by Greig Beck
Hammerson interrupted, “TH3 or Standard?”
“Standard, sir; it’s hotter than thermite-TH3. Standard iron-thermite burns with little flame, but enormous heat. It’s a lot dirtier, but it will be a more effective incendiary composition for our purposes.”
“Risks?”
“Computer models recommend three iron-thermite blasts with seven-second intervals between each—the first two containing twenty-seven units of thermite, and the last blast containing just twenty-five. This should take us down between ninety-eight and one hundred feet and leave little residual water. The risks are that if our team under the ice is too close to the burn zone and we are out by just a few feet we’ll cook them. They must be under cover before ignition.”
Hicks paused for a few seconds and rubbed his chin.
“Go on, Captain.”
“There is one more thing. If there are any shallow deposits of petroleum in the vicinity we could light up the whole area. If there’s a big deposit, it could either go off like Hiroshima or create a burn hole that could continue to combust until it is capped or exhausted. Either way, it isn’t going to be a very well kept secret for long.”
“Better make sure you just burn the ice then, Captain.”
“Yes sir, we can do that.”
Alfred Beadman, the Chairman of GBR, was ushered into the room. Hammerson nodded to the chairman and then turned to Private Everson and glared. “Any contact yet?”
Hammerson already knew the answer to his own question, as he asked it just as low-level background noise emanated from the speaker in the centre of the enormous command room’s oak desk. He just wanted to keep the pressure up on the communication team.
“Nothing yet, sir.”
Everson was listening in as the communication team did everything they could to boost the signal and raise a response. The good news was that it wasn’t plain white noise which meant no communication. There was just the soft hiss of non-contact; someone was there, they just weren’t answering yet.
The Russian president looked at the security brief containing the transcript of an intercepted message from the Vostok base at the Antarctic. The Russian base contained some of the most sophisticated electronic surveillance equipment in the Southern Hemisphere, and anything outside of a frequency hopper could be trapped, decoded and digested by the Russians at about the same time as the legitimate receiving party.
The Americans were preparing an extraction from the ice; their mission must have succeeded. That idiot Petrov had failed him one too many times.
Volkov squeezed the briefing paper in his fist, compressing it ever smaller as he mentally sifted through his options.
He spoke to the officer without turning. “I need an extraction from the southern ice. There is a man I want brought back here within twenty-four hours.” Volkov turned his watery stare on the young man. “See to it.”
The Russian president watched the officer leave then opened a desk drawer and removed a small black phone. He dialled a long number and waited as the signal was coded and bounced to the other side of the globe. He spoke softly when the connection was made.
“Comrade Borshov, your job there is finished. I have another for you. Priority.”
On the other side of Moscow, Viktor Petrov jumped into a large black Mercedes and headed for the airport. Several large diplomatic bags nestled safely beside him on the soft leather seat. Upstairs in his large drawing room the ashes of a copied security brief still smouldered.
Borshov heard the call disconnect and let his hand drop to his side. A priority assignment from the Little Wolf meant other missions were to be immediately abandoned. He reached up and touched the frozen blood around the ragged hole in his face. He ached, not from the raw wound, but for vengeance.
Alex Hunter would die by his hand, this day, next or whenever he got close enough. Borshov had his own priorities; Volkov would never know.
Ping. Alex’s headset stopped everyone dead.
Aimee bent over and rested her hands on her knees, drawing in deep breaths through clenched teeth to try to filter the dusty air. She tried to spit out the dirt but realised there was no saliva in her dry mouth. She saw Matt stifle a cough, both of them not wishing to make any noise in the suffocating darkness. Their torch beams were nothing but a dull brown now and the reduced peripheral light made her feel the colossal stone blocks in the walls were getting closer and heavier around them. A wave of fatigue and nausea passed through her and she looked up at Alex to see him place the unit over his head, close his eyes and press the receive button. She crossed her fingers.
“Arcadian receiving, over.”
When Alex’s voice came over the speaker in the command centre, everyone stopped what they were doing and then cheered loudly. Though the Hammer felt like leaping to his feet and punching the air, he needed to stay cool and clear-headed as the mission was a long way from being over.
“Good to hear your voice, Arcadian, what is your immediate operational status?” Hammerson smiled to himself; he only just stopped himself from calling Alex “son.” Captain Alex Hunter, the Arcadian, was a HAWC field agent. In dispassionate military terms he was an “asset,” a weapon to be deployed and expended without emotion. However, the Hammer couldn’t help taking pride in the way Alex had grown to be the leader and ultimate professional he was.
There was another crackle of background noise and then: “Are we ever glad to hear you, sir. HAWC unit is down to one member; there are three remaining scientific personnel; two with me, one missing. Plane crash survivors, if there were any, and Hendsen party look to have encountered large indigenous biological. There are no remains and no survivors.”
Hammerson placed large fingers on his forehead and rubbed. His HAWCs, all those men and women, dead. Another bloody mission paid for in flesh, he thought.
Alfred Beadman was shaking his head and muttering to himself. “Who’s missing and what does he mean by indigenous biological? They’re a hundred feet below solid ice.” He stepped towards the conference unit. “Captain Hunter, Alfred Beadman here. Dr. Aimee Weir: is she OK?”
“She’s right here, sir.” Alex removed his comm unit and placed it over Aimee’s head.
Everyone held their breath in the command centre, the silence broken only by a hiss and crackle coming from the speaker in the centre of the large oak table. Then smooth complete silence as a signal was engaged.
“Hello?”
“Aimee! You’re safe, thank God. I was so worried.” Alfred Beadman rocked back on his heels and folded his arms about himself as though to give himself a big hug.
“Alfred, I’m better for hearing your voice.” Aimee couldn’t help smiling as she spoke to the avuncular chairman.
“Is Adrian there? Is he okay too?” Beadman asked.
Aimee paused for a second, deciding what to tell him, then thought it best to keep it brief. “I’m sorry, Alfred, Dr. Silex didn’t make it. He’s dead.”
“Oh, my dear, you must be shocked. Adrian was a good man; one of the best.” Alfred’s voice was full of pain.
“Yes, Alfred, Dr. Silex really surprised us all.” She turned to Alex and rolled her eyes before changing the subject. “I’ve got bad news on the petroleum signatures, I’m afraid. They were false positives given off from a gigantic body of deep-crustal warm water with a biomass reading that’s off the scale. There are also signs of ongoing geological activity, so I doubt there is anything of interest for GBR in the vicinity.”
“My dear, all I care about is getting you home. Now, what’s this about indigenous biologicals?”
Major Hammerson nodded to Alfred Beadman and leaned forward as a sign that he needed to take control once again. Though he was over the moon about hearing that Aimee Weir was alive, there was a lot to do if they were going to be safely extracted anytime soon.
“Dr. Weir, I’m delighted you’re still with us and I look forward to having you here again in person. Now, though, we have to plan to get you out of there. Can I speak to Capt
ain Hunter again, please?” Aimee passed the headset back to Alex.
“Here, sir.”
“OK, Captain, continue with your update.”
“Sir, as Dr. Weir mentioned, there was no petroleum, but a deep body of warm water. The heat is probably from some geothermic activity. This body of water contains many large non-surface-dwelling aggressive life forms. We are currently being pursued by one of these biological hostiles that were most likely responsible for the removal of the previous plane crash personnel and termination of the Hendsen party.”
Hammerson leaned back in his chair and exhaled.
“OK, Arcadian. What is your current physical location and operational capabilities?”
“We are currently in the tunnels of an abandoned city that is structurally sound, but we estimate it is buried approximately one hundred feet below high-density ice. Our defensive capabilities are near exhausted. We’re caught between creature and ice and our backs are against the wall. One last thing, sir; we weren’t the only ones under the ice. We encountered several Krofskoya agents, headed by Uli Borshov. They have since been neutralised.”
In the command centre, Hammerson’s jaw worked beneath his cheeks at the thought of the Russian interference. This was Cold War stuff. He knew a few Russian generals and this was off-key. Someone was exceeding orders; someone would pay.
“Captain, Alfred Beadman again. Can you barricade yourself in somewhere until we can reach you?”
“Mr. Beadman, this thing is bigger than a blue whale and is coming through the walls like they are paper. Our plan is to stay ahead of it if we can. However, this strategy will only be successful for a short while until we end up cornered. Major Hammerson, I can’t dig us out from here, can you reach us?”
“We believe so. We’re going to cut a hole using standard thermite. It’ll be approximately fifty feet in diameter and will overlap your beacon signal. You’re correct on your estimation on the ice depth; it’s exactly a hundred and one feet deep. We’re planning a series of detonations that will vaporise approximately one hundred feet of ice. You’ll need to bust through that last foot or so yourself. Any more burn and we’ll flood your chamber with scalding water and steam; any less and you won’t be able to punch through. Comments, Captain?”
“Works for me, sir. How long until you’re ready?”
Major Hammerson turned and looked at Hicks who put down the phone he was speaking into. “Ten minutes until all charges are calibrated. First charge ready to drop in eleven minutes.”
“Ready, Arcadian, ten minutes on my mark.” Hammerson and Alex counted down from twenty and synchronised their watches. “OK, you need to be away from that transmission device you planted, but in ten minutes twenty-one seconds you need to be back there knocking a hole through. We estimate in another five minutes after the blast, runoff from the walls will start to refreeze at about six inches every twenty seconds. Good luck, soldier.”
“Thank you, sir, we’ll see you soon.” Alex pressed the small stud on his earpiece and drew in a deep breath. Just give us a few more minutes, he thought.
Thirty
“They’re coming to get us. In less than ten minutes there’ll be three staged thermite blasts that’ll hopefully burn a hole right down to our door. The blast and burn will be all over in twenty-one seconds and then we need to be back at that door breaking through any remaining ice before the runoff refreezes. We’re nearly there, guys.”
Alex looked at Aimee who gave a wearied smile showing teeth darkened by grit. Matt, however, exploded.
“Ten minutes? That’s not enough time; we’ll never find her in ten minutes. Can they hold off for a while? What if they drop down and send in some more soldiers to help with the search? Ask them, please ask them.”
Alex felt for the young man. They would need to pass close to where Monica disappeared on their return to the door, but the odds of finding her now were small. The tunnels were silent now, and he should have been able to pick up her soft breaths or even her racing heartbeat; but there was nothing. How could he tell Matt that he couldn’t find her; she had either travelled well away from her initial position, or she was dead. Alex knew he didn’t have the time to negotiate; if Matt tried to slow them down, Alex was prepared to carry him, conscious or not.
“Sorry, Matt; we can look out for her on our way back, but that’s all. If we don’t make that opening before the refreeze, we’ll all die down here.”
Aimee put her hand on his shoulder. “Please, Matt.”
Matt turned to Alex with red-rimmed eyes as if he was going to say something before changing his mind. He took off his helmet and threw it hard into the dark, then ran dusty fingers through sweat-slicked hair. He took a deep breath and nodded.
Thank God, looks like he’s still with us, thought Alex.
They moved cautiously, Matt and Aimee straining to hear and see past the weak beams of their light. From time to time they stopped still to listen—the only sounds came from their own breathing. Alex checked his watch—six minutes remaining. This was not good, time was running out too quickly.
They had made their way back to where they became separated from Monica. No longer was there a large ancient tunnel splitting into sub-tunnels; now it was a yawning chasm falling away into inky blackness. Alex could not see or sense anything in the pit in front of them, but getting across to the side tunnel on the left where Monica had disappeared was going to be impossible. Over to the right was the way back to the original tunnel that led to the ice door and the coming blast zone. That way offered a hazardous but small chance of passing, but at least it was a chance. There was a line of single stones still attached to the wall, jutting out about a foot and acting as a narrow shelf—they could make it back if they held their breath and acted quickly. Alex was conscious of the fact that they needed to be away from the blast zone, but close enough to punch through before it refroze. If they looked for Monica, they’d never make it. His choice was simple: lose one, or lose all three.
“How are we going to get across?” Matt looked at both Aimee and Alex waiting for an impossible plan to cross the black pit and rescue Monica. He must have known that the chasm was impassable, but by now he had come to believe Alex was capable of anything. Given enough time, perhaps Alex could have managed to scale his way across. However, time was not something they had now. Aimee looked down at her feet so she didn’t have to meet his eyes.
“We need to get back to the ice door, now. We don’t have much time.” Alex spoke quickly while keeping his eyes on the gaping pit in front of them.
“What about Monica? She’s just over there.”
“Once we’re in the main chamber, we’ll see what we can do.” Alex hated misleading Matt, but he needed to get them on firm ground and into the main chamber. The last thing he needed was to end up having to wrestle with Matt on the edge of a near bottomless pit.
Alex quickly checked the remnants of his equipment, then turned to Aimee and looked to see if there were any loose straps or equipment hanging off her that could snag on the wall or trip her up. He turned to Matt next, but he was brushed away as Matt moved in close to Aimee and asked her to check his suit.
“You’ll help me find her, won’t you? She must be petrified in the dark by herself.” Matt was keeping his voice low and looking into Aimee’s eyes with an intense gaze that was bordering on mania.
“Help’s coming, Matt.”
Aimee began fiddling with her belt webbing so she didn’t have to look into his face and tell a lie. She also didn’t think that Monica could be alive now that the creature was almost among them. It had stopped chasing them, but she knew it hadn’t given up so she figured that meant only one thing—it had gone after Monica.
“Aimee, you’re going first. Matt, you after me.”
Aimee knew this way Alex could keep them both in arm’s reach. They edged along the precipice with the stone holding firm under their feet. From the pit below there was an odour of ammonia and ancient decay. Thankfully, no sound
rose from the darkness.
“Very good, Aimee, keep moving and looking ahead, just a few more feet.”
With one hand Alex held on to Matt’s shoulder; Aimee bet he would drag Matt if he had to keep him moving forward. Matt’s eyes were fixed on the empty tunnel across from them; Aimee knew why. If Alex let him go and he could manage it, he would disappear into that tunnel, charging blindly into its depths and calling Monica’s name. Part of Aimee wanted to do the same, but she knew deep inside herself that to leave Alex now meant certain death. She remembered the emaciated skulls in the lower tunnels and shivered; she wanted to see the sun again.
Aimee stepped off the ledge onto the main tunnel floor and knelt down to draw in breaths; the strain on her already fatigued calf muscles had been enormous. Alex was next, followed by a still reluctant Matt.
Ping. Alex’s comm unit signalled an incoming message.
“Arcadian, this is Lieutenant O’Riordan in Blackbird One overhead, we will be commencing drop in three minutes and counting down from two. Expect communications to be down from ignition and for approximately five seconds afterwards. Good luck, sir.”
Alex knew he didn’t expect a response; things were in motion now. The size of the chemical blast would scramble communications as the incendiary coupled with an already magnetic environment.
“We’ve got three minutes till they begin the burn. Let’s go.”
“No, wait. I thought I heard her. Monica! Monica, it’s us!” Matt stepped back to the edge of the pit and screamed at the top of his voice towards the side tunnel. Her name bounced off down into the chamber and was echoed back again and again.
“Monica! We’re here. Can you hear us?”
