Kraken Rising

CHAPTER 22

Aimee wrapped both hands around the mug of coffee and looked around the rec-room. It was also the meeting room, that apparently also managed to become the bar on Saturday evenings, and was likely to be used for a dozen other activities, as the darker weeks would roll on.

Those gathered were only a few of the many inhabitants at McMurdo. Even though she had been introduced, most of Monroe’s core team were just ordinary military personnel and now just stole glances at her, before going back to chatting among themselves. Their hushed conversation continually touched on the strange soldiers gearing up in the supply room.

Big Ben Jackson threw his head back and laughed at something. Given his thick beard, he would have made a great movie lumberjack, Aimee thought. Chatting to Jackson was a wiry, nervous looking young man named John Dawkins, who had a chipped front tooth, and was their communications specialist. Coming towards her with the coffee pot again was Jennifer Hartigan, a pleasant faced medical officer, who looked to be roughly the same age as Aimee.

When Bill Monroe re-entered the room, the crowd immediately silenced. He walked towards Aimee, but first pointed at Jennifer’s coffee pot.

“I’ll take one of those, Jenn.” He turned to smile at Aimee. “Everything okay?”

“Just like home.” Aimee toasted him with her coffee.

“If home is an icebox,” said Jennifer. “I’ve been here two years, and I dream of warm water and a sandy beach every single damn day.”

John Dawkins scoffed. “She’s from Great Bend in Kansas. The only beaches they have there are on the banks of a muddy river.”

“It’s still a beach, Dawk,” she said with a good-humored scowl.

Aimee smiled at the banter. It reminded her of home and her own office and colleagues, but now that all seemed a million miles away.

“All right, people, we need to get down to business. We’re already on the clock.” Monroe leaned back against a pool table. “I’ve spoken to Colonel Jack Hammerson, and have been briefed at the highest level. What you are about to hear is classified and does not leave this room.”

Nods and grunts of assent.

“You are all now aware that the Chinese have parked a guided missile destroyer in our front yard. In turn, we have a Seawolf class submarine eyeballing them. But to add even more spice to the mix, there are military vessel movements in the South China Sea. Our strategists indicate the Chinese navy might be preparing for seaborne engagement — one guess where that could be. Things are getting hot, and probably because of what’s been happening just over the ridge at the Xuě Lóng Base… or rather below it.”

“They’re mining, we knew that,” Big Jackson said with a shrug. “That’s a UN problem.”

“Normally it would be. They’re digging deep, going after rare earth minerals and anything else they can scoop up. But that’s not why they’re bringing in the military hardware, or why we’re doing the same.” Monroe looked along the faces. “Something a little more urgent has provoked our focused attention. In 2008 we trialed an experimental submarine, the Sea Shadow — a smaller, faster, and near invisible prototype submersible. It disappeared without a trace in the Southern Ocean, just on the edge of the trench.”

Dawkins whistled. “Deep water there… irretrievable, but we should have been able to at least locate it, even if we couldn’t get to it.”

“No trace.” Monroe shook his head. “We looked for months, wasn’t down there, wasn’t anywhere.”

“Haven’t all our subs got an emergency beacon? They’re hydro-automated — sub goes down, the alarm goes off,” Jackson said.

“Yep, but we heard nothing.” Monroe raised his brows. “That was until a few days ago. We detected the signal… the Sea Shadow’s unique signal.” He smiled without humor. “Coming from several miles below the rock and ice, in a designated no-go zone.” He held up a hand. “Don’t ask, because I don’t know.” He lowered his hand and sighed. “This is what we believe the Chinese are searching for.” He shrugged. “Or maybe have already found.”

“And now those bastards want to get it out so they can open it up,” Jackson said evenly, thick brows knitted.

“Hey, maybe they’ve built a hidden submarine cave, you know, like the one that’s hidden under that Chinese island,” Dawkins added.

Aimee dropped her head, her own suspicions making her stomach knot once again.

Monroe shrugged. “Anything’s possible. At this point, there is too much we don’t know.”

“Could there be survivors?” Jennifer asked.

“We don’t know that either,” Monroe said. “But there’s a complication. The regular Chinese mining team has disappeared, and they think we had something to do with it.”

“We? As in us? McMurdo us?” Jennifer’s brows shot up.

Monroe shrugged. “Doesn’t really matter now, the die is cast. But we,” — he grinned — “the McMurdo we, have now been tasked with assisting in deescalating the situation. Us, Dr. Weir, and our friends currently receiving final orders in the other room.”

“Friends? You mean the arsekickers, huh?” Jackson said and shook his head. “Is this gonna get nasty?”

Aimee sighed, keeping her head down. She felt sorry for them already.

“Hope not, but we’ve been ordered to assist in getting Dr. Weir into the Chinese base. Then, if need be, on down into their tunnel system, where we hope she can make contact with the searchers and convince them to give up their exploration.” Monroe folded his arms and paced.

“And if they say no?” Jackson raised an eyebrow.

“Then that’s why our friends are here. But we are not to engage. That’s not our job.” Monroe paused his pacing for a moment. “Look, people, we just have one job, and that’s to establish a line of communication between Dr. Shenjung Xing, chief engineer and project leader, and Dr. Weir here. That’s all we need to do. Then we all go home.” He looked along their faces.

“So,” Dawkins started, “all we need to do is enter the Chinese base, while not getting shot, travel down to where they have descended, which we believe is now several miles below the rock and ice, and find this Shenjung Xing. We need to do this without killing anyone, being killed, or if possible even firing a shot.” He looked up, cynicism in the smile on his face. “That about it?”

Monroe grinned. “Oh yeah, the new Chinese soldiers that just arrived are PLA Special Forces.”

“Jesus Christ, Bill. Those guys will kick our ass.” Dawkins’s mouth curled down. “They’re not gonna let us just walk in there.”

“Didn’t say it was going to be easy. But our latest Intel leads us to believe they have already gone below ground, so the base should only contain a skeleton crew.” He shrugged. “It’s our chance, and we’re going to take it.”

“I’d feel better if someone told them not to shoot, as well.” Jackson grinned. “When?”

“Within the hour.” Bill Monroe looked at his watch. “We need to be there and back before any more big guns arrive on the water. Our job is to make sure they’ve got nothing to bump chests over. We can do that by getting to this Shenjung Xing.”

“If we can get to him,” Dawkins said softly.

Silence hung for several seconds, until there was a loud knock on the door that made Aimee jump. Monroe motioned for Dawkins to open it.

One after the other, the HAWCs entered. Captain Mitch Dempsey nodded to Monroe and Aimee, and then he and his team stood at ease in the center of the rec room. Their size and bulk eclipsed everything and everyone else inside. It was the first time Aimee had a chance to look at the people Jack Hammerson had chosen to accompany her — they were big, nearly all as big as Ben Jackson, except for Casey Franks, who nodded to Jennifer, and grinned, the scar on her cheek giving the smile the quality of an evil sneer.

Aimee saw that their bulky white suits were open and displayed underneath was the familiar caving suit she remembered, the suit she now wore herself. It was a combination of Kevlar thread and armor plating. The black, multiple terrain suits would stop a bullet, defraying their blunt impact, like a modern day suit of armor. The Black Knights of the 21st century, Aimee thought.

Monroe pointed to the coffee, but Dempsey shook his head. The McMurdo leader held out an arm. “Ladies and gentlemen, this here is Captain Dempsey of the Special Forces.”

“Which Special Forces?” Dawkins asked, his arms folded.

Dempsey didn’t blink, so Monroe went on. “Ah, he’ll be leading the mission… under Dr. Weir’s guidance.” He leaned back against the table. “Captain.”

“Thank you, Sergeant.” Dempsey took a few seconds to eyeball each of the regular McMurdo soldiers. “By executive order, you are now all under my command.” He paused, letting the words sink in. “There will not be a war today, or tomorrow. We will not permit it. We will enter the mining tunnels, contact the Chinese team, and allow Dr. Weir to negotiate their withdrawal without interference.”

“Excuse me, Captain, but why would they listen to us? Or anyone with us?” Dawkins hiked his shoulders. “I mean, if they think we, that’s us McMurdo guys, had something to do with their previous team going missing, what are we going to add?”

“Fair question.” Dempsey nodded. “What are you going to add? Why exactly are you people going?” He pointed. “You, First Lieutenant John Dawkins, communications and computer specialist, are there because there is an emergency signal emanating from Area 24. You will be assisting us in tracking it.” He pointed to the hulking Jackson. “And you, Second Lieutenant Ben Jackson, engineering specialist and ex-Ranger — your combat skills may be required. And you, Medical Officer Jennifer Hartigan? We hope we won’t need you, but we may suffer some cuts and bruises. And the reality is, your field surgical expertise might be needed.” He turned to look at each of their faces. “All of you have skills that we may require. That’s why you’re going.”

Dawkins pulled at his chin. “Bill, ah, Sergeant Monroe, will you be going?”

Monroe shook his head. “No, not on this one, John. I’ve got work to do topside. It may get a little choppy up here as well.”

“Great. So, um, is Dr. Weir or Captain Dempsey taking point?” Dawkins asked, but his eyes now stayed on the ground.

Dempsey nodded to Aimee. “Depends on the situation. We get us down, and provide cover. Dr. Weir takes it from there.” He strode forward. “But to avoid confusion, all of my people are in charge. This is my team, and your new best friends. They tell you to do something, you do it.”

Without turning, Dempsey held out an arm. “The friendly looking one to my left is Casey Franks.”

Casey Franks gave a mock bow, the scar-pulled sneer permanently in place. On her neck, curling from under the suit, were angry red tattoos, and pink scars could also be seen. The trapezius muscles on her shoulders seemed to run up her neck to just under her ears. The tough female HAWC’s expression only softened when she looked at Jennifer. Aimee worked hard to suppress a smile at the look on Dawkins’s face.

Dempsey moved his arm slightly. “The big guy next to her is Hank Rinofsky.”

Aimee had heard some of the team on the chopper refer to the giant HAWC as Rhino. Not just a play on his name, because the huge man had a lantern jaw and massive broken nose that gave it knuckle-like lump at its center.

“Then Misters Redman Hagel, Vince Blake, and Earl Parcellis.” Each name was followed with a nod, or flat stare.

Redman Hagel grinned but also stared at Jennifer, raising his eyebrows. He was the youngest looking, and his short blond hair and light blue eyes gave him a pleasant, farmboy look. But there was something behind the eyes — a deadness, and a sliding shiftiness that urged caution. Next to him, Vince Blake was the shortest at about the same height as Casey Franks, with black hair, and a slight fold to his eyes, hinting at an Asian ancestry. Earl Parcellis looked Italian, with a wiry frame, tight shining curls and stubble that was already thick on his chin and disappearing on its way down his neck.

Each looked formidable, and next to the McMurdo soldiers, these were the guys you wanted to be close to if things went bad. Aimee looked again at the empty gaze of Hagel — perhaps most of them were, anyway.

She noticed that Dempsey kept the rank and other information about the team to the bare minimum. The HAWCs were an off-the-books group, and she bet as far as he was concerned, in twenty-four hours, they’d all just be memories when the mission had closed out.

Monroe straightened. “My team are good at what they do and all have climbing experience. They’ll pull their own weight.”

“Good.” Dempsey nodded to Monroe. “Questions?”

“When would we leave?” Jennifer asked.

Dempsey looked at his watch. “In… twenty-three minutes.”

Jennifer’s mouth dropped open, and Dempsey looked back along the group. “Anything else?”

The silence stretched, and the McMurdo soldiers seemed to be locked in their own thoughts. Dempsey began to turn away.

“That’s it?” Aimee carefully placed her coffee down on the bench top and walked forward. “I mean, that’s all you’re going to say?”

Dempsey watched Aimee with half lidded eyes, but Casey Franks smiled her usual sneer-smile, excitement rising in her eyes.

“You’d like to add something, Dr. Weir? Something you feel would assist the group?” Dempsey’s face was expressionless.

“You’ll be taking these guys into a highly dangerous restricted zone under the ice. I know what’s down there, and you’ve read the reports, so you do too.” She thumbed over her shoulder. “But these poor saps sure don’t. How is not telling them going to assist them?”

“We’re saps now?” Dawkins asked, with a grin.

“Poor saps.” Jennifer added.

Big Ben Jackson’s scowl creased his forehead. “Are we missing something here?”

Monroe went to step forward, but Dempsey held up a hand.

Aimee folded her arms. “Well? You want to tell them or would you like me to?”

Dempsey smiled. “The floor is yours, Dr. Weir. Like I said, if you think it will help… either the mission or their frame of mind.” He stepped back, poured himself a coffee and watched her as he sipped.

Aimee gathered her thoughts; conscious that she needed to inform, to warn the McMurdo guys about what lay ahead, but also cautious about panicking them. Her lips compressed, and her throat tightened, as she wrestled with the memories. Damnit, she thought, there was no other way to roll it out, but as the unvarnished truth.

She sucked in a huge breath, filling her lungs, and then let it out slowly. “About five years ago, I was involved in an undocumented mission to travel into a newly opened crater in the ice. There was a missing plane, and the first team in had vanished. My friend was a member of that team.” She swallowed and went on. “Well, anyway, in the course of our investigations, we detected what we thought was a huge reservoir of natural petroleum.” She shook her head. “Wasn’t petroleum. Oh no, it wasn’t anything as simple as that.”

Aimee paced now, pushing strands of shining, black hair back off her face. “There was no oil, and no empty caves or lifeless caverns below us.” She shook her head at the memory. “There was life down there all right, and not just lichens, microbes, or even blind shrimp in shallow rock pools. No, no, no, there was a whole freaking world down there — warm, alive, primordial, and more deadly than anything on the surface. It was a place where we, and our team of apex killers, like these guys,” — she thumbed over her shoulder at Dempsey and the HAWCs — “suddenly found ourselves just another part of the food chain… and nowhere near the top. Of the several dozen people that went into that hole, only three of us made it out alive.” She looked at the ground, her eyes watering. “So, we sealed it off and made it a restricted zone — Area 24.” She exhaled. “And now, ladies and gentlemen, we’re all going back down.”

Jackson, Dawkins, and Jennifer Hartigan blinked with disbelief, and Aimee maintained eye contact with Mitch Dempsey.

“Yes, we’ve read the briefing notes,” Dempsey said softly. “But we are prepared for all eventualities. There were mistakes made, and we learned from them — the first team expected to encounter nothing. We know that to be erroneous now, and have adjusted our methods and firepower accordingly.”

“Yeah, I hope so.” Aimee went back to staring at the ground, hugging herself.

“Wait a minute, exactly when were you going to tell us this?” Dawkins’s neck strained. “And what additional firepower do we get?”

“You get our protection, fuck-knuckle. All you’ll ever need.” Casey Franks sneered at Dawkins. “Welcome to real soldiering, pussy.”

“That’s enough,” Dempsey said evenly.

“And you expect our help?” Dawkins had stepped forward to jab a finger at Dempsey.

Hagel grinned and loomed closer to the McMurdo soldier. “Who said anything about a request, asshole?” He jammed a blunt finger into Dawkins’s chest, pushing him back a step.

“Now wait a minute, mister.” The towering soldier Jackson moved in, and went to grab Hagel’s hand.

In a flash Hagel had spun to grip the giant’s hand, and twisted it around, holding it in only one of his own hands, and forcing the bigger man to grimace in pain, and then forcing him to his knees. Hagel mimed drawing a knife and stabbing Jackson in the side of his neck — a kill stroke. He grinned. “Like we said, we’re all the protection you’ll ever need.”

“Enough,” Monroe raised his voice. “They’re right, this is not a voluntary mission. This has orders from the highest level and is of critical importance to the nation — no, to all nations. Make no mistake, we must succeed, as a team.”

Hagel pushed Jackson away, but continued standing over him.

“Back in line,” Dempsey said to his HAWC. Hagel grinned a little more into Jackson’s face, but complied.

“Sergeant Monroe is right. We will succeed, together.” Dempsey motioned to the door. “Be ready to leave in fifteen minutes.”

The HAWCs filed out, and Dempsey looked from Monroe, to each of the McMurdo soldiers.

“Make no mistake, people; we are all expendable in pursuit of the success of our mission.” He paused, looking for any challenge. There was none. “You now have fourteen minutes.”