes, so just pointed forward.
“Then let’s do it.”
CHAPTER 12
Brogidan Yusoff stubbed out his thick cigarette, and grinned into the receiver as he listened to Uli Stroyev, his ministerial aide, relay their progress.
“The Baranof Island entrance has been obliterated and has a radioactive seal. It will take two years to bring it to a level of contamination repair that would permit people to work there without full protective clothing.” Stroyev laughed softly.
Yusoff grunted. “And what about diplomatic blowback? Did you cover your tracks?”
“Of course. We even planted some communication chatter online from our Middle East agents, hinting at a terrorist cell. They’ll be chasing their tails for years. It’s over, Minister; they’re sealed in.” Stroyev laughed again. “No one will be climbing out of that hole anytime soon.”
“Then our friend Mironov is trapped and sealed in a tin can with our agent. Today is a good day.” Yusoff poured some vodka into a small glass.
“Well, Minster, maybe not tr
apped… just yet.” Stroyev’s words halted Yusoff’s glass at his lips.
“What?”
“Our agent has informed me that the Americans have drilled secret communication and supply tubes down to the underground sea all across the Alaskan continent. I think it would be good if we got to them before Mironov does,” Stroyev said.
Yusoff laugh was like grinding stones. “Trust that wily old fox to ensure he has a few rat runs hidden in his maze.” He put his glass down. “Listen carefully; you find those communication pipes. You make sure that if Mironov ever makes it to them, he is given nothing but dead air, understand?”
“Of course, Minister.” Stroyev’s voice had the appropriate level of servility.
“Contact me when you have news.” Yusoff disconnected the line and sat back. He quickly lifted his glass, downing the shot in a gulp. “So, we move our chess pieces around, Valery. But there is a difference; I have all the time in the world, and for you, the clock is ticking.”
Yusoff poured himself another glass and lifted it. “Salute, Valery.”
* * *
Sonya Borashev was on her feet; throat raw from screaming into the phone at subordinates, FBI insiders, colleagues, and anyone she thought needed an extra dose of urgency.
The nuclear explosion on the cliff-top site was centered directly over the access hole they had drilled. It was a tactical nuclear device, packed down to around one-point-one kilotons. But still, the size wasn’t the issue, it was the contamination – the detonation’s particle footprint meant it was a neutron bomb, a low-yield thermonuclear weapon where a burst of neutrons generated by a fusion reaction is intentionally allowed to escape the device’s housing, poisoning its surroundings.
Sonya paced, working through the options outlined to her: they could vacate the site, seal it, and leave it for the elements to clean up over a generation. Next option was a standard decon-job – that would shrink the time to make it habitable down to a few years. But then they’d need to rebuild the crane and other superstructure required, plus do all the work in Level-A HAZMAT suits.
She leant forward on her knuckles on the desk. Last option was a rapid decon – scrub and remove the contaminated debris, work around the clock, and forget about making it habitable, instead just make it bearable. It would mean they could get back in there within a few months.