Kronos Rising_Kraken vol.1

by Max Hawthorne

  “Okay,” Dirk said. He turned to McEwan. “Make sure you have a full load of sedative ready, just in case.”

  The lieutenant nodded and retrieved a gray rifle case she had resting nearby. Inside was a black and chrome-colored tranquilizer gun that looked big enough to take down a full-grown Argentinosaurus. As she checked the bulky weapon, Dirk signaled to Stacy. “Let’s raise her.”

  Stacy touched her ear-mike and started relaying instructions. Moments later, the hovering seventy-foot lift assembly platform began to slide down its suspension bridge cables, accompanied by a deep hum. As it dropped, its twenty-foot insulated steel pincers swung open – a trio of lobster claws, eager to seize.

  Callahan looked up at the slow-moving hoist and grunted irritably. “Why don’t you just use the sub’s robotic arm to lift the damn critter out of the water? Wouldn’t that be easier? I mean, it’s already sitting on top of it.”

  “Too much mass at extension, admiral,” Dirk responded matter-of-factly, then glanced up at the lift assembly. “This animal weighs over one hundred tons. In the water, we’re talking neutral buoyancy; the sub’s manipulator can handle it. But in the air . . .” he scoffed. “We’d blow the actuators for sure.”

  Dirk and the rest of the team took a step back as the lift’s insulated pincers gaped wide and then started to close around the pliosaur’s girthy neck, chest and hip regions. The oversized hydraulics gave off a high-pitched thrum as they methodically tightened. Dirk glanced at Stacy, who was studying the hoist readings on her tablet. A series of green lights appeared across the top of her screen and she gave him a nod.

  Dirk took a deep breath. So far so good . . . His eyes sought and found the lift operators, high above, and he signaled them.

  Like steely serpents, the partially lax lift cables went rigid and then reversed. A deep revving sound echoed across the receiving dock. Slowly but steadily, the lift exerted pressure, its powerful grippers digging into the pliosaur’s thick skin as the saurian’s deadweight began to bear down. Then, inch by inch, and streaming rivulets of seawater, it was hoisted up out of the canal. Relieved of the incredible pressure, the Antrodemus’s robotic arm let out a metallic wrench of relief and the sub’s forty-six foot-wide bow rose twelve inches.

  Dirk’s eyes expanded as the Kronosaurus cow was carried up and over the concrete and steel lip of the docking canal, moving across to the receiving platform, proper. The tips of its huge fins barely cleared the floor, and streams of saltwater mixed with seaweed cascaded down from its glistening body, drenching the gritty gray concrete below. Denied the water’s supportive embrace, the pliosaur’s bloated belly and throat folds drooped almost to the floor.

  Dirk shuddered involuntarily. Seeing the great creature suspended out of its element like some giant rag doll was unsettling.

  As the lift stopped, leaving its burden suspended beside the nearby holding tank, Stacy moved next to Dirk. Her boot heels clicked on the concrete as they walked together. “Vitals are steady and I’ve got her weight.” She touched a key on her tablet. “152.7 tons . . . estimate postpartum at around 138.”

  Callahan whistled as he caught up to them. “That is one serious lizard.” Disregarding the creaking sounds the hoist was giving off, he extended a hand toward the pliosaur’s armored skin. His alarmed aide spotted the move and rushed over, grabbing the stocky admiral by the shoulder.

  “I’m sorry, sir. That could be dangerous,” the big marine cautioned.

  Callahan wore an annoyed look. He turned to Stacy. “Doctor Daniels?”

  Stacy shrugged. “According to our bio-readouts, she’s out cold. As long as you don’t cause any bodily harm, she should stay that way. At least until the Cronavrol wears off.”

  “See? Relax, Sanders,” Callahan remarked. He reached up and tapped the pliosaur’s flank with a gnarled fingertip. “Man, they weren’t kidding when they said these things are resistant to small arms fire. It’s like stone!” he gestured to his bodyguard. “Feel this.” He turned to Dirk. “Hey, doc. Just how tough is the hide on one of these critters?”

  Dirk’s lips compressed as he did some quick mental calculations. “On a specimen this size, small arms would be useless.” He stepped forward, taking care to avoid the shallow pools of seawater that collected around the still-dripping saurian. “Fifty caliber BMG and under won’t even penetrate its epidermis, let along cause internal trauma.”

  “That’s why we go with the big guns!” Callahan guffawed. As Dirk conferred with Stacy and Grayson, the admiral and his aide wandered around the slumbering Kronosaurus imperator, with Callahan poking and prodding.

  Dirk shook his head. “Okay, let’s get her sedated and then--”

  “Hey, what’s all this milky-white shit dripping out from under this thing’s fins?” Callahan shouted. “Is it sick?”

  Dirk sighed. “No. It’s just a stress hormone,” he shouted back over his shoulder. “They secrete it when they’re injured or traumatized.” He lowered his voice as he turned back to Stacy and Grayson. “Which means we better get moving.”

  Dirk glanced back, fearful of what trouble the admiral might cause, but then relaxed when he spotted Garm hovering nearby.

  “Hey, Gate,” Callahan said, ducking under one of the pliosaur’s rowboat-sized flippers. “Can you imagine this little lady laying on you in the ring? Now that would tire a guy out!”

  Garm grinned humorlessly. He spotted Sanders, scratching at his crew-cut while studying something on the creature’s neck. The battle-hardened sub commander watched in amusement as the marine reached over and poked a finger at one of its hand-sized scales. He jabbed it harder, then jumped back when it moved. “Fuck!” He turned with fearful eyes. “What the hell is that?”

  Garm moved a step closer. The “scale” Sanders had dislocated began to shift from side to side. There was a wet, squishy sound as it settled back in place.

  “That’s a lizard louse,” Garm said, chuckling. “A parasitical isopod. They’re translucent, so they tend to match not only the shape, but the color of the scales. They latch onto a host and use their sharp mouthparts to pierce the skin between the scales so they can drink blood.”

  Sanders shuddered. “That is fucking nasty.”

  “Yeah. Oh, and make sure you don’t get one on you,” Garm warned. He caught Callahan’s eye and winked. “On human males they go straight for the genitals and embed themselves in the scrotum. You have to tear them out with vice grips!”

  As Callahan laughed uproariously, Garm turned to check on Dirk. Unbeknownst to him, behind his back, Sanders whipped out a black-bladed combat knife and started prying away at the louse. When the tenacious parasite hunkered down and refused to be dislodged, he slid his blade under it and started sawing. Seconds later, the sea louse fell away, leaving an exposed section of raw skin from which blood began to seep.

  Sanders spat in disgust as he squashed the squirming isopod under his boot. Then he wiped his blade clean on his sleeve and sheathed it, not noticing the pliosaur’s ruby eye opening directly behind him. The football-sized eyeball rolled dazedly in its socket, its oval-shaped black center unfocused and dilated. Then it stabilized, its pupil going perpendicular and contracting into a tight slit.

  A shrill beep emanating from Stacy’s tablet caused all conversation to stop. Everyone froze in fear . . . everyone, except Garm. His head whipped around just in time to see the beast come to life. At first, its blood-colored orb was focused on Sanders. But as Callahan moved closer, it turned its attention to him. The admiral was only ten feet away with his back turned.

  Dirk watched in slow-motion horror as the pliosaur’s huge neck muscles contracted like steel cables beneath its thick skin. It’s formerly limp head raised and began to arc to the left, and a creaking sound signaled it testing the tensile strength of the pincers restraining it.

  A second later, hell’s gates were torn asunder.

  With a frightful hiss, the Kronosaurus whipped its huge head to the right, its slavering jaws gaping wide.
Dirk froze, watching in horror what came next. Against a backdrop of alarmed cries, his brother Garm made his move. Powerful legs pumping, he dove completely under the beast’s wedge-shaped mandible, clearing it by inches, and tackled Callahan like a linebacker. The admiral’s face was a Kabuki mask of astonishment. The impact of Garm’s 245 pounds sent both men flying. They skidded into the shallow pool of water under the creature’s huge belly, causing it to miss them completely and overshoot its mark.

  And grab Sanders instead.

  The hapless marine let out a blood-curdling shriek as he was scooped off the floor and thrown into a prehistoric meat grinder. Gleaming ivory fangs the size of a man’s forearm sank into his chest and groin. Bright red arterial blood began to spurt, then sprayed for a hundred feet in every direction as the behemoth shook him like a terrier does a rat, mercilessly savaging its victim.

  There was a momentary pause, followed by a loud chomp as the pliosaur bore down, incorporating the full power of its crocodile-like jaws. Sanders’ already mutilated body flew apart like lunchmeat struck by a chain saw. Severed limbs and pieces of organs struck horrified bystanders and bounced off the nearby holding tank, leaving crimson streaks that trickled down the clear thermoplastic.

  Its blood-foaming jaws spread wide, the pliosaur cow let out a deafening roar that pealed like a ship’s horn throughout the canyon-sized docking chamber. Then it started to heave against its bonds. The panicking receiving crew took one look and ran for their lives, tripping and falling over one another. Flailing side-to-side like a fish out of water, the infuriated beast pitted its titanic strength against the steel grippers keeping it in check.

  Panicking in the face of the creature’s assault, Dirk staggered back. His heel caught on a fleeing tech’s toolbox and he lost his footing, landing painfully on his rear end. Through a montage of pushing, shoving bodies, he witnessed Garm dragging a dazed and soggy Admiral Callahan out from under the belly of the berserk Kronosaurus. Still on his ass, Dirk’s gaze swung left and right. He saw Dragunova rush to his brother’s side and, together, they carried the semi-conscious naval exec to safety. Behind them, he spotted several members of Tartarus’s security force, fleeing like everyone else. Dr. Grayson alone stood his ground, standing barely twenty feet from the monster’s snapping jaws, while a river of fear flowed around him like water around a rock.

  Dirk clamped his hands over his ears as the thrashing pliosaur let out a thunderous bellow that could have cracked stone. He pushed up with his hands and made it to his feet. Thirty feet to his left, Stacy was on the ground. Her teeth were clenched and she was cradling one knee. Dirk uttered a grunt of pain as a black-clad figure pushed roughly past him. It was Dwyer. The hulking security chief wore a murderous look and was cradling one of the laser-guided, 10-gauge shotguns that were standard issue. Dirk heard the familiar “clack-clack” as Dwyer chambered a shell before leveling the weapon at the pliosaur’s face.

  “No!” Without thinking, he barreled into Dwyer, knocking the bigger man off balance and forcing the scattergun’s muzzle straight up. The weapon’s booming discharge was barely noticeable over the beast’s roars and its sabot round vanished into the stone ceiling, high above. “No guns!” Dirk bellowed, shoving a warning finger in Dwyer’s pumpkin-like face. The ex-con’s red-rimmed eyes became blackened slits of hatred, but he closed his mouth and said nothing.

  Dirk screamed at Stacy. “You’ve got to dose her, now!”

  As Stacy fought to retrieve her weapon, a high-pitched creaking forced Dirk’s attention back toward the hoist. The creature’s struggles were beginning to wobble the lift’s seventy-foot cradle, causing the array of thick steel cables that supported it to rub noisily against one another. Dirk gasped in alarm. If even one of the cables kinked up . . .

  Far across the docks, Tartarus’s resident pliosaurs had all surfaced. Like rubberneckers watching a burning car wreck, their heads rose from the water, their gleaming eyes taking in the spectacle. Despite all the excitement, the beasts remained uniformly silent, almost as if they were waiting for something.

  Dirk grimaced as a painfully loud wrenching sound assailed his ears. He realized to his horror that the gripper encircling the pliosaur’s neck was beginning to fail. Already it was partially opened and the behemoth, sensing it, started struggling more ferociously than ever. Once one gripper went, the rest would cave like dominoes. Assuming the pliosaur was uninjured from the five-foot drop onto unforgiving concrete, the berserk titan would find itself loose in their canal system. Beyond the sheer chaos and inevitable loss of life, it could cause immeasurable damage – possibly even taking out one the docked subs before they put it down.

  Dirk cursed as he slipped in a shallow pool of blood. Down on one knee, he saw Lieutenant McEwan helping Stacy to her feet. In her hands, Stacy held the tranquilizer gun. Dirk cupped his hands like a bullhorn. “Stacy, the hoist’s going to go! You’ve got to--”

  His words were cut off as the Kronosaurus wheeled savagely in his direction. Twisting hard against its shackles, it lunged at him. Snapping shut like the world’s biggest bear trap, its monstrous jaws came together only five feet from his face. Dirk staggered back, wiping at the viscous drool that ran down his cheeks. He could feel panic grab ahold of his shoulders, its sharp raptor’s talons digging in. A few feet away, Dr. Grayson spoke calmly into a handset, while Garm and Dragunova half-walked, half-carried, Admiral Callahan in his direction.

  Frustrated at having missed its mark, the berserk monstrosity shook its head from side to side, trying to force the pincers around its neck open just a bit more. It began to shake with rage at being denied its freedom and sucked in a noisy breath, opening its bloody jaws to bellow once again.

  It never got the chance.

  The startled beast’s cry died in its throat as a sound equivalent to an atomic bomb blast reverberated across the docks. So loud was the unexpected roar, and so low in frequency, it vibrated the water in both the canals and pliosaur enclosures like a 6.0 aftershock.

  Dirk felt his blood chill in his veins. Across the way, the resident pliosaurs were statues, their blinking ruby eyes the only parts still moving.

  “Good God . . .” Callahan breathed. He rose unsteadily and turned and stared at the billowing black curtain that cordoned off a huge section of the far end of the docks.

  The sound originated from behind it.

  “Was that her?” he asked. He wiped at the blood trickling from his nose and mouth. Behind him, Garm and Dragunova stood ready for anything.

  Dirk tried to speak, but his throat was so tight he could only nod.

  “Jesus, look at that . . .” Callahan muttered.

  The moment the deafening roar hit, the pliosaur’s frantic struggles had ceased. Its eyes were wide and it slumped in the hoist carriage, freezing like a frightened fawn that relies on camouflage and immobility to keep it alive.

  “Out of the way!” Her jaw set, Stacy pushed past Dirk and the admiral. Shouldering the big tranquilizer rifle, the athletic Jamaican fired three .50 caliber darts straight into the immobile saurian’s face. It neither moved nor reacted to the shots. Seconds later, the traumatized beast’s eyes closed and it sank into a drug-induced coma.

  As Dirk breathed a huge sigh of relief, Callahan sought about for Grayson. The old man was already headed toward the admiral with Dwyer in tow. With surprising dexterity, the CEO weaved past injured people, taking care to avoid stepping on what looked like a human spleen.

  Trembling with excitement, Callahan ran up to him. “When do I get to see her?”

  Grayson frowned. “In due time.” He signaled Dwyer. “Get a medical team here ASAP.” The security chief nodded, eyeing Dirk as he talked into his radio.

  With a heavy exhale, Stacy handed McEwan back her dart gun and limped to Dirk’s side. “Nice shooting,” he said. He eyed her injured leg and knelt down to check on it. “Is it bad?” he asked, carefully squeezing and massaging her knee.

  She smiled at the unexpected attention and shook he
r head. “It’s just twisted. One of our fearless security officers trampled me as he ran like a frightened sheep.”

  Grayson scoffed. “Wonderful. How about you, Derek? Were you injured?”

  “I’m fine, sir,” Dirk managed.

  Grayson scrutinized his face. “You’ve got saliva on you. Better get down to medical and get checked out. You may need a booster.”

  “Yes, sir.” Still in a fog, Dirk timed a lengthy exhale to calm himself. He turned to Garm. “How many did we lose?”

  “From what I saw, we’ve got nearly a dozen injuries, but the only fatality was Sergeant Sanders.” The big sub commander turned to Callahan. “Sorry about your man, admiral.”

  “Hey, Sanders knew the risks,” Callahan remarked.

  Dirk’s eyebrows lifted and he saw Garm and Dragunova exchange looks.

  “You were very impressive out there, son,” Grayson told Garm. “Your reflexes are incredible.”

  “You’re telling me,” Callahan interjected. He shook his head, wincing as he touched a badly bruised hip. “Man, Gate. That was like getting hit by Denver’s front four! You saved my ass for sure. Thank you!”

  “Just doing my job, sir.”

  “Your job?” Callahan snorted as he adjusted his torn uniform. Suddenly, his eyes lit up. “Hey . . . would you consider a position on my staff? I could use a man like you watching my back.”

  Garm grinned. “With all due respect, sir, I don’t think you can afford me.”

  “And don’t attempt to steal any of my people,” Grayson added.

  Dirk took in the carnage. It felt like he was waking up from a bad dream and part of him hoped he was still in it. He glanced at the sedated Kronosaurus and then turned to Stacy. “How is she?”

  Stacy scooped her tablet up off the floor. The screen was cracked and it was spattered with blood but it still functioned. She touched a key. “In dreamland. I hit her with enough dope to OD a herd of elephants. She should be out for hours.”