Ice Rift - Siberia

by Ben Hammott

  The old elevator jerked to a halt. The doors opened. Lit by the elevator’s dim light spilling into the corridor, Sven stepped out and nervously peered at the darkness stretching deeper into the facility. He fished the flashlight from his pocket, switched it on and aimed it along the corridor. The beam glinted off glass shards littering the floor. He frowned worriedly at the discovery that someone had broken the lightbulbs. He knew that was something his comrades wouldn’t have been responsible for. Pushing back the anxiety that urged him to leave, he raised his weapon and careful to avoid treading on the broken bulbs that would warn anything down here of his approach, he moved along the corridor.

  When his light picked out the skeleton, he cautiously approached. He picked out scraps of clothing and partially melted shoes that identified it wasn’t one of his comrades. Assuming it was one of the scientists who worked here and wondering what had killed the man, he pushed away the images of monsters that invaded his thoughts and warily pressed on.

  After a few turns, Sven’s light fell on something ahead. He approached with caution. Saddened by what he saw, he halted by the four skeletons strewn across the floor. Though he couldn’t identify them by their fleshless bones, the scraps of clothing and four discarded weapons, identical to the one held in his trembling hands, labeled them as his comrades. Horrified that someone could have done such a thing, Sven contemplated his next move. He should leave and contact someone in authority to let them know what had happened. If the four men with vastly more experience than him had fallen at the hands of whatever killer was down here, human or otherwise, he wouldn’t stand a chance.

  Sven was about to retreat when he halted and cocked an ear to the noise drifting along the corridor from around the turn in the passage a short distance ahead. Careful to avoid shining the light towards the noise to give away his presence, Sven stared at the turning. Whatever was making the noise, it didn’t seem to be moving. Curiosity, stupidity, and the chance of becoming a hero—the man who took down a savage cold-hearted killer—moved him towards the corner.

  Halting at the end of the corridor, Sven stood tight against the wall and contemplated the squelching, sucking sounds that were now much louder. They reminded him of walking in boots sodden with water while trudging through thick, sloshy mud that sucked at your feet; both were discomforts he had experienced during his army training. Pushing away the imagined visions of possible horrors that might be creating the sounds, Sven steeled himself for what he was about to encounter and peered nervously around the corner.

  Because darkness concealed whatever produced the unnerving sounds, Sven risked using his flashlight. He froze in fear at the terrible thing caught in the flashlight’s beam. The squelching sounds came from within a bulbous, black, pulsating cocoon suspended from the ceiling. As his frightened gaze took in the monstrosity he had difficulty comprehending, a tube sprouted from the base and bulged when something slithered through its length and dropped onto the floor with a squishy thud.

  Rooted to the spot by his fear, Sven stared at the ejected, misshapen glossy black ball. After a few moments of inactivity, it slowly unfurled into a worm which then changed shape, shrinking to form a fatter mass. Four tendrils stretched out into legs with clawed feet. A tail, short and stubby grew out from its rear as a short neck pushed from the front and grew a head. After it had struggled onto its newly formed legs, it yawned its teeth-lined jaws and screeched a high-pitched squeal. Panic motivated Sven’s sprinting retreat for the exit.

  As EV1L dropped from the ceiling, it changed into its previous bipedal creature form and stared after the retreating sounds of glass-crunching footsteps. It looked at its newborn offspring and hissed a command. EV1L 2.0 sprang into action and bounded around the corner after the fleeing footsteps.

  Panting from fear and panic, Sven careened around a corner and sprinted along the corridor. He aimed the flashlight behind when sounds of pursuit reached him. The small, monstrous...thing was chasing him. A new influx of adrenalin spurred him forwards. He punched the elevator button and heard the winch start up. He cursed the elevator that had returned to the upper level. He spun when crunching glass announced the creature’s approach. With the rifle on full auto, he sprayed the creature with bullets.

  The creature screeched and stumbled when bullets tore through it and peppered the floor and walls behind. Sven released his finger from the trigger, his ears ringing from the gunfire echoing through the constricting corridors and stared at the creature full of holes lying still. He had killed it. He sobbed in dismay when the holes closed, and the creature unsteadily regained its footing.

  Sven threw his flashlight at the creature and rushed into the elevator as soon as the doors were open wide enough. After frantically stabbing the upper-level button, he aimed his weapon at the narrowing door gap and fired when the creature appeared. When the force of the bullets slammed it against the wall, the creature splattered into a dark stain. The doors closed. The elevator vibrated into motion. Trembling, Sven collapsed against the side. What in hell’s name was that thing?

  Whatever it was, Sven was certain it wasn’t something Mother Nature had created. He believed either the scientists had created it in their laboratory or it came from another world. Sven was inclined to believe the latter. He had just battled with something from outer space, an alien.

  Sven rushed from the building, slipped the strap of his weapon over his shoulder and leaped onto the motorbike. He kicked it into life and spinning a rooster tail of earth into the air behind him, he roared through the gates.

  CHAPTER 14

  Plea for Help

  THE COMMUNICATIONS Security Establishment Canada (CSEC), now located in the architecturally spectacular new Ottawa headquarters, had cost Canadian taxpayers almost $1.2 billion. Linked to covert spying posts around the world that relayed information back to central command, the data it gathered variously was reviewed and filed away or disseminated to the relevant organization to be acted upon.

  One of CSECs almost two thousand employees housed in the technologically advanced listening post sipped her lukewarm coffee as she listened to the boring chatter between two German politicians conversing on mobile phones in Berlin. As her eyes flicked to the silent flashing red alert on her screen, a finger automatically moved and tapped the icon to send the reason for the notification to her headphones. After listening to the live Russian conversation between a frantic soldier informing his superior of the event that had just taken place, which she found hard to believe, she copied the recorded message onto a secure thumb drive, switched her listening station to Unattended and headed for her supervisor’s office.

  WHEN THE SELECT FEW invited to the secret meeting in the White House’s Oval Office were ready, President Conner nodded to his Chief of Staff, Samuel Hopkins. Hopkins pressed play on the portable recorder on the President’s desk and stood back. All eyes focused on the player when a man, his voice tinged with obvious fear, began talking frantically in Russian. Interspersed into the conversation was the calmer, male voice of the person in authority the other man had contacted.

  When the conversation ended, Hopkins pressed pause. “What follows is the less agitated English transcript of the call.” He restarted the player.

  “This is comrade Sven Kulikov stationed at Checkpoint Siberia 5. There is an urgent situation here. Deaths have occurred. I need to speak to someone from command.”

  (A woman’s voice.) “Hold the line, Comrade Kulikov.”

  (Unknown voice of authority. Male.) “Comrade Kulikov, what is your situation?”

  “Something’s happened at the Kamera, sir. My comrades have been killed. Slaughtered.”

  “Explain how this happened and by whom.”

  “Yes, sir. While my four comrades entered the facility, I remained at my post...”

  “Why did they enter the facility?”

  “Reason unknown, sir. When I hadn’t heard from them after three hours, I went to investigate. I entered the facility and found the bodies of a scie
ntist and my comrades stripped of flesh. Only their bones remained. On hearing a noise along the corridor, I approached and came across a... I have no idea what it was.”

  “Describe it, Comrade.”

  “It was a large black bag, a cocoon I think, that hung from the ceiling. Something was moving inside, then a black worm dropped out.”

  “A worm, Comrade? Have you been drinking?”

  “No, sir. I’m one of the few Russians that don’t like vodka. It was definitely wormlike—as long as my arm and as thick as my wrist. But it didn’t remain a worm for long. It changed into a creature like I’ve never seen before. It was alien, sir. Not of this Earth.”

  “Alien? Really, Comrade?”

  “Yes, sir, I’m certain of that. It was small, cat size though looked nothing like a cat. It had big teeth and looked like a devil. Scaly, no fur.”

  “Then what happened?”

  “It chased me. I shot it, but the bullets went straight through it without killing it. I barely managed to escape.”

  “This...thing, this creature, is it still in the facility?”

  “Yes, sir.”

  (“Translator: A 42-second pause.”)

  “Comrade Kulikov, you are to remain by the phone and await further instructions. Contact no one, understand?”

  “Yes, sir.”

  The line went dead.

  (“Translator: After eleven minutes and fourteen seconds the conversation continues.”)

  “Comrade Kulikov.”

  “Yes, sir.”

  “When you were in the facility did you notice any strange pistol-sized weapons?”

  “Er, no, sir. Because of the alien, I didn’t venture inside very far. Sorry, sir.”

  “We have tried contacting the facility to no avail. From what you witnessed inside and finding one dead scientist, do you believe all who were working there have perished?”

  “I’m not sure, sir. As I said, I didn’t go very far, and I only came across the remains of one scientist and my four comrades.”

  “No matter, Comrade. Your orders are to remain at your post and keep the facility under observation. If this creature you encountered tries to leave you must do everything in your power to stop it, but don’t harm or kill it. Under no circumstances are you to re-enter the facility. A team of specialists will arrive within twenty-four hours to take command and capture it for research. You are to inform no one else about this incident, understood?”

  “Yes, sir. I understand.”

  (The line goes dead.)

  General Nathanial Colt raised his eyes skeptically. “Is this on the up?”

  Hopkins shrugged. “As far as we can tell, yes. The facility where this took place was called Laboratory 12 before becoming known simply as ‘The Kamera,’ or as we would say, The Chamber, under Stalin. Located in the remote Siberian tundra, we believe it was decommissioned sometime in the seventies and later used to store confidential documents from the Stalinist era. It has obviously now been brought back into service for another purpose.”

  “What was The Kamera’s original purpose?” asked Colt.

  “It was once used for the creation and testing of chemical and biological warfare agents, and later, under the administration of the Soviet secret police, it was where the Russians created exotic poisons used to kill dissidents in hideous and mostly untraceable ways.”

  “That though is not the reason for its reopening,” said the President. “We believe the strange weapons mentioned in the conversation we just heard are the alien weapons the Russian salvage team collected from the spaceship in Antarctica. We believe The Kamera is where the Russians planned to reverse engineer them.”

  “That doesn’t explain this...thing that killed the Russian soldiers and scientist and maybe everyone who worked there,” said Colt.

  “Based on the conversation, we also believe,” said Hopkins, “that along with two light-blaster pistols the Russians have, they also have in their possession a species of alien from the spaceship.”

  “It was this creature, this alien, that must have escaped from whatever confinement the Russians caged it in and killed some or all of the facilities’ personnel,” added the President.

  “Our concern,” continued Hopkins, “is that we have no idea what threat this creature poses to humanity if it escapes from the Russian facility and reaches civilization. We’ve all read the reports on the types of alien creatures the scientists and salvage team encountered in the spaceship. None of them is the type that should be loose to feed upon humanity.”

  Everyone in the room agreed.

  Colt faced the President. “Have you contacted the Russians about this, Mr. President? Or is it something you are considering?”

  “That is one of the reasons for this meeting. Whoever the man at the command post spoke to, by his reaction, it was obvious he had no knowledge of the alien at the secret facility. This might indicate only the higher echelons of the Russian government are aware of its existence and why they selected such a remote outpost to study it. What I need to hear from you, Colonel, are our options because I am unwilling to believe the Russians have the situation under control.”

  Colt pondered the dilemma for a few moments before answering. “If contacting the Russians doesn’t give you confidence, Mr. President, that they can reliably contain the alien creature and thus prevent it from perhaps signaling the end of humanity, then I foresee only two options open to us. One, we destroy the facility with a targeted airstrike, which will obviously upset the current diplomatic relationship, such as it is, you have with the Russians, and two—my favored option—we send in a covert strike force to kill the creature, which may involve destroying the facility to ensure the alien threat is neutralized.”

  It seemed by President Conner’s speedy reply that he had already considered the options presented by Colonel Colt. “I also favor the covert strike force option. A small team goes in, neutralizes the threat as best they see fit when they are on the scene, and gets out before the Russians are any the wiser. They may suspect we are involved, but without any evidence, it will be speculation I can comfortably deny.”

  “Then I have your permission to proceed with the mission, Mr. President?” confirmed Colt.

  Conner nodded. “Proceed with all haste, Colonel. As the Russian team is expected to arrive at the Kamera facility within twenty-four hours, I suggest the team of your choosing completes the mission within twelve—preferably sooner.”

  Though with the flight time to Russia Colt knew it would be tight, he nodded his understanding and strode from the Oval office.

  “You are aware there’s going to be fallout from this,” said Hopkins.

  President Conner nodded. “I am, but I can handle a bit of Russian flack—the end of humanity because I failed to act, not so much.”

  CHAPTER 15

  Abduction

  BRIGHT AND EARLY THE following morning, Richard returned to the meteorite to examine it more thoroughly. Aware silicate mineral-laced with chromium colored the meteorite its peculiar green, Richard gazed at the impressive rock that could hopefully repair in part his ruined reputation. Most meteorites were stony, almost all, around ninety percent, are termed ordinary chondrites, small, un-melted asteroids that are uniform in composition throughout. Richard examined all the faces of the rock David’s team had cleared of soil. It was, without doubt, a type of meteorite called an achondrite, which made it an exceptional discovery. Achondrites are pieces of large asteroids or planets at least 200 kilometers in diameter and make up only five percent of the meteorites that have been found.

  Richard couldn’t wait to have the rock tested with a scanning electron microscope energy-dispersive spectrometer to accurately identify the chemical composition of the rock. From that and other tests, its origin should be able to be determined. However, there were a few tests he could do in the field that weren’t as precise that would give him a sense of its composition.

  He spent the next hour setting up his equipment, drilling
a hole and collecting the dust, which he placed in a test tube and added chemicals that would break it down. While the chemicals went to work, Richard switched on the laptop and plugged in the probe that would read the chemical makeup of the sample and transfer the information to the computer software to reveal some of its secrets.

  After the allotted time, Richard placed the thin probe into the meteorite slurry and clicked the software’s analyze sample icon. Almost immediately, the data appeared on the graph displayed on the screen. Richard read through it twice. The meteorite’s chemistry was highly unusual. High in magnesium and low in iron, the readings seemed familiar. He switched to another window, opened his documents folder and opened a report from NASA's Messenger probe, which had recently surveyed the surface of Mercury from orbit to determine its chemistry. He scrolled to the chemical graph down the page and glanced at the readings. Though his sample had plagioclase, an aluminum-containing mineral, and plotted strange in oxygen isotope space, both results were suspiciously similar.

  Richard looked at the meteorite with fresh eyes and excitement. “Have you traveled all the way from Mercury?” If it had, it was spectacular discovery and more than he could have hoped for.

  A deep thrumming cast his eyes to the sky. In the distance, a helicopter headed towards the crater. After watching it for a few moments, Richard returned his attention back to something far more interesting, his possible Mercury meteorite.

  GATHERED AROUND THE excavation of the mammoth and cave lions under the makeshift tent, the team’s conversations fell to silence at the sound of an approaching thrumming.