In short, Vengeance was anything but what her name suggested.
Still, she could do the job, there was no question of that.
Vengeance used the new Continual Thrust Antimatter Engines which combined antimatter and matter, the result of which was a tremendously efficient plasma wave that could carry vessels great distances in heretofore unattainable timeframes. A CTAE ship, boosting at a steady 1 G for half the trip out and then turning and decelerating for the second half could reach Jupiter space inside of a week. But antimatter was extremely expensive to generate and doing so would use up the Space Command's entire reserve, a reserve that had taken three years to build. The alternative was to boost at 1 G for only the first twelve hours or so. out of Earth orbit. This put us into a sustainable velocity that would bring us into Jupiter space roughly 30 days later. 900 million kilometers in less than a month. That was still pretty damn impressive, if you ask me.
Of course, being Marines, we bitched the entire ride out, but we would have done that anyway, even if it had taken only a week.
Once in orbit, we began a systematic scan of the moon's surface. It took less than three hours to pinpoint the location of the Beacon. That's what we had started calling it, the Beacon. You could practically hear the capital B every time anyone mentioned it. We'd come almost a billion kilometers to see this thing and it had begun to take on almost mythic proportions in everyone's minds. It was located about five miles beneath the ice, deep within the moon's unexplored ocean. Which meant we were going to have to get our hands dirty checking it out. And there was only one way to do that.
Her official designation was the RNF876495. We had another name for her, one more suited to her actual purpose; Icebreaker. Unlike the Vengeance, Icebreaker was built around an aerodynamic hull so that she'd be able to withstand the stress of trips in and out of the atmosphere. In addition, her lower half was specifically reinforced to withstand the impact of colliding with a solid surface. It was the pilot's job to bring her down through the atmosphere and then use a controlled "crash" to put her on the moon's surface hard enough to break through the outer layer of the icy crust. Once hull down in the ice, special heating coils would be lowered through the dive well to create a fifteen kilometer access channel through which the Mantas might be launched.
Or so the theory went.
The reality was that neither the Mantas, nor Icebreaker herself, had ever been tested in the field. They'd been specifically designed for this mission once we'd understood just where the ELF waves were coming from. It was up to us to put them through their paces, see what they could do.
Some folks just get all the luck, ya know?
A skeleton crew was left behind in orbit on Vengeance and the rest of us settled into Icebreaker. The pilot took her down through the thin atmosphere without mishap and brought her into position onto the pack ice close to the Beacon with barely a bump.
That's when the Beacon got ugly.
We knew ahead of time that certain ELF waves could disrupt the human nervous system, cause seizures, erratic brain functions and the like. The Vengeance had been specially shielded with the intent to protect us from harm, but whoever had done the calculations hadn't figured on the waves being stronger once we left orbit.
The Icebreaker's hull was getting pounded by them on a regular basis once we were moonside. While it was also shielded in the same manner as the Vengeance, this close the protective measures didn't have as much effect as they did in orbit. We could feel the impact of the waves as a constant dull throb that pulsed in our heads and churned our stomachs. Within hours of landing on the ice the majority of the crew was in their bunks trying to quell the nausea or suffering through hideous migraines. I was one of the lucky ones. I had a brief, violent reaction to the wave front and then settled back to normal.
It took four days after landing to get the majority of the crew back on their feet. Some say we adapted to the proximity of the waves, that like a sailor who finds his sea-legs a few days out of port, we had acclimatized to the constant pulse of the ELF. I'm not so sure. After all that's happened, I think He just backed off on the signal a bit in order to bring us closer. Come on in, said the spider to the fly, and all that.
At any rate, once I and the pilot of Manta Two were up to speed, the decision was made to send out a squad to investigate the source of the Beacon. I was the unlucky bastard who drew the assignment.
Unmanned probes had been moving through the cold, Europan sea around us ever since we had drilled through the ice. No signs of life had been seen, which was a good sign in my view. It meant I could relax a bit and not worry so much about some giant alien creature deciding I and everyone else inside the Manta would make a great little snack.
The incident with Wilkinson came shortly after the mission was given the green light by Command.
*** ***
"Let's talk about Wilkinson. I understand you were there with him at the end?"
"Yeah, I was there…"
*** ***
Man, what was there to say about Wilkinson? Talk about a complete clusterfuck. Craziest thing I'd ever seen. It was third watch, somewhere in the neighborhood of 0300 hours. The Mantas were going down into the ditch sometime in the next forty-eight hours and I'd drawn last watch. Typical Corps bullshit. Make a guy stand watch over equipment that's surrounded by a ship full of armed Marines stuck out in the ass end of the solar system all alone. Like somebody's gonna come along, hot wire the things and take 'em for a joyride, for heaven's sake. Right.
Anyway, Wilkinson was down there with me, prepping the HADS. The Hardsuit Atmospheric Diving System had proven itself capable of withstanding anything from complete vacuum to the crushing pressures expected beneath the surface of Europa. They had their own internal propulsion systems and came complete with eight hours of standard air capacity as well as another 2 hours of emergency reserve. The Chief had mandated that everyone would be wearing a HADS when the Mantas went operational for the first time. That way, if the ship failed for some reason, the troops would at least have a chance to independently make their way back to the Icebreaker.
So I'm standing over by the hatch and Wilkinson's fussing with the propulsion controls in one of the suits. I can't see him from where I'm standing, but I can hear him cussing up a blue streak as he fights with a faulty sensor panel. Then everything goes quiet. At first, I didn't think anything of it. Figured he's managed to get the part fitted and had just quieted down, ya know? But after a few minutes, when I don't hear anything further from him, I start feeling like something's wrong. So I wander over to check. Moving in Europa's .13g was easy; a small step would "bounce" you across a room. The hard part was stopping once you got going.
I'd had enough practice that I crossed the room in two short hops and was just in time to see the door to the dive chamber closing behind him.
Through the glass I could see him standing beside the dive well, staring down through the transparent doors into that weird purplish-green water. He was dressed in his work clothes, which violated about ten different regulations. No one was allowed inside the dive chamber without wearing a HADS. But the cover was still on the well, the room was still pressurized to Earth normal, so I'm was thinking everything was okay, he was just taking a break. Until I discovered that he'd jammed the lock behind him.
That's when I got nervous.
I started pounding on the door, calling his name. He didn't bother to turn. Probably couldn't even hear me through the six-inch thick pressure door.
Reason returned and I thumbed the intercom.
"Wilkinson? What the fuck are you doin', man? Get your ass out of there before I report you to the Master Chief!"
I know the com was working. I saw the panel lights go on each time I hit the switch. But he didn't acknowledge me in any way.
The control panel for the dive well doors was just to his left. He reached out and tapped a few keys. I watched in amazement as the inner door to the dive well began its slow slide open. The interior ligh
ts went off and the red tinged dive lights cast the room in their bloody glow.
Right about then I panicked.
All thoughts of saving Wilkinson from a disciplinary hearing went out the door at the point. I was on the horn to Operations in seconds.
"Ops, this is Daniels in Dive Control. I've got an unauthorized access in the Dive Chamber. Send security and an emergency medical squad down here ASAP!"
I clicked off the intercom, ignoring the rush of questions that came back at me, and returned to the window. Wilkinson was still standing next to the control unit. The inner dive well door was now fully open and the countdown for opening the outer had begun. In twenty-six seconds, Wilkinson's unprotected body would be exposed to the corrosive atmosphere and crushing pressure of the Europan sea just beyond.
Twenty-six seconds.
What the hell could I do in twenty-six seconds?
I gave it a shot anyway.
"Listen to me, Wilkinson! You've got to stop the countdown. Use the override and shut it down. Now! You're almost out of time!"
Twenty seconds.
This time he heard me. He turned around and looked at me through the window. His right hand reached out and tapped the control panel, opening the communication circuit.
Fifteen seconds.
"He's calling me, Daniels. Can't you hear him? So beautiful…"
His eyes wandered all over, never focusing on a single point for long, and I remember thinking he was high as a kite. Then the ten seconds warning claxon went off, signaling the point of no return. Nothing I or anyone else could do was going to stop that outer door from opening now.
The sound seemed to shatter his daze. He shook his head several times, as if to clear it. He looked around, seemingly confused, and then saw me staring at him through the window.
"Hey! Open the door, Daniels. Let me out!"
Five seconds.
"Daniels! Open the damn door!"
He grabbed the control rig and began punching buttons, screaming all the while for me to let him out.
There was nothing I could do.
I turned away in the last few seconds. I had a good idea what would happen to a human body exposed to pressures like that.
It wasn't anything I needed to see.
The security team and medical squad showed up a few moments later.
Just in time to clean up the mess.
*** ***
The investigator casually glanced at one of the files he had in front of him. "You do know that the surveillance system in the Dive Well Ready Room was turned on just moments before Wilkinson's death, correct?"
I nodded. The video and the recordings of his last statements were what had me up on first degree murder charges. From their limited viewpoint, it sure as hell seemed like he was blaming me for being trapped in there.
"Why do you think he was in the room in the first place?"
I glanced away, bored with the conversation suddenly. I'd already explained this a dozen times. "I think the ELF waves were screwin' with his head. Same thing that happened to the others. I just think Wilkinson was more susceptible than the rest of us. It got to him earlier."
He nodded, though whether in agreement with my statement or just in simple acknowledgement of what I'd said, I didn't know.
"Right. The ELF." Another glance at his file. "It's your claim that the sound waves had changed. Instead of making the crew sick they were now overpowering their ability to control themselves, forcing them to do things they didn't want to do. Is that correct?
I nodded. "Considering what happened to the exploration team that went out in Manta One, I don't see how you can come to any other conclusion."
"Can you expand on that?"
*** ***
It was 0900. The rest of the squad was already loaded up in the back of Manta One when I reached the Ready Room. I quickly donned my pressure suit, slipped through the hatch and rode the transport down through the ice to the ship itself. Once inside, I moved through the HADS equipped troopers toward the cockpit.
They made way for me even in the narrow confines of the Manta and I had a moment to wonder if it was out of fear over the incident with Wilkinson or respect that I was going to be making the journey unsuited, as a HADS would interfere with my neurological connection to the ship.
Even now, I like to think it was the latter.
Once I reached the cockpit I climbed into the pilot's chair and waited a moment as the automated shock harness settled itself around me. The harness was designed to keep me in place even in the midst of a major bombardment. Too many of the early Interfaced ships were lost when the pilot was accidentally disconnected from the control rig, so I was in no hurry to skip through the process haphazardly. Once it was secure, I yanked the interface cord out of its receptacle, closed my eyes, and inserted it into the port the Marines had been kind enough to burrow into my skull.
There was a brief moment full of ice and nausea as my nervous system became entwined with the ship's artificial one. When it passed, I open my eyes. I could "see" the ocean in front of me as far as the Mantas sensors could penetrate. I could "feel" the icy water flow across my skin, could sense the constant drum beat of the Beacon somewhere in the distance. For all intents and purposes, I had become the Manta.
I quickly moved through the launch checklist, verifying that all was ready, and then used the internal intercom to inform the recon squad in back that we were go in thirty seconds.
Opening a channel to the Icebreaker, I said, "Manta One prepped and ready for launch. Holding at T-minus fifteen."
"Manta One, this is Icebreaker. You are green for launch, I repeat, green for launch."
"Roger that, Icebreaker. Manta One resuming countdown. Ten, nine…"
I fired the ship's reaction engines with just a thought and felt the ship straining at its tethers, like a tigress eager for the hunt. I brought up the tracking system and got a fix on the Beacon's location, locking the ship's navigation system onto the spot. Then I sat back and waited.
"Four, three, two, and launch!"
The clamps holding us in place released with a jolt and the Manta jumped away from the Icebreaker under its own power.
"Manta One is clear of the tether and operating normally."
"Roger that, Manta One. Good hunting. Icebreaker out."
The ship handled neatly and the months of practice in the sims back on Earth had prepared me fairly well for the job ahead of me. There was a noticeable current, something I hadn't expected, but I quickly made adjustments and stabilized against its pull. My neurological link to the ship's systems let me view the sea in front of us through a wide variety of spectrum's all at once - acoustically, thermally, you name it. I flipped on the exterior lights, wanting to get a good look the old fashion way, with my own eyes, but the icy sludge that passed for water here on Europa kept visibility down to near zero and I quickly turned them off again. I could see everything I needed to see "electronically" and that was good enough. Let the boys in back do some sightseeing through the portholes in the cargo area if they wanted; I'd seen enough. It was dark and lonely out there. I didn't need the visual reminder of just how far from home we really were.
It took about twenty minutes of incident-free driving before we reached the 500 meter mark ahead of the Beacon. A twenty-meter high ridge rose in front of us from the bottom of the ocean floor. On the other side was the source of our journey.
I made radio contact with Icebreaker.
"Manta One to Icebreaker. We're at the final marker. Beginning our run into the target."
"Roger, Manta One."
I let the boys in back know what was happening, then powered the engines back up and glided smoothly over the ridgetop.
Below, stretching out for as far as my instruments could see was a city.
So unexpected were the readings that I was getting that I didn't trust them. I triggered the external lights and gazed through the viewscreen myself at the spectacle before me.
There, washe
d in the illumination from the spotlights mounted on the Mantas' hull was a vast and silent city.
It was lit by a pale phosphorescence all its own, shining out between the colossal structures. And colossal they were, great lurching towers of crystal and stone, made for creatures whose proportions would put mankind to shame. The building twisted, bulged, and leaned in odd angles and with seemingly endless planes, so that it hurt my eyes to look at them for too long; like a giant optical illusion designed to mess with your mind.
A glance at the instruments confirmed what I was afraid of.
The Beacon was somewhere inside that maze of structures.
I keyed the intercom.
"Ah, Captain Marshall? You might want to come take a look at this."
The captain and his two squad leaders joined me in the cockpit a few moments later.
"Holy Shit!" he said, as he caught sight of what was beyond the viewscreen.
My feelings exactly.
Several minutes of intense discussion with the Major back aboard the Icebreaker followed and then we had our orders. Advance with the ground team inside the buildings. Locate the source of the Beacon. Search for signs of life and collect any samples of same. Return to the Icebreaker by 1600 hours.
"All right, boys. You heard the Major. Let's go have a look for ourselves," Marshall said. He ordered me to stay on station and keep the relay channel open to Icebreaker, in case they made any important discoveries.
I was all too happy to comply.
*** ***
"So you didn't enter the city with them?"
I pulled another cigarette out of the pack, shoved it between my lips, and lit up. "Not that time, no. Like I said, I stayed on station, monitoring their progress over the comm lines and through their suit-mounted vidcams. Everything was fine until they found the temple."
*** ***
Despite the fact that the proportions were all wrong, I knew as soon as I saw it that it was a temple. Something about the way it stood out from all the rest of the buildings around it, how it glistened and shone with a brighter light than those around it, spoke volumes to me. Marshall's team moved up close and through the vidcams I could see clearly the strange flowery script that was etched across the doors.
Brimstone Dreams: A Horror Anthology Page 13