Dark Hall Press Techno-Horror Anthology
Page 12
“And we have power for a 46,000 ft climb, correct?”
Laura nodded.
“We’ve not used any to steer on the way down—aside from that little bump it’s been a straightforward descent. We’ll use perhaps a few hundred feet’s worth of power to skirt over the vents, and then we’ll have enough to descend to around 43,000 ft. I want to leave margin for error.”
“Nice work. I think Zend’s plan to aim for vent B is our best option. Let me know when we’re over it.”
“Roger.”
Nicholas went back to the observation pod and watched the screens.
The small jets on the underbelly of the craft hissed and sighed in his ear.
“Current depth: 30,066 ft—positioned over vent B,” Laura’s voice crackled over the com system. “Temperature currently at 80 degrees Fahrenheit, a little hotter than we first thought. Cooling systems have been engaged as well as stabiliser-pistons – hull is at maximum resistance. We’re just waiting for your all-clear, Nick. Commence descent into the Hadopelagic zone?”
Nicholas watched the rows and rows of tubeworms waving like a crowd of beggars’ hands. Some of them were eight feet long and crimson; their white lips were their only feature. They shrank away back into their silt-stained coves in the rock at the approach of the craft. Zend hadn’t lied. The vent was wide as a canyon and megalithic—each side its own Great Wall of China stretching beyond sight.
“Begin the descent.”
“Do we need to fire a Chem-Flare down there?” Zend put in.
“No. No Chem-Flares at the moment, and turn down the headlights a fraction.”
There was a crackle on the intercom.
“Down?”
“Affirmative. Turn them down. The inhabitants of these vents aren’t used to light—all the bioluminous creatures we’ve seen are resident to the abyssopelagic zone. Best not take a chance and aggravate something.”
“Gotcha on that one. Beginning descent.”
The whirr and hiss of the jets cut off sharply and the craft remained suspended a moment before sinking. Nicholas felt a shiver run through his whole body like the onset of an earthquake.
They descended for the best part of three hours and saw nothing but endless walls of tubeworms on the flat sides of the vent—or rather the “canyon”, as they were calling it. It was only after this time that Nicholas began to wonder whether the walls were a little too straight. The vents were caused by tectonic plates being pulled apart, but surely no split could be so precise? Against all he’d expected, the temperature remained level throughout the descent—fluctuating by a few degrees but never rising higher than eight-five degrees Fahrenheit. He couldn’t believe it. The earth’s core should be directly warming the vents.
“Almost at 39,000 feet. Jesus...” Laura spoke. Nicholas could hear breathlessness in her voice.
“Keep going,” Nicholas said. He hoped he sounded confident. Zend was silent throughout.
“Wait—picking up something on the radar. The vent’s about to end.”
“You mean there’s a bottom?” Nicholas leant forward and squinted at the screens. They showed nothing but a void.
“No.” He heard the fear tightening Laura’s throat. She was squeaking. “The opposite... it’s like... there’s just space.”
“What do you mean?” He put his face inches from the screen—willing it to show him something, but the pixels started to sting his eyes and the hair on his face bristled at the proximity of the static.
“The walls of the canyon just end, but there’s water below it.”
Zend’s voice cut across Laura’s on the intercom.
“Dr. Pinter, we need to send a Chem-Flare to see what’s down there.”
Nicholas paused. He looked at the darkness on the screen that showed what was beneath them. The nothingness swallowed the headlights as if the liquid had condensed and become an oily mass, slithering over their craft. The hull creaked.
“What’s our pressure at?”
“She can still hold,” Laura answered.
“The Chem-Flares—”
“No damn Chem-Flares, Zend. You hear? We don’t know what’s down there.” Nicholas realized he was shaking. What the hell was wrong with him? He’d never been like this on any of the expeditions he’d previously been on. But you were never this far down before. The ocean bed had been done. Not this.
“Only 600 ft more and we’ll be out of the vent,” Laura spoke.
“Pull up.”
“What?”
“Abort the mission, it’s too risky.”
“Roger.”
Nicholas heard the hiss and judder as the jets on the side of the craft engaged. He sighed and let out a long breath. He wasn’t sure whether it was his imagination, but the screens seemed to brighten as they elevated.
Then the jets snapped off.
“Laura?”
Nothing.
“Laura?”
“Doctor,” Zend’s voice sounded, breathless, panicked. “You better get up here. I think she’s having a seizure.”
“Fuck.” Not now. God, not now. Not fucking now. What the hell is going on?
He ran to ladder and clambered up out of the observation pod. He sprinted through the shaft that ran through the centre of the craft, ducking the low-hanging girders, and twisted open the door to the main deck. Laura was slumped on the floor, blood pooling under her head. He felt dizzy for a moment as the craft started to pick up speed in its descent again.
Then something smashed across the back of his head and he fell face-first onto the floor. His nose shattered and two of his front teeth broke and flew into the back of his mouth. He remained conscious for three seconds before blacking out, long enough to see a man with dark hair step over him and make his way to the console.
Zend looked down at Nicholas and Laura. They were both stupid in their way. All the money. All the research. Everything sacrificed. Didn’t they know what he’d been through? His father had been a Yakuza man, and it had taken him twenty-one years to escape the clutches of his family. But he’d done what he had to do, and he wouldn’t let it be for nothing. It was insane to abandon the plan now. Insane.
He keyed in a simple command and hit a return button. He heard the engines ratchet up, sounding like an old 20th century war siren; a phosphorous green light burst into a ball of flame and sank beneath the craft, illuminating the darkness like a moon turned sick.
“Now, we find out what’s down there...”
He sat back in the pilot seat and grinned to himself.
For ten minutes nothing happened. He watched the light fade away into the blackness like a receding end of a tunnel. The craft followed the flare down. He watched as the cameras showed the end of the vent draw level and then sail above the craft as it dropped into a suspended abyss, a domed underwater cavern. He was below even the hadopelagic zone now—in unchartered territory. The counter read a depth of 41,000 ft.
Suddenly, the light of the Chem-Flare was nowhere to be seen. It was designed to burn with higher intensity magnesium, and for longer.
But even it must have its limits.
Another few minutes passed. Zend became very aware of his own breathing, and the little creaks of the ship. The pressure surged on the meter and he checked all the pistons to make sure they were responding to the increased weight on the hull.
He glanced at the counter and it showed 41,678 ft.
How are we descending so fast?
The hull groaned louder than before, and the craft rocked. The depth counter sped up.
41,700.
41,900.
42,500.
Zend slammed the jets onto full throttle. The gurgle of the engine sputtering to life sounded like a beaten pack-horse. The craft didn’t respond.
Then he knew.
It wasn’t that the Chem-Flare had dropped out of sight; it was that the craft had overtaken it, pulled downward by some unseen force.
The black screens showed only a darkness that flexed a
nd deepened, as if with many mouths.
Nicholas groaned from the floor, unconscious as Zend stared on—transfixed by something he still could not quite see, wrapped in the abyss.
He wondered whether the craft would ever meet a bottom, or just keep sinking, on and on, toward an end he could never know.
Appendix
Oliver Smith, “The Arkenholz Sonata.” Copyright 2014 by Oliver Smith.
Michael Bray, “Implants.” Copyright 2014 by Michael Bray.
DJ Tyrer, “Hyperreal.” Copyright 2014 by DJ Tyrer.
Tim Jeffreys, “Modified.” Copyright 2014 by Tim Jeffreys.
Brett J. Talley, “Workman’s Wages.” Copyright 2014 by Brett J. Talley.
Gerry Griffiths, “Maxwell’s Creation.” Copyright 2014 by Gerry Griffiths.
Josh Strnad, “Nine-Tenths of the Law.” Copyright 2014 by Josh Strnad.
Kierce Sevren, “Autonomous Trafficking.” Copyright 2014 by Kierce Sevren.
Patrick Lacey, “Planet Ruination.” Copyright 2014 by Patrick Lacey.
Joseph Sale, “Descent.” Copyright 2014 by Joseph Sale.
Table of Contents
The Arkenholz Sonata by Oliver Smith
Implants by Michael Bray
Hyperreal by DJ Tyrer
Modified by Tim Jeffreys
Workman’s Wages by Brett J. Talley
Maxwell’s Creation by Gerry Griffiths
Nine-Tenths of the Law by Josh Strnad
Autonomous Trafficking by Kierce Sevren
Planet Ruination by Patrick Lacey
Descent by Joseph Sale
Appendix