Attacked Beneath Antarctica (Doc Vandal Adventures Book 3)

by Dave Robinson

  Moments later, he broke the surface and almost staggered under the weight of the helmet. Seventy pounds of brass dug into his shoulders, but he gritted his teeth and kept moving. The further he rose, the heavier he got. He couldn't turn his head, though the side windows did give him some peripheral vision.

  Doc twisted towards the wall and sidled up the steps. The weighted boots helped keep him upright in the water, but made it hard to feel his way. All he could do was slide his foot to the right as far as it would go and then bring the other one up beside it. It made for an odd shuffling gait but at least it kept him moving.

  The water was about three feet below the dock so he couldn't see anything but the tiles at first. Doc wanted to lean back, for a better view, but the suit was too top-heavy. The moment he left the water, the suit's weight dragged on his shoulders like a suit of armor. It was all he could do to keep moving and hope the figures around the pool weren't hostile.

  Surprisingly, he reached the top without incident.

  At first glance, Doc thought he was alone on the platform. He swept his eyes across the chamber as best he could from within the helmet. Not seeing any movement, he started exploring the open space. He had to turn almost three quarters before seeing the figures again.

  Doc exhaled with a hiss, they weren't human after all; not entirely at least. The only had four limbs, but they had what looked like the same rubbery skin as the other Antarctic creatures they had already found down here. Unlike the others though, they weren't moving. It was hard to make out details through the helmet window, so he gestured to Kehla and moved in for a closer look.

  Despite the weight of his boots, nothing cracked under his feet.

  The rebreather whistled in his ears as he came up to the figures. Now that Doc was closer, he could make out more details on the figures. They had been human once, but not any longer. Instead they were caught halfway between humanity and something else. They were all nude, covered with the same black rubbery integument as their six-limbed compatriots. Their legs and arms made him wince. Bones spiked through the skin, as legs tried to imitate tentacles. The arms were even worse, hands broken apart as the radius and ulna tried to become individual limbs. Their heads were the worst; tongues split into tentacles and growing through broken jaws. Above it all were the eyes: staring in wide open terror.

  “Wondering how the transition feels?” An artificial voice broke the quiet. “Only about seventeen percent survive; the rest die in apparent agony.”

  Doc caught his breath, and then slowly turned around. They had found Aldous Hansen.

  #

  Vic flipped the switch to kill the floods with a smile. It felt so good to be back in the air. Even Gus's glowering face couldn't kill the mood.

  “Antipodes,” she said softly.

  “Antipodes?” Gus raised an eyebrow. “What are you talking about? Of course we’re in the antipodes; this is Antarctica!”

  Vic waved her arm around the flight deck. “This airship; it needs a name and since Doc wouldn't give it one, I'm naming it Antipodes.”

  She leaned back in her seat. “I'm feeling better already.”

  “And that's going to help us get Doc and my wife back?” Gus growled.

  “It won't hurt,” Vic replied. “Besides, if it makes me feel better, I'll be better able to help find Kehla.”

  “That's easy for you to say,” the gorilla muttered. “You know exactly where Ming is.”

  “Don't go to pieces,” Ming said from the hatchway. “We'll find her.”

  “Ming's right.” Vic gestured her lover forwards. “We will find Kehla and Doc. Besides, we left them a plane and a set of directions.”

  “What if they aren't able to fly it?”

  “Then we'll come back and get them.” Vic swiveled in her seat and glanced towards Gus. “The Fokker is only a backup plan, and I never need a backup plan.” She cracked her knuckles. “Now let me get back to flying.”

  “Aye aye, Captain.” Gus snapped a salute with his good arm, his eyes lighting up for a moment.

  “That's better,” Ming said sternly. “I don't want to have to sedate you.”

  “Right.” Vic nodded vigorously. “You don't want to end up like our unwilling guests, snoring away in their pens.”

  The Nazi base was only about two hours away, and Vic wanted to spend the time running over possible contingencies in her head. It all came down to the fact that they couldn't possibly keep their prisoners for any length of time. There just weren't enough of them to manage almost a dozen Nazis including a full-grown gorilla, especially with Gus and Ming both injured. The only options were to kill the prisoners, let them go, or give them back. Vic planned to give them back.

  Unfortunately, Vic had no idea who, or what, they would be giving them back to.

  Finding out was Gus's job. The Nazis weren't the only ones with a full-grown gorilla on their side. Hopefully they had as much trouble telling one gorilla from another as most humans. She would have rather gone in herself, but Gus was the only one who could pass for any of their prisoners.

  Today she was invading a secret Nazi Antarctic base with two injured associates and an unarmed airship,

  She smiled again. This was what made her life so much fun.

  CHAPTER SIX

  The Enemy Below

  “You seem surprised.” Hansen's voice sounded squeaky and artificial. Unlike Doc and Kehla, he wasn't wearing a diving suit. Instead, his torso protruded from the jagged top of a black metallic, or possibly stone, egg that hovered about six inches above the floor. “I told you I would find something.”

  “One of my people is missing,” Doc replied evenly, speaking through the suit's hydrophones. “You wouldn't happen to know where he is, would you?”

  Hansen laughed. “And I thought you came here to find me.”

  “I came to Antarctica to find you; I came here to find my friend.”

  Hansen smiled, revealing needle-like teeth. “Then perhaps we can help each other.” He spun slowly around in mid-air doing a full three-sixty before returning to face Doc. “If you help me, I will ensure your reunion with your friend.”

  “And if I don't?”

  Hansen sighed. “I will undoubtedly be too busy to help you.”

  Doc nodded, the movement invisible within his helmet. “Then it appears I will have to help you.”

  “Don't forget we need to get back to the surface,” Kehla interrupted. “I would like to see my husband sooner rather than later.”

  Hansen shrugged. “Then it would be in your best interest to ensure Dr. Vandal provides me with the assistance I request to the very best of his ability.” He spun around in midair. “Follow me.”

  Doc gestured for Kehla to follow, and fell in behind Hansen.

  Now that they were moving, the hydrophones in Doc's suit picked up more sounds from the surroundings. Hansen's egg emitted a nearly subsonic hum as it moved, almost below the limits of hearing. Beyond the hum, something pulsed like a giant slow heartbeat, filling the chamber.

  Hansen took them out of the chamber and into a wide tunnel. Unlike the tunnels where they had first arrived, these felt alive. Moisture ran along the walls, inching along horizontal channels. Even the green fire that lit their way was different than before. The flames were brighter and more active. This tower was alive.

  As they moved, Hansen kept scanning the tunnel, swiveling his egg from side to side.

  “How many are left of your expedition?” Kehla broke the silence after a few minutes. “Was that all of them back at the pool?”

  Hansen paused for a moment, and Doc wondered if he was going to answer the question or just ignore Kehla. Finally, he spoke. “I still have a few compatriots left, though not as many as when I arrived.”

  “I'm sorry,” Kehla replied. “It must be hard for you.”

  “Antarctic exploration is inherently risky.” Hansen gestured towards them as they entered another large chamber. “None of them expected it to be safe.”

  “It
doesn't appear to have been safe for anyone,” Doc said, “not even you Aldous.”

  “Nor you, James, nor you.”

  Stone shook, as hidden doors in the side of the chamber dropped open. Giant tentacles swept out through the openings toward Doc and Kehla. Each tentacle was about four feet thick with a row of spikes running down each side. Toothy suckers covered the underside like pale mouths.

  Hansen laughed maniacally as his egg rose towards the ceiling. “You have no idea just how unsafe this is James, no idea.”

  He spun slowly as he ascended, his laughter trailing off into giggles.

  Doc threw himself upwards, stretching his arms towards Hansen's egg, but the suit threw him off balance. His helmet slammed into his shoulders, forcing him to one knee.

  Kehla scuttled sideways, knuckle-walking away from the source of the tentacles.

  A scraping noise in his hydrophones caught Doc's attention, making him curse his lack of peripheral vision. He twisted his entire upper body to see half a dozen creatures moving toward him. These looked somehow more human than the ones he had first seen on the surface.

  One of the tentacles smashed into his shoulder, knocking him further off balance. Doc took a couple of steps backwards, fighting to keep his feet under the weight of his chest plate.

  “Doc!” Kehla screamed, her voice hissing through the hydrophones.” Quick, this way!”

  He risked a short look around. Kehla was pointing towards a small alcove on the far side of the chamber from the source of the tentacles. Roughly four feet square, it was barely big enough for a small gorilla in a suit.

  “Go,” he shouted, “I'll follow.”

  Kehla dropped to her knees and knuckle-walked rapidly toward the opening. Doc couldn't match her speed, but at least he was faster than the creatures chasing them. Not much faster, but faster.

  Doc got within a couple of yards of the opening and dove forwards, extending his arms to protect the controls on his chest plate. The impact knocked the air from his lungs, but he forced himself to keep moving.

  Prepare your mind for contact. An inhumanly deep mental voice echoed in his head.

  #

  Gus double-checked his cold weather gear. Despite Vic's protestations, he wasn't entirely sure that he could impersonate the prisoner successfully. “Don't those humans have eyes?'

  He kept muttering as he strapped down his sling. The broken arm wasn't a problem, but the Nazi was at least ten years younger and two inches shorter than Gus. He wasn't even a silverback. Still, it wasn't like Gus had any better ideas at the moment, though if he had, they probably wouldn't be as risky as Vic's. “Woman's a damned daredevil.”

  “I heard that.” Vic laughed through the intercom. “I'm sorry that my plan isn't safe enough for you.”

  “None of them ever are,” Gus grumbled. “You hate safety.”

  “I don't hate it,” Vic answered. “It's just overrated.”

  Gus laughed. “I guess that's one way to put it. How much longer before we land?”

  “Should be less than five minutes. Looks like the base is made up of whatever the Germans use for Nissen huts, arranged in a circle. There's a bigger one that's probably a hangar for the Fokker.”

  Gus nodded, then remembered she couldn't see him. “Got it. So I go in through the hangar?”

  “If possible.” The intercom clicked off from the other side.

  Gus sighed, and sat down to wait. Daredevil or not, Vic had a smooth touch on the airship's controls so he wasn't worried about sliding off the bench. At least, not this time.

  Two minutes later, the airship settled down to a soft landing.

  “All ashore that's going ashore.”

  Gus chuckled as he stood up and wrapped a scarf across his face with his good hand. “Aye aye, Captain.”

  “Thank you for flying Antarctic skies; don't let the ice hit you on the way out.”

  Still chuckling, he lumbered over to the hatch and spun the wheel. The bolts slid home and he pushed the hatch open. Gus took a deep breath, the cold air burning his lungs even through the scarf. The ramp extended forward beneath his feet like a metal tongue, crunching into the ice. Wind howled behind him, beating against the airship's protective bulk.

  Once on the ice, he started towards the hangar, its open doors yawning like the mouth of a cave. Big enough to hold two tri- motors, it was almost empty. Gus's boots echoed on the floor, as he picked his way forward, finding his way by the splash of the floodlights. A door in the rear caught his attention.

  Grumbling under his breath, he had to put his weight into it to pull the door open. It creaked out of the way to reveal a round corridor, a line of dim yellow bulbs leading the way into the darkness. He was more than ten feet into the corridor before he realized what was wrong; it was as cold as the hangar.

  After another forty feet or so, Gus found another door, opening into the end of the corridor. This one was big, almost eight feet high with a light above it clasped in the talons of a Nazi eagle. He shivered at the imagery. Laying his good hand against the door, he couldn't feel anything, though it might have been his heavy glove.

  Shaking his head to clear the image, he grasped the handle and pulled the door open. Gus jumped back as a figure in a field gray overcoat fell forward at his feet. Red and white ribbons on the corpse's back told its story. Whoever it was, he'd died trying to escape into the Antarctic cold.

  Gus shoved the body aside, his heart beating loud enough in his ears to drown out any sounds from inside the base. He took a deep breath, trying to calm down, and then slowly stepped into the base itself, carefully avoiding the trail of blood frozen onto the floor. It was obviously a cloakroom, about ten feet wide by some fifteen feet long, with heavy winter gear hanging along the walls. The far door was ajar, and thankfully there were no other bodies in the room.

  Blood streaked the walls of the next room, covering a huge picture of the Führer. Gus swallowed hard, trying to breathe through his mouth as he took in the scene. It must have been the main living quarters, but at the moment it was hard to think of anything but death. Most of the dead must have been caught by surprise, their bodies scattered across the room. A young male gorilla gazed at him reproachfully through glazed eyes.

  At least the cold kept the worst of the smell down.

  From the looks of the bodies, whatever had killed them must have come through from the door on the far right. Two or three, the bodies were too badly damaged for Gus to be sure of the number, had tried to hold the doorway but they'd been overrun in moments. A tentacle print in the blood reminded him of the things from the coast, but whatever this was, it was much faster. Gus shook his head, no point worrying about the running speed of sea monsters when there were bigger bananas to peel.

  Starting with the left, the first two doors led into a small kitchen attached to a large pantry and cold storage. The next door off the main room led to a supply room, complete with an open arms locker. Gus took the opportunity to grab an MP18 submachine gun and a couple of spare Trommel magazines. Luckily the trigger guard had been enlarged, though whether for gloves or gorillas Gus couldn't tell.

  “Saving the best for last,” Gus muttered softly. It was time to see what lay behind the last doorway.

  Cold. If the rest of the interior was as cold as outdoors, this wing was even colder. Even without the wind's bite this felt like stepping into a whole new world of cold. The shiver started at the small of his back and climbed all the way to the top of his sagittal crest. It was all he could do to clench his teeth so they wouldn't chatter to pieces.

  Green light flickered from an opening to his right, filling the room with dancing shadows. Cursing his broken arm, he racked a round and stepped slowly into the opening. He stood in the doorway for a moment, taking in the sight before him. Metal catwalks rested on steel columns rising out of the ice, surrounding a very prosaic elevator cage. The green light rose from below, flickering and dancing on the polished ice walls of the shaft. Scars in the walls marked where somethin
g had climbed from below.

  Gus shook his head to fight the rising shivers. “Abandon hope, all ye who enter here.”

  Even though he'd spoken softly, he felt his words echo down into the pit.

  Gus took one last look around and then turned back into the base. The next room must have been the radio center, with the bloodied remains of a chair before a large switchboard and videoscope. A heavy logbook caught his eye, and he scooped it up.

  Taking a deep breath, Gus forced himself to slow down and examine the room more carefully. On second look, it was more like a war room than a radio center. A map of the lake covered one wall, heavily marked with pins and notes. A few of the notes clustered around the base, but it wasn't the only cluster to catch his eye. Several red pins marked out the ridge separating the lake into two basins. The word “R'neh” was picked out in precise handwriting near a single black pin.

  Gus traced a heavy finger along the map, impressed by the detail. “Not the result of a quick visit, looks more like an ordnance survey.”

  The final cluster surrounded the far end of the lake. The black pin here bore a swastika, and the label “Thule.” It took a moment for Gus to realize, but it precisely marked the ice crater where they had found the airship.

  “Hmph,” he snorted. “Only the Nazis would place Thule in the Antarctic.”

  Still amused by the Nazi naming conventions, he turned his attention to the switchboard. There were about three dozen switches, divided into three separate banks marked Adler, R'neh, and Thule. Reaching out, he flipped one of the switches in the R'neh bank.

  The videoscope buzzed and crackled, throwing white lines across its round screen as the tubes warmed up. A soft hiss emanated from the speaker grill below. Seconds later, an image flickered to life, two diving suited figures facing some sort of flying egg. They seemed to be conversing, and Gus spun the volume knob hard over just in time to hear a voice speak: “Nor you, James, nor you.”