Kitabı oku: «At depth», sayfa 8
14. GALLOP ALONG THE ATLANTIC
— That creature has way too keen a sense of… — Captain De Bont blurted out nervously, while the First Officer, meanwhile, reported the data from the sonar screen:
— Bearing one-seven-one. Speed twenty-four knots. Range one thousand one hundred fifty. It’s coming right for us.
— All engines stop.
— All engines stop, aye.
Hector and Kayla stared at the main monitor, which displayed images from the night vision gear. With a storm of fear gripping her chest, Kayla expected to see the ancient predator surface on the screen, rushing to feast on her guts. Hector, meanwhile, was burning with impatience to see it close-up and examine every detail of the aquatic creature unknown to science. He was plagued by the thought that after returning from such an expedition, he would lose all desire to study even four-meter great white sharks.
Henry watched the Captain intently, trying to figure out exactly what the vessel’s commander was attempting to discern on the thermal chart. At one point, he noticed a grimace cross the Captain’s face, suggesting that an epiphany had struck him and he had hatched a plan.
Morgan continued to announce the instrument readings:
— Range nine-fifty. Speed twenty-four knots.
Accompanied by the acoustic signal, the elongated signature on the sonar screen continued to track directly toward the Amphibia.
— Range eight-fifty. Speed twenty-four knots. Range eight hundred… seven-fifty. Speed is increasing. Twenty-five knots. Twenty-six. — Morgan continued, his tone slightly elevated: — Twenty-seven. Twenty-nine!
Shaking himself out of his concentration, Captain De Bont switched to a truly commanding voice, the kind appropriate for a genuine naval vessel:
— Engineer! Override reactor limitations!
The sonar signal intensified and sounded more frequently.
PING!!! PING!!! PING!!!
The range was shrinking rapidly, and the contact refused to slow down its speed, which had already reached thirty knots, and appeared to be its maximum.
— Limitations overridden! — Henry reported.
— First Officer! New course zero-seven-one! Main and auxiliary engines, flank speed! Maximum power!
Morgan was instantly immersed in pleasant memories of the previous year, when, under the keen direction of his charismatic Captain, he had launched live rounds, hitting one target after another. Captain De Bont’s loud, commanding tone seemed to miraculously strip away his fear of the danger. Somehow, he instantly composed himself, grew bolder, and swiftly carried out the orders. It reached the point where Morgan mentally regretted that the Amphibia carried no torpedoes, because he would have eagerly awaited the Captain’s command «SALVO!», fulfilling which would have made him feel like an incredibly cool guy who could utterly destroy enemy targets with a single button press. As he accelerated the sub, the Captain approached and bellowed, just as he did in the best moments of their service:
— I SAID FLANK SPEED, SOLDIER! PEDAL TO THE METAL!!!
— Pedal to the metal, aye!
The rest of the crew stared at them as if they were mad, yet at the same time, the Captain’s decisive and bold behavior lessened their anxiety about their own safety.
The Captain continued issuing instructions, preparing the groundwork for his cunning plan:
— Engineer! Switch roll, yaw, and trim to manual control!
The Amphibia accelerated like a rocket, but even as it approached its maximum speed of thirty-five knots, the pursuing contact had managed to significantly close the gap.
— Captain, roll, yaw, and trim are on manual control! — Henry shouted amid the extreme situation.
Morgan’s voice followed, his vocal cords strained to their limit:
— Range two hundred meters! One hundred fifty!..
The left eye failed when an unnaturally bright light crossed its path. But this did not impede the pursuit. The right eye, blinded by only sixty percent, maintained a visual field of up to one hundred and fifty degrees, which allowed it to navigate without being completely blind. Yet even this eye was unnecessary for tracking such prey. An intensely powerful impulse emanated from that location. It could have been another predatory giant that had immigrated to these waters in search of food. But its territory had to be defended to the last. Such was the natural order dictated by animal instinct.
The source of the impulse was already close. Only a short distance remained.
— One hundred meters!
— Full speed ahead! Full speed! Full speed! — commanded Captain De Bont.
The flashing target marker on the screen moved closer to the center. The instruments indicated the Amphibia was holding a speed of twenty-four knots and continuing to accelerate. Observing the range dynamics between the sub and the predatory creature, Captain De Bont bellowed the order:
— Everyone, brace for impact!
Henry, Kayla, and Hector scrambled into their seats, quickly cinching their safety harnesses.
The First Officer’s voice rang out:
— Fifty meters! Twenty-five! Ten! IMPACT!
The Amphibia’s entire hull was violently thrown upward, like a cork popping from a bottle. At the moment of the hit, a fire extinguisher tumbled from its rack. It clattered onto the deck and slid forward across the listing cabin. From astern came a series of deafening metallic bangs — the sound of unsecured compartment hatches slamming shut, rattling as though caught in a tremendous draft. The walls of the Control Room began to groan. The grinding sound grew so severe it seemed the hull plating would rupture. Captain De Bont, straining and groaning, wrestled the helm with all his might, attempting to reduce the down-angle and restore the Amphibia’s level trim. Amid the flurry of incredible noises, they could faintly hear Kayla’s screams and the First Officer’s shouted obscenities. A tragedy would have been unavoidable if the crew seating hadn’t been bolted to the deck.
The hull gradually returned to a level trim. The Captain continuously monitored the speed indicator. At a certain point, he noticed that while trying to regain speed, the Amphibia could not exceed the twenty-two knot mark.
— What’s the problem! — the Captain yelled, addressing the Engineer.
— We’ve lost the port auxiliary thruster! And that creature has badly bent one blade on the main starboard propeller!
The single, barely-functioning eye feebly tried to make out the outsider. This predator moved extremely fast, yet made no discernible movements with its limbs. It appeared highly unusual. It sensed how quickly the outsider was accelerating, but it had to spare no effort to prevent its escape. It approached from the right flank, attempting to latch its sharp teeth into the belly, but its front left fin snagged something and began to be pulled in. What was it? It felt as though it had not managed to damage the outsider, yet the familiar scent of blood suddenly arose. It was its own blood. It had never before experienced the taste of its own blood. It had never sustained an injury. The only blood it had ever tasted belonged to its countless victims. A creature that had lived for more than two millennia had sustained its first wound. The pain forced it to reduce speed. The faster it attempted to move, the more unbearable the pain became. And the source of the irritating impulse began to diminish.
— It got hit too! — shouted Hector, observing the night vision camera feed. — Look at that. Blood. Like clouds of smoke, trailing behind it.
— Captain, the contact is moving away! — Morgan reported. — Range eighty meters. One hundred meters. One hundred twenty-five meters…
Captain De Bont left the vessel moving at the same speed on its current course and approached the main screen.
— It’s changing course. Range is increasing. Two hundred meters. Two hundred fifty. Three hundred…
The irritating impulse emanating from the outsider weakened but did not cease. These waves tormented it. Striving to overcome the crippling pain in its fin, it desperately surged toward the target, intent on sending the intruder to the bottom once and for all.
— It’s turning around. Range two hundred fifty meters. — The contact signature once again headed toward the center of the screen, indicating the Amphibia’s position. — Two hundred meters. One hundred fifty…
— No one leaves their seat! — commanded Captain De Bont, returning to his chair and scanning the map for the specific point he was aiming for. The Amphibia’s depth had already exceeded eight thousand one hundred fifty meters. The Captain stopped checking the instruments and stared intently at the screen showing the forward view in night vision mode. Instead of watching the readings himself, he addressed the First Officer:
— Morgan, you report the depth level.
— Eight thousand one hundred seventy meters.
Without reducing speed, the Captain increased the negative trim, moving parallel to the slope of the ocean floor. The only thing he occasionally glanced at was the thermal map, to ensure the sub was on the correct course. Hydrothermal vents (black smokers) began to appear somewhere on the horizon. The submarine was pushing its damaged limits, maxing out at twenty-two knots. The contact continued to close the range, but not as rapidly this time.
— Eight thousand two hundred meters.
— What’s the range?
— Range one-thirty. Depth eight thousand two hundred fifty.
The Captain continued leading the Amphibia deeper.
Morgan blindly followed his commander’s demands, without reflecting on the true objective. For the first time in twenty-two years, Kayla instinctively began reciting the Lord’s Prayer, though she only vaguely remembered the contents of the words. Hector remained glued to the screen, trying to make out details of the pursuing predator. However, this was highly difficult due to the large stream of bubbles emanating from the damaged propellers, which were being spun by a strong flow of compressed air. Henry was the only one who suspected the Captain’s intentions involved an unhealthy and extremely unjustified risk.
— Eight thousand three hundred. Eight thousand three hundred fifty.
The Amphibia passed over the junction of tectonic plates. Hydrothermal vents boiled, flashing by on either side, one after another. Dozens of jets of superheated air erupted from the depths into the ocean.
— Eight thousand four hundred. — The moment arrived when Morgan looked at the instrument readings with a shudder. Goosebumps covered his entire body. A slight tremor ran across his shoulders. — Eight thousand four hundred fifty. Captain, we’re nearing crush depth.
Maintaining an unperturbed expression, Captain De Bont glanced at the thermal map once more and said loudly:
— Morgan, stow it! I asked for the depth!
Morgan felt a lump rise in his throat. Swallowing with difficulty, he voiced the maximum permissible depth the Amphibia’s hull was rated for, according to the designers:
— Eight thousand five hundred.
The twenty-six-meter predator was not falling behind. Not as quickly, perhaps, but it continued to close the range, which had already shrunk to seventy meters.
The hydrothermal vents grew more frequent, and their size increased.
The First Officer himself could not believe what he was saying:
— Eight thousand five hundred fifty.
The Captain increased the negative trim by another three degrees.
— Eight thousand six hundred.
A noise sounded from outside — as if a vise were tightening. The Amphibia’s speed slid to nineteen knots. Fifty meters separated the stern from the underwater monster.
— Eight thousand six hundred fifty.
They say «nerves of steel.» Anyone who was next to Captain De Bont in those moments realized there are also «titanium nerves.» The Captain was clearly playing games with death, and the risk of failure, which increased with every meter of descent, instilled no fear in him.
The speed dropped to sixteen knots.
A noticeable tremor was audible in Morgan’s voice.
— Eight thousand seven hundred.
A metallic crash from outside made the entire crew scream, save for the one who was willing to accept such risks for the sake of his objective. Looking at his computer screen, which displayed information about the sub’s current status, Henry yelled:
— CAPTAIN! HULL DEFORMATION!
— Hang in there, sweetheart! — the Captain whispered affectionately, as if addressing a woman. — Just a little longer. Almost…
The hull began to vibrate where the plating was located.
At a depth of eight thousand seven hundred twenty meters, a gigantic hydrothermal vent loomed dead ahead. An immense torrent of superheated air was bursting into the watery expanse.
Speed dropped to fourteen knots. Twenty-four meters separated the Amphibia from the monster.
The moment of truth had arrived! Captain De Bont slightly reduced speed, banked the hull slightly to port, and shifted the trim to the stern, pitching the bow sharply upward. With his next action, the Captain put the sub into the sharpest possible turn to port, narrowly avoiding the hydrothermal vent. The predator, at full speed, plunged into the monstrous current of superheated air, and the Captain screamed at the top of his lungs:
— DIE!!!
The Amphibia moved upward. The depth decreased, and the speed gradually increased. The hull stopped shuddering, and Morgan continued, his voice trembling, but now with relief:
— Captain, permission to confess.
— Confess what?
— I’m a coward.
The Captain immediately asked:
— Are your trousers dry?
— For now, yes.
— Then why such a hasty conclusion — Captain De Bont added with a smirk.
Everyone collectively sighed with relief and exclaimed about how their lives had just hung in the balance.
The Captain unbuckled his harness and headed toward the platform, asking Henry to display the holographic map of the ocean floor.
Suddenly, the ichthyologist’s measured voice was heard:
— It’s too early to celebrate.
Moving with a confident, businesslike stride toward the holo-platform, Captain De Bont retorted:
— I dislike your pessimism, Mr. Cage. Or do you doubt my abilities?
— It’s not that easy to kill.
— And you’ll tell me why, of course?
Folding his hands in front of him, the ichthyologist stated firmly:
— When it flew past the starboard side and entered the thermal vent, I switched to the hull camera and saw it in close-up. Point blank. Its body is covered not in scales, nor in some super-dense hide. It is covered in armor plating. Firstly, this explains how it withstands such pressure. And since it is clearly not a Basilosaurus, it is likely it lacks internal air cavities. This also supports its resilience to extreme pressure. And secondly, armor of that magnitude could well protect it from the high temperature. At least for a few seconds, long enough for it to escape the thermal vent.
— You are slow to discover everything — the Captain said indignantly.
Their dialogue was interrupted by the First Officer’s anxious voice:
— Captain, contact activity to port! Bearing two-zero-nine. Range four hundred fifteen meters. Speed THIRTY KNOTS!!!
Stunned, Captain De Bont glued himself to the screen and, without taking his eyes off the flashing signature, addressed the ichthyologist:
— Mr. Cage, I understand why it’s still alive. But perhaps you can tell me why this thing is so invigorated?
Hector maintained a calm tone:
— Nothing surprising. It was moving slowly because of the bleeding wound. The thermal vent cauterized it. The blood flow has stopped, so it’s acting as if it’s on a stimulant.
The Captain once again switched to his loud, commanding voice, returning to his seat and securing his harness:
— Everyone stay put! Morgan, what is the depth?
— Eight thousand three hundred seventy meters!
— Watch the range! — The Captain closed his eyes, took a deep breath, and found the strength to pronounce: — Prepare for collision. The creature will catch us.
Simultaneously, Captain De Bont squeezed the maximum twenty-two knots out of the damaged propellers, pitching the bow upward by twenty degrees. The Amphibia was ascending, striving to avoid exceeding crush depth in case of system failure.
— One hundred fifty meters!
The Captain’s final words plunged the crew into the brutal reality that awaited them in the next minute. Only Hector Cage was spared such thoughts. In fact, he barely registered the Captain’s words. All his attention was focused on the ancient monster pursuing the sub, which in appearance closely resembled a Basilosaurus — a prehistoric cetacean predator. But it was not. This deep-ocean dweller was five meters longer, possessed an extra fin above its head, and had armor plating comparable to genuine battle armor. It didn’t even move its four legs, which resembled the flippers of sea turtles. The snake-like movements of its long spine in the vertical plane gave it insane speed. It was closing on the Amphibia effortlessly. The Captain had warned the crew what to expect. His «underwater bird» was damaged, and its top speed had dropped by a full thirteen knots, while this creature required no energy or propellers to accelerate from a standstill to higher speeds.
— One hundred meters!
Hector looked directly at the screen, where the predator’s sharply discernible outlines were now visible through the aft night vision camera.
— Fifty meters!
— COME ON, YOU BEAUTY! — Captain De Bont bellowed, pleading with the Amphibia not to give up and to gain speed. But twenty-two knots on the indicators was her absolute limit.
— Twenty-five meters! Ten!..
There it was — the outsider, fleeing, not moving a single part of its body, only releasing a stream of bubbles from the rear, where some round object spun without cease. This irritated it.
The wound no longer pained it severely. It could have rammed the stern with its snout, but it decided to dispense with formalities and engage in a full-fledged fight. It swam another fifteen meters forward, then dove headfirst. Its body coiled as tightly as its skeleton would permit. The spring was taut. A wide, powerful tail rushed directly toward the center of the outsider’s hull, cleaving the water in its path.
— Twenty-five meters! Ten! IMPACT!!!
It felt as if the Amphibia had been resting on solid ground when a full nine-magnitude earthquake struck — except all that power was concentrated on one specific point, leaving the Amphibia like a building whose foundations had been ripped away.
Sparks rained down across the Control Room. Everything not bolted down flew violently around the cabin. The hull plating shuddered once more. The crew’s panicked screams were drowned out by the noise of the sub’s deforming hull. From deeper within the vessel came the loud, ringing sounds of unsecured compartment doors slamming shut.
BAM!!! — another impact. This time, on the starboard side closer to the bow.
The Engineer’s chair ripped free of its mounting. Henry was flung aside like a feather. The sub began to tilt sharply toward the bow. All unsecured objects hurtled downward, past the Control Room. Henry and his chair were trapped in the passageway between the Control Room and the ladder leading to the main hatch. His harness snagged on a steel pipe. The buckle was jammed. The Engineer looked up and saw the door to the women’s stateroom dangling from a single hinge. It seemed poised to succumb to gravity and crash down directly onto his head. Captain De Bont unfastened his own harness and leaped across the passage to the opposite side where the Engineer was suspended. The Captain pulled the harness straps outward, creating space for Henry to crawl free of the chair, which he began to do, scrambling his legs in a panic, when suddenly…
BAM!!!
Yet another impact, which sent Henry flying from the chair due to inertia. Clinging to a section of the hull with one hand, the Captain managed to grab Henry at the last second, preventing him from hitting his head again. The stateroom door ripped from its final hinge and hurtled downward like a cannonball. Captain De Bont shoved Henry away from him with all his strength. The Engineer tumbled into the relative shelter of the workspace, away from the passageway. Pushing the Engineer, the Captain himself felt intense pressure on his body, flattening himself against the inner hull plating. Spinning with monstrous velocity, the loose door flew down the passage, thunderously scraping the floor, ceiling, and walls, which had lost their habitual orientation and been transformed into a vertical chute.
— POWER TO ZERO!!! — the Captain yelled.
Henry began scrambling up the wall, like a rock climber, making his way toward the reactor’s central control panel. Ripping off the cover, he panicked, momentarily unable to locate the fabled red button — the kind that launches nuclear bombs for some, but cuts the power for others.
The subsequent impact struck the stern and was much weaker. But it was enough to prevent the Engineer from hitting the button. With a groan, he gripped the edge of the control panel with his last ounces of strength. The submarine shuddered, and the lights died. Screens stopped relaying external images. All lights extinguished. Every compartment was plunged into deep darkness. Hearts hammered faster. Breathing quickened. The fear continued to swell. Robbed of their sight, all crew members listened intently to the sounds. The engines had stalled. A crazy vibration coursed through the hull. By feel alone, everyone understood the hull was smoothly changing orientation. A sound of rolling equipment and a slamming door could be heard somewhere in the bow. As soon as the vibration subsided, loud, adrenaline-fueled gasps became clearly audible in the Control Room.
Every crew member was clinging tightly to whatever they could grasp. The submarine continued to shift its attitude. By the direction of gravity, it was becoming clear that the deck was settling back into being the deck, and the ceiling the ceiling.
Feeling his body no longer being pulled into the abyss that the passageway had become, Captain De Bont released his grip and leaned onto the deck, which was still at a slight angle. Trying to keep his voice as quiet as possible, the Captain said:
— Morgan?
— Captain?
— Status report?
— I’m fine. Alive
— Good. Mr. Cage?
— I’m okay.
— Miss Fox?
— I’m intact — Kayla croaked with a groan.
— Henry?
— Operational.
With that, Captain De Bont inhaled as deeply as his lungs would allow.
— I think it’s gone — the First Officer whispered.
The absolute silence was shattered by a sharp jolt. The impact originated somewhere in the bow section. The hull plating shuddered. The stern was suddenly pulled sharply downward. The sub continued its rapid descent and tilt, which concluded with a palpable crash that resonated evenly throughout the vessel, accompanied by a chorus of shouts and curses.
When the chaos subsided, no further hull movement was detectable. The Amphibia rested firmly on the seafloor, listing slightly to one side.
The voice of the onboard computer echoed through the cabin:
— Initiating emergency power.
A faint red light flooded the compartments. Subconsciously, the color red is hardwired into humans to evoke associations with blood, harm, and danger — a direct threat to life. In that moment, the crew was experiencing a true, maximum-possible threat.
Gradually, the red light began to transition to the working lights. The Control Room began to fill with the sounds of systems slowly coming online. The low hum of operational equipment resumed everywhere.
