by Jeff Carlson
Unless they were damaged or knocked off course, the busters would hit the surface at 1200 kph. She described it as a downward volcano.
Ideally, each one would widen and deepen the crater formed by its predecessors. The nose cones soaked up most of the heat from impact, then radiated this heat in optimized bursts to melt further into the ice. At last, each cone distributed micro-explosives, destroying itself and yet more ice.
The second stage of each buster contained burrowing equipment. Shaped like a pointed column, it would drive itself into the chimney with saws, heating elements, and thousands of hooks and claws like a millipede.
As Vonnie murmured to the sunfish, another shockwave passed through the Lewis. Then another. These tremors were lighter than the initial quake.
Ribeiro said, "Our second and third ice busters were successful. They penetrated the chimney. We are increasing our pace. Tell the matriarchs we'll take evasive maneuvers. Several objects are falling toward us."
"Are they hunter-killers?"
"Negative. The objects are too slow. We believe it's a debris field. The PSSC destroyed our fourth buster. They may be hiding weapons among the wreckage. We'll avoid anything that falls too close."
Vonnie nodded grimly, thinking of limpet mines and DDs -- drill dots -- dust-sized particles meant to burn through ships or mecha. Before she could explain, Angelica buzzed inside her vocal chords and Tom and Hans repositioned themselves.
The two males covered their matriarchs. Tom also stretched his limbs around Vonnie's head and chest as Hans did the same for Ash, protecting their brains and vital organs.
The sunfish didn't comprehend that while their bodies might stop shrapnel, they were helpless if hab one was subjected to explosive decompression. Or maybe they did. Like always, they did everything they could, then accepted the result.
"The Jyvaskyla's fifth ice buster is en route," Ribeiro said. "If it avoids destruction, it will strike in front of us as we arrive."
"All crew, brace for impact!" DeBrun said. "We're gonna feel like this blast is right on top of us."
To Vonnie, Ash said, "I should be in the conn."
"Go. It's fine."
"Von, I--"
The Lewis was jolted to portside. Outside, the GPs executed the maneuver in unison. Then one of the GPs stumbled. Its maglocks slipped on the hull, its legs scrabbling at the ice before it regained its footing. Chak chak chak chak chak.
There was a louder wham! A new shockwave heaved through the GPs and the Lewis.
Vonnie hugged her sunfish.
Far away, she heard more hunks of debris pounding the surface. Deeper, she felt the gargantuan weight of the ice fracturing. Their busters had opened the chimney but they'd also broken the surrounding catacombs.
The surface buckled and slid as the ice dropped in stages, each quake causing new quakes. The sound was horrific and hypnotic. The frozen sky was falling.
Her trance might have lasted longer except Ribeiro called, "We are safe. We dodged several impacts."
Vonnie realized she'd shut her eyes. She opened them and saw Ash's pale face. We'll reach the chimney in six minutes, she thought with utter certainty as Ash said, "Are we close?"
"Six minutes," Ribeiro said.
Goose bumps prickled Vonnie's arms, and Tom's pedicellaria wicked at the delicate hairs rising from her skin.
This is what it's like to be a sunfish, she thought. It's like having precognition. They know what's going to happen before it happens. Is that why they're so pure even when they're killing and dying?
--Yes, Brigit answered. --Yes.
They were conversing with and without words, and Tom crooned to Vonnie. It was a song of completion. The sunfish knew from Vonnie that the humans and their machines were in sync. Through her, so were the sunfish.
But one of them didn't belong.
Hans and Angelica released Ash. With brusque, unequivocal movements, they nudged the young woman toward the hatch.
"Go," Vonnie said. "I'll stay."
Repeating herself to hide her embarrassment, Ash said, "I should be in the conn."
Vonnie accepted the white lie with a nod. The sunfish squirmed but they did not contradict Ash. They listened to Ash's body, and Brigit clacked when Ash turned before opening the hatch.
"Someone should take a turn for you," Ash said.
"Who? They're all men except Harmeet, and we need her in the lab." Vonnie's words were polite. The reality was that Harmeet lacked Ash's physical courage. Intellectually, Harmeet outstripped even Ben, but she was not a fighter. A tentative female would be bullied by Angelica and Brigit -- and the prejudice of all sunfish toward males reduced the odds of a positive outcome for Ben or Hunt or Troutman. As the sub's commanders, Ribeiro and DeBrun couldn't risk themselves. That left Wester and Dawson, and she'd rather stab the sunfish than put them in the same room with either man.
She laughed at the thought.
The matriarchs clacked their beaks and Tom curled tighter on her wrist, enjoying the implications of banishment and violence. They understood barricading themselves from threats. They laughed with her, rustling and snapping.
Spooked, Ash backed away. Her old ambivalence toward the sunfish was loud in her again. She ran from hab one and shut the hatch.
On a display, Vonnie tracked Ash as she hurried through the shower. With her short hair and a fresh jumpsuit waiting, Ash needed fifty seconds. She washed herself and dressed and sprinted into the central corridor, wet but clean. She entered the conn and buckled herself into a seat by DeBrun.
"Thank you, Ash," Vonnie said.
"Roger that." She busied herself with her datastreams, where she must have felt at home.
Vonnie accepted that most of the astronauts thought she was queer for staying with the sunfish. She loved being the unique, thrill-seeking outcast. Becoming Young Matriarch was the culmination of everything from her girlhood dreams to her acuity as an adult. After so many ordeals, leading the sunfish was a rare bright spot.
It was her obligation.
It was her kismet.
Dawson had been correct when he said she'd actively sought the role of a messiah. Her cross was the large number of people and sunfish who'd died. Her resurrection, her grail, lay in the possibilities ahead.
If they established treaties with the Great Ocean's civilization before the PSSC, she would feel redeemed. If they forged a lasting harmony for the Top and Mid Clans, that could make every death worthwhile. And if they attained both goals, the legacy of Earth's crews would be unforgettable.
She believed the matriarchs would follow her orders in the chimney and in the ocean. Her power over the sunfish gave her leverage with Ribeiro and DeBrun. They had their mission... and she had hers... and if there were cutthroat decisions to be made, Brigit and Angelica would support her.
"Ten seconds to impact," Ribeiro said.
"Sir, we're seeing more quakes around the chimney! Our side is caving in!" Troutman said.
The cacophony of noise increased. The ice rumbled.
"Sir, I recommend moving to starboard," Ash said.
"Do it," Ribeiro barked as Hunt said, "Moving starboard, sir."
The fifth ice buster slammed down from orbit, contorting the surface. The Lewis bounced. They lurched nose-up and sideways before their GPs straightened them out, cushioning the shockwave.
Dozens of maglocks clanged on the hull. The GPs rearranged themselves as they carried the Lewis toward the chimney's
gaping mouth. The sub began to tip nose-down.
"All crew, dive positions," DeBrun said.
In the conn, the astronauts' seats and displays would swivel. The same adjustments were taking place in other sections of the Lewis. Their furniture and their equipment swung on mechanized assists. So did the fold-out bunks, which were meant to serve as crash couches for human beings.
In hab one, the sunfish merely slid with the incline and repositioned themselves on the wall, which became the floor as the Lewis tilted up.
&n
bsp; Vonnie took one of the bunks. She strapped herself in. "Join me," she told them. "We can control our descent but it's going to be a bumpy ride."
Hans screeched. He didn't like the bunk, which seemed flimsy to him. Brigit and Angelica ordered him to obey. The four sunfish crawled onto Vonnie's legs and stomach. They were heavy. Their pedicellaria and tube feet felt like sandpaper and suckers on her skin.
"Hab one, check?" DeBrun asked.
"Secure," Vonnie said.
"Hab two, check?"
"Secure," Wester said. He was with Ben, Harmeet and Dawson. Everyone else was in the conn.
"Sir, our first GPs are away and the fifth ice buster is in position," DeBrun said. The fifth buster had climbed upward after plunging through the ice. Now it held itself near the surface, where it would join the Lewis. Three of their mecha had scrambled into the chimney. The other seven would follow as soon as the Lewis went in. For the moment, they served as jacks and scaffolding, lifting the sub and raising its tail. "Our sims are good. Ready on your mark, sir."
"Arm charges," Ribeiro said.
The last GP to enter the chimney would blow the surface, dragging the ice down onto a net of molecular wire. With luck, it would seal the chimney behind them. Then the GP would remain in place with their doppelgänger, an extraordinarily slim line of defense against the PSSC.
Vonnie's pulse thudded in her head and in her fists. If they're going to hit us, they'll do it now.
She wished she'd used the toilet. She had to pee. The pressure in her bladder increased as the Lewis swayed. Outside, the ice had cracked again. Tail-over-nose, the Lewis nearly toppled before the mecha caught it. The sunfish felt her vertigo. They made a very human sound like a moan.
Ribeiro said, "Insertion in five, four, three--"
"PSSC missiles approaching!" Ash yelled.
Oh my God.
"One."
13.
"Sir, I count twenty warheads!" Ash yelled. "Seventy seconds to impact!"
The Lewis dropped from its scaffolding. Europa's low gravity vanished as they went into freefall. Then they smashed against two masses of ice, scraping the Lewis's belly and its portside. Vonnie felt like she was in an elevator when someone cut the cable. That two seconds of freefall made her stomach float before they careened off of the sides of the shaft.
"We're in," DeBrun said.
The Lewis jounced from new impacts as the familiar sound of maglocks rang on the hull. The three GPs in the chimney had caught them.
"Sir, radar tracks the missiles to enemy HKs, not the Dongfangzhixing," Ash said. "They're in a spray formation. I'm not positive if we're the target."
"Are they firing at our camp?" Ribeiro asked.
"No, sir. If they maintain their trajectories, they'll strike wide of the chimney. Forty seconds to impact."
"What is the status of the Jyväskylä?"
"Radar shows no sign of combat. Their screens are quiet. The ships are not attacking each other."
"The rest of our mecha have entered the shaft behind us," Troutman said. "The last one is in its defensive position. The others are attaching themselves to our hull."
"Fire charges."
"Sir, we're barely eighty meters down," DeBrun said. "At that range--"
"Fire now."
"Yes, sir," DeBrun said.
Above them, over the sub's tail, explosions roared. Every detonation rang through the hull like a gong. Loose tons of ice bashed into the sub. It began falling again.
The sunfish clung to Vonnie -- motionless, resolute -- and she tried to match their ferocious tranquility, although she was screaming inside.
We barely made it! We almost got stuck!
"One hundred and twenty meters," DeBrun reported as Ash said, "Here come their missiles."
The explosions were muffled. On Vonnie’s display, drawn by radar imaging, twenty warheads stitched along the surface in two lines of ten. Each line was a crescent.
Encircled by the blasts, the top of the chimney caved, simultaneously driven downward and inward.
Great masses hammered the Lewis. Ice and metal clattered against their hull. Some of the mecha couldn't hang on. Their maglocks ripped off with noises like gunshots.
The splitting ice was like artillery fire. Cracks and booms rolled through the frozen sky.
Then they stopped moving.
"We're pinned," Hunt said as Vonnie's claustrophobia yammered in her brain. We're stuck. We're trapped. We're stuck.
From below, their sensors registered much smaller percussions and impacts as the ice buster fired cables and spikes. It tugged underneath the largest masses, yanking loose several chunks.
"The enemy missiles..." Troutman said. "Did the Jyväskylä fox them with SCPs? There were twenty warheads. Every one of 'em missed us."
"They want to stop the Lewis while leaving us alive," Ribeiro said, not without admiration.
As a soldier, he appreciated the value of precision strikes and hostages, and Vonnie cursed him -- You son of a bitch -- her mind racing as she marveled at how badly her race used the magic of AIs and near-lightspeed technologies. We could have built gardens inside Europa. My God, we could have made heaven on Earth with clean energy and cheap food and meds but we spend our money killing each other while millions of people are starving or sick--
The Lewis squealed. Somewhere along its hull, it was being crushed. Everywhere it was under duress as the ice pressed against its sides and shoved on its tail.
"We've lost Mecha Four," Troutman said. "Seven may be disabled. The others are digging."
"Saws engaged," DeBrun said.
"Sir, the Dongfangzhixing is hailing us on executive channels," Hunt said.
"Do not respond," Ribeiro said. "Damage report."
Ash said, "Lock two has been compromised. Internal repairs are underway. It self-sealed with mesh. I'll have mecha on it soon."
Ash meant the GPs inside the Lewis, not the machines in the chimney. Vonnie stared at her display. She was on the starboard side. Ben was in hab two on the portside, the dented side. If it's breached, I can suit up and--
"I can help with repairs!" she said, grasping at the belts that secured her to her bunk.
"Negative," Ribeiro said. "Stay in dive positions."
Close by Vonnie, a GP tramped through the central corridor from the conn, its magnetic feet ringing as it walked. Another GP was in ready room two. She envisioned them reinforcing the hatch in lock two with sheet metal and their welding lasers.
"Are there PSSC weapons in the ice?" Ribeiro asked.
"We're scanning, sir." Troutman and DeBrun coordinated with the doppelgänger and other units near the surface.
Scattering nanotags was standard operating procedure for PSSC and NATO strikes. The tags reported success/fail rates. Ribeiro wanted to know if the PSSC had also packed their warheads with diggers or DDs. He didn't want anything dropping on the Lewis from behind, but, so far, neutrino pulse showed only the broken ice masses and avalanches.
"Looks clear," Troutman said. "I'll beef up our grid as soon as I--"
Hunt said, "The ice is moving."
"Hold on!" DeBrun yelled.
The Lewis pivoted, dropped, and spun the other way. Hans slipped from the bunk. Angelica and Vonnie caught him. His spikes dragged across her elbow and biceps, shredding her skin. Tom shrieked at the scent of blood.
Then they fell again.
"Depth is one hundred eighty meters!" DeBrun said. "Two hundred! Brace for--!"
Whump. The Lewis jolted. It stopped dead, crunching against another blockage in the chimney. Vonnie assumed the obstacle was made entirely of ice until something moved, flailing and clanging. They'd run into into one of their GPs.
Partially crushed by the Lewis, the GP was excavating to the best of its ability. Its blows on the hull were light, but the noise startled Tom, who had been transfixed by Vonnie's injuries. His attention shifted to the hull.
--Attack! Attack! he cried.
The matriarchs shushed him.
Like Vonnie, they wanted to hear what was happening outside.
The ice buster and several GPs labored at the blockage with lasers, heating elements, saws, claws. Some of the GPs were below. Some were above.
"At least a hundred meters of the chimney crumbled around us," DeBrun reported as Ben said, "It's filling in. The weight... We need to get out of here before this section buckles, too."
"Recommendations?" Ribeiro asked.
Ben spoke as if he was in command, no emotion, all logic. Their survival had driven him past jokes or sarcasm. He was nothing but brain. "Give the ice buster thirty seconds to melt what it can. Ash, use the mecha under our nose to dig a shaft. We'll fire torpedoes."
"That may destroy some of our mecha," Hunt said. "It could damage the ice buster."
"We need to get out of here," Ben said simply.
"Do it," Ribeiro said.
New avalanches slid over the Lewis's tail, filling what small open space remained. Vonnie’s claustrophobia tortured her.
If we're trapped, Peter and Jan will spend hours rescuing us, and we might never reach the ocean. We definitely won't beat the PSSC into the water.
There must be a civilization in the Great Ocean or the Dongfangzhixing wouldn't have attacked. PSSC mecha were near the ocean days ago. What have they heard? More ELF broadcasts? Sonar from living creatures?
"Fire," Ribeiro said.
The torpedo held three shaped charges. They detonated, chiseling through the blockage. The sound was a terrific bam!
The Lewis slipped loose. Outside, four mecha clutched at their hull and the walls of the chimney, slowing their descent until they struck the ice buster and fell together.
"Sir, I can't stop us," Hunt said.
New impacts rang on their belly and their starboard side. One of their lead mecha was flattened against the nose of the Lewis. Its legs tore off and it rattled up their side -- a smaller, harder avalanche of steel and plastic -- before it disappeared.
Beneath the falling Lewis, the ice buster failed to stay ahead of them. Too many of its systems had been fried. It tumbled against their nose, pulverizing a radar dish and then a sonar pack.