Kraken Rising

CHAPTER 42

Sam Reid slowed as he topped the rise, gazing down onto the Ellsworth base. It was much like he expected — a few prefabricated igloos joined by some boxes. Not much shelter for the coming cold, but the occupants were here to do science, not enjoy a winter holiday, he guessed.

Just out to the side, there stood the mini-submersible’s launch silo, snow covered and empty now. Sam shook his head. Only Alex Hunter would try something so crazy, he thought.

He powered down the slope, heading for the main building. Just as he reached for the handle it was pulled inward by a small bearded man. He first looked straight ahead, directly into Sam’s armored chest, then his eyes moved slowly up, towards Sam’s head. Sam telescoped the facial shielding back into his collar and leaned forward.

“You ordered pizza? Hey…” The man’s eyes rolled and he fell back. Sam shot out an arm to grab him. “I gotcha.” He helped him upright again. “I’m Sam Reid, and I’m here to help.”

The still speechless man led him inside, and at the main room, Sam had to duck down and turn sideways to enter. The Ellsworth group of scientists sat in a circle, their backs to multiple consoles and control panels. They all sat mute with folded arms, or tugging at straggly beards. For the most part, their gazes were firmly fixed on the ground, each man lost in his own thoughts. The sudden appearance of Sam had every mouth dropping open. They seemed in shock.

Only one man stayed at his console with his back turned as he typed away. He was furiously shaking his head. “I told you, I told all of you, that letting that Yank hijack our probe would crash Orca.” He banged at more keys, continuing to mutter.

“Uh, Bentley?” One of the team members still had his eyes on Sam, but reached out an arm to tug the mutterer’s sleeve. The man ignored it, and kept up his cursing complaints.

“Did anyone back me up? No-ooo.” Bentley straightened in his seat. “I’m not one to say, I told you so… but, I bleedin’ well told you so.” He threw his hands up, and spun. “Worst — day — of my — fucking life.” He froze, staring.

Sam in the MECH suit probably stood close to seven feet tall. In the warmth of the cabin the snow had melted on him, and the liquid runoff on his external armor carried with it some blood.

One of the scientists cleared his throat. “Hello. We are from earth. Please don’t kill us.”

Sam grinned and held up one huge hand. “Me too. I’m First Lieutenant Samuel Reid, Special Forces. I’m here to help and for your protection.”

“No thanks,” Bentley said, wiping a long, thin nose. “We’re not a military base… and certainly not a US one. We’re not obligated to work with you.”

Sam smiled, knowing that their major funder, GBR, was owned by the US military. He’d hold that revelation back for now. “You already did, by sending one of our operatives under the ice.” He pointed over his shoulder with a thumb. “From out there. I’m here for an update.”

The man who had led him in edged around in front of him. “I’m Dr. Sulley, and from left to right, are doctors Timms, Schmidt, and Bentley.”

The scientists nodded cautiously, and only Bentley’s mouth remained turned down. “Like I said, worst day of my life, and it’s not getting any better.”

Sulley scoffed. “Give it a rest, Bent. You’re still young, I’m sure you’ll have plenty worse days to come.” He chuckled softly, but held up a hand when Bentley shot a volcanic glare on him.

Bentley turned back to Sam, folding his arms. “I’d introduce you to our team leader, but the Yank, your friend, took her down in the probe.”

Sam’s brows rose near imperceptibly. He doubted this would have been Alex’s choice. “Where are they now?”

Schmidt frowned. “Wait a minute, Lieutenant, what did you mean you were here for our protection? What does that mean?”

Sam hesitated for only a second. “Look, time is short, and what I tell you now is classified. Less than an hour ago, the McMurdo base was attacked by Chinese Special Forces. We successfully… subdued them. There is also a Chinese destroyer off the Antarctic coast, and more warships on the way — theirs and ours.” He looked at each man. “There is a possibility they may come here next. Gentlemen, things are getting real hot down on the ice.”

“What? Why?” Timms got to his feet. “What did we miss?”

“Actually, it was what you didn’t miss that started all this.” Sam smiled, and tried to radiate calm to the men. “That tiny signal you first detected coming from under the ice, well, it’s a missing submarine — ours. The Chinese want it. But we don’t intend to let them get it.”

Timms scoffed. “Oh fuck off, that underlying signal we thought was just a background distortion? Are you’re telling us it was a submarine, under the ice?” He put his hands to his temples. “Boom, head explosion.”

Sulley’s lips had been pressed tight. “Hey, Lieutenant Reid, ah, why would the Chinese come here?”

Sam grinned and pointed to the wall in front of the probe launcher. “Seems we are now in a partnership to get down there first.” He laughed at the looks they gave each other.

Bentley rubbed his hands up through his hair and muttered curses.

“So, where are they now?” Sam asked. “We don’t have much time.”

Bentley sat back and then turned around to his console. “Dead, most likely.”

Sam felt the first flame of anger, but swallowed it down. “That’s not what I asked you.”

Sulley grimaced. “Sorry, but it’s probably true, Lieutenant. Orca, the probe, was never designed to carry passengers. Our data showed us that the drop to the water’s surface was 220 feet. The impact force would have been like a car crash. Orca survived and launched, but we doubt anything biological would have survived.”

Sam titled his head. “But the probe survived… and was sending you signals?”

“Sure, signals, environmental and visual data,” Sulley said.

“Show me. Show me everything.” Sam came closer.

“Sure.” Sulley spun, his hands flying over the keyboards, twisting dials and then retrieving video and other data from the submersible’s short voyage.

“Orca was designed to see, hear, and taste the subterranean environment.” Sulley spoke over his shoulder as he called up the probe’s images. “You know, he has the same amount of inbuilt capabilities as an orbiting satellite — probably more.” He turned and grinned. “We did that.”

Sam nodded. “And the probe was undamaged?”

“Well, mostly,” Sulley said. “It didn’t operate as expected, maneuverability went a bit wonky, and then we lost it at the end.” He sighed. “Lost it, or had it taken, more like it. There was something else down there, something very big and very pissed off.”

He reran the footage and Sam watched closely. The film started in near total blackness as the probe launched into the subterranean sea. The resolution was adjusted, and then improved, to show specks of light floating around them. At the periphery, Sam could see larger shapes pass in and out of the cone of light.

“Goes on like this for a while.” Sulley sped it up, the duration counter at the bottom of the screen spinning numbers. “Here.” He slowed it to normal speed again.

In another second or two, the submersible seemed to slide sideways in the water.

“And this is where it gets freaky,” Timms said, standing behind Sulley.

Orca suddenly changed direction, nose up, rushing to the surface. It breached, and Sam’s brows went up. The cavern was enormous and bathed in a soft blue twilight. Sulley leaned around in front of him, pointing to the floor at their feet.

“That’s 2.55 miles right below us. Incredible, huh?”

“Incredible,” Sam repeated, his eyes glued to the small screen.

“A-aaand, enter the leviathan,” Bentley said ominously.

A few dozen feet out from Orca, a striped island appeared and then glided closer. The underwater shot showed a massive head turning side-on, and a gigantic round eye that studied them intently for a second or two, before the thing glided off to the right.

“Holy shit.” Sam leaned back. “What the hell was that?”

“Don’t know,” Bentley said. “Big predator. Our computer estimated it to be about sixty feet in length.” He chuckled. “Guess you just can’t plan for everything.”

The probe then dived, sharply, suddenly speeding up and continuing on down into the dark depths, until a darker cave, lined with conical teeth, rushed up to meet it. The film blacked out.

“Jesus.” Sam exhaled. “That’s it?”

“Yes and no. Orca is pretty tough, and he’s still operational. But we think it’s busted up pretty bad, and maybe, just maybe, it has beached itself somewhere. My instincts tell me that Orca can hear us, but doesn’t have the power to respond.” Bentley eased back in his chair.

Sam sat staring at the dark screen for several more seconds. “Sulley, show me the thing again… where it came to the surface.”

Sulley’s fingers rippled over the keyboard as he rapidly skipped the footage backwards, until the twilight blue surface was in frame. “Here we go.”

“Slow it down.” Sam leaned in close, watching as the thing glided in front of the camera. Its huge orb of an eye hung in-frame. “Freeze that.” He squinted. “Can you increase magnification, and tidy it up?”

“Sure.” Sulley enlarged the image. The eye filled the screen, but was now blurry. The scientist then tapped keys, using a resolution algorithm in the software to sharpen the focus. His mouth dropped open.

“Oh my god.” He leaned back. “Hey, you guys check this out.”

Sam folded his arms. “What’s a mere 220 foot drop to a HAWC?” He grinned at the screen.

In the center of the massive eye, in its soulless black pupil, was a reflection. It showed the glow of Orca’s nose-cone light, and just visible behind it were two diver-masked heads, one looking directly at them, and another facing away.

“They’re alive.” Timms clapped his hands. “Hey, Bentley, best day of your life, right?” He whooped.

Bentley gave him a brief, tight-lipped smile. “That doesn’t really mean anything… now. Orca was wrecked by that thing. If Cate and the Yank were hanging onto it, what do you think happened to them?”

“You’re not really a glass half full kinda guy, are you?” Sam got to his feet, filling the room. He hated hearing Bentley’s snide tone, but hated even more that the man was probably right. Whatever that thing was, being in the water with it was a death sentence — even for someone like the Arcadian. He drew in a deep breath and pushed the morbid thoughts away, staring down at the man.

“You know who one of my favorite military leaders is, Dr. Bentley? It’s this funny looking little Brit guy called Winston Churchill. Gave a rousing little speech one day about never surrendering.”

Timms saluted, and put on a mock voice. “We shall fight on the beaches, we shall fight in the fields and in the streets, we shall fight in the hills; we shall never surrender.”

Sam leaned forward, Bentley shrinking back. “I’d like to see a little of that fighting spirit now.” He straightened. “Alex Hunter wouldn’t surrender, doesn’t know how. It’s not in his DNA. To him, it’s fight or die.” His eyes bored into Bentley’s. “Tell me, why can’t that probe operate?”

“Maybe it can, in parts,” Schmidt answered quickly. “Probably busted up real bad, and the battery is at only ten percent strength — that’s bad. But we still have contact, so that’s good.”

Sam folded massive arms, thinking. He began to pace for a moment, the floor creaking underneath him. He stopped and turned. “You’re running all of the applications and processes concurrently, aren’t you?”

Sulley nodded. “Yeah, most of them. Some we rest, but others are constant background apps. We need them to be that way, so…”

“Shut them down,” Sam said evenly.

There were confused looks and Schmidt sat stroking his beard for a second or two. He suddenly spun to do some quick calculations on his screen. He turned back, eyebrows raised.

“You know, we haven’t tried that. I mean, chemical analysis alone used about ten percent of the battery. Shutting down all non-essentials, might, just might, give us enough kick to get vision back and also pull us into the water.”

Nods and murmurs from Timms and Sulley.

Bentley folded his arms tight. “Great, if we can shut down anything of scientific value we just might have the world’s most expensive underwater camera.”

“Better than nothing. What have you got now?” Sam waited.

Schmidt looked across to Timms. “Do it.”

Timms nodded, his fingers dancing over his console. “Shutting down magnetic resonance imaging, shutting down gyroscope,” — panels went from green to red on his screen — “shutting down environmental sampling, biological sampling, chemical analysis, depth telemetry, sonar…”

“No, leave that one for now,” Schmidt said. “We’ll also need ears once we’re in the water.” He shrugged. “Got to see and hear what’s coming.”

Timms continued switching off applications for a few more seconds before sitting back. “Batteries now up at forty percent — good as it’s going to get.”

Schmidt turned to Sulley. “Okay Sull, punch it.”

Sulley eased back on a joystick. “Reverse propulsion at one quarter.”

They waited. Timms shook his head. “Nothing.”

Sulley eased it back some more. “Reverse at one third power.” He turned to Timms who shook his head, his eyes on his own screen.

“Now at fifty percent.”

Timms grimaced. “Nada, but the battery drain is beginning to hurt us.”

Schmidt nodded to the screen. “Do it. Might as well be dead where it is now.”

Sulley frowned as he pulled back on the small stick. “RP at 70 %, 75 %, 80 %…” His teeth were bared, as if he were bearing the physical strain of the submersible himself.

The visual feed screen suddenly showed a sliver of light as the thing jerked back a quarter inch.

“Whoa! Gentlemen, we have movement.” Timms clapped once, and then there was suddenly a rush of a twilight blue glow filling the screen.

Sulley exhaled, grinning. He turned to Sam. “And we are now in open water.”

Hagel froze, just letting his eyes move over the foliage. Did he just hear something, or was his mind just fucking with him again in this weird ass place? He was sure he’d heard something soft and heavy, like someone dragging a sack over wet grass. He turned slowly. Maybe he was just spooking himself?

There was nothing now — no cricket chirrup, no birdcall, or even the rustle of a breeze in this fucked up ghost jungle. If not for the odd drip of water, and his own breathing, he might have thought he’d gone deaf.

Hagel was following a trail of sorts, but the ground was squashy soft, covered in thick moss and lichen. There were soupy looking puddles everywhere, and everything stunk like bad mushrooms. He continued on, carefully placing one foot in front of the other. He could just make out the others about fifty feet back. Franks was keeping them relatively silent, but still the sound of their movement carried.

Hagel came to a bend in the trail at an enormous fallen tree — its trunk easily five feet around. He paused, listening. There was more dripping. He pulled his scope down over his eyes, switching from light enhance in the twilight atmosphere to thermal. There was a ton of background heat, but mostly everything was cold as the grave. He scanned slowly, stopping as something just off to the left showed a flare of warmth. He approached and noticed a spattering on the ground. Closer now, he saw more spattering on the trunks of the trees. He let his eyes travel upwards, higher to the broad fronds towering overhead, and then switched his scope to distance enhance.

“Fuck me.”

He gritted his teeth and began to back up when he paused, turning to the line of the jungle. He frowned, seeing a natural tunnel formation within the undergrowth. There was something in there.

“Oh you gotta be shittin’ me.”

He retreated silently and quickly. He soon found Franks and held up a hand flat — the group halted. He motioned for just Franks to follow, and then the pair burrowed back through the undergrowth.

Hagel worked along the trail again, cautiously, and then found the huge tree, which he leaned against. Franks eased in beside him.

“I think we just found the rest of Dawkins.” He motioned with his head towards the treetops.

Casey Franks used her hand scope to scan the canopy. About fifty feet up there was a body, or rather a torso, stripped naked, no head or arms, but still dripping blood.

Hagel watched her as she gazed at the body. A low growl started deep in her throat.

“It’s dogging us,” she said.

“Yep, that’s what I figure.” He nudged her. “And that’s not all. Look in there…” He pointed one grimy, gloved finger to the tunnel in the undergrowth.

Casey moved her scope, flicking it to light enhance to improve the illumination within the dark space. Hanging just inside was one of their laser rifles.

“Blake’s,” she said. “Suicide trap.”

“This is too fucked up,” Hagel said. “Gotta be the Chinese. No fucking animal is going to do this.”

“Yeah, maybe.” She pulled back.

Hagel watched her go, and then turned back to the jungle. His scalp prickled. He had the feeling something was watching, waiting, just past the first line of ferns, willing him to enter the undergrowth cave.

“Not today, motherfucker.” He backed away, gun up.