They should be half way to the surface by now, Connelly thought. Far enough.
Connelly shined her headlamp into the cave entrance and saw dancing shadows rushing towards her like flood water. That was her cue. Connelly raised the wrench over her head and brought it down on the oxygen tank's cap. The metal on metal impact shook her arm, but the cap remained solid. Connelly repeated the action several times and began wondering if she lacked the physical strength to break the top off. Just as she began loosing track of the number of strikes the top blew off with an explosion of air and launched the oxygen tank in the tunnel.
The first of the creeps had just reached the caves entrance and were shattered by the projectile. Limbs were still scattering across the cave floor when the first of the creeps dove into the cave and hopped madly toward Connelly.
The air tank rocketed through the cave system, straight for the central cavern. It pummeled past every creep in its path. But the desired effect—a spark—never occurred, the stone walls were coated with advancing creeps and their bodies served as a buffer, metal and stone never connected.
Connelly swatted away the first creep to lunge at her, but the second was too quick. It launched onto her face mask and began scratching at it, using its forelimbs like jig saws. She felt a pressure grow around her legs as more of the creatures latched on and began probing for chinks in the PMS armor. Oddly, she felt cool and collected.
She reached up and yanked the creep from her face mask and quickly snapped its relatively fragile limbs. The creature writhed and let go its hold on her facemask. She could now see that five creeps were busy at work, gnawing at her legs, while a constant stream of the creatures poured out of the entrance. Connelly's fear wasn't of the creeps. Her own self made bomb, which was still careening through the cave system was much more of a threat to her life than the army of creeps.
The idea of tearing through hordes of attacking enemies appealed to some primal instinct deep within her, but there wasn't even time to remove the creatures from her legs. She hopped twice and then dove into the water.
Instantly, the creeps attached to her legs let go and flailed as they sank to the bottom and drowned. Connelly took aim at the mouth of the cave and kicked the propulsion pack into overdrive. With a snap of her neck, Connelly launched forward, out of the cave and into the brightly decorated open ocean. She squinted back at the luminous colors of the bioluminescent world. She'd forgotten how beautiful it all was.
For the first time since her encounter with the blue Europhids, Connelly felt a twang of sadness. She knew it got through whatever emotion filter the Europhids had given her because it was an authentic and appropriate. Live or die, she would never see the Europian ocean or its rare beauty again. Connelly turned up and headed for the surface.
Back in the cave system, the oxygen tank rounded the last of several turns, crushing a swath of creeps as it slid at breakneck speeds. With a burst of creep bodies, it entered the massive cavern housing the creep colony and patches of red Europhids. Understanding the metal projectile's intention, a flurry of tendrils shot up like fans doing the wave at a baseball game. They reached out for the tank, but all that connected met the same limbless fate as the creeps.
After sailing fifty feet, the tank fell to the floor and smashed through a patch of Europhids. The impact knocked the tank up and over a second patch. Spindly red limbs stretched out for the tank, but missed. When it landed again, its jagged metal top, which Connelly had severed with the wrench, struck the stone at twenty miles per hour, creating a shower of sparks.
In the methane filled atmosphere, it was enough.
As though God had just created a new star within the confines of the cavern, every particle of methane trapped inside combusted. The outpouring flames incinerated every living thing in the cavern and quickly expanded through the only exit, frying the army of creeps in its wake. When the expanding explosion reached the outer edges of the cave system, it did the only thing it could, pushed up and through the mantle and burst into the open ocean. The caverns flooded in seconds. A shockwave and chaotic stream of bubbles raced towards the surface.
Towards Connelly.
* * * * *
"Can't we go any faster?" Willard said
Robert wished he could say yes, but going faster was not an option. The sound of a massive explosion had roared past them as they ascended through the Europian ocean. After the sound had passed, Robert felt as though his mind had been scrambled with a wire whisk, but he also knew the worst was yet to come. The devastating effects of an underwater explosion rose up through the depths like a leviathan. The TES sphere would be shaken apart and swallowed into the depths.
"We're approaching the cable," Robert said as he worked the controls. "We have to slow down to attach."
"Well, don't miss."
Robert shot Willard an annoyed glance. "I'll do my best." The cable appeared above, encircled by the large melted hole. "Choi must have stalled Peterson. The hole isn't frozen over."
The sphere approached the cable. Robert held his breath as he delicately maneuvered the sphere into position. A loud clunk echoed through the sphere as it was jolted by contact. Three loud clicks sounded out, one at a time, as the locking mechanism engaged. A green light flashed on the console.
"We're locked in!" Robert shouted. He quickly popped open a panel, which revealed a red switch and the label, EMERGENCY RETRACT. "Hold on." Robert flipped the switch.
Like an amusement park ride, they launched up through the hole, passing strata of ice so fast that the ten foot layers became a blur of color. Robert let the air in his lungs slowly seep out, allowing himself the slightest reprieve. He knew they would safely outrun the shockwave now that they were headed topside, but Connelly...
Robert looked up to say a silent prayer. He didn't know if there was a God, but he believed in covering all his bases, and with Connelly's life on the line, he didn't have anything to lose. But as he looked up, he saw a dark shape approaching from above. "What's that?" he said.
Willard looked up. "Don't know…but we're going to hit it." Willard looked at Robert. "Will the sphere hold against an impact at this speed?"
Robert paused. "I have no idea."
As they grew closer to the object the shape became distinctly human. "Oh no…" Robert said. "Who is it?"
Willard shook his head. "Better brace for impact. If this egg cracks, we might be able to swim to the surface."
"Doubtful," Robert said, gripping the arm rests of his chair. "We lack the buoyancy."
"Thank you for the optimism," Willard said.
As the sphere came within ten feet of the body, a pressure wave of water, pushed up by the ascending sphere, saved their lives. The body was pushed up and around the outside of the sphere. As they passed it, Robert clearly saw Choi's face, alert and panicked. She was reaching out for the sphere, but the pass was so quick, she didn't have a chance.
"That was close," Willard said.
"That was Choi."
Willard looked into Robert's eyes.
"She was alive," Robert said.
Willard remained silent for a moment, his face becoming gravely serious. "Then he's still up there."
Robert nodded. Peterson had sent Choi to a death no person deserved. If she wasn't killed by the shockwave, she'd asphyxiate on the ocean floor…or perhaps be eaten by an alien predator. Either way, her death would be solitary and very uncomfortable. The Europhids had to be stopped. That meant Peterson had to be stopped…by whatever means necessary…if they reached the top.
Robert's only hope was that the control panel would confuse whatever intelligence had consumed Peterson. Even if the Europhids had absorbed every bit of Peterson's mind, they still wouldn't know how to operate TES. He had never been trained. And the command to disengage the sphere was buried under so much protective protocol, he was sure it wouldn't be found in a short span of time. As long as Peterson didn't think to stop the ascent—that could be done with the push of a button.
&nbs
p; CHAPTER 32 -- BALLISTIC
The oceanic world became a blur of color as Connelly shot toward the frozen ceiling like a torpedo. She had the propulsion pack pounding out more speed for longer than it was designed to handle. It had been created for undersea exploration, which was normally very slow and methodical, not for drag races. A tight vibration tingled Connelly's back. The pack was nearing its breaking point.
Just another minute, Connelly thought.
But a propulsion pack failure wasn't the only danger she faced now. The PMS suit had an uncanny ability to handle multiple extreme pressures, from the vacuum of space to the compression of the deep sea. But Connelly's rapid ascent was testing the limits of how quickly the PMS could adapt to significant pressure changes. The higher she climbed, the more quickly the suit had to compensate for lesser amounts of pressure. And once Connelly reached the top of the hole, the PMS would endure the ultimate test as it exited the pressurized water and entered open space.
With the shockwave booming up from below, Connelly sensed danger on all sides. By all rights, she should already be dead. But she zipped forward on a direct course for the hole above her head.
As she approached the hole, which was illuminated only by the bright lamp on Connelly's helmet, something fluttered out.
A body.
Connelly feared that it might be Robert or Willard. Perhaps Peterson had found a way to destroy the sphere on its way to the surface? She was relieved to see that whoever it was still had life in them. Arms and legs pulled and kicked at the water in an attempt to slow the descent, but the body continued down at a steady rate.
Adjusting her course to a slightly less steep angle, Connelly maneuvered in to intercept the sinking victim. She reached the body quicker than anticipated, still cruising at full speed. The impact knocked the breath out of her and caused whoever it was to flail. Probably thought an alien predator was having a go. Connelly wrapped her arms around the person's shoulders. She arched her back and resumed her vertical rise.
Connelly felt the hand of whoever she was carrying searching across the side of her body. The hand stopped on Connelly's com system, adjusting the settings. Connelly had a sneaking suspicion about who she was holding. Only one person could be so in control after a near death experience. The suspicion was confirmed when a voice echoed in her headset. "I adjusted your com to the emergency channel."
Choi.
"What's our situation?" Connelly asked as they surged headlong into the tunnel.
"Peterson's still on the surface. His strength has been enhanced and he's still under Europhid control, but appeared to be suffering from a fever. He was covered in sweat. Can I ask why we're rising so quickly? These suits need time to adjust to pressure changes."
Just as Connelly was about to reply, she no longer had to. The first effects of the explosion reached them. A swarm of rapidly rising bubbles roiled toward the surface, pushed upward by the outer edge of the shockwave. "Just hold on tight," Connelly said.
A pulse of compressed water, squeezed up the ice tube, enveloped them from below. They were immediately propelled to the full speed of the shockwave.
Connelly looked up and saw a clean white hole above. The sphere was nowhere in sight. The guys had reached the top and had already locked the sphere down. The path was clear. Using the propulsion pack to guide their speedy ascent, Connelly kept them directly centered. She did her best to squeeze Choi even closer. The next part of their journey would be the most risky, especially for Choi. If Connelly let go of her, there would be nothing to stop Choi from being launched straight up into space.
* * * * *
The Surveyor was shook so violently that Harris's vision became a blur. He was forced to work the controls by memory, which became a more and more difficult task as the Surveyor's descent became maddening.
When he'd first sat down, he discovered the primary systems were no longer functioning. He'd had to manually switch to a backup system. After pushing himself across the command center several times in an effort to reach the backup system switches, he finally reached it. He had yanked open the door and fought with the ten tight switches that looked like circuit breakers. Once all ten were switched, he flung himself back across the room. He'd struck the ceiling as the ship pitched forward, but the impact flung him towards his chair, which he was able to grab. He'd succeeded in switching to the backup system, but the effort had exhausted him.
He had managed to strap himself into the command console seat, but he was having trouble focusing.
One step at a time, Harris thought.
The alarm had been shut off. That was his first step. Number two…
The pounding of thousands of charged particles blasting the outer hull was like a Fourth of July celebration, amplified through a loud speaker. The gash on his head throbbed with every concussion.
Restart the system! The thought snuck through the chaos. Harris reacted instantly. His shaking fingers sped over the controls. A series of colorful control screen flashed past as Harris accessed and reset the ship's system. With a final strike of a button, the command center went black.
After several seconds of waiting in weightlessness, the screen in front of Harris blinked back on. Text scrolled down the screen. He recognized it from their previous encounter with the charged particle bombs. He held his breath, hoping that everything would check out.
System reboot...
Life support systems engaged...
Main electric engaged...
Gravity engaged...
Harris felt the weight of his body pulled down into the seat. Blood rushed from his skull towards his feet, relieving some of the pressure from his head wound and clearing his thoughts slightly. The text continued to roll across the screen.
Status check in 3...2...1...
Optimal atmosphere...
Optimal pressure...
Optimal gravity...
All systems functional...
Harris glanced up through the clear hull above…when he realized that above was actually below. To him, he was right side up, but Surveyor was actually upside down over Europa. As the descending ship cleared the lower rim of the charged particle cloud, Europa came into view.
The frozen moon was uncomfortably close. The Surveyor had been created for space exploration and high speed travel. Harris knew that the evasive maneuvers it would take to avoid crashing into the moon were not in the cards. The speed and bulk of Surveyor was too much. Crashing was inevitable. But surviving the crash—that might be possible.
Surveyor was the most expensive vessel ever created by mankind with a price tag in the high billions. The grand total was classified, but Harris thought it most likely surmounted the combined total income of the globes second and third world countries combined. It was no wonder Surveyor had been equipped with the very finest crash survival protocols.
Of course, they had never been tested. How could they be?
"First time for everything," Harris said.
Working through the series of commands that only he and Choi knew, he prepped the Surveyor for a crash landing. After typing in the final command, he watched as the ship's computer extrapolated all the information it needed. Descent rate, surface density, angle, everything was taken into account.
Harris didn't like sitting back and letting the computer do the work for him, but there was no way he could manage the hundreds of factors involved in landing a gigantic spacecraft on a frozen ball of ice.
A warning flashed on the screen in front of him:
EMERGENCY LANDING PROTOCOLS ACTIVATED…
SYSTEM ENGAGE IN 3… 2… 1…
Harris clung to his arm rests and watched through the clear ceiling. A jolt pounded him as the ship violently pitched to the side and then rolled, propelled by external thrusters. The computer was doing things fast.
Must be closer to the surface than I thought.
The Surveyor's spin snapped to a stop as thrusters on the other side of the ship slowed the rotation. Had he been unbuckl
ed, Harris might have become a stain on the wall.
The dark side of Jupiter and stars filled the view above him. The ship was now bottom down. Several explosions similar to those of the charged particles rocked the ship from below. But Harris felt no fear as section by section of the ship shook from the outside. He knew the concussions were created by the emergency protocol's secret weapon. Thousands of ten by ten panels lined the base of the ship. Hidden beneath each panel was a massive balloon, capable of absorbing tremendous amounts of energy and displacing untold tons of weight. The panels were separated from the lower hull by tiny explosive charges and launched downward.
The final piece of Surveyor's emergency landing protocol was about to kick in, and Harris knew this would be the most grueling. The ship, pushed out of orbit by the charged particles and pulled down by Europa's gravity, would slow itself as much as possible.
Harris felt all of the Surveyors down-turned thrusters kick on at once. He was pushed into his seatbelt. It dug into his chest, squeezing his ribs. Harris gritted his teeth in determination. The Surveyor had taken a beating and pulled through. Now she had to survive worse.
"C'mon, baby," Harris said. "Get your nose up. Get it up or we're both going to rot on this moon."
* * * * *
As the sphere edged over the top of the ice, Robert felt as though he had experienced a rebirth. He had believed, several times, that his life was coming to an end. Back on the surface, he felt renewed. Regardless of the fact that an entire alien species felt the need to exterminate all human life on Europa, he felt his fear ebb.
Then he saw Peterson.
As they rode the sphere towards the surface, Robert had imagined all the possible scenarios. There were hundreds of ways a creative intelligence could have killed him and Willard while they were helpless in the sphere. But nothing had happened. Their ride up had been smooth and fast. With Choi meeting her fate in the depths of the Europian ocean, there was nothing to stop Peterson from acting. So why hadn't he?
BENEATH - A Novel Page 30
