Kraken Rising: Alex Hunter 6

by Greig Beck

  “Sergeant Monroe is right. We will succeed, together.” Dempsey motioned to the door. “Be ready to leave in fifteen minutes.”

  The HAWCs filed out, and Dempsey looked from Monroe, to each of the McMurdo soldiers.

  “Make no mistake, people; we are all expendable in pursuit of the success of our mission.” He paused, looking for any challenge. There was none. “You now have fourteen minutes.”

  CHAPTER 23

  Xuě Lóng Base – Antarctic surface

  Three PLA Special Forces commandos remained on the surface. The base cook, Lim Daiyu, the sole survivor they’d found so far, was still unconscious on a cot in the rear of the facility’s sleeping quarters. They had decided to let the man sleep. At least that way they didn’t have to listen to him wail about monsters and demons anymore.

  PLA Operative Chen Zu yawned; the team was at ease now, tending over into boredom from the lack of activity. They had been unable to monitor Captain Yang for hours, as the fixed-line communications had been ripped from the shaft, and their wireless updates had at first become scratchy, before then hissing over to nothing but white-noise, the further the descent team moved from the elevator shaft and deeper into the tunnels.

  All PLA soldiers had emergency walkie talkies, but though they were high powered, it was unlikely they would connect. Also each second of usage meant they reduced battery life. There was nothing they could do but wait.

  He watched as his two comrades, Dijiang and Lanling, played a game, slapping down cards hard and fast, and roaring their approval or cursing at their luck, good and bad. Chen drummed his fingers; he was bored, but couldn’t relax. Captain Yang being out of communication reach was expected and of no concern. However, what did gnaw at him was the Kunming going dark – the destroyer was only just off the coast, and seemed to suddenly vanish. As its primary role was to support them, it going offline was a mystery.

  He drummed faster. He hoped it was just atmospheric ionization causing the disruption, but he desperately needed instruction. Yang had ordered them not to use the long range communications over the satellite link as the American base at McMurdo would undoubtedly be listening. If he disobeyed his captain’s order, demotion, and then possibly missing front teeth, was the likely outcome.

  He ground his molars, as his peers roared over the finish of their card game. He watched, trance-like, as Lanling began to reshuffle the deck, his hands moving fast and deftly flipping, slotting, and reslotting the cards, finishing with a fanning motion that zipped the entire deck together. The man was about to deal, when his eyes went wide, and then Chen felt his own nerves shock when one of the proximity alarms suddenly squealed and blinked its warning. All Chinese bases had alarms and sensors to detect anyone or anything coming close to the main structure.

  It was the western quadrant alarm that flashed, and the motion sensitive cameras swiveled to zero in on the movement. Chen was on his feet, and the two seated soldiers had forgotten their cards and swung to the control panels, rapidly improving resolution and zooming in on the snow line.

  Chen leaned in over their shoulders, and then snorted. He felt his heart rate ease back a few beats. A small group of penguins stood hunched over, facing into the wind and sporadic snow flurries, every now and then shaking themselves, or flapping stubby wings.

  The alarm continued to flash and beep. He exhaled. “The penguins will continue to set off the alarms.” He tapped Lanling on the shoulder. “Can you isolate them and remove their profiles from the sensors?”

  The soldier grunted and worked at the console for several minutes, before sitting back and shaking his head. “This unit is not sophisticated enough to remove the distraction.”

  The alarm continued to beep at them. “Switch it off,” Chen said.

  “They’re all interconnected.” Dijiang shrugged. “We switch it off, we will lose all the external sensors.”

  Chen grimaced. “Then someone better go up and shoot them. That noise will make us crazy.”

  The two men ignored him for several moments, before Dijiang half turned. “You’re the best shot.”

  Chen groaned, knowing neither of them was going to budge. He yelled over the alarm. “Then turn it off until I get back … or I might shoot you as well.”

  Lanling switched off the sensors, the alarm suddenly quietening. He zoomed in on the six small birds on the hilltop. “Only about two hundred yards.” He spun in his chair. “Penguin and noodles for dinner?” He grinned.

  “I hear they taste like fish shit,” Dijiang said with a curled lip.

  “I don’t care if we make hats out of them,” Chen growled. “Soon as they’re gone, I want those alarms back on.”

  Chen cursed as he selected a rifle and swiveled the scope up and into place. He walked down the metal lined corridor, and then opened the airlock outer door, immediately having to hunch into the wind.

  He grumbled. The breeze was up to fifty miles per hour now, and the fast moving snow stung like gravel when it hit his exposed skin. He pulled again at his hood, and pushed through the soft snow on the westward side of the building. He could just make out the several black and white dots, and he leaned against the building’s edge to steady himself and sighted at the birds. They jumped into focus, and he readied his aim as he brought the crosshairs over the center of the largest penguin.

  He snorted. “Dumb bird,” he whispered with one eye screwed tight. The penguin continued to shake and flap its wings. He gently squeezed the trigger, and the top half of the penguin disappeared in a puff of black and white feathers. “Hi-ya!” He grinned, pulling his head back momentarily, but then sighting again at the birds.

  He frowned around the scope. The bird he had just shot continued to stand, and its one remaining flipper-wing continued to shake and flap. “Wha …?”

  Chen pulled his face away from the scope, just as the dart took him in the neck, piercing his fur-lined hood and embedding into his flesh. He reached up and felt the small projectile in his skin, but already his arm felt like lead, and a monstrous fatigue dragged him down into blackness.

  *

  “Robo-penguin strikes again.” Casey Franks lowered the dart gun. She turned to Dawkins who lay beside her and grinned. “Let’s go meet the neighbors.”

  The ten white-clothed shapes lifted from the snow, and rushed the base door. Big Ben Jackson brought up the rear, dragging the unconscious body of the Chinese soldier with him, and Hank Rinofsky ran at the shoulder of Aimee Weir.

  They waited. The HAWC leader, Dempsey, held up a hand, three fingers splayed as he counted them down. He spun the wheel and pushed, the HAWCs rushing forward, guns up. Casey Franks and Vince Blake led them in – both still had tranq-darts loaded.

  Blake spoke Cantonese and Mandarin fluently. Their priority was to assess how many were still above surface and incapacitate them quickly – non-lethally if possible, but by any means if necessary. Recriminations were for the politicians to argue over later.

  Like a pair of bloodhounds, Franks and Blake went in low, fast, and silent as ghosts. Their task was to take down obvious targets. Casey knew that they needed a balance of speed, silence, and caution, as the Chinese usually wired their facilities with explosives, and if they thought their base was compromised they wouldn’t hesitate to self-destruct.

  Blake took off down the corridor to the right towards the sleeping quarters, and Casey headed into the control room. She found two men at consoles, and one spun towards her, his eyes momentarily going wide. He lunged for a rifle and she fired two darts. Both struck their targets – the throat of the guy going for the gun and the back of the neck of the other. Both men slumped to the floor, eyes rolled back.

  She quickly met with Blake who shook his head, and then she headed back to the entrance and met with Dempsey in the darkened hallway.

  “Two down. Clear,” she said.

  Dempsey nodded, gun up. He turned to the rest of the HAWCs. “Search.” They scattered, seeking more inhabitants, performing a lower level examination
.

  At the control room, Dempsey waved over John Dawkins. The young man came forward cautiously, and the HAWC captain pointed.

  “Disable this unit.”

  Dawkins looked briefly at the consoles, nodded, and then sat down to start flicking switches. The HAWCs came back in, announcing all clear.

  Casey stood at ease, feeling relaxed, but her eyes darted from doors to alcoves and to anywhere else that could potentially launch a threat. Rinofsky knelt beside the downed guards. He grabbed one of them by the jaw, turning the man’s head, and then peeled an eyelid back.

  “Big bastards; not your usual PLA.” He stood. “They’ll sleep for a couple of hours.”

  “Secure them, and our penguin marksman from outside. I like my peace and quiet.” Dempsey looked at Aimee, who seemed to be shivering. “You all right, Dr. Weir?”

  She looked anxious rather than cold. “I’m fine.”

  Dempsey grinned. “It’s okay to be a bit nervous.”

  “It’s not that.” She turned her head, sniffing. “There’s something, a hint of a smell. Makes me feel a little unsettled, is all.”

  Dempsey sniffed. “Can’t smell a thing. Just relax. He checked his watch. “Franks, take Dawkins and check the elevator. I want it …”

  An alarm screamed.

  “Fuck.” Casey backed into a wall, gun up. Dawkins cringed at his console, and like Casey, the other HAWCs spun, guns ready.

  Aimee covered her ears. “What the hell is that?”

  Hagel pointed at John Dawkins, still hunkered down at the console. “What the fuck did you just do?”

  The young McMurdo soldier shook his head, his chip-toothed mouth working. Overhead, a mechanical Chinese voice started intoning from speakers throughout the base.

  Dempsey spun to Blake. “What’s he saying?”

  The HAWCs face was white. “It’s a countdown.” He turned. “Detonation in 180 seconds, 179, 178 …”

  *

  Lim Daiyu carefully eased the door of the storeroom cupboard open a crack. Once again he had been forced to fold his body into a confined space in the face of a threat. He didn’t recognize the people now entering the camp, but heard the voices and guessed they were American. He had seen them drag the limp body of one of the soldiers along the corridor – it didn’t look like they were taking prisoners.

  He had been a coward when the thing from the pit had risen up. He had hidden, and not tried to fight or save any of his friends. He crushed his eyes shut, willing courage into his trembling limbs. His eyes flicked open. This time he would not dishonor his family name.

  When all of the foreigners were congregated in the main communication center, he stepped out of his hiding place and headed for the commander’s office. Once inside he knew what he must do – it was the only piece of training he had shared with every member of the team – if there was ever an irresistible threat, and the base compromised, then protection of the camp’s secrets was paramount.

  He went to the wall and entered a code into a small metallic box. The door sprang open. Inside there was a single smaller box, under a Perspex lid. He flicked the lid up and pressed the single button underneath. A screen asked to Proceed or Cancel. Lim Daiyu became calm, and he prayed, not for his life or for the dead, but that the demon, the Zhàyǔ, would also be taken in the blast.

  He pressed Proceed, and then sat down slowly, cross-legged, on the floor to wait.

  CHAPTER 24

  Captain Mitch Dempsey went from looking furious to roaring instructions in a heartbeat.

  “Mission is Go, people – we are going down.”

  The HAWCs formed up at the door, but Jennifer Hartigan paused over one of the unconscious Chinese. “What about them?”

  Dempsey waved her away. “Leave ’em. They wanna fry their camp, then let them enjoy the barbecue.”

  “But that’s …” Jennifer bent to grab one of the men’s jackets.

  “Move it, soldier!” Dempsey’s voice was so loud it shocked the medical officer into panicked action. The HAWCs shoved the McMurdo soldiers and Aimee towards the elevator shaft room.

  Inside, Parcellis was already standing by, hand on the controls. They piled in, jammed tight.

  Dempsey grimaced. “No roof – gonna get damned hot.” He turned to Parcellis. “Punch it.”

  Dawkins’s eyes were round in his head. “We’re gonna be cooked, or crushed.”

  “Wait.” The huge HAWC, Rinofsky, jumped back out and sprinted to the wall, grabbing the bent sheet of steel that had once been the roof of the cage. He leapt back in, dragging the heavy sheet of steel with him. “Go, go, go.”

  The cage started to descend, and Rinofsky lifted it above his head, grunting with the effort. Big Ben Jackson grabbed the other end, bracing himself. He looked to Rinofsky and the pair of huge men grinned at each other.

  “Bet you drop it first, little fella,” Jackson said.

  “I’ll take that bet. Loser buys first round,” Rinofsky replied, his expression becoming grim, as the mechanical voice’s numbers got shorter and fainter as they dropped.

  “Ten seconds,” Blake said.

  “This is gonna hurt.” Dawkins covered his head with his arms.

  Hagel whooped. “Ladies and gentlemen, next stop hell, and it’s gonna be re-eeeal hot.”

  “Brace,” Dempsey roared, pushing people down, and then crouching.

  The blast was thunderous, with a white light filling the shaft, immediately followed by the shock wave. Then came the heat. Aimee crouched into a ball, hood pulled down tight and hands over her face, but she still felt the temperature go from just above zero to well over a hundred in about a second. Then she felt, before she heard, the rumbling, like a stampede of horses getting closer.

  Above her, Ben Jackson yelled: “Incoming!”

  She opened her eyes a crack, and saw the tree-trunk legs of the two huge men buckle as enormous weight piled down on top of the sheet of steel they held aloft. There was the smell of burning wood and plastics, and an orange glow came from the edge of the iron roof as whatever had accumulated still burned.

  More giant hammer blows on the sheet of steel, and Jackson groaned as the growing weight bore down on them. Casey Franks got to her feet, and lifted arms high, pushing at the steel from the center. Though the light was dim, Aimee could see that Casey’s gloves smoked where she held onto their shield.

  In another second, there was an almighty thump as something heavy struck the steel, and Casey and the men buckled, before the edges of the plate caught the wall, and were wedged tight. The plate was ripped from their hands, and was left behind. More heavy thumps sounded, but for now, the steel was a barrier holding tight, sealing off the shaft and holding back the tons of debris.

  The entire group watched their glowing roof recede. Aimee said a tiny prayer of thanks, as their cage trundled on, dropping lower and getting farther and farther away from the inferno above. It was only when the soft glow at the steel plate’s edge began to dim as the last embers burned themselves out that Aimee realized what it meant – there was no going back now.

  *

  There was a deep thump that they felt beneath their feet, seconds before they heard a sound like distant thunder. Dust rained down upon them, and Yang spun, looking furious.

  The men grabbed at the walls as the echoes continued on for several seconds. More debris fell around them, and there came murmurs of a cave-in from the soldiers.

  “Silence,” Yang roared at them. He turned to Shenjung. “What are your imbecile engineers doing up there?”

  “My imbecile engineers?” Shenjung frowned. “That was an explosion.”

  “Possibly.” He pointed to his men. “You seven, go back and see what those idiots are doing.” He dismissed them. “Double time; I do not want our group strung out.”

  Shenjung watched them sprint away. He prayed that Soong was not in trouble. He knew his small group, and knew none of them had explosives. He wanted to tell the captain, but Yang was already issuing orders to pr
oceed.

  *

  “Well ain't that just fucking great?” Hagel paced back to the elevator, shining his light up into the blocked shaft. He turned back. “Now how the fuck do we get out of here?” He strode past the group, the light on his gun-barrel a pipe of illumination in the dust- and smoke-filled tunnel.

  “Shut it, Hagel,” Dempsey spoke over his shoulder to the young HAWC as he and Rinofsky looked at a screen of a small illuminated box.

  Hagel coughed and spat. “I hope someone brought a shovel, because we better start digging now.” His eyes were round with both fear and agitation, and Aimee watched him like she would a venomous snake.

  Dempsey turned, his jaw jutting. “One more word outta you, mister.” Dempsey glared, and Hagel’s mouth clamped shut for a second before he threw a hand up and walked away, kicking a sheet of bent steel out of his way. It clanged away loudly down the choking tunnel.

  Aimee wrapped her arms around herself, and walked towards the HAWC leader. “Captain, please tell me there is a Plan C for us Plan B team members? If I remember correctly, we were meant to keep the back door open.”

  “Chaos theory – shit happens.” He shrugged. “We’ll be fine, Dr. Weir.” He went to walk away.

  Aimee scoffed. “Fine? Captain, we needed a back door. I know you read the briefings. We could be walking into the lair of something that is far more dangerous than a squad of pissed off Chinese soldiers. We are not …”

  Dempsey quickly pulled his rifle from over his shoulder, and fired from his hip. Where Aimee expected to hear a report from a bullet being discharged, or even the spit of a compressed air round that the previous HAWC team had used, this time there was just a soft whine, as a thin orange beam of light went from Dempsey’s gun to touch on the piece of steel plating that Hagel had kicked. Dempsey shut it off after a second, but kept his flashlight on it. Where the beam had touched the steel there was a pencil-thin hole cut right through it. The edges glowed molten.

  He held the gun up. “Latest D.E.W. – Directed Energy Weapon technology. I’d like to introduce you to the M18X DEW rifle. Hot pressed boron carbide in a bullpup design, means longer barrel and powerplant all packed in behind the trigger.” He turned it over, flicking open the rounded stock, revealing what looked like a glowing shard of glass. “Power is drawn from microfusion cells and processed through a single Erbium optical gain crystal. This bad boy will cut through anything.” He half turned. “Mr. Rinofsky, front and center.”