Aftershock

by Sam Fisher

  ‘Okay,’ Mark said. He was standing close to the big screen at the far end of the conference room on the Big Mac, pointing to Tom’s latest schematic. ‘This is the Neptune.’

  Knowing it would take precious time to cut through the red tape and secrecy of Bathoscope Holdings Limited, the corporation who had financed the building of the Neptune, Tom had simply hacked into their systems. It took him less than three minutes to find the files he wanted – the latest plans for the hotel complex, showing every aspect of the building’s infrastructure down to the last conduit and junction box.

  ‘As we learned from Sybil and Tom, the hotel is located approximately 100 metres below us on the continental shelf,’ Mark continued. ‘Half a kilometre north-east of here the ocean floor starts to drop away a thousand metres. We’re using everything we have to get sensor readings of the ocean floor for a kilometre around the hotel, but at the moment the water is so churned up we hit trouble as soon as the floor falls below a few hundred metres. Tom’s looking at the tectonic plates and searching for fissures anywhere on the continental shelf up to a 5 kilometre radius. So far, he’s found nothing significant.’

  ‘Which implies no quake,’ Mai commented. She was sitting at a secondary control station nearby, her white plastic chair swivelled round to study the screen.

  Pete was perched on the corner of a table to Mai’s left. ‘I’ve run a scan for explosives,’ he said. ‘Nothing.’

  ‘And I’ve had the computer search for any hull breaches other than the top of Alpha,’ Mai said and tapped at her control panel. A new schematic appeared on the screen. ‘There are some fissures, here and here,’ she said, moving her fingers over the panel to control a pointer on the screen. ‘But all those sections have automatically sealed themselves off.’

  ‘Well, that’s something,’ Mark commented. ‘So let’s concentrate on how we can get the survivors out of there. We’ve made another satellite sweep of the hotel and, just as I feared, many of those warm red dots we saw on the thermograph at Base One have changed to blue – bodies grown cold.’

  ‘How many are we talking about?’ Mai asked.

  ‘Tom’s found the guest list for tonight’s extravaganza. Ninety-five guests and 107 staff. More than 150 people were in Gamma, which was the worst hit dome. There are only 27 life signs there now. There are nine more in Beta and six in Alpha.’

  ‘Just 42 survivors!’

  ‘At the moment. It’s impossible to tell how many of those will die from serious injuries.’

  The room was silent except for the hum of the Big Mac’s systems and, far off, the sound of waves lapping against the aircraft’s hull.

  Mark tapped at a virtual keyboard, a simple pattern of light on the surface of a plastic panel close to the screen. ‘The Hunter is sending back some images,’ he said, and the screen filled with a grey murk. It began to clear as the Hunter drew close to the domes and they could all see the sharp outline of the stricken hotel. Gradually, the definition improved and a digitally enhanced visual appeared, taken from the west of the hotel some 35 metres from Dome Alpha.

  From this angle the damage did not appear too bad. They could see some holes in the outer casing of the enormous dome and the passage connecting it to Beta was buckled, but it had held. The Hunter, a sophisticated surveillance device that hovered over land, could withstand extremes of heat and cold and was also able to deal with the pressure up to an ocean depth of 2000 metres. It moved forward slowly, then swerved towards the south, giving the team a clear view of Beta and Gamma.

  All the domes were blacked out with a few patches of dull radiance, but nothing of the inside of the hotel could be seen. There were large cracks in the casing of Beta and it had been twisted by the shock of whatever it was that had hit the building. The dome was tilted at an angle of approximately 5 degrees from the vertical. The walkway between Beta and Gamma was contorted. But this too had held, which meant all three domes were still connected.

  Gamma was a real mess. It was leaning to the north. At the southern end, closest to the Hunter, parts of the dome’s foundations had been wrenched away from the rock of the continental shelf. Two sections had been ripped from the main body of the structure, but emergency bulkheads had confined the damage and stopped water rushing into the rest of the building. The Hunter moved around the dome, skirting its base. From the north, the team in the Big Mac had a clearer view of the damage done to the top of the dome. The metal cap at the apex of the huge glass structure looked sturdy enough, but they could see fissures in the glass, dark jagged lines running down randomly from the cap. Some of these stretched almost halfway to the dome’s base. From this angle, the Hunter was just able to pick out shifting patterns on the other side of the glass.

  ‘Are they people moving around?’ Mai asked, astonished.

  Mark didn’t answer. Instead, he let his fingers skitter over the plastic control panel and they could all see the image shift. The Hunter was moving closer.

  ‘I don’t want to alarm anyone,’ Mark commented. ‘So I think we shouldn’t let the Hunter go too close. But there. Yes ... human shapes.’

  They could just make out the form of four men moving east across what remained of the banqueting suite. By ramping up the definition and shifting the lens on the Hunter to maximum magnification they could get some idea of the devastation inside the building. Metal beams dangled from the ceiling. Huge tables had been reduced to matchwood. There were heaps of rubble everywhere.

  Mark touched the controls and instructed the Hunter to return to the Big Mac. Then he turned to the others. ‘Looks like we’ve got our work cut out, guys.’

  26

  Dome Gamma

  Michael Xavier peered through the gloom towards the east of the ballroom and pulled himself up onto a pile of rubble that had completely blocked the path to the emergency stairs. He slipped and almost went over. Bandonis, the engineer, just caught him. ‘Thanks,’ he said.

  Michael was about to take a step forward when Bandonis grabbed his shoulder. ‘Stop.’

  ‘What?’

  ‘An electric hum.’

  ‘I can’t hear ... Yeah, there,’ Johnny Xavier said as Bandonis descended the slope the other side of the pile of rubble. Xavier and the security man, Craig Deloray, watched as Bandonis bent down to an electrical cable. It was thrashing around like an angry snake. He grabbed it a foot from the live end and pulled it back, extracting a length of black plastic from the loose top layer of rubble. When it was a safe distance away, he lowered it to the ground, pinned it with a boulder and headed back up the slope. ‘Nasty,’ he said, reaching the others.

  Beyond the pile of rubble, the area was clearer, with patches of floor just visible in the dim emergency lights.

  ‘The stairs are straight ahead,’ Michael said and led the others on. All around them, dust was falling like snow, and a constant creaking sound came from the outer rim of the ballroom. The infrastructure was groaning and straining.

  They reached the door to the stairwell. It was different to the open one in the west of the dome. A narrow bridge crossed the pool on the edge of the dome. On the far side, close to the huge expanse of glass, a passage fell away to an access door 2 metres below floor level. Across the door were the words: ‘EMERGENCY STAIRS’.

  Michael tried the handle. It turned. He pushed. Nothing. The door would not move a millimetre. ‘Help me,’ he said to his brother. The two of them leaned on the door. Nothing. Michael ran at the door but only succeeded in bashing his shoulder. He yelped as pain shot up his neck and through his damaged ribcage.

  ‘It’s hopeless,’ Johnny Xavier gasped. He looked defeated.

  ‘Rubbish,’ Michael snapped back. ‘Miguel, Craig. Let’s try again.’ The three of them squeezed together across the width of the door and leaned their combined weight against it. They stopped to take a breath, then pushed again. It was obviously impossible. Whatever was behind the door was huge and heavy. They would never get it to open.

  ‘Oh, great!’ Johnny ex
claimed. ‘Told you it was hopeless.’

  Craig Deloray looked away and sighed. Michael Xavier studiously ignored his brother, but Miguel Bandonis was suddenly brimming over with rage.

  ‘Is that all you can say?’ he exclaimed. ‘Told you so!’

  Johnny gave the man a contemptuous look. ‘Why? You have some words of wisdom for us?’

  The engineer was silent for a moment. Then he said, ‘This is your fault.’

  Michael Xavier and Craig Deloray stared at him. Johnny gazed down at the ground, grinding his teeth, his mouth clamped shut. He looked up, glaring at Bandonis.

  Unflinching, Bandonis met Xavier’s eyes. He knew his chances of getting out of this place alive were slender. He did not want to die still complicit in Xavier’s crimes.

  ‘What do you mean, Miguel?’ Michael asked calmly, looking from his brother to the other man.

  ‘Your brother here decided to cut back on the budget. He slashed the sensor numbers for the electronic units in Dome Alpha by two-thirds. We had a small fire in service conduit Number 6 earlier this evening. It shouldn’t have caused any trouble, but obviously it wasn’t picked up. No sensors in the unit, see.’

  ‘But that’s impossible,’ Michael said, glaring at Bandonis. ‘I’ve seen the inventories and the audits. Everything tallies.’

  ‘He fixed it,’ Bandonis hissed, nodding towards Johnny Xavier. ‘Two inventories, two audits.’

  ‘But ... but, why?’

  ‘He’s lying, Mike.’

  ‘It’s the truth,’ Bandonis snapped back. ‘I’ve seen the cuts everywhere. The sensors are just one example. He pulled a lot of the fire retardant insulation, the communications net to the surface is compromised. And,’ Bandonis concluded, with a new edge of disgust in his voice, ‘... at least two of the emergency subs are duds.’

  ‘It’s a lie!’ Johnny Xavier exclaimed, and without warning he charged at the engineer, his eyes ablaze.

  Bandonis was short, but exceptionally strong. He had also spent five years studying karate. As Johnny Xavier’s fist flew towards his face, he dodged it and caught the man’s arm, twisted it behind him, span him round and smashed his fist into the small of his back. Johnny crumpled. In a flash, Bandonis had his foot on Xavier’s throat.

  ‘Enough,’ Michael barked and Bandonis reluctantly took his foot away.

  Johnny staggered to his feet, rubbing his neck and gasping. Standing upright, he refused to look at the engineer.

  Michael turned to his brother. ‘Others had hinted at this,’ he said. ‘But I didn’t believe them.’

  ‘Oh come on, Mike.’

  Michael Xavier had his hand up. ‘Don’t ... don’t.’ For a moment, the older Xavier looked incredibly sad. ‘I just hope you realise what you’ve done, Johnny.’

  ‘I did not...’

  With astonishing speed, Michael’s left hand flew out and grabbed his brother by the throat.

  Johnny froze. He had never seen his brother do anything remotely like this before. No one had. He was always such a placid, level-headed man. Michael’s face was distorted by fury. Then he too froze, almost as though a shock had passed through him. ‘We’ll discuss this if we ever get out of here alive,’ he spat. And Miguel and Craig could see the older Xavier’s fingers whiten as his grip tightened about Johnny’s throat. For the second time in a minute, Johnny was choking, his face darkening. Then Michael let his hand fall. He stepped back, turned, and without a word headed towards the small group of survivors gathered close to the centre of the ballroom.

  27

  Pacific Ocean, Fiji

  The Big Mac floated stationary, directly above the Neptune Hotel. Mai and Pete had just left the flight deck to suit up when the comms sounded. Mark was sitting at the main control panel and looked up as Tom’s face appeared on the screen in front of him.

  ‘Tom. What’s happenin’?’

  ‘I don’t want to worry anyone unduly, but we have a problem.’

  Mark stared at him, saying nothing.

  ‘Josh and Steph haven’t made their last two designated call-ins.’

  Mark looked down at the control panel and ran a hand over his cropped hair. ‘You checked with BigEye?’

  ‘No sign of them. The last comm was from Josh a while after taking off from Polar Base. He sent through their flight plan. That was almost an hour ago.’

  ‘And the flight plan was pretty clear?’

  ‘Yeah. What you’d expect – a course almost directly east and then south, avoiding anything controversial.’

  Mark stared at the flight plan Tom had sent over and ran calculations through his head. ‘I take it Josh was flying.’

  ‘Yep.’

  Mark sighed. ‘You thinking what I’m thinking?’

  ‘Probably, dude.’

  Mark sighed again, heavily, then brought his hand down hard on the plastic panel, making Tom flinch. ‘Fantastic, Josh. Thanks buddy.’

  ‘That might be jumping to conclusions.’

  ‘Bullshit.’

  Tom fell silent.

  ‘Could they be deliberately blocking the BigEye’s detection frequencies? Trying to play hide-and-seek to stop us realising what damn fools they’re being?’

  Tom looked surprised. ‘It’s possible, I guess. But there’s one other thing you should know, Mark.’

  The team leader looked into Tom’s face.

  ‘I’ve lost their life signs. At best, their cybersuits are down.’

  28

  The Narcis and its twin, the Drebbel, were submarines like no other. In the days of E-Force’s conception, when Mark Harrison had sat down with a team of engineers and designers from CARPA and thrashed out what would be needed by a rescue team, a super sub was close to the top of the wish list. After all, it made sense. The earth’s surface is 71 per cent ocean, so there was a strong possibility the team would have to make underwater rescues pretty frequently.

  The Narcis, sitting closest to the exit of the cargo bay in the bowels of the Big Mac, was named after the man who built the first submarine – the Catalan engineer and political radical, Narcis Monturiol. Twenty-five metres in length, it could carry a crew of six and, in an emergency, transport 23 passengers. However, if required, it could also be operated by a single submariner. Nuclear powered, the Narcis had a top speed of over 100 knots and could stay submerged indefinitely. It was incredibly manoeuvrable, and thanks to the carbonanotubes used in the honeycomb structure of its hull, the sub was capable of descending 4000 metres beneath the surface. It was transported in the cavernous hold of the Big Mac and was now poised, ready for launch.

  Mai was in the pilot seat, Pete in the navigator’s station beside her. The control modules of the Narcis were similar to those of the Silverbacks and the Big Mac. In front of Mai and Pete stood two long plastic panels. There were no switches or dials on the modules, just shifting patterns of light. Numbers and symbols flashed across the surface. In front of the pilot and navigator was a large holographic projection unit which produced a high-definition 3D image that floated above the control module. On the front wall, a screen projected images of the outside of the submarine taken from a dozen different microcameras dotted around the hull of the craft.

  Mai ran her fingers over the guidance module, making last-minute checks. When she was satisfied, she glanced up at the screen. ‘All systems green,’ she said.

  ‘Copy that, Mai,’ Mark said from the flight deck of the Big Mac and he instructed the computer to open the main exit to the cargo hold.

  Mai and Pete watched as the huge steel door lowered outwards slowly, forming a ramp from the end of the aircraft to the surface of the water. The submarine stood on a mechanical sled. Mai touched the controls and it began to slide forward, picking up speed as it went. In a moment, the Narcis reached the end of the ramp and slid smoothly into the water. Mai glided the sub into a sharp descent and made a quarter turn to bring it onto the pre-designated course to the hotel.

  ‘ETA 83 seconds,’ Mai announced. ‘I’m going to take h
er straight down to Dome Alpha. Any updates from the Hunter, Mark?’

  ‘The docking bay at the base of Alpha is pretty badly damaged. The sensors on the Hunter haven’t managed to get a clear image because the water is churned up and the dock has been covered with debris and sediment. But you couldn’t have used it anyway.’

  ‘Why?’

  As an answer, he sent over a schematic of the hotel. ‘Close in on the dock,’ he said.

  Mai honed in on the lowest level of Dome Alpha, the docking bay. Pete came and stood beside her chair. She adjusted some controls and the 2D schematic was transferred to the holoscreen. It appeared as a set of green lines and shaded areas. They could both see that the door to the outer lock opened into a large cylindrical passage.

  ‘Specially designed submarines from Suva travel through the doors into the opening,’ Mark said. ‘The outer door closes and the pressure differential is adjusted. A second docking station extends out from the far wall of the cylinder and hooks up with the nose of the sub. Passengers emerge through a short passageway into a pressurised inner lock. From there, an elevator takes them to the ground floor of Alpha and on to Reception. So, the dock is useless,’ he concluded. ‘It’s all been designed to operate only with compatible components.’

  Pete and Mai stared in silence at the image on the screen. Then Mai said, ‘There must be a universal dock ... in case of emergencies.’

  ‘There is,’ Mark responded. ‘It’s round the other side of the dome under the linkway to Beta. Head straight there. It’s your best chance of getting into the hotel.’

  For the next minute there was silence over the comms. Then Pete’s voice cut through. ‘We’re at 96 metres, Mark,’ he said. ‘Heading south towards the linkway. We have a visual.’

  On the screen, the lumpy, distorted shape of the hotel came into view.

  ‘Taking us into grid ref 88976,’ Pete said, his eyes darting over the control panel. He made minor adjustments to their course, then studied the screen again, watching as the hotel filled the view.