by Steve Alten
I took the pen and booklet and wrote: Suggestions?
Ben responded: MJ-12 wants info, not eyewitnesses. Trust no one, including ML.
An hour later, the tributary merged with its parent river, and the landscape changed radically.
The waterway was several miles wide, its depths dropping more than 740 feet—as deep as Loch Ness. It was this body of water the Russians and Japanese must have analyzed when they had taken readings of the plateau. The river’s dark waters ran a bone-chilling twenty-nine degrees, and snow covered the shoreline as far as my night-vision glasses allowed me to see.
We made two very startling discoveries in this frozen lost realm: the first was the existence of mammals.
Lazing about across the snow-covered banks by the thousands were a Miocene species of elephant seal. The males we spotted were few in number, but massive—thirty feet long and easily weighing more than six tons. Each bull perched upright on its blubbery hind quarters and was surrounded by a harem of females, their hides as white as the snow they were nesting upon. Every so often one of the males would jut its head back and bellow a primordial call throttle toward the ice-capped ceiling, the sound echoing across the valley.
The elephant seals were not the only mammals present. Before I could even contemplate their existence, the sub was swarmed by a greeting party of twelve-foot-long albino Weddell seals. Within minutes the carnivores went from curious to aggressive, bumping the submersible with their one-ton bodies, forcing Ben to take control of the Barracuda from Vostok Mobile Command and guide the sub into deeper water.
He had to alter our course again when a gray-white tornado of krill rose from the depths directly beneath us. The presence of these alabaster crustaceans quickly attracted a stubby species of dolphin, their muscle-bound hides completely black, giving them a decided advantage in this albino-dominated ecosystem.
“Guys, this makes no sense. Mammals can’t survive in Vostok; they possess air cavities. The extreme pressures would burst their lungs like a ripe tomato.”
“Zachary, what about those sea cows we saw in the southern basin?”
“Check the video, Ming. You’ll see the species had evolved gills; they were breathing underwater. These mammals are clearly breathing air.” I glanced at my control console. “Ben, what’s your exterior pressure gauge reading?”
Ben shot me a look that translated into play along. “My gauge must be broken. It’s reading two atmospheres, which we both know is impossible.”
“Maybe, but it does explain how these mammals are able to inhabit this section of Vostok.”
“Vostok Mobile One to Captain Hintzmann.”
“Hintzmann here.”
“Captain, we need you to restore control of the Barracuda to our remote pilot.”
“As soon as we feel it’s safe. Seems the wildlife down here are getting a bit frisky.”
I flipped the toggle switch on my radio. “Mobile One, this is Wallace. Colonel, we’re approaching a magnetic anomaly that appears to be responsible for equalizing atmospheric pressure. Assuming it’s the magnetized remains of an asteroid, I’d prefer to give it a wide berth. You never know how these things might affect the sub’s controls.”
“We concur with your theory, Dr. Wallace; however, we feel the risk is minimal, and there’s only one way into the northern basin. Just out of curiosity, Doctor, what makes you think the magnetic interference is coming from an impact zone?”
“Two hundred and fifty million years ago another asteroid, much larger, struck East Antarctica and wiped out ninety-nine percent of the life-forms on the planet. The impact crater was discovered beneath the ice sheet in Wilkes Land, which is about six hundred miles to the south.”
“Is there anything you don’t know, Dr. Wallace?”
“Yeah, I don’t know where True is.”
“He arrived topside eight minutes ago and is in the capable hands of my assistant, Ashlynn.”
“That’s my boy.”
“Captain, six-point-five kilometers due east of your location is the entrance to a bay. Enter the waterway and return control of your vessel to our pilot. There’s one last thing we need you to investigate before we guide you to the northern basin.”
I glanced over my shoulder at Ben. “Can you give us a clue here, Colonel?”
“You’ll be briefed at the appropriate time. Stand by.”
The three of us remained silent for the next fifteen minutes as we made our way east, three hundred feet below the surface. Ming seemed especially distracted. Perhaps she had regrets about giving herself to Ben, or maybe she knew what the Colonel’s “last thing” was.
Leaning back in my seat, I gazed out into the dark waters with my night glasses, listening to the distant chirps of the Miocene seals over my headphones. For the third time in my life, I had escaped almost certain death—the fourth time, if I included my final encounter at Loch Ness. While each circumstance had been different, I realized there was a common thread that ran through them: ultimately I had chosen to place myself in danger.
This realization made me ponder whether I had a death wish.
A strange sensation of déjà vu made me think of Joe Tkalec.
When was the last time I had spoken to him? Three years ago… a few days after my near-death experience in the Sargasso Sea.
My mind was adrift as I nonchalantly stared at the blip now appearing on my sonar screen. Joe had chastised me for pushing the dive limits of our three-man submersible just so I could lure up a giant squid.
“Yo, Doc? Are you seeing this?”
Was it my fault the pilot had died? Should we have surfaced the moment the biologic blooped in my headphones? If only we had gone active on sonar… realized their size and numbers—
Without thinking, I pressed the red button marked ACTIVE.
Ping.
“Zachary, what are you doing?”
“Huh? Sorry. There’s something out there, I just thought … ” My eyes widened as data compiled on my screen. “It’s a biologic. Range: 1.4 kilometers to the east. Depth: 833 feet. Geez, this thing is big.”
“Another crocodile?”
“No, Ming. These waters are way too cold for Purussaurus.
Ben swore. “Any good news?”
“The good news is it isn’t coming after us.”
“Yeah, well, maybe you shouldn’t have let it know we’re here.”
I was about to retort when a flesh-tingling zzzzzzzzzzt sound rattled the cockpit’s dome. My stomach knotted. “I think I just screwed the pooch.”
“What was that sound?”
“We were just echolocated. Ben, kill the engine.”
“Damnit.” Ben powered down the propulsors, allowing the neutrally buoyant sub to rise slowly to the surface.
“This is Colonel Vacendak. Why have you stopped?”
“We were just echolocated by a biologic, a Miocene sperm whale.”
“Wait… that fossil we saw?”
“Easy, Ben. So far it’s staying deep.”
“But we’re not. The moment we hit the surface, the river’s current will carry us east again.”
“Dr. Wallace, the biologic is circling between you and the entrance to the bay.”
“Thank you, Colonel, we know.”
“We suggest you wait until you get closer and then accelerate past it into the bay. We can guide you into the shallows where you’ll be safe.”
I turned and looked at Ben and Ming. “It’s worth a shot.”
The Barracuda continued to rise. As it drew closer to the surface the current swept us up and carried us east at seven knots.
Another tingling zzzzzzzzzzt rattled the sub.
I listened intently on sonar. “Damn. It’s either feeding along the bottom or waiting in ambush. I can’t tell which. Twelve hundred feet until we pass over it. Hang tight, Ben.”
“Captain Hintzmann, once you’re in the bay, relinquish command and we’ll remotely guide you to your destination. No worries; we’ll see you past th
is little speed bump.”
“Obviously you didn’t see the size of the little speed bump’s teeth. Zach?”
“Stand by. Eight hundred feet.”
Zzzzzzzzzzzzzt.
I heard Ming cry out in the darkness.
“Three hundred feet. It’s gotta know we’re here. Ben, restart the engine but don’t hit the gas until I say.”
“Just keep in mind this monster probably has another gear, too.”
“Two hundred feet. It’s getting agitated… It just went vertical. Shit, it’s fast. Gun it!”
I clenched my teeth and cursed myself as the propeller struggled to catch water a second before the back of my head hit the seat and we shot ahead—
—the surface behind us erupting.
I turned to see a white lower jaw and abdomen rise majestically from the depths.
Livyatan melvillei… This is insane.
For a spellbound moment the hundred-ton bull whale seemed to defy gravity. Then it collapsed belly-first in the water, its tidal-wave splash crashing over our acrylic cockpit. By the time the creature attempted to echolocate us again, we had entered the tributary doing thirty knots.
Ben continued on a northerly course for another three miles before he was convinced we were sufficiently safe enough to warrant turning the sub over to Vostok Command.
“It’s all yours, Colonel.”
I grabbed for the handrail as the Barracuda rolled into a steep dive, avoiding islands of ice. We accelerated through the depths, our sonar now thankfully biologic-free.
The sub surfaced thirteen minutes later. Our night-vision glasses confirmed we were now in a bay. Ahead was a peninsula, or perhaps it was a small island; it was hard to tell, as the coastline was partially obscured by mist. A snow-covered mountain towered seven stories above sea level, its peak reaching half the distance to the ice sheet ceiling.
Two hundred yards from shore our vessel suddenly accelerated through the ice-riddled surface, heading straight for land without any signs of slowing.
“Easy, Colonel, slow down!” I tightened my harness seconds before the Barracuda skidded out of the shallows and slid into a snow drift with a teeth-rattling thud, our impact chasing off a quartet of beefy female elephant seals.
“What the hell, Vacendak!”
“Sorry, kids, but we needed to get up a head of steam to beach your craft. Dr. Wallace, this island is the source of the magnetic interference that has equalized the pressure of the ice sheet and has enabled life to flourish in this section of Vostok. Before we pilot the Barracuda to your extraction point, we need the three of you to establish a sensory array around the base of the mountain.”
I shook my head in disbelief. “Colonel, you don’t seriously expect us to go outside, do you?”
“The pressure’s normal in this area of Vostok; there’s no danger.”
“Apparently, you didn’t see the size of the creatures you just scared off.”
“The Barracuda’s exterior lights will keep them a safe distance away. I assure you, Dr. Wallace, it’s perfectly safe.”
“How could you possibly know that?”
“Let me rephrase that: setting up a sensory array on this island will be far safer than what you’ve already experienced. Dr. Liao, inside the storage compartment behind your seat you’ll find a duffle bag containing Extreme Weather Gear, climbing axes, boots, and backpacks for each of you. Inside each pack is eighty feet of nylon rope, night-vision goggles, a night-vision monocular lens, bottled water, a first aid kit, and a lead case the size of a small poster tube. Do not open these tubes until you arrive at each of your designated coordinates, as they contain the sensory instruments. Inside you’ll find a telescopic aluminum antenna capped by a small metal octagonal unit the size of a golf ball that will feel warm to the touch. But do not touch it; the reason it’s warm is because the exterior casing is composed of plutonium.”
“You exposed the three of us to plutonium?”
“The plutonium keeps the unit heated against the elements. I can assure you, Captain, the lead casing more than contained any harmful radiation.”
“How are these sensory units powered?” I asked.
“A radioisotope thermoelectric generator provides electricity to five sensors designed to monitor everything from atmospheric pressure changes and energy fluctuations to magnetic variations. A computer vision system will create 3-D thermal images while another instrument uses x-ray diffraction to determine the mineral composites within the asteroid impact zone.”
Ben winked as he passed me one of the neon-orange nylon backpacks, along with extreme weather pants, gloves, a hat, spiked climbing boots, and a jacket. There was also a combination magnetometer, GPS unit, and Geiger counter—all contained in a unit the size of my cell phone.
I tested the latter, just to make sure the plutonium canisters were doing their job.
We dressed quickly while the Colonel downloaded coordinates to each of our GPS units. “The first site must be established three-point-seven kilometers to the north at an elevation of seventy meters above sea level. Dr. Liao will remain at the first site while Dr. Wallace makes his way to the northwest coordinates, and Captain Hintzmann heads to the northeast. Once all three devices are powered up and the array triangulates, we’ll send a signal through your GPS units to regroup with Dr. Liao. Return to the sub, and we’ll have you at the extraction site in just under an hour. Are we ready?”
“Hell, no.” Reaching above his head, Ben unlocked the hatch and popped open the acrylic dome.
A blast of subzero air forced me to quickly zip my jacket and mask my face. Ming passed her backpack to Ben, who then helped her out of her cockpit.
Adjusting the straps on my climbing boots, I exited the sub, purposely spiking Ben’s leather seat with my steel cleats just for good measure before securing the hatch.
17
“I have seen so many extraordinary things, nothing seems extraordinary anymore”
—Lewis Carroll
I stood between Ben and Ming in our frigid surroundings, the three of us sharing the same sense of awe the Apollo 11 astronauts must have felt when they first set foot on the Moon, the same emotional rush a mountain climber experiences upon reaching the summit at Everest. For several minutes, we simply allowed our senses to partake of our Miocene world as we stretched away thirty-plus hours of cramped muscles. We inhaled Vostok’s air, smelling its high oxygen content, registering a trace of dizziness in its purity. We listened to the ice sheet as it crackled and groaned and rumbled high overhead, its pitted foundation trickling droplets of water, each liquid discharge congealing during its twenty-second descent into golfball-sized meteors of slush. These semi-frozen projectiles delivered a painful wallop when they found their mark and were impossible to dodge, forcing us to cover our heads with our backpacks.
The ski goggles Colonel Vacendak had supplied us with were equipped with night-vision lenses, which painted the environment olive-green, adding a surreal alien element to our surroundings. Somewhere to the north a snow-covered mountain towered like a smaller version of the Matterhorn, its base enshrouded by fog.
The snow beneath our feet had been crushed by the elephant seals. We could smell the oily musk secreted by their blubber as it mixed with the saline bay waters lapping behind us along the shoreline. Yet, while the atmospheric pressure was tolerable, the electromagnetic elements in play were far from static. They caused our flesh to tingle and our hair to rustle beneath our hoods.
Removing the multi-purpose instrument from my jacket pocket, I attempted to use the global positioning system to get a fix on our first target. When the compass scrambled, I switched to the magnetometer, which registered 175,000 nanoteslas—the equivalent metallurgy of the New Orleans Superdome—about what you’d expect from an asteroid impact site.
Ben handed each of us a climbing axe and flashlight, both items trailing a cord that attached to our jackets’ belts. “We’d better rope up. Zach, you take the lead. Then Ming. I’ll bring u
p the rear. Use the handle of your axe to test the ice ahead of you. You hear something crack, back off fast.”
Ming and I removed the ropes from our backpacks. I used mine to link my belt with Ming’s. She attached her line to Ben, so that between us we shared 160 feet of nylon cord.
I set out from the shoreline, the metal spikes in my climbing boots slipping on the flat stones hidden beneath the packed snow. The herd of elephant seals grew restless as we approached, the adult females snorting and growling but yielding enough ground for us to slip past their beachhead and around a few boulders to where a thirty-degree slope led up to the base of the mountain.
Virgin snow greeted us as at an elevation of forty-five feet, our boots sinking in up to our calves… then our knees. Each step became its own adventure, the physical exertion forcing us to transfer the packs to our backs in order to use our arms for balance.
Extreme cold breaks down the body’s reserves. My breathing became labored. My muscles trembled. My pulse became a heavy, rapid thud. I could feel frostbite exploring my feet, making my smaller toes tingle.
I heard Ming behind me. She was struggling as the slope grew steeper. Our pace slowed as we had to tug her along a few times to prevent a prolonged rest.
We entered a fog bank, a heavy white mist that seemed to stagnate over the base of the mountain. Over the next hundred yards, I became immersed in its emptiness, the mountain disappearing behind the mist and the knee-deep snow barely visible from one stride to the next. It was a complete whiteout except, of course, it was pitch-dark—olive-green in my vision. I would have lost it mentally had Ming not offered an occasional tug on the rope to reassure me I was not alone in this madness.
All but blind, I feared we could be walking in a giant circle, until I felt rock beneath my boots, the ground solidifying with each step. Another fifty feet elevated me above the fog, and I found myself at the base of the mountain, staring up at its snow-covered peak. Leaning against a boulder, I checked my GPS, which indicated I was in the green zone for Target One.
Ming joined me. She was shivering badly, approaching the threshold of hypothermia. Dropping to her knees in the snow, she handed me her sensory instrument. “Plant it for me. I’m too weak.”
