The Extinction Files Box Set

by A. G. Riddle

  The lab complex was located in the center of the middle deck. The Citium had valued that space above all others in the vessel: it was shielded with redundant bulkheads and had a separate air and power supply. There was little question that the Shaws had retreated there. It was defensible, but Furst had the tools to overcome anything they threw at him. And the truth was, Lin and Peyton Shaw had nowhere to go. Killing or capturing them was simply a matter of time.

  Furst pointed to a compartment on the same deck as the lab complex, nearly sixty feet away. “We’ll insert here. Prep the rovers.”

  One of his men took a rover from the shelf and duct taped a handheld radio to the top, careful not to cover the camera. He repeated the task with the second rover, then held up his own radio. “Radio check.”

  The other man tested the plasma torch, then turned his attention to the ship’s controls. They moved close to the sub and hovered. The horizontal docking tube extended and attached, its magnetic clamps echoing loudly. The water drained from the tube, and the man affixed his helmet. He turned to Furst, who had also donned his helmet in preparation for the frigid burst of air, and awaited the order.

  Furst nodded. “Proceed, Chief.”

  The man opened the hatch, crawled to the hull, and lit the torch. They’d be in soon.

  The sound was like a gong tolling. Peyton sat up.

  Adams was on his feet. Rodriguez too.

  “What’s—”

  “They’re breaching,” Adams said. “Get ready.”

  On the screen inside the Ice Harvest, Furst watched the rovers depart in opposite directions. Each was operated by one of his men, who stared at the night-vision video feed as they drove. The green-tinted view of the sub’s passageways was like a documentary tour of a shipwreck.

  “Got something.”

  On the left screen, Furst saw what looked like a blanket stretched across the corridor.

  “Use the arm to lift it up and look under. Don’t cross the threshold.”

  On the screen, the blanket lifted, revealing a wall of white.

  The chief switched off night vision.

  Three rows of crew bunks stretched out four deep. Bodies had been rolled to the back, the blankets removed. A dozen round LED lights the size of hockey pucks were spread out on the floor, with a few in each bunk.

  “Pull the blanket down,” Furst said. “And proceed.”

  His eyes moved over to the cans of smoke and tear gas they had set out for their plan. He’d have to adjust slightly.

  “Trip wire,” the other specialist called out. “Improvised.”

  Furst watched the rover’s camera arm extend and pan.

  “It’s not live,” the specialist said.

  “Cut it down.”

  The next trip wire was live—rigged to what looked like C4. Smart—they had rigged the explosives deep in the ship, far enough from the hull.

  Furst marked it on the map.

  An hour later, the rovers had searched all the corridors they could. Each now sat at a locked hatch. The lab complex wasn’t far beyond.

  Chief Adams stared at the screen. “They’ve got a rover.” He squinted. “Something strapped on top. Could be explosives.”

  “They’re searching for us?” Peyton asked.

  “Yes, ma’am,” Adams replied. “And disabling our countermeasures.”

  “We could kill the rover,” Rodriguez said.

  Adams didn’t take his eyes off the screen. “Too risky. Might be trying to draw us out.”

  “Draw us out?” Nigel asked, clearly disturbed.

  “They could be waiting near the rover, ready to attack.”

  Peyton was again impressed with Adams. Even under pressure, he was focused and clear-headed.

  Adams studied the screen. “Okay, make that two rovers.”

  “Where does that leave us?” Lin asked.

  “We wait for now.”

  Furst and his men snaked through the passageways, deploying trip lines of their own, careful to avoid the enemy explosives they’d identified. They were almost ready.

  The sound of metal on metal captured everyone’s attention. Adams rotated the monitor so they could see it. In the corridor where the first rover still sat, a can was rolling toward it, smoke billowing from one end.

  “Tear gas,” Adams muttered.

  Another can rolled down the passageway where the second rover waited. Then a second can rolled out in both corridors, belching a thicker cloud. Smoke. The camera’s view of the corridor was completely blocked, and all they could hear was a soft hissing.

  “They’re trying to box us in,” Adams said.

  “It seems they’re doing a good job,” Nigel spat.

  Lin shot him a look that landed like a slap to the face. The British scientist fell silent.

  “Mister Adams?”

  “We can wait, make our stand here.”

  “Or?”

  “Or we go out there, fight at a place and time of our choosing.”

  “And then what?”

  Adams shook his head. “One thing we know for sure: there’s only one way off this sub and back to the surface.”

  “Their submersible.”

  “Yes, ma’am.”

  “What are you proposing?” Peyton said.

  “Rodriguez and I will take the fight to them. The three of you will take a different route, search for their vessel and escape.”

  Silence fell over the group.

  “There’s no other way,” Adams said. “They’re going to blow one or both of those hatches next. They’ll use the rovers, and tear gas, and smoke, and they’ll keep tightening the noose on us. We’ll all have to suit up soon. We’ll have a few hours of oxygen left—assuming a bullet doesn’t puncture our suits. Time is not on our side. We have to make a move.”

  “Making a move could be dangerous,” Lin said. “We have to assume they’ve placed their own booby traps throughout the ship.”

  Adams nodded.

  “And even if you and Seaman Rodriguez neutralize the enemy, we face a difficult task getting out. We need a clear route. There’s another solution here, one we’ve overlooked.”

  Adams raised his eyebrows.

  “The item strapped to the rover.”

  “I’m assuming it’s an explosive—for use on the hatch.”

  “A reasonable bet, but I count it as unlikely,” Lin said. “Our adversary would be averse to sacrificing a rover—they need them to clear beyond the hatch.”

  “Then…”

  “It’s a radio.”

  Peyton didn’t follow her mother’s line of reasoning.

  “There’s another way out,” Lin said. “For all of us. But it will require Peyton and I to risk our lives.”

  She glanced at Peyton, seeking support.

  Adams shook his head, as if disgusted by the idea. “Negative, ma’am. Our first priority—”

  “I’m in,” Peyton said. “I’m tired of leaving people to die.”

  Peyton followed her mother through the passageway, their helmet lights carving beams into the darkness. Adams had put up a good fight, but he’d soon realized how futile it was to argue with Lin Shaw when her mind was made up.

  “Many years ago, in Rio de Janeiro,” Lin said over the comm, “Yuri and I were kidnapped. Beaten, held for ransom. Your father rescued us. He came alone, and five minutes later, he walked out with both of us, without a shot fired. He was very brave that night.” She paused. “I still think that’s why Yuri couldn’t bring himself to kill your father all those years ago, on the night he sank the Beagle. He sent men to kill him, but when your father escaped, Yuri let him go. I believe he realized then how much your father meant to him.”

  Peyton had already read this story in the pages her father had left behind for her and Desmond, but she didn’t interrupt. This sounded like a confession the older woman needed to make.

  “After Rio, your father insisted that every person leaving the ship be equipped with some sort of personal defense device.�
� She stopped at a closet and pried the frozen doors open. “These are those devices. They’re going to save our lives. And the rest of our team. But you have to be careful, Peyton. If you’re careless, it will be your life you take.”

  Peyton sat with her back to the wall, her helmet at her side, waiting, wondering if her mother was right. Wondering if she could do her part to save them. She had never been so nervous in all her life. She was about to fight to the death. She felt like throwing up, but she wanted to be brave. She had to—for Desmond, for her mother, and for the three men down there counting on her.

  A gravelly voice rang out in the silence, broadcasting from the radio on the rover. The voice was picked up by the cameras at the two hatches.

  “Doctor Lin Shaw. Doctor Peyton Shaw. We’re not here to harm you. We got off on the wrong foot on the ship. I’m not sure what my men did or said to upset you. I regret the loss of life.”

  He waited.

  “We don’t want anyone else to get hurt. I mean that. If we were going to kill you, we would have simply left. We’re here because we want to bring you back unharmed. Those were my orders. Those directions came from Yuri and Desmond.”

  Peyton and Lin locked eyes. Lin shook her head.

  “It’s true. Desmond has recovered his memories. He knows the truth now. Peyton, he sent us here to bring you and your mother back. He’s very worried. The world is going to change soon.”

  Peyton’s mind raced. What if it’s true?

  “Our adversary is clearly well-trained in the art of deception,” Lin said.

  Like clockwork, her mother always knew what Peyton was thinking.

  “Listen, doctors. If you’ve got other people with you, they can come too. But first, the two of you need to meet us in the mess deck. Come alone, unarmed. We know the route you’re going to take. We’ve got cameras. And a rover. We’ll be following you. Don’t deviate. If anyone else comes along, they’ll be blown to bits.”

  A pause.

  “You have five minutes to get to the mess deck. If you’re not there, we’re coming in after you. Please, doctors. Make the smart choice. Nobody has to get hurt.”

  Lin stood with her helmet held at her side, like an astronaut getting ready to step out onto a foreign planet. “It’s time, Peyton.”

  Peyton could barely feel her body as she got to her feet. She was shaking.

  Lin placed her hands on Peyton’s shoulders. “One step at a time. Stay focused. Don’t think about it. Just take the next step.”

  She picked up Peyton’s helmet and put it on her, then donned her own.

  Peyton tried to slow her breathing. The sound was loud in the helmet.

  “Focus on my voice, Peyton.”

  Her mother brought her helmet to Peyton’s. They touched. Lin stared at her.

  “You can do this.”

  Chapter 12

  The X1 pandemic had hit the USS Carl Vinson especially hard. Of the aircraft carrier’s typical five-thousand-person crew, nearly a thousand had died. Those remaining all wanted one thing: payback.

  They had been searching the Pacific Ocean for weeks, trying to locate the Citium base of operations. Around the clock, planes took off and landed, and their search results were mapped, the grid slowly filling in.

  In the bowels of the ship, in a small stateroom, Avery Price assembled her rifle. She stared at it, then reset the timer and began breaking it apart again. The exercise reminded her of her training in Northern Virginia. The focused, repetitive action was like meditation for her.

  During their off hours, other members of the crew lifted weights, watched movies on their laptops, emailed home, played video games, or knocked boots in their bunks—despite the regulations against it. Avery did none of those things. She thought about Desmond, and when she couldn’t help it, wondered if they were torturing him. And most of all, she wondered if he had remembered. She desperately hoped the Carl Vinson was the ship that found him. She had unfinished business with him—and the men who had taken him. Desmond had sacrificed himself for her, traded his life for hers. She didn’t like being in anyone’s debt. But it was more than that. A lot more than that.

  The clock on the wall read nearly fourteen hundred hours when an alarm blared from the ceiling, and a naval officer said, “General quarters. General quarters. All hands man your battle stations.”

  Yes, Avery thought. We’ve found the Citium.

  Minutes later, she stood on the ship’s bridge. The comm officers were in a frenzy. The XO was barking orders over the shipboard radio.

  Captain Barrow stood still, staring into the middle of the tempest as if deep in thought.

  “I’ll lead the strike team,” Avery said. “The corpsman just cleared me,” she lied.

  “What?”

  “My boots hit the ground first—”

  “We haven’t found them, Price. Comm’s down.” Barrow turned to the XO. “Execute course change, Commander.”

  Course change. Avery glanced around. “Where’re we going?”

  “Our rally point. Standing orders in case of a global comm failure. Now get out of here, Price.”

  “You think this is an attack.”

  Barrow was losing patience. “Yes. A virus infected our equipment.” He squinted. “Wait. Your jacket said you were a programmer before. Get down to—”

  Avery realized what was happening—and who was truly under attack. She had to get to Peyton and Lin Shaw.

  “I need a helo and a special ops team.”

  He laughed. “Get out. Now.”

  “Listen to me, Captain. Disabling the internet and global comms is part of the Citium plan.”

  “Apparently.” He nodded to a tall, muscular sailor standing at parade rest by the hatch. “See that Miss Price makes her way back to her quarters—”

  “Captain.”

  The sailor gripped her arm.

  She grabbed his hand and twisted his thumb until he winced, but his grip didn’t break. “You don’t want to do that,” she said calmly. She focused on the captain. “Allow me to speak for ten seconds, sir. You need to hear this.”

  Barrow gave a quick nod to the man gripping Avery’s arm. He let his hand fall away.

  “Ours isn’t the only Rubicon operation. There’s another one—above the Arctic Circle. A partnership with the Russians. If we’re in a blackout, there’s a reason. The other mission is likely under attack. We need to send a team to investigate.”

  “I have my orders, Miss Price. And I take them seriously. Every person and every aircraft could be needed to defend the United States.”

  He motioned to the sailor. “Make sure she’s in her quarters until further notice.”

  Chapter 13

  Lin insisted on walking twenty feet ahead. The beams from Peyton’s helmet shone into the darkness, revealing only a faint glimpse of her mother’s lithe form. She knew her mother well, and why the older woman was putting herself out front: to protect Peyton. Her mother was placing herself in front of her daughter—in case there were more booby traps.

  Lin’s voice was calm over Peyton’s helmet speaker. “Stay where you are.”

  “What’s wrong?”

  “I’m at the hatch.”

  Lin grunted. The roar of steel on steel echoed in the dark passage, like an ancient vault being opened.

  Smoke and gas billowed into the passageway. It dispersed and settled near the deck like a layer of fog.

  “Let’s resume,” Lin said.

  Peyton tried to control her nerves as she walked through the mist. Each step could be her last. She stumbled and braced herself against a wall.

  Lin whispered, “I see the rover. Peyton, join me so they can see us both.”

  Peyton turned the corner and found her mother standing in the sea of smoke up to her knees, the beams of her helmet pointed down at the rover, boring a hole through the cloud. She stopped beside her. The rover spun on one track like a toy tank, drove around them, and stopped at the hatch. It was standing watch—for anyone follow
ing behind them.

  Lin resumed walking. Peyton followed, her heart beating faster with every step. A trickle of sweat ran down her forehead, into her eyes.

  The smoke dispersed as they went.

  A message had been scrawled on a piece of paper taped to the bulkhead up ahead.

  REMOVE HELMETS

  Lin removed hers first, extinguishing the two beams of light.

  Peyton reached up and placed her gloved finger on her helmet’s latch. This was the most dangerous part of the plan. Once the helmets were off, their adversary could use tear gas or mace. Or take them down a hundred other ways.

  It didn’t matter. There was no turning back.

  She unlatched the helmet and slipped it off. The freezing air assaulted her face and flowed into the suit, the smell slightly acidic with a hint of gun smoke.

  They stood in darkness, waiting. Footfalls echoed ahead. Then behind. Two. Maybe three. If there were three, that would be a problem. She and her mother had planned on two. They could only handle two.

  A narrow beam of light came on, like a train in a tunnel.

  Peyton was blinded for a moment. When her eyes adjusted, she could make out two figures behind the light.

  “Take the suits off, ladies.” She recognized the gravelly voice from the radio.

  “It’s too cold,” Lin said, emotionless.

  “Then you better hurry.”

  Lin hesitated, then glanced at Peyton and began removing her suit.

  Moment of truth.

  Peyton’s hands shook as she took off the bulky garment. She didn’t know if it was her nerves or the cold, but with each passing second, she shivered more.

  When the suit fell to the ground, she stood in her boots and a layer of insulated clothes over thermal underwear. The gun she had hidden under the bulky clothes bulged at her waist. She felt naked, as if they could see the weapon clearly. The gun hidden below Lin’s clothes was even more obvious.