by Steve Alten
Then this Colonel Vacendak fella says, “True, we’ll make it a risk worth taking.” And he offers me money tae rescue yer husband. Good money. Well, that got me tae thinkin’. First off, this entire rescue operation required serious planning and preparation. Second, ye don’t come tae Antarctica with a SAM suit unless ye’ve got an experienced diver to use it. Which means the hole they already burned through must’ve had a diver on-board, which makes me Plan-B, which means Diver-A failed in his attempt… which means he’s dead.
So’s I teld the Colonel, “Look, lad, I love Zach like a brother, but seein’ how I’m the only qualified diver on this entire bloody continent, ye’ll be payin’ me triple fer my services, with half tha’ money wired intae my account before I climb intae that sardine can of yers.” And he agrees without batting an eye.
Vacendak had the money wired intae my bank account before we landed in the middle of nowhere, on a desert of ice beneath a night sky sparkling with a billion stars. I climbed out into minus fifty-seven-degree temperatures and a wind that caught the open cargo hold and nearly blew the chopper over. Two men in orange extreme weather gear grabbed my arms and led me tae a configuration of three trailers positioned bumper-to-bumper to form a triangle. In the space that separated them was a three-story, silo-shaped enclosure. There was also two trucks holding them large satellite dishes.
They led me inside the nearest trailer and through a control room to the central area, which was the launch site for the Valkyrie sled. The SAM suit hung upright on its support post like a scarecrow, its aluminum skin reflecting the portable overhead lights. As the NASA lads stripped me down tae my thermals, a serious-looking woman with brown hair and blonde highlights joined us.
“Mr. MacDonald? My name is Ashlynn Archer, and I’m here to brief you.”
“I’ve already been briefed, lass,” says I, “but do it all again if ye think it’ll help.”
“I’m not an engineer,” she says. “I’m an animal behaviorist.”
25 SEPTEMBER 05:02 HOURS
Sorry, Brandy, must’ve dozed off. Standing inside the SAM suit in this coffin is nae tha’ bad. Sorta like bein’ in a grinding, lurching down-elevator. However, there’s lights and snacks and water inside my SAM suit, and a video monitor that plays movies. I fell asleep watching Caddyshack.
There’s a window above my head. All’s I can see is meltwater and ice and darkness. My helmet is off, held loosely and tilted so I can see the depth gauge, which reads 3,682 meters. Guess I’m nearly—
—ahhh… ! Bloody hell! I jist went intae freefall oot the ass-end of the bloody ice sheet. Cable must’ve caught. Now we’re swaying and lowering through whit looks like a gray fog.
Thankfully, my left knee caught the helmet. I’m puttin’ it on now. I’ll record my internal communications and replay them for ye on the return trip, God willing.
25 SEPTEMBER 05:13 HOURS (Internal Recording)
“Mr. MacDonald, how was the ride?”
“Tha’ last drop near give me a heart attack. How’s aboot ye call me True, and I’ll call ye Ashlynn.”
“Mister—True—we’re lowering you to the surface. Let us know the moment you touch down, and we’ll do our best to keep your pod upright to make it easier to exit. When you’re ready to exit, let us know and we’ll open the pod’s bay doors.”
“Understood. Okay, I’m doon, but I’m leaning. Ashlynn, darlin’, have yer team take up a meter of slack before I fall oot and cannae get up.”
“Stand by. How is that?”
“Better. Thank ye, darlin’. Ye can open the doors now. Activating my night vision. Looks like I landed in a gully… shite.”
“What’s wrong?”
“I think ye dropped me intae the river bed. I jist sank knee-deep in mud and sand. Where’s the bloody sub?”
“Eleven meters on heading two-six-three. Before you head out, be sure to bring the air tanks with you.”
“I’m opening the storage container now. Six air tanks on a sled. Ye NASA folk think of everything.”
“True, don’t forget the fiber-optic cable. The adapter plug is attached to the back of the Valkyrie.”
“Got it. I’m proceeding on heading two-six-three. Stand by.”
“True, you’re breathing very hard. Your heart rate is over one-seventy.”
“Try… walking… through sand… up tae yer knees… in a metal suit.”
“Can you see the sub? It should be right in front of you.”
“It’s not here. Wait… there’s somethin’ buried. I think it’s the sub. Ashlynn, the sub’s covered. Can’t find the arse end tae load the air. Give me a moment tae rest.”
“No! True, listen to me. There’s a good chance they’re already out of air. If this rescue is going to happen—”
“Bloody hell.”
“What is it?”
“There’s water streaming around my legs. Holy shyte, looks like the beginning of a flash flood.”
“True, the tide’s rising. In a few minutes you’ll be underwater.”
“Water’s clearing the debris off the sub, but I’m sinking deeper. Where’s the bloody outlet for the fiber-optic… ? There ye are. Ashlynn, be a good lass and take up the slack from the cable before my ride home’s washed away.”
“Acknowledged. True, describe what’s happening.”
“The water’s knee-high. I nearly lost the air tanks beneath the sub. Plug’s now locked intae the outlet. Ye should have power to the sub.”
“Yes, we’ve reestablished contact. We’re opening the chassis now.”
“Okay, lass, I’m in. Six empty tanks. Popping out the cylinder in slot number one… tha’ was easy. Bugger! Havin’ trouble lifting the replacement with this bloody clasper. Come on, ye bastard. Okay, tank one’s connected.”
“Roger that. Opening tank one now. Good job, darlin’.”
“You sweet vixen. I ken ye liked me. Stand by, this river’s startin’ tae float the boat. Tank two and three are in. Talk tae me, sweetie. Tell ol’ True whit ye like aboot me.”
“I like my men rough and tough.”
“An’ I like my women wit’ blonde streaks in their hair. Four’s in. Ah, shyte! Come on!”
“What’s wrong?”
“Five’s jammed, and the water’s gettin’ deeper.”
“Skip five. Replace six and get the hell out of there!”
“Right. So? Does the carpet match the drapes?”
“Get back up here and maybe you’ll find out.”
“Ugh. The water’s pushin’ up the back of my SAM suit, pinning me tae the sub. Okay, six is in. Seal the—ahhhh… bloody hell!”
“True, are you okay?”
“I’m neck-deep underwater… both legs stuck in the mud. The current’s too strong.”
“Don’t fight it; use it to push you up the bank. True?”
“Stand by. Okay… okay. Found some rocks. I’m underwater, fightin’ my way up the northern bank… . so tired. Head’s above water again… twenty paces from the Valkyrie. Everything’s danglin’ above the river. Ashlynn, I’m going tae wade downstream. When I say, get yer lads to let out the slack, and I’ll try tae grab hold of the bloody laser.”
“True, don’t go out too far. You’ll get swept away.”
“Fortunately, old True’s got a lot of experience fighting currents. Okay, darlin’, I’m in the shallows… let it oot slowly… slowly… tha’s good. Here comes the Valkyrie… got it. Ashlynn, give me five meters of slack, so I can lay everything oot on the river bank and realign the cable.”
“You sound exhausted. Let me walk you through it. Tell me when you have everything laid out.”
“Done. But I cannae stand much longer.”
“True, don’t rest now. Can you see the cable? Disconnect it from the pod, using the snap hook.”
“Bloody hell, the thing’s frozen tight. River’s rising up the bank. Might… might have tae take a raincheck on us, darlin’.”
“True, focus! Align your pincers and open
the snap hook. Do it!”
“Okay, I did it. Now whit?”
“Now you need to snap it in place on the Valkyrie. There’s an eye-bolt located just behind its laser… True?”
“Got it. Whit’s next?”
“Unclip the cable connecting the sled to the bottom of the pod. Rotate the pod 180 degrees, then reconnect the cable. This way you’ll make the ascent head-up… True? True, don’t go to sleep on me!”
“Sorry, jist dizzy. Water’s ankle-deep. Got the cable free. Reconnecting the pod, window-up. What’s next?”
“Seal the storage compartment of the sled, then get inside the pod and we’ll haul you topside.”
25 SEPTEMBER 06:22 HOURS
Back inside the pod now, Brandy girl. Can’t believe whit jist happened.
When I went tae seal the storage compartment on the sled, my eyes caught sight of somethin’ the rising river had exposed from beneath the sand. Oh, Brandy, it was incredible—an egg as big and oval as a ripe watermelon. Pliable like rubber. Clear and green as snot. And when I lifted it from the sand, I felt something alive wobblin’ from inside.
Whit kind a prehistoric creature could it be? Whit if I could bring it tae hatch in Loch Ness? Would it bring the crowds back when it grew up, or would it eat them? Whit if we built a secure pen tae house the big fella?
I removed my flashlight from my utility belt and tried to look inside the egg. I could jist make out the creature’s long neck, four webbed feet, and a long tail.
Good God, Brandy, I found me a plesiosaur egg.
Like a bairn on Christmas morn, I gently packed junior intae the sled’s empty storage compartment, dumping arms full of sand along the edges tae secure it before sealing it shut.
“True, what’s taking so long? Get in the pod.”
“Easy Ashlynn, jist checking the cables.”
“Get in the pod now—there’s something large approaching your position.”
Two awkward strides felled me to my knees. Unable tae stand, I crawled over tae the pod on all fours and flopped inside onto my back.
“I’m in, Ashlynn. Shut the bloody doors!”
The pod’s bay doors slowly rotated into place.
I shook in fear, feeling the ground reverberating beneath me as Momma Plesiosaur approached.”
“‘Take up the slack, Ashlynn. Take it up now!”
A long moment’s delay, then my head raised and the pod lifted off the ground. I waited until the hydraulic lock sealed the compartment shut before I peered out the glass using the helmet’s night vision.
We were rising quickly, swaying some seventy feet off the ground when the monster suddenly appeared in the darkness below and leaped for the pod, nearly stopping my heart. I couldnae make oot Momma Plesiosaur’s features, but her skull was as long as my body and her nostril big and round and it came within a bairn’s breath of striking the pod. When she hit the river, the splash flung muddy water ontae the glass.
I laid back inside the SAM suit and removed the helmet, my pulse pounding. “Ashlynn, any word from Zachary?”
“Not yet, but he’s alive. We’re registering pulses from all three of the crew on their ECU jumpsuits.”
“Thank the Lord.”
“True, did you see it?”
“See whit, lass?”
“I thought maybe you saw the biologic; it was fairly close to you.”
“Sorry, darlin’, maybe next time.”
Water and ice flowed past the window, signifying the beginning of my ascent. That’s when my mind started thinkin’.
I ken I could git the egg back tae the dome, but how could I git it tae Scotland? It’d have tae be smuggled oot of Antarctica and taken back tae the U.K. in a private charter. The job called fer someone who was resourceful, devious, and lacking in all morals.”
“Ashlynn, is it possible tae make a phone call from yer command post when I return?”
“I just might be able to arrange that. Who are you calling—not your wife?”
“No rings on these fingers, darlin’. No, it’s a business call. I need tae speak wi’ Angus Wallace, Zachary’s father.”
16
… Dr. Wallace, Captain Hintzmann, please respond. Vostok Command to Dr. Liao, Dr. Wallace, Captain Hintzmann, please respond…
The voice was muffled in a subconscious encased in sand. Gradually, the grains dropped away, and the voice grew louder until its persistence became maddening, an irritant demanding my attention.
I opened my eyes, confused by the brightness of the LED lights and the cool air blowing on my face.
“This is Vostok Command. Dr. Liao, Dr. Wallace, Captain Hintzmann, please respond.”
My arms and legs were down there somewhere, refusing to cooperate as my mind tried to convince me to hit the snooze button.
Then an explosion of sound shocked me out of my paralysis.
Before I could test my new-found limbs, a concussion wave swept the submersible up in its vortex and flung me out of my seat.
The sub surfaced. To my horror, I found myself staring between swells at the female Purussaurus. The fifty-foot crocodilian was upstream, scrambling onto its belly, its attention focused somewhere overhead. Jaws fixed open, the giant caiman hissed as it reared back on its hind legs, balancing on its thick tail.
For a brief moment I thought the croc would leap. Instead it remained coiled and disappeared from view as the river’s current swept us around a bend.
“This is Vostok Command. Dr. Liao, Dr. Wallace—”
“This is Wallace, stand by.” I leaned over my seat to check on Ben. He was lying on the floor, unconscious.
Reaching to his command chair, I flipped the toggle switch on his joystick, relegating control of the submersible to my cockpit. Strapping myself in, I started the Barracuda’s engine and resurfaced the vessel, keeping our nose pointed downstream.
“Vostok Command, this is Dr. Wallace. What the hell happened?”
“Wallace, this is Colonel Stephen Vacendak at Vostok Mobile Command Post One. Your vessel ran out of air. We were able to resupply you with five fresh tanks and reconnect your umbilical cord. For the duration of the mission you’ll be communicating directly with me.”
“Understood.”
I heard a moan as Ben awoke. “Ugh. My head feels like it was used as a bowling ball. Ming, you okay? Get dressed.”
The privacy curtain to Ming’s cockpit was pulled open. Ben climbed over the back of his seat into his cockpit. “Zach, why are we alive?”
“Ask Colonel Vacendak.”
“Where’s that damn urine bottle? And who the hell is Colonel Vacendak?” Ben put his headphones on. “Hello?”
“Captain Hintzmann, this is Colonel Vacendak in Mobile Command Post One. Are you inebriated?”
“Inebriated? Hell no, I’m shitfaced drunk. Now who the hell are you and how is it that we have a Mobile Command Post that I never knew about?”
“You’ll be briefed at the appropriate time. Is Dr. Liao all right?”
“Yes. What happened, Colonel?”
“We sent Dr. Wallace’s friend on a rescue mission.”
“True was down here?” I glanced back at Ben. “Where is he now?”
“Mr. MacDonald is en route back to the surface in a Valkyrie tow pod. For now, we want you to relinquish command of the Barracuda to us. We’re going to remotely guide you across the plateau through a maze of waterways, then into the northern basin to your extraction point. You have just over nineteen hours of air in your tanks, but we anticipate having you topside in twelve. Any questions?”
“It’s Dr. Wallace. How do we relinquish command?”
“First, you’ll need to give control of the vessel over to Captain Hintzmann. Hintzmann, there’s a red button under a plastic cap beneath your console. Pop open the lid and press the button to activate the remote. Once we take control, your computer screen should change to a GPS map of your surroundings.”
Ben flipped the toggle switch on his joystick, regaining control of
the Barracuda. “Is that it, then, Vacendak? One dive and Dr. Wallace and I are done?”
“We’ll be asking you to complete one last task before your ascent, otherwise we want to analyze the discoveries you’ve made and determine the safest course of action before we send another team down there. Obviously, no one anticipated such an active food chain in Vostok; we’ll have to reevaluate the mission. For now, just sit back and leave the driving to us.”
“It’s all yours, pal.” Locating the master switch, Ben flipped open the plastic cap and pressed the button. Seconds later, our joysticks and foot pedals synchronized as Vacendak’s team took control, accelerating the sub along the surface.
My night-vision goggles revealed our river had settled into a relatively calm waterway. According to our GPS feed from Vostok Mobile Command, the tributary would flow to the northeast, where it would drain into its far larger parent river.
The riparian zone we were moving along was similar to a shoreline one might find in Tibet’s Mekong River, a barren stretch of volcanic rock that served as a flood plain during Vostok’s mysterious high tide. Vegetation was almost non-existent, limited to an occasional patch of Matgrass, a brown meter-tall weed that fed off trace chemicals in the water. Other than that, the Miocene plateau was desolate; more of a drainage area than an ecosystem save, of course, for the birthing zone of its giant prehistoric reptilian population.
After twenty minutes, moonscape-like features rose gradually from the river to meet the valley’s watershed, a stretch of volcanic rock six stories high, the flat snow-covered plateaus created by the faulting and rifting occurring beneath East Antarctica. The ice sheet hung less than thirty feet above these mountain tops and its proximity dropped the valley’s exterior temperatures well below freezing.
The thermostat would continue to drop as we distanced ourselves from the geothermally heated waters in the southern basin.
Ben tapped me on the shoulder, his index finger over his lips, indicating that I shouldn’t talk. He handed me an instruction booklet where he had written a message in pen:
Colonel Vacendak is MJ-12. He’s guiding us to the E.T.
