Kitabı oku: «At depth», sayfa 9

15. ENTRANCE TO THE HELL

While the system booted up, Captain De Bont scanned the room, assessing the damage. Everywhere, there were signs of ripped-off panels and shattered light bulbs. A slightly warped structural frame was visible in places. The Amphibia lay on the ocean floor, listing slightly to starboard.

— Henry? — the Captain called out, as the Engineer abruptly moved toward the stern.

— Yes?

— To the reactor?

— Yes, Captain.

— Get to it. And be quick about it.

Captain De Bont then looked at the First Officer and said:

— Morgan, check the bow section.

— Aye, Captain — the First Officer replied, letting out a heavy sigh.

Kayla began surveying the cabin to inspect the havoc the ancient predator had wreaked. With timid steps, she entered the galley. Food left over from the last dinner was scattered across the deck. Half a meter away, Kayla spotted sausages covered in tomato sauce and was instantly reminded of Tucker’s meter-long tongue. She vomited.

Hector paced restlessly around the Control Room, waiting for the night vision cameras to start transmitting images. But as soon as the sonar activated, detecting nothing within a radius of thirteen hundred meters, the ichthyologist instantly lost all interest in the monitors.

The trembling in her knees did not subside, but curiosity and scientific interest proved stronger. Kayla stepped over the threshold of the infirmary and crept timidly toward the isolation ward door. Only upon seeing it up close did she remember that the viewport in the hatch had been welded shut. She then moved to Dr. Moore’s workstation computer, which was connected to the video cameras installed in both isolation rooms.

The process had not yet ceased. The transformation was progressing. Pieces of Tucker’s torn clothing were scattered across the floor. Of his human skin, nothing remained either. The skeleton of the legs, which now resembled bestial paws, had formed a second articulation point near the mid-thigh, in addition to the customary knee joint. Another limb, resembling a tail with a bifurcated tip, was growing from the coccyx. The skin on the abdominal cavity was so severely retracted inward that the distinct outline of the lower ribs was visible from the front. The spine, too, had undergone significant changes; it had begun to curve, forcing the half-animal, half-human to almost crouch on all fours. The hands, tipped with massive claws, had endured further deformation and fused — the index and middle fingers together, and the ring and pinky fingers together. Webbing remained intact between them. The forelimbs now almost entirely resembled the taloned appendages of a raptor. Sharp, bare bones protruded from the elbows.

The creature appeared not merely to be stretching its long, spiked tongue from its maw, but rather to be emitting sounds. The tightly battened hatch prevented anything from being heard directly. Kayla then clicked the microphone icon and deactivated the mute indicator, after which truly bestial groans began to be relayed through the acoustic speakers.

Kayla realized that all the painstaking work in her home lab paled in comparison to this. All the samples she cultivated in her makeshift incubator were not worth an infinitesimal fraction of such a priceless specimen. She inserted a flash drive into the port and began copying the video recordings from the isolation ward camera, which had logged the entire transformation process: from the decay of all traces of the human organism to the emergence of an anatomy unknown to modern science. Once the copying started, Kayla minimized the work window and exited the infirmary.

Hector adjusted his position as the picture on the display changed, showing the feed from the night vision cameras. Wanting a closer look, Hector approached the large screen and clicked on the section displaying the feed from Camera Nine. The image enlarged to fill the entire display. For the ichthyologist, it wasn’t exactly a mystery, but it certainly aroused interest. It’s just too…

— What have we here? — Captain De Bont uttered, having crept up silently from behind, or so Hector felt. In truth, he simply couldn’t hear the Captain’s approach because his attention was utterly consumed by the image on the screen.

— That’s a good question — the ichthyologist responded. — Apparently, another stop on our route.

— We were incredibly lucky. If we had plopped down twenty or thirty meters farther, we would be free as birds.

— No, what is this? — Hector Cage wondered indignantly. — It’s too perfect a shape. Don’t you agree, Captain? Just look at those contours.

— I’d call it a geometrically perfect figure. It’s hard for me to imagine it being natural in origin. But also not man-made. What kind of technology would be required?

While the Captain and the ichthyologist continued to evaluate the image on the display, the First Officer and the biologist returned to the Control Room. No sooner had they arrived than a simultaneous, troubled gasp echoed through the compartment. The entire crew felt a shiver that shot through their entire bodies, from heel to neck. The display was almost completely engulfed by the dark tones of something moving. Visually, it was something between an orca and a sperm whale, yet five times the size of a blue whale, rising from the depths. It was surfacing from a bottomless aperture, at least a hundred meters in diameter. As Captain De Bont observed, this hole was shaped like a geometrically perfect circle with perfectly clear edges. The colossal creature that ascended from the deepest dark created the powerful impression that an entire planet were rising from some abyss on the Atlantic floor. The creature’s vocalizations penetrated the submarine. The deep-sea leviathan’s size was so gigantic that its slow upward movement caused a ripple effect, from which the Amphibia’s hull scraped across the seabed, shifting the submarine several meters.

— Everyone stay calm! — Captain De Bont insisted forcefully, trying to remain standing after the jolt. The others clung to the deck, having momentarily lost their footing. The submarine’s hull vibrated briefly. — Nothing critical. We got away with it.

— Well, well — Hector breathed out, mouth agape. He was utterly unable to contain his delight. How many other living beings lay shrouded by the abyssal darkness? None of them resembled any species inhabiting the upper layers of the world’s oceans. It was beyond science fiction. Who could have known that a single planet could hold two separate worlds with entirely different living creatures? Yet, as mesmerizing as their external appearance seemed, this circularity looked just as alarming, behind which anything might be concealed.

— What in God’s name happened! — Henry shouted in a panic, rushing into the Control Room. — We haven’t even lifted off the seabed yet, and that thing already found us?

— Everything is fine — the Captain reassured the Engineer, urging him to calm down.

Still held by fear, taking a deep breath, Henry asked:

— Captain, what was that?

— You’ll find out. Maybe you can check the video later. But right now, tell me, what’s the status of our «swallow»?

Kayla began to rub the Engineer’s shoulders, trying to quell the adrenaline surge, speaking in a soft voice:

— Breathe steady. Take your time.

Henry managed to take several slow breaths, and when his pulse returned to normal, he began his report in a ragged voice with echoes of subsiding panic:

— I have two items of news — one good, one bad.

— Classic — Morgan grumbled, displeased.

— Just fantastic — Hector concurred.

— My gut feeling isn’t good anyway. Let’s start with the good? — the Captain directed.

— The reactor is fully intact.

— Now «delight» us.

— That creature severely dented our hull. In several places, the dent reached the internal structure.

— Specifically, what is damaged?

— A lot of everything. The main propulsion motor is slightly warped. But the most critical thing is the ballast tank blow system. The number two valve has been ripped off. The number nine valve is inoperable. Six compressed air cylinders exploded. The stern ballast tanks retain only nine percent of their compressed air. Reserves for the midship ballast tanks remain at less than six percent. This volume is only enough for maneuvers, and only temporarily, at that.

— What are the ramifications?

— Simply put, we won’t be able to surface.

Involuntarily, panic burst from Kayla’s mouth:

— What do you mean, we won’t surface!?

Morgan, who couldn’t have imagined in his worst nightmare meeting his demise at a depth of eight kilometers, backed the biologist:

— Are we going to drown down here?

Captain De Bont called for calm:

— Everyone remain steady. Henry, elaborate.

— No, we can technically rise to the surface, but it’s not that simple. To blow the ballast evenly throughout the hull, I could redistribute the air among the cylinders. But that would mean the pressure in them would be very weak, and the ballast would blow very slowly, and consequently, the sub would surface slowly, too. On top of that, under those conditions, any maneuvering would be out of the question. Therefore, that option is unsuitable for us. I’ll have to take all the remaining air intended for the midship ballast and connect the hoses to the stern and bow tanks. That way, we’ll at least retain the ability to adjust our trim. But even if we fully blow the forward and stern groups of tanks, it still won’t be enough to surface at a normal speed. The process will be significantly retarded.

— Stop — the Captain interrupted. Luther fell silent for a moment in thought, and when the initial sketches of a plan for salvation came to him, he continued: — Alright, here’s the plan. Do exactly as you just said. Reroute the air cylinders for the midship tanks to the stern and bow tanks. We’ll leave the central ballast without air for now.

— Captain, what are you driving at?

— Will we be able to surface with a twenty-five-degree trim by the stern?

— We can. But do you realize that we’ll have to retain some water volume in the stern? That will further reduce our ascent speed, and…

— I need an answer: yes or no? — the Captain cut in.

— Yes. We can. — Henry replied. After a brief pause, he asked: — And what are you planning to do?

Taking a few seconds to consider, Captain De Bont put the question to the Engineer:

— If we start both engines and maintain the maximum surfacing speed permitted by the stern and bow tanks with a twenty-five-degree trim, how long until we reach the surface?

— Let’s see. — Henry moved to the touchscreen display and began performing calculations. — Alright. We are at a depth of eight thousand one hundred five meters. If we travel at a twenty-five-degree angle, our route distance will be… hmm-hmm-hmm, a little over twenty thousand meters. To avoid decompression sickness, maintaining a speed of one knot with a twenty-five-degree trim, allowing for margin of error for maneuvers… our journey will take ten and a half to twelve hours.

— Why can’t we ascend vertically at a greater speed? — Kayla asked, puzzled.

— Yes, Captain? That doesn’t make sense to me either… wait a minute — Henry suddenly trailed off, clearly thinking hard.

Captain De Bont explained:

— Because we must evade that monster first, and only then reach the surface. That is why we will move at an angle. For now, let’s blow the tanks and lift our Amphibia. We need to hover over the edge of this chasm. Start the reactor. Prepare for probing. Let’s find out the depth down there; curiosity is killing me.

Once twenty meters above the edge of the circular depression, Henry began scanning the depths. As the probes did their work, the Engineer said, puzzled:

— Captain, what guarantee is there that it won’t track us down during the twelve-hour ascent?

— That is precisely what I wanted to discuss with our specialist — the Captain replied, looking at the ichthyologist, who had been lost in thought until that moment.

— Could you clarify? — Hector asked, frowning.

— Remind me, Mr. Cage, what you were saying about the thermocline. If we assume that this — your so-called «dinosaur» — is truly unable to overcome the thermocline, what happens if it enters that layer?

A look of sudden realization washed over the ichthyologist’s face:

— Listen… It’s entirely possible. We might not need to race to the surface at top speed. It’s possible we could break free of it after only three or four kilometers.

— Right. I want to hear more details.

— The fact is, the ocean floor here is dotted with hydrothermal vents. It’s hellishly hot, so they are adapted to living in the warmth. But if it gets into the middle layers of the ocean… the water there is freezing.

— And what exactly will happen to this creature in the cold waters? — the Captain asked.

— Well, logically, cooling of the outer tissues would occur, leading to impaired blood circulation, convulsions, followed by reduced sensitivity, and then total or partial nervous system failure. Miss Fox, did I miss anything?

— An organism accustomed to a warm environment… yes, that is highly likely how it would behave.

And here, Hector interjected once more:

— The only thing that could skew our assumptions is the armor plating. The question is what percentage of the body is covered by it and how effectively it insulates against sudden temperature drops. But, in any case, I am certain this leviathan must have areas not covered by armor. Besides the eyes, this includes the joints between the limbs and belly, the genitals, and the maw. Plus, this species has probably inhabited this area for a long time, and the organism has become genetically accustomed to this environment, adapting evolutionarily. So, it should definitely feel the difference in temperature. Therefore, if this works out, we can slip past it.

With rousing enthusiasm, Captain De Bont announced loudly:

— Well, let’s put that monster on ice. — Then the Captain looked at the Engineer: — What’s the depth status?

— Almost there, Captain. Two percent left. One percent.

Everyone held their breath in anticipation. The crew was eager to find out the true dimensions of the chasm over which the Amphibia hovered. The display lit up with «100%», immediately followed by the message: DATA NOT RECEIVED.

— I don’t understand — the Engineer muttered, restarting the sonar procedure. But the moment he pressed the launch button, the download didn’t even begin. The same message instantly reappeared: DATA NOT RECEIVED.

At the sight of the message, Hector suddenly fidgeted. He began pacing the compartment restlessly, clearly deep in thought. The Captain noticed this immediately:

— Mr. Cage… do you know something that we don’t?

The ichthyologist remained silently absorbed in his own thoughts.

— If so, then share it — Captain De Bont added.

Hector, looking stunned, jabbed the display showing the circular chasm and began to speak, his pulse quickening, as he himself had never imagined taking this line of reasoning seriously:

— I think I know where the creature that tried to devour us came from. If… — at that word, Hector nearly choked on the lump in his throat. He felt a chill run down his spine. Swallowing, the ichthyologist made a second attempt: — … if the Hollow Earth theory is correct, then my deductions… — Hector swallowed again, sighed, and continued his thought: — If there is a cavity inside the Earth, it likely contains an ideal biosphere for life. It’s quite possible that it is protected on all sides from global cataclysms. For instance, the asteroid impact in Yucatán kicked up a massive dust cloud that enveloped the planet for a long time. The sun’s rays couldn’t reach the Earth’s surface for so long that global glaciation was inevitable. Nothing like that could happen in the hollow part of the planet. It is a physically closed and ecologically shielded habitat. It is in such a favorable environment that each of these creatures can live and breed over a long period, ensuring the survival of their species across millions of years.

Kayla’s mind immediately went to the creature Tucker had become. She thought about other possible beings that might be discovered if the ichthyologist, with whom she shared more than just a professional relationship, proved correct. She immediately asked:

— So what now?

Addressing the entire crew, Hector continued, but now spoke with far greater resolve, without the slightest tremor in his voice:

— If you permit me, I will state my opinion. By getting aboard this sub, I, as a scientist, gained a unique opportunity to conduct research others can only dream of. I have devoted my entire life to ichthyology. My first wife left me because I skipped our honeymoon to accept an offer to go to Australia to examine an unknown mutation of a twelve-meter creature. I love my work and have dedicated my whole life to it. I know enough about prehistoric predators a thousand times more terrible than a great white shark. But even I am scared to imagine what creatures could emerge from this abyss.

— Yes, but maybe this chasm simply possess a depth so vast our equipment cannot measure it? — Kayla suggested.

— You don’t understand, Miss Fox. The pathogen that consumed our colleague may have very well originated from there. Whatever is hunting us can hardly have anything in common with any species that has ever existed in the surface layers of the ocean. I can now definitively state that this specimen has absolutely nothing in common with the Basilosaurus, because the Basilosaurus lacked echolocation organs, yet this giant senses our presence from kilometers away. There has always been a theory that certain forms of life could inhabit the greater depths. But that referred to some simple organisms or, generally, species of small size. Where, in your opinion, would a predator of that size find sustenance? I’m not even talking about the one that just swam right in front of us. The ecosystem here is sparse. Surely there must be a hidden feeding ground, one that hosts an incredibly complex and rich ecosystem. That is their home. Even if some living organisms exist on the ocean floor that they feed on, the local environment should have been utterly depleted long ago. — After a second, Hector remembered and added: — And that disk-shaped object. It looks exactly like a saucer. But who said it was flying? I wouldn’t rule out the possibility that this is a submersible vehicle. In any case, it possesses the ideal hydrodynamic streamlining for such use. Even though I am a scientist, I am forced to propose such hypotheses, because all this must have a rational explanation, but the problem is that no other rational explanations come to mind.

— But we cannot base our decisions on unconfirmed theories — Kayla insisted, directing a pleading look at the Captain.

— What are you talking about? — Hector said indignantly. — We are talking about the safety of the entire crew. You can accuse me of neglecting the scientific discoveries we risk failing to make. But if we don’t get the hell out of here, the world won’t even know about the few discoveries we’ve already made. And there is no moral dilemma here.

— Captain — Kayla said, hoping for his support. — We could dive in at least a little more. After all, we still have a reserve margin to our maximum operating depth.

Henry and Morgan stood aside, simply observing as the future fate of the entire expedition was decided. Dr. Cage’s theories no longer shocked them so deeply after everything they had witnessed during the three weeks spent in the abyss of the Atlantic Ocean.

Captain De Bont scratched his chin, then ran his hand over the back of his head. The crew listened to his words with particular attention.

— I have always made decisions and given orders demanding absolute obedience. Now, for the first time, I will explain my decision. But I tell you straight away — with these words, the Captain looked first at the Biologist — that I do not care about anyone’s opinion. My decision is final. Considering the information we have managed to collect, our expedition has already justified the money and effort spent on its preparation. We have a choice. We can risk going down with the sub, or we can return with what we have. I saw an object too much like an alien vessel; an unknown infection that turned Mr. Hughes into a zombie; and I also saw with my own eyes a prehistoric dinosaur and a marine mastodon ten times larger than any known species. Any intelligence agency would kill for such information. As a military man, I can say that our vessel is not equipped for the situation we are now trapped in. We have nothing to defend ourselves with. We can return with what we have, and then perhaps our employers will reassess their approach and properly prepare the submarine before the next dive to ensure the survival of both the vessel and the entire crew. So, — Captain De Bont said in a conclusive tone, — we are surfacing.

— What about the buoy? — Kayla continued to insist.

— This is the last question I will answer for you, Miss Fox. After this, do not attempt to solicit any further explanation regarding my decision. It is final. As for the buoy… according to protocol, I am obliged to launch a distress buoy. But I am more than certain that help will not arrive. This is the only submarine in the world capable of operating at these depths, and deep-sea rescue vehicles would barely be able to reach us here. That predator will tear them apart effortlessly. But that is largely irrelevant. Something else is more important. Based on my experience, I venture to say that should we be unable to surface, our employers will not rush a rescue. To them, only the information matters; the data collected during the expedition. While our reserves of oxygen and drinking water are virtually inexhaustible, the same cannot be said for other resources. They will carefully plan the rescue dive. Preparation will take a significant amount of time. Even if the rescuers evade the threat and their submersibles do not attract that brute, it will still change nothing for us. By that point, our provisions will run out. But they will not mourn our loss. Rescuers will eventually reach the Amphibia and climb inside. However, they will no longer be saving the crew, but the data we managed to accumulate. So, I could launch the buoy, but it won’t save us, because the buoy was installed not out of humanitarian concern, but simply to know the exact location where they should look for a submarine carrying valuable cargo. We are entirely on our own here, and we can only rely on ourselves.