“Thanks,” Reece said, sucking down the air, feeling ashamed and worried he might have lost the ability to think straight under pressure. He’d never panicked like this before. A chilling realization that perhaps he wasn’t ready to pilot the stargo-jet in Area 51 formed in his brain like growing icicles. “I think I’m still a… a bit fuzzy.”
“It’s got us!” Someone yelled.
“I’m handling it,” Robo Yamamoto shouted. “Brace yourselves, we’re gonna have to play dodgems, squash this bug off.”
The craft rolled aggressively as Scarlet struggled to manoeuvre Reece into his seat. When he was in, she pushed his helmet back and there was a click and a hiss as the valve on his helmet locked to the headrest. She then re-secured his harness.
“You good?” She asked.
“I think so, you?” He replied, feeling sweat trickling from his hairline.
The words ‘you’re not ready’ were crashing around in his brain, repeating over and over, followed by ‘you’ve put everyone in danger,’ but it was too late to do or say anything. There was no turning back. It was too late.
“You still have a spare O2 canister at your waist,” she said. “If it happens again, you know what to do. Learn where it is. Becca’s not gonna be impressed if we get back to Jurassic Earth with you in a body bag. No one enjoys the show when the magician pulls a dead rabbit out of the hat.”
“Stop with the pep talk and get yourself strapped in, Scarlet,” Commander Blake barked. “Quick sharp. This is gonna get rough.”
Scarlet pushed off and disappeared overhead, revealing the viewscreen in which a giant leechlike proboscis full of teeth was latched to the Yōgan Koumori.
“I got you, hon,” Fang said.
“Good, that’s it, left a bit, I’m in, I can do it from here.”
Reece gazed in stunned horror as the unbelievable creature’s tubular mouthpart pulsed. With each convulsion its drill-like teeth span, grating against the outer hull. Lights were flashing across the control console, which Reece had no doubt were signalling an imminent hull breach.
“HOLD ON!” The robot shouted, its voice distorting electronically.
Reece gripped his harness and there was a colossal crunch which ripped his helmet from the headrest valve for a second time. The ceiling bulged towards him and the main interior lights flickered out, leaving only the flashing warning lights across the control console and the silhouette of Robo Yamamoto, robotic hands working feverishly.
Reece’s heart was hammering so fast, his mind so full of conflict, he feared he’d lost the ability to think straight under pressure. In the midst of a brewing meltdown, the viewscreen illuminated and he saw they were falling away from a colossal diamond and the smashed, segmented remains of the giant aquatic insect. He pushed his helmet against his seat valve, which secured as the Vulcan drives whined and coughed before spluttering dead, leaving only the sound of the creaking, groaning hull. The dented section overhead buckled inwards a few inches further.
“We need to get to a shallower depth,” the robot said. “The hull’s failing. We need to…”
“Do anything,” Fox yelled. “Do that million calculations a second thing. Work us the eff outta here.”
“Give him space to think,” Commander Blake said. “Besides, Fox, I thought you wanted excitement, that buzz you were so keen on. You got your wish, now shut up and enjoy the experience, billion dollar brother.”
The ceiling crumpled inwards again and someone screamed. Immense pressure was beginning to squeeze into Reece’s ears.
“I think I have a plan.” Robo Yamamoto announced. “Okay, yes.”
“And?” Reece said, still transfixed on the monster insect that was floating apart, sinking like the two halves of the Titanic.
“I’m thinking connect the drive cores,” the robot replied. “They’re polar opposites. It’ll create an outgassing explosion that could manifest a supercavity concussion wave. It’ll shoot us forwards and the resulting flow-through could reignite the engines.”
“Could you explain that to those of us for who English isn’t a first language?” Razak said.
“He means hold on to your ass,” Molotov said. “Here comes the bat out of Hell part. Hell yeah, bring it on baby.”
“Bringing it,” the robot replied. “This may hurt.”
Moments later, a percussive blast belched from the Vulcan engines, so intense it shook Reece’s bones and teeth in their sockets. Then, there was silence.
“Did it wor….”
The skin on Reece’s face suddenly pulled against his cheek bones under the extreme velocity that followed, his vision reduced to a shaking blur, blackening clouds pillowing inwards from the edges of his vision.
Groom Vent
T he Yōgan Koumori approached the underside of the planet’s crust, levelled her plane and cruised through a realm of upturned mountains and tumultuous ultraviolet fire that burst sporadically, dislodging chunks of rock that tumbled into the fiery maelstrom below. As the craft’s self-healing alloys steadily pulled and reshaped the dented hull section into its original form, Reece conjured images of creatures roaming the slopes of the inverted valleys beyond the viewscreen, of mutated crustaceans and shrimp in place of sheep and goats.
“You think that Chinese submantle encountered one of those insect things?” Razak asked. “And that’s what nailed it?”
“I’m becoming increasingly confident that’s exactly what happened,” the robot replied. “I’ve been re-scanning the data detailing every submantle excursion to date and have discovered a flaw in my calculations. I’ve encountered a number of instances of the Chinese referring to non-digital files regarding experimental ultradeep dives, information that was only ever distributed physically, hand to hand. They’re hiding information from snooping digital eyes. My simulations never accounted for creatures existing at that depth and pressure. I never thought it possible, so neglected to include lifeforms as a parameter. I now believe there could be a whole world down there we know nothing about. I now believe the Earth’s core is acting like a star, providing energy to entire ecosystems and habitats, a world within our world.”
“A world within the world…” Razak said, sounding like his mind had just been scattered to the edges of infinity.
“I read this thing once,” Aroon said, “where Stephen Hawking said he thought there might be life on the surface of the sun. He said it’s probably everywhere, literally everywhere. We just can’t see it because we don’t know even what we’re looking for. We’re not using the right instruments and techniques because they don’t even exist in our understanding.”
“He’s probably right. There’s much humanity has to learn,” Robo Yamamoto said. “Me as well, even with all this knowledge at my disposal. I… apologise for the oversight. I…”
“No one could have known,” Commander Blake said. “That’s not on you. Is what is on you is getting us out of there, which you did like a badass.”
“You hear that, Fox? Doesn’t sound like just a robot to me, guilt,” Schweighofer said. “That’s more human than anything I’ve ever heard you say.”
“Eat one, Schweighofer.”
“Are you listing your momma’s Christmas wish list again?”
“Put a sock in that noise, people,” Commander Blake silenced.
Robo Yamamoto extended the Yōgan Koumori’s optical arrays and the viewscreen came alive with a spectrum of volcanic oranges, which replaced the oppressive ultraviolet images from the dense matter sonar. This time the scene almost appeared inviting, far from the Hell-scape Reece had imagined it to be after entering the West Mata vent all those hours ago. Green boxes appeared on the screen, outlining distant objects that were too small to identify.
“Are those subs?” Hadley asked uneasily. “Other submantles?”
“Or those things?” Razak said, shifting in his seat. “You think it’s more of those things?”
“They’re mines hanging from the Groom vent,” Robo Yamamoto answere
d. “They’re protecting the entrance. Unless you have an arrest code, they’ll detonate if anything larger than a football gets within a few hundred meters.”
“A volcano with piles?” Fang said, chuckling. “You hear that? This volcano takes after you, Molo. It’s big, bad and explodes out both ends.”
“Tequila burrito challenge!” Molotov trumpeted. “Unbeaten champion, baby!”
“Really, you still actually going with that? If we scaled consumption to size and weight, I’d easily…”
“Would you two shut the hell up and let our employer finish a single thought!” Commander Blake snapped. “What the actual holy Hell? I’m so sorry, Nori, they may sound like idiots, but somehow they manage to pull it out when it counts, somehow. Please, continue.”
“It’s totally fine, we have time to kill,” Robo Yamamoto said. “In ninety-three minutes Area 51 will launch a scheduled submantle mission, the U.S.S. Pearl. All we need to do is hang back and steal their access code.” The robot’s fingers moved across the controls. An object fired from beneath the Yōgan Koumori and drilled through the lava ocean. “That torpedo will break apart and release a minnow sentry that’ll orbit the nearest mine. It’ll hack into the exiting submantle and relay us the entry code. Providing Aaditya’s surface mission is going to plan, this should be the easy bit. Now is all we have to do is wait.”
Nellis Airforce Base
M aster Commander Patrick Caesar rose swiftly from his station, situated behind a semicircle of controllers and radar operators seated below the windows of the octagonal control tower at Nellis Airforce Base. He lifted his binoculars and scanned the sun-scorched mountains across the desert flats, from right to left.
“Should be coming into view from the east now, sir, from the direction of Coyote Springs, flying at eighteen thousand,” a radar operator informed. “It looks like seven small aircraft, no transponders.”
“Don’t these civvies ever learn,” Patrick grumbled. “I have a visual, I see them, coming into view now. Why do people keep doing this crap? They’re just clearing the Meadow Valley range. Okay, open a channel.”
“You’re on, Commander.”
“Unidentified aircraft, you are approaching restricted military airspace, please divert to zero-nine-zero, confirm?”
“No acknowledgement, sir,” the operator said after a few moments, shaking his head. “It sure looks like they’re vectoring on Groom.”
“Unidentified aircraft, this is Nellis Airforce Base approach control,” Commander Caesar repeated. “You are closing on restricted military airspace. Divert immediately. Respond?”
“It looks like nine aircraft now. They’re flying in close formation, could be more. Signals are merging. They’re heading right for Dreamland, Commander.”
“Unidentified aircraft,” Caesar powered in his sternest and most formal voice, “you are violating a dozen federal laws as we speak and the list is growing. If you breach restricted airspace you will be shot down. This is your final warning.”
“Still not listening, sir. Speed increasing. They’re not backing down.”
“Dispatch a reserve F-22 Raptors,” Commander Caesar ordered. “Advise they use afterburner vortices to down approaching aircraft on intercept. Lethal force at one thousand from Groom.”
“Confirmed. Weapons hot at one thousand.”
Commander Caesar peered through his binoculars once more. The squadron of Cessnas appeared to be descending. He couldn’t see any obvious signs of cannons or ordnance strapped to their wings. For a blissful moment, he thought they were banking and heading to the north, but his hope turned to gut-twisting dread as dozens of objects began dropping from their fuselages. He squinted through the binoculars and immediately understood they were skydivers, or wingsuiters, maybe a hundred of them, all filing towards Area 51. It was an invasion. They were under attack.
“DEFCON three,” he said grimly, letting his binoculars thump the desk. “Scramble all ground security forces, code red. Alert all drone operators and launch the F-217 Nightwraiths. Use lethal force only if necessary, we don’t need a goddamn international incident. This could still be some dumb stunt. Capture and incarcerate as first priority. Detain those skydivers. And don’t let those planes escape. You follow those bastards till the ends of the Earth.”
“Sir, sir,” Lieutenant Mannoia said, holding a hand aloft, the other hand pressing his headset to his ear as wailing alarms peeled across the base. “You’re never gonna believe this.”
“Jesus wept, Mannoia, my sandwich is packed full of dog eggs as it is, what the hell is it?”
The Cradle of the Gods
T he minnow sentry worked exactly as Robo Yamamoto had described. The entry codes were lifted from the U.S.S. Pearl without incident. When the exiting submantle disappeared into the lava realm, the robot detached the tethers that had been securing the Yōgan Koumori to a ridge on an upturned mountain. The Vulcan drives engaged, purring as they propelled the craft towards the Groom vent. The heavy breaths coming through Reece’s headset crackled as they passed through the ring of mines. He readied for the worst, but there was no explosion and no resulting darkness. Unlike their rocketing descent into the West Mata vent, the only force pushing Reece into his chair this time was gravity as they climbed vertically, twisting and rolling as the robot wound them steadily towards the underground lake below Area 51.
When the bow penetrated the blue darkness and the water filling the Yōgan Koumori was drained, a palpable sense of relief seemed to energize the confines of the sub. Reece’s stomach began filling with tingling adrenaline. He tapped a foot to try and release some of the building tension. It seemed impossible to believe they were on the verge of infiltrating arguably the most heavily defended military base on the planet. The surreal sensation was only matched by the day he’d first landed on Jurassic Earth and had seen his first real life dinosaur.
Eventually, the sub broke the surface and they entered a vast underground chamber whose enormous dimensions were cloaked by chunky darkness. Ahead, lights pierced the underworld as though shining from a city of stars across the black voids of the cosmos. The Yōgan Koumori followed a shimmering silvery pathway of light on the water’s surface, which may as well have been the Bifrost bridge leading to Asgard, the cradle of the Gods, where the inhabitants possessed the power of thunder and lightning, and could smite mere mortals in an instant.
“Control, this is Captain Douglas of the U.S.S. Pearl,” Robo Yamamoto said in a thick American accent. “We’re experiencing hydraulic problems with our portside bow plane. We need to scrub the mission and return to base.”
“Authenticate entry code, gamma,” someone replied, an alarm wailing in the background.
“Delta. Delta. Sierra. Bravo. Zulu. Delta. Tango.”
“You are cleared for docking, Pearl. You picked a fine time to throw a spanner in. All hell’s breaking loose topside. I kid you not, Nellis just reported a hundred wingsuiters homing on Dreamland. It just came in, we’re on DEFCON 3.”
“Probably a bunch of adrenaline junkies, thinking they can cause as much chaos as they want without consequence as usual. A stint in a maximum security prison’ll introduce them to the harsh realities of messing with the law. The ground forces’ll round them up. We’ve had incursions before and we’ll have them again, mark my words. Area 51 will always draw the crazies like a magnet.”
“No doubt, let’s just hope it’s not that Yamamo… crap… CRAP! What the… Christ! Dispatch all submantles, the mines have been triggered,” the controller said in a muffled voice, away from the microphone. “Pearl, we gotta go, looks like there’s a breach.”
“I doubt it,” Robo Yamamoto dismissed in his cool American accent. “We experienced heavy weather down there, abnormally severe diamond snow. I’ve never seen anything that bad. I’m pretty sure it’s what damaged our bow plane. It probably triggered the mines also.”
“Let’s fricking hope, route to maintenance dock three. Hurry back Pearl, we need to get you patched
up and back in the fight. Dreamland Out.”
“Lima Foxtrot. Out.”
The radio fuzzed to silence and Robo Yamamoto increased engine speed.
“I’m guessing that little minnow sentry had some bang under its bonnet,” Molotov said approvingly.
“The more their manpower and machinery is headed out, the better our chances. By the time they realize what’s going on, as they race to protect their perimeters, we’ll hopefully already be in the stargo-jet, unless someone’s figured something doesn’t smell right, which is a high percentage possibility. This is the hard bit coming up.”
“Weapons on stun only,” Commander Blake reminded. “Check them before we disembark. I don’t want a single person on that base getting hurt. The warhorses’ll do the heavy lifting, they’ll take out communications and artillery. You focus on the putting people to sleep and keep your helmets engaged. This is it, slugs, this is go time.”
Identified Flying Object
I nside the control tower at Nellis Airforce Base, Commander Patrick Caesar twisted his hands nervously as Lieutenant Mannoia routed the incoming transmission to the main speakers.
“Go again?” Mannoia requested.
“Mayday, mayday, mayday. This is Delta Airlines five-three-nine,” someone yelled through a hail of static and high-pitched engine noise. “We’ve lost part or all of our tail section and are going down, we’re not sure how bad the damage is. We have limited control and expect impact somewhere in the Nellis Test Range.”
“Autopilot’s not responding, Captain. We’re going down,” the voice of a person Commander Caesar assumed was the co-pilot said. “I can’t lift it!”
“Do you have enough function to divert to McCarran?” Commander Caesar appealed.
“Negative, we have limited to no ailerons. I doubt we’ll even avoid those birds down there… wait, are they birds? We’re going down, Nellis. I managed to deploy the landing gear, I think I can land, I hope... Yeah that one, that’s right, start dumping the fuel.”
Jurassic Earth Trilogy Box Set Page 33
