Beyond the viewscreen curling around Razak, the sea bed and coral reefs became clear as the starjet’s nose sank beneath the ocean spume. He heard ice cracking all around. The craft began tilting. Razak slipped off the console and came to rest in the footwell below Molotov, who hung above him like meat on a butcher’s rack, his seatbelt holding him in place, eyes feverish, veins bulging across his neck and forehead, teeth gritted.
Frozen water rushed into the starjet and flooded across Razak, seeping into his suit, burning like boiling acid. The searing ocean water rose past his ears in seconds, his body becoming semi buoyant, his lungs spasming at the excruciating icy shock, breaths too quick and shallow to draw sufficient air. He heard tearing sounds. From the corner of his eye he could just make out a warhorse mauling its way through the galley, ripping apart lockers, shredding the metal and shedding their contents.
Molotov concentrated on using his warhorse to rip through the galley lockers with all its might, desperate to save his friend, who only had seconds left before the rushing ocean swell would cover his face. When he was done saving Razak, he’d rip through Aleksi. He’d tear him limb from limb.
The water was already around Razak’s cheeks and nose, his panicked breaths spluttering, his eyes bulging with terror, the foaming water gushing ever faster. A few more terrified spluttering breaths and Razak went under. Molotov’s heart beat like a hammer on an anvil, his brain igniting with rage. He guided his warhorse, instructing it to shred the galley with indiscriminate fury.
He looked back at Razak. The man belched a cascade of bubbles and his chest spasmed. Then his eyes drifted, a final bubble rising. Molotov hung, tears dropping into the rising water, staring helplessly at his lifeless friend.
Becca jumped into the frigid water and hauled Razak to the surface. She opened his mouth and blew air past his pallid lips. Nothing. She pumped his chest and blew again. The starjet was sinking fast, there was no chance of performing CPR in a sinking ship. She swam on her back, one arm hooked around Razak, holding his chin above the water. She dragged him through the hold, across the loading ramp and onto the ice. She quickly scrambled to her knees, muscles cramping with cold, and tilted Razak’s head back. A mushroom of flame blossomed beside her, sending her barrelling through the air and skidding across the ice.
She rolled and pushed up, coughing, gagging on the smell of singed hair. Fiery lights popped and blossomed through her blurred vision, ears ringing a defending solitary note. Clarity swirled in and she saw a warhorse firing a barrage of rockets at Aleksi, who was bounding up the temple steps. Aleksi emerged from a gout of flame and fired at the ice beneath the attacking machine, at once dunking it into the water. The machine hooked its arms over the ice, its back legs working like an outboard motor, kicking to stay aloft. Becca looked towards Razak’s body, crumpled on the ice, then towards the sinking jet. Molotov was still alive.
She staggered towards the jet which, in a state of unbelief, she’d watched slam into the mountain before sliding down its flank and crunching through the ice. The craft’s submerged port thruster was still firing, drilling the ship beneath the ice, propelling it ever deeper. Becca dove into the sinking starjet and powered for the galley, ignoring the icy agony cooking her limbs. The water was almost to the roof, bobbing with survival rations, flares and medical supplies.
She discarded her sodden welding gloves, took a breath, dived down and came up in the cockpit. She quickly unfastened Molotov, who splashed down on top of her. She pushed him under the water and angled him through the sunken galley. The pair popped up in the hold and she dragged him towards the ramp, the starjet slipping in the opposite direction, her arms and legs so cold they barely functioned. Daylight blossomed around them as the starjet slipped overhead and sank below the ice, swirling the water and spinning them round.
Becca kicked furiously against the current and dragged Molotov on his back towards the edge of the ice sheet, her fingers were almost locked solid now. She reached up with her free hand, uselessly clawing the surface of the ice, slippery like greased glass, impossible to grip.
“P… p… plea…”
High on the temple steps she saw Aleksi summit. He screamed something about feeding time, then disappeared into the dark pyramid. At that same moment metal arms hooked around Becca and dragged her out of the water. She clung to Molotov’s hulking frame and they came out together, sliding across the ice like murdered seals.
Shivering uncontrollably, Becca scrabbled for Molotov’s pistol at his waist.
“C… come… on…”
Her hands weren’t working. She raised them up, shivering so fiercely she inadvertently punched her own numb face. Wincing, she breathed warm air across her fingertips. Mobility returned slightly. Shakily, she drew the pistol from Molotov’s holster. She slid the toggle to the explosive setting with her teeth, lay on the ice and aimed for the golden locking wheels to the right of the temple entrance. She was shaking so aggressively the first shot missed badly. It exploded through one of the ancient statues at the foot of the stairs, blasting it to pieces in a ball of flame.
“Wh… whoops… c… c… come on…”
She aimed down the shaking sights, lifted the weapon so it was aimed high, then fired a shot that landed almost perfectly. An explosion sent out a shockwave that blasted across the wheels, spinning them wildly. She peered down the sights long enough to see the great stone door sliding shut. Then her strength gave out and she dropped face forwards, breath steaming off the ice.
“I h…hope you s.. starve and r… rot.”
Cover of Darkness
D ark clouds were rolling across the ice, full with flurrying snow. The numbness in Becca’s toes and fingers was becoming replaced with a throbbing sensation that squeezed painfully with each beat of her heart. She and Molotov were slumped against the first stair leading to the temple, thawing in a halo of warmth shed by a warhorse burning at their feet. Molotov had used his warhorse to crack open either Scarlet or Fang’s warhorse like an egg, Becca couldn’t tell which. He’d then used the sparking carcass to ignite a gathering pool of oils and fluids. Now, a mangle of metal, plastics and carbon fibre crackled hotly at their feet, shedding black smoke that swirled in the wind, occasionally wafting across the pair, who spluttered and choked, too cold to escape the noxious fumes.
The burning warhorse’s clear domed head exploded and flames licked up from inside the machine’s neck. The exposed antennae and other scanning equipment wilted. Only two warhorses were operational now. The first was facing the temple in case Aleksi managed to escape his tomb. The second was salvaging items from the debris floating above the sunken starjet. Becca watched as the robot swatted at ration packets swirling in the icy pool, which flashed with blue light, lit by the starjet’s faltering engine.
“Looks almost magical,” she muttered.
The encroaching clouds steadily breached their position, blocking the sun and delivering soupy gloom. All too soon, the starjet’s last remaining engine cut out and the only light was coming from the fire, which lit the falling snow, making Becca feel she was at the mercy of an enchanted realm, lost to the grip of an ancient evil. Becca turned to Molotov. His eyes swivelled to face her and his cheek muscle twitched, but his head and limbs remained static. The paralysing neurotoxin in his bloodstream was still in full effect.
“We’re gonna be okay,” she said, gazing towards Razak’s body, which Molotov’s warhorse had laid gently on the temple step behind them. “We’re gonna see them again, Schweighofer, Reece, all of them.”
Molotov closed his eyes and forced a grunt. Becca lifted an arm and flexed her fingers. The deathly whiteness in her skin was returning to a healthy shade of pink. Here and there she saw flecks of dark blue, a sure indicator she’d come within an inch of succumbing to irreversible frostbite. After a brief period checking herself over and massaging potential trouble spots, then also massaging Molotov’s hands through his gloves, she felt just about strong enough to stand up.
She wa
nted to find something to cover Razak’s body. She’d then gather the salvaged supplies, power up the fuel tank and turn on the heating systems. She and Molotov could hole up there until either Reece worked out how to get back to them or they worked out how to find him. Then, together, they’d figure a plan to get home. She didn’t want to think too hard about the latter part, as with the starjet being crashed on the ocean floor, the way things stood, home seemed an unreal possibility. The actual reality of their predicament was far too scary to face outright, but she’d been here before, on the edge of extinction, and was fully aware how deep she needed to dig to survive. Turning to worry and gloom would seal her fate for sure. She couldn’t let herself dwell on things she couldn’t change.
“One bite at a time,” she urged. “It’ll come good. You did it before, you’ll do it again.”
She gathered snow and covered Razak’s body, then said a few quiet words, thanking him and wishing him safe passage. She thought she heard Molotov sobbing. The wind picked up and she set to gathering the supplies the warhorse had recovered. She opened the fuel tank cockpit and threw them inside, running trips until there was a good haul stored. She then clambered inside and searched the controls for the heating systems, which she eventually found.
“Oh yes, yes, that’s it,” she breathed, holding her hands over the heating vents, which began pumping luxurious warm air. “Oh, god thank you, that’s amazing.”
She didn’t allow herself to bask in the warmth for too long. When she climbed down from the fuel tank, she found herself feeling more positive about their immediate chances. They had food and warmth. Two bites down, only one million to go.
“It’s powered up,” she called to Molotov. “We’ve got warmth and shelte…”
She paused, listening intently, thinking she’d heard movement off to her left. Molotov slowly turned his head, his eyes widening in the firelight. Becca strained to hear through the wind. Gooseflesh erupted across her arms as something in the swirling white darkness growled. Howling hoots went up around the camp, coupled with the sounds of skittering claws, moving with incredible speed, dashing back and forth, the surrounding creatures yipping madly.
“Vipers! How’d you guys get… no sunlight,” she said, looking at the dark clouds, answering her own question. “Those things under the ice can’t see you if there’s no light. How do we keep finding new ways to fail at understanding this world?”
A vicious snarl stole the breath from her lungs. One of the vipers was close, only a few meters away. She span, spotting nothing but criss-crossing flakes of darting snow. Then, from within the maelstrom, sets of eyes blinked on, gleaming in the firelight. She cried out and backed towards Molotov.
A warhorse charged out in front of her. Its chest-plate bursting open, releasing a swarm of drones that exploded outwards, screeching and flashing with multicolored lights like Fourth of July fireworks, sending the dinosaurs scattering in terror.
“We gotta get inside the fuel tank,” Becca said, turning to Molotov. She raced over, bent down and tried to heave him up. “You gotta help me, I can’t carry you. They’ll be back. Hurry, use a warhorse. Help me!”
The Chosen One
A leksi Ponomarenko’s excitement grew as his eyes became accustomed to the darkness inside the mountain. He was growing ever more confident the grand destiny he’d always known would be his was close. Purple light glowed beneath the glass floor. It rippled off his legs and palms, which he held out, allowing the spectacle to play across his fingertips. It moved like moonlight tickling the ocean floor. He breathed in the temple’s penetrating power, allowing it to imbue him with its divine energy.
“I have come,” he said, breathing heavily through his nostrils. “I have answered your call. My journey has been long, but I have arrived…”
Chattering whispers went up around him, circling, ever so faint. He was sure now, there was no doubt. The gods had chosen him to be their champion. He’d passed all their tests. He’d become the giver and taker of life, just like them. Even before the starjet had touched down on this kingdom of ice, he’d begun noticing the faces of the men and women he’d murdered throughout his life. They’d first appeared in the shadows on the Jura island, vague portraits that had always retreated to invisibility the moment he’d looked directly upon them, but their boldness had grown throughout his time in the starcom bunker, imprisoned with the woman.
He’d begun to notice the apparitions hanging ever longer in the shadows, many mouths quietly whispering, like wind sweeping through corn, similar to the fields he’d tended on his parents’ farm as a youth. He remembered the corn fields well, gold and green and wonderous. He’d buried many animals there, foxes, badgers, squirrels, pigeons, deer, that kind of thing. He’d always hoped for a bear, but had never gotten lucky enough to snare one. The animals had been his gift to the crop, precious life blood, nutrients for the young corn to suck up.
Harvest had been his favorite time of year. The corn had tasted sweet, more delicious than anything he’d ever fed upon, much better than meats. This was better because it was all the meats, marinated, filtered, aged and sweetened over time. Each sweet yellow nugget had made him stronger, filled his veins with power. He’d even noticed the rejuvenating effects on his family, who’d been visibly enlivened by the divine food. They’d been oblivious to the source of its power, obviously. The experience had helped Aleksi understand that in order for the light of virtue to fall across the face of the master, it must also touch the faces of the weak. This was an unfortunate truth he simply had to accept.
Whenever possible he watched his mother cook, frequently asking to taste the corn to check it was right before serving. He got more of the divine food that way. The help had always made her smile. Smiles normally bothered Aleksi. He’d always viewed them as a sign of submission, of weakness, but his mother’s smile had been different. Hers had been tolerable.
At dinner, Aleksi had bribed his brothers and sisters for the precious corn on their plates, trading a few spoonfuls in return for their chores around the farm. His father had chuckled and ruffled his hair, remarking what a keen trader he was becoming, a valuable asset to the farm and family. Aleksi quickly discovered taking on the extra work of his siblings made him both physically stronger and allowed him free reign of the farm. This, in turn, allowed him to move unimpeded, so he could better tend his duty to the corn.
He’d continued the ritual into his mid-teens, until it was rudely interrupted by his father, who’d ruined things one April with questions about animal skeletons he’d unearthed whilst tilling the soil, readying it for planting. Aleksi normally removed the skeletons and threw them into the river, but that year he’d allowed himself to become complacent. He’d been thinking about bigger things than the farm, about the world outside and of his greater purpose. Blood-corn was for children. He was thirsting for more.
The lesson of hand to hand combat had been the final lesson he’d learned on that little farm in Slovechno, of the former Soviet Union, now the Ukraine. The altercation with his father had opened his eyes to a whole new world of possibilities. He’d realized his powers had grown beyond the limiting constraints of the farm. On that day, he’d taken his first step towards his grand destiny. On that day, he’d ventured into the big wide world to make it his own.
Due to many years of consuming the divine corn, he’d been stronger and had looked significantly older than most teens. This had allowed him to purchase a fake passport showing an age of twenty-one. He’d then headed to France, where he’d enrolled in the French Foreign Legion, an elite fighting force that had taught him many more valuable lessons. As luck would have it, no more than a week after leaving the family farm, the nearby Chernobyl Nuclear Power plant had exploded. The radioactive fallout had rained toxic death across huge swathes of Ukraine. The family farm had been in the direct path of the worst of the fallout, and the entire region had been turned into a deadly no-go-zone. Scientists on the news had said the radiation wouldn’t clear for tens of
thousands of years.
Aleksi had never been sure what happened to his mother and siblings, probably evacuation and death from radiation sickness, the farm’s livestock shot and buried in concrete graves. The only thing he had been sure of, was that the guiding hand of mother fate had steered him away so he would survive and fulfil his destiny. And now, here on Jurassic Earth, after years of toil and dutiful struggle, his efforts were about to be rewarded.
“I am here,” he called more loudly, his voice echoing through the mirrored pyramid. “I’m ready to receive you. Guide me...”
Figures were evolving from the darkness, misty forms, one carrying his father’s face, the whispering growing louder. Aleksi knew they had come to worship him, their god, the giver and taker of life. The ghostly whispers twisted into voices that began delivering meaning, groups of disembodied souls, each delivering a single word before others whispered the next word in the forming sentence. The words moved around Aleksi like wind sweeping through corn.
“Ssssiiiiit… take up your throne,” the voices rustled.
The evolving figures parted, the rippling light from below making their translucent forms shimmer with chromatic light, beautiful oily rainbows. His whole family was here now, smiling proudly. Aleksi knew they’d come to witness his divine inauguration. They must have been feeling so proud to have known one so great. His skin prickled with thrilling electric trills. The gathering crowds parted to form an alleyway, at the end of which hung a structure that looked like a tarantula, leg joints curling inwards above something that looked like a dead fly.
Jurassic Earth Trilogy Box Set Page 50
