Deep Storm

61

"Thirty seconds," the tech at the control panel said. "Maximum buoyancy achieved."

Vanderbilt looked up from the instrumentation. "Hang on, people. This is going to be a rough ride."

Below, the sounds of gunshots had ceased.

Crane looked around. The escape pod had gone utterly still now, and in the faint blue light the sea of faces looked drawn, tense, worried.

"Ten seconds," the tech said.

"Ejection sequence initiating," said Vanderbilt.

Now Crane could hear-echoing up through the entrance tube-the clang of some metallic object against the outer hatch. Over his shoulder, somebody began to pray loudly. Crane reached over and took Hui Ping's hands in his.

"Ejection under way," said the tech.

There was a sharp jolt, the grinding of metal on metal, and then the escape pod shot upward like a cork. Crane felt himself pressed into his seat as they rocketed toward the surface. He glanced down through the porthole but could see only a storm of bubbles, illum-mated by the pod's running lights.

At that moment, he heard a strange sound. It was low, almost at the threshold of audibility, and it seemed to come from far below. It sounded as if the earth itself was crying out in pain. The escape pod trembled in a way that had nothing to do with their rapid ascent.

There was a sudden confusion of shouts and groans. Beside him, Hui suddenly raised a hand to her face. "My ears," she said.

"Change in air pressure," Crane told her. "Try swallowing or yawning. Or the Valsalva maneuver."

"The what?"

"Pinch your nose and shut your mouth, then try forcing air through your nostrils. It helps equalize the pressure in your ears."

He glanced downward through the porthole again, searching for the source of the strange roar. The welter of bubbles had cleared and he could just make out the curve of the dome, already hundreds of feet below them now, its cluster of lights like the faintest of stars in a black sky. As he watched, they faded from view, and all was dark.

Then-just as he was about to look away-an explosion of light came from below.

It was almost as if the entire ocean had suddenly been illuminated. Crane had a brief vision of the sea floor-stretching away in all directions like a grayish lunar plain. Countless bizarre and alien-looking deepwater fish hung below him. Then the brightness became too intense and he had to turn away.

"What the hell?" he heard Vanderbilt say.

The porthole was like a lightbulb, bathing the inside of the escape pod in brilliant yellow. But even as he looked, Crane noticed that the light was beginning to fade. More sounds came from below now: sharp booms and rat-a-tats like a legion of enormous fireworks. He leaned forward again, squinting into the porthole. He caught his breath.

"Oh, my God," he breathed.

In the light reflecting upward from the ocean floor, he could just make out the dome. It had been abruptly blown open, peeled back like a banana. Inside it, he could see unearthly flashes of red and brown and yellow, a furious cascade of explosions as the Facility tore itself apart.

And there was something else: a massive shock wave-roiling and churning like a living thing-boiling upward toward them at a furious rate.

He sat up instantly, grabbing Hui Ping with one hand and the safety railing with the other. "Brace for impact!" he yelled.

A moment of terrible anticipation…and then the pod was abruptly thrown on its side, nearly upended by the force of the wave. There were cries, screams. The lights went out, and the only illumination was the dying yellow light from below. Crane clung grimly to Hui as they were shaken violently back and forth. Someone went tumbling across the cabin, colliding with a safety railing and sinking to the floor with a groan. More screams, shouts for help. There was a popping sound, then a hiss of water.

"Seal that breach!" Vanderbilt shouted to the tech above the tumult.

"What is it?" Hui asked, her face pressed against Crane's shoulder.

"I don't know. But those active controls you were asking about? I think Korolis might have just run into them."

"And-and the Facility?" she asked.

"Gone."

"Oh, no. No, no. All those people…" Softly, she began to weep.

Slowly, the buffeting abated. Crane glanced around the dim space. Many were sobbing or moaning; others, frightened and agitated, were being restrained and comforted by their neighbors. There seemed to be only one casualty: the man who had tumbled across the cabin. Gently, Crane freed himself from Hui and went to tend him.

"How much farther?" he called out to Vanderbilt.

The oceanographer had risen to help the tech deal with the breach. "Unknown," he called back. "Power's out; all systems have failed. We're rising on our own buoyancy now."

Crane knelt before the injured man. He was dazed but conscious, struggling to get up. Crane helped him to a sitting position, then dressed a nasty gash across his forehead, another on his right elbow. The light from below had faded completely now, and the escape pod was pitch black. Crane felt his way through ankle-deep water back to Hui.

As he took a seat, he felt someone else move past him in the dark. "We can't seal the breach," came Vanderbilt's voice. "We'd better hope we reach the surface soon."

"Eight minutes have passed already," the tech said. "They must have."

Even as he spoke, Crane noticed-or thought he noticed-the oppressive blackness of the cabin giving way to the faintest light. He felt Hui press his hand: she had noticed it, too. The headlong upward rush seemed to slow, then falter. A lambent light began to suffuse the cabin, flickering in patterns of green and deep blue.

And then came a sensation that was unmistakable. They were bobbing in a gently rolling swell.

A ragged cheer erupted across the escape pod. Hui was still weeping, but now, Crane realized, they were tears of joy.

Vanderbilt waded through the water to the escape hatch in the roof of the pod. But even as he did so there was a muffled shout from above. The clatter of footsteps sounded on the roof; the handle of the hatch turned; there was a metallic squeal as it was raised.

And then Crane saw-for the first time in almost two weeks-bright sunlight and a brilliant blue sky.