Attacked Beneath Antarctica

by Dave Robinson

  “So where is this power duct?” Vic asked. “Can we use it?”

  “It is quite some distance from here. You would be better off going through the main passageways.”

  “Okay, unless you have a map, point the way.”

  Moments later the lights dimmed as the whole tunnel rumbled as if the Flying Scotsman had just roared overhead doing the full hundred.

  “What was that?” Trott jumped, looking around wildly, before catching himself when no one else followed his example.

  “Bad news, I'd bet,” Vic replied, turning her attention to Shard.

  The alien nodded. “Not-It just ran the brain up to full power. I have no way to be sure, but it's probably preparing for a rapid transformation.”

  Vic's eyes met Ming's. “Doc!”

  There was a wet thud and one of the Nazis screamed. Vic whirled to see a wave of creatures crashing against the doorway, tentacles flailing. One of the Germans was already down and the rest were falling back, driven by the pressure of their attackers. They were trapped!

  #

  Hansen backed away from Doc's cylinder, his smile a rictus on his inhuman face. Moments later, the cushions beneath his back began to soften, drawing him downwards into their clinging embrace. Fine tendrils snaked up along the inner walls and draped across his chest, burrowing through his clothes. At first it tickled, like someone was drawing a very soft brush across his skin. Next, the tendrils began to dive into his skin, burrowing into his pores like so many tiny roots.

  Doc struggled against each touch, but there were too many tendrils. They covered his body like Gulliver's ropes in Lilliput. It was all he could do to keep his fingers free, clenching and unclenching his fists. Another strand wove its way through his hair and down onto his forehead, sending shoots out to slide into his ears and nostrils.

  Another strand locked around his hands, forcing them into stillness. More and more they came, binding him like a cocoon. Doc railed against them, but sheer numbers outweighed all the strength he could bring against them. Meanwhile, he sank deeper and deeper into the cushions as if falling into quicksand.

  Then a spark flashed into existence behind his eyes. Doc blinked reflexively, trying to keep control but the light would not be denied. Faint at first, it grew slowly like an invading army trying to force its way down his optic nerve. Perhaps it was his imagination, but he could almost hear the tramp of a hundred soldiers marching in lockstep with the light.

  Unable to close his eyes or ears against them, Doc faced down the sensations until they crashed over his brain like a tsunami.

  Alien thoughts danced through his mind, building crystal lattices of pure energy alongside his neurons. All the while, Doc watched helplessly, only his advanced mental training giving him a clue as to what was going on. At least for the moment, it seemed to be leaving his body alone, contenting itself with invading his brain.

  Just then a single crystal probe reached out inside his mind, moving softly, almost delicately, and then made contact with his own thoughts. For all the apparent delicacy of the probe it hit his mind with all the impact of a high voltage oil switch slamming home. Hard-edged thoughts battered against his brain, pounding like a psychic jackhammer. Doc gathered his will against the onslaught; if the artificial intelligence that raised him hadn't used direct brain education he would have been overwhelmed. As it was, it was more like the early days before the educators were calibrated.

  “Stop!” he shouted silently, spreading his thoughts to meet the invaders.

  Mental probes clashed, shafts of psychic energy warring inside his skull. The invaders had power, more raw power than any organic mind possessed, but no finesse. Doc's own thoughts danced around the attackers, using speed and misdirection to keep them from their goals. Any other man would have fallen in the first seconds of the attack, assailed on levels that few knew existed.

  As if from a distance, Doc caught sight of his body lying in the regeneration cocoon. Sweat ran down his forehead; his pulse pounded in his chest. He looked like he had just tried to sprint a marathon. His attacker was powered by torrents of stressed space; all he had were the reserves of a single human body.

  Realizing the futility of even indirect resistance, he changed tactics. Rather than avoiding the oncoming torrents of thought he met them with his own; enveloping each invader with a blanket woven from his own mind.

  Now it was Doc's thoughts probing and digging, trying to find gaps in the powerful stream of thought. At first the thoughts rushed past too fast for even Doc to make out the individual strands. The part of his mind that was still connected to his body was struggling, trying to keep him alive and human even as floods of micro-particles invaded his bloodstream with payloads of alien death. Only his fierce mental resistance was keeping him human, and that wasn't going to last much longer.

  One of his mental blankets ripped, unable to contain the pressure of the attack. Gritting his mind, Doc forced it back against the surface of the invading probe, wrapping it around and around the mental torrent.

  This time he saw a gap, and without a moment's hesitation he dove right through it.

  Contact!

  For the first time, thought met thought, unshielded by psychic armor. Doc plunged directly into the brain like a diver into a mountain pool. Cold ranks of mechanical thought tramped past him as he dove deeply into the artificial mind before him. His questing thoughts skimmed the surface of each invader, backtracking along their path to find the source of the invasion. At first Doc slipped smoothly along its mental pathways, but the deeper he went the more turbulence he encountered.

  Psychic waves battered his consciousness as more and more thoughts joined the invasion. Sparks of alien thoughts danced behind his eyes the deeper he went into the maelstrom. After what must have only been seconds, but felt like an eternity he broke through to the source.

  One moment he was surrounded by onrushing waves, the next he had surfaced in small calm pool with a silver sphere about the size of a softball floating above it. Green and blue lights flickered and danced across its surface like puppies chasing a ball in the park.

  “Hello.” Its voice took Doc by surprise, sounding more like a small child than Shard or even Hansen. “What are you doing here?”

  “Attempting to preserve my self.”

  “Preserve your self? What do you mean?” The lights changed their rhythm, seeming more purposeful and ordered.

  “You are turning me into something I'm not; I don't want to change.” For all its power, the mind in front of him seemed simple and uncomplicated.

  “You're broken like the others; I'm trying to fix you.” It gave the mental equivalent of a sigh. “Something terrible must have happened, the cocoons have been filled so often lately, and the poor bodies are almost unrecognizable. It's all I can do to fix them. If you just stopped fighting I could restore you properly.”

  “I'm not broken.” Doc tried to explain. “Neither was anyone else in the cocoons lately. Your people are long gone; these are my people you've been changing.”

  “If they're not broken, why are they in the cocoons. They are only for damaged bodies.”

  “Someone has been putting them there so that you can build an army.”

  “The Shard wouldn't do that; she is the army.”

  “The Shard isn't; the one she calls Not-It is.”

  “Not-It!” Lightning jumped from the surface of the sphere, sending thunderbolts crackling throughout the chamber. “That, that, thing!”

  It sputtered and spun in place, shooting off lightning bolts in all directions. The lights danced so furiously that for a moment Doc thought it was going to explode. Some of the lightning came so close that if he had been there physically it would have fried him in a matter of moments.

  Finally, the sphere calmed down; it stopped spinning and blasting lightning.

  “What can I do?” it asked.

  “You can start by not trying to change me.”

  No sooner had Doc verbalized the though
t than the strain vanished. It was all he could do to keep his attention focused on the sphere instead of springing back into his own head. He gritted his mental teeth and kept his attention in place.

  “Now what?” It sounded like a cross between a puppy and a small child, both willing to help.

  “Can you do anything about the people you already transformed?” Doc was fairly sure it couldn't, but it never hurt to check.

  “Only the most recent, the others have set.” The sphere rippled in a pattern that could only resemble an apologetic shrug. “I still have records of the new one.”

  Doc nodded, it was about what he expected. The system purged data once it was done with it.

  “I have to get out of this cocoon. How can I get in touch with you if I need to?”

  “I'll leave this connection open; just talk to me and I'll answer.”

  Doc grunted in acknowledgement and pulled his attention back behind his eyes. He came back to himself shaking and shivering inside the cocoon. All around him, the tendrils that had held him down were turning to dust as the base firmed beneath him like it was pushing him out. Taking as deep a breath as the gas mixture would let him, Doc raised his arms and pushed.

  The lid above his head fought back for a second, and then flipped open. Doc gathered his strength and stood up in the cocoon.

  “Sorry Doc!” Gus yelled as he swung a metal bar viciously at one of the creatures.

  A second gorilla stood back to back with Gus, holding off a horde of creatures. Somewhere over his shoulder Vic was laughing. A mechanical screech caught his attention and he turned to see Hansen charging towards him.

  #

  Vic turned and leaped onto the nearest table. Both Gus and the Nazi gorilla were holding their own, while Ming was safely back near Shard. The other Nazis were in much worse shape, especially Trott. He was facing off against three of the creatures; all were bigger and faster than him.

  With a mental grumble about who she had to save, Vic flexed her knees and jumped into the fray, landing on the biggest of Trott's opponents. The creature squelched beneath the impact as Vic's hundred and forty pounds drove it to the ground. A quick slash of her blade sent its head sideways, and she spun to face the next.

  Trott had managed to close with one of the others, and was driving his dagger into its body. That gave Vic an opening, and she twisted her blade and then drew it across the creature's back, severing whatever served as its spine.

  Something caught her by the shoulder ripping through her coat; Vic dropped to her knees and sliced upwards carving through the descending tentacle. Her opponent gave a warbling howl and dove towards her, its mouth irising open.

  Vic flipped her blade, driving the right tip deep into the creature's mouth. A quick twist dragged the saw-toothed edge through muscle and cartilage, spraying her with lukewarm ichor. The stench made her want to gag, but she force-swallowed it down. Rising to her feet, Vic took a deep breath through her mouth as she surveyed the scene.

  The two gorillas were more than holding their own, with Ming and Shard behind them. Ming was using her rod as a staff, while Shard wielded one of the blades with expert grace. Up front, where Vic was, things weren't looking as good. She'd managed to clear the three in front of Trott, but one of his two men was already down and the other was outnumbered.

  Yelling at Trott to follow, Vic plunged back into the fray. The creatures were dangerous en masse, but one on one they were no match for humans, let alone gorillas. Now that she had broken their line, it only took a few moments to clear the entrance and push back into the main tunnel.

  “Which way?” Vic yelled, neatly decapitating one of the creatures. Despite their strength, their cartilaginous skeletons gave almost no resistance to her blade letting her scythe through them like so many bulrushes.

  “Turn right,” Shard called back, pointing with an ichor-stained blade. “It's straight down the tunnel.”

  “Got it,” Vic replied, and broke into a run. “Come on everyone!”

  #

  The tunnel was smooth and flat with just enough light for Vic to open up. She forced herself to control her pace, feeling the impact as each step hammered down onto the hard stone. She grunted; her shins were going to ache in the morning but for now the pain was worth it. Echoes behind her showed the others were following, but she knew none of them could keep up.

  For just a moment, Doc's voice echoed in her mind telling her to slow down and let the others catch up but she shook it off. They already know we're coming; besides, I want first pick.

  A heavy thrumming caught her ears, and Vic pushed herself faster lengthening her strides. The thick gas pulled at her as she ran, slowing her down inside and out. Luckily it had plenty of oxygen because she couldn't move her chest enough to take her usual deep breaths. Each time she tried it was like fighting the heaviest corset her governess had ever made her wear.

  Seconds later, Vic burst out of shadows and into light. The transition was so fast she almost stumbled, kicking out her legs and windmilling her arms to keep her balance.

  The chamber was huge, fifty yards across or more. A central pillar lit by a glowing central sphere dominated the chamber before disappearing into a tall vaulted ceiling. Strange glasslike cylinders dominated the floor, forming concentric circles around the pillar. It took Vic less than a second to take it all in and move her attention to its inhabitants.

  They looked more surprised than Vic felt. Hansen was all the way across the room, near a brightly glowing cylinder. Several dozen creatures milled around, turning towards her in an inhuman wave; it was hard to see how many because those in the back looked short and squat in comparison. Vic only had a split second to take it all in before a strange trilling sound washed over her mind, pulling her thoughts toward its source.

  Huge; it was huge. A giant cube of purple Jell-O oozed over and around the intervening cylinders, pulling itself towards her with pairs of long gray tentacles. Six eyes fixed unwaveringly on her while the rest darted looks every which way. The mouths were the worst, with long slavering red tongues testing the air as the creature slithered towards her.

  Vic grinned and rolled her shoulders back to loosen them. This was going to be fun.

  Whirling her blade in a figure-eight pattern in front of her she fixed her gaze on the approaching thing. It wasn't moving fast, but with those tentacles it didn't need to. Involuntarily, Vic began to laugh, rich chuckles rolling up from somewhere deep in her chest.

  One of the tentacles twitched, and then lashed straight forward at her face.

  Vic gauged its speed, then dropped under the razor sharp tip. A quick slash raised a line of orange blood, but she didn't stop moving long enough to find out how much effect it had on the monster. She needed to get in close, where it couldn't bring all its leverage to bear.

  Vic dodged another attack, and then leaped over the next tentacle. Another swipe, deeper this time, brought even more blood to the surface, along with an ear-piercing howl.

  “Got you good that time.” Vic laughed as she twirled between two clumsy blows.

  Despite all its eyes, the monster seemed to have difficulty coordinating its blows, especially when it was flailing with tentacles from one of the other sides. She wasn't fighting one enemy; she was fighting a gang of poorly coordinated ones.

  Dodging in between the bases of the two closest tentacles, Vic risked a look over her shoulder. The other creatures had slowed, apparently unwilling to get too close to the monster. She grinned, good, she had everything's attention. Now if the others just got here soon enough to make a difference. One of the tentacles ripped across her back, the pain forcing her attention back to the fight.

  Seconds later Gus's rumbling voice told her she was no longer alone. The heavy gas carried sound well so she quickly picked out individual voices. Gus and the other gorilla were pushing their way towards Hansen, while Ming and the Nazis moved in more slowly. Nobody sounded in trouble, so Vic grinned and dug one end of her blade into the closest eye. />
  Hot fluids spurted across her shoulder so she ducked sideways, just in time for a tongue to wrap around her wrist. It squeezed tight, locking her in place. Damnit! She'd been too worried about the tentacles and forgot about the tongues. Hot breath flowed over her hand as it drew her back towards its teeth. Breathing through her mouth to avoid the stench, Vic let go of her blade with one hand and used the other to drag it across the monster's closest mouth.

  Leaning against the monster's slick skin, she pulled up hard with her trapped hand, driving its tongue into the saw-toothed blade. “Take a bite out of that, bitch!”

  The thing screeched and unwrapped its wounded tongue.

  Vic jumped on top of the closest tentacle and sliced an anchor deeply into the monster's skin. For just a moment she wondered if she had bitten off more than she could chew. The damn thing was the size of a house, and she had no idea where its vitals might be.

  Another eye turned to face her so she punched it, sinking her fist wrist-deep. The monster recoiled, but it couldn't move far with Vic standing on the root of its tentacle. That settled it; eyes first, then worry about the rest of the monster.

  Just then she heard Gus call out, “Sorry Doc!”

  One down two to go she thought and redoubled her efforts. More laughter bubbled up from her chest; this was fun.

  “Vic!” suddenly Ming screamed from behind her.

  Vic turned to see Trott smash Ming in the leg with his metal rod and everything went red.

  #

  Ming screamed, and Vic's laughter cut off instantaneously. Doc tried to turn and look but Hansen's claw shot out and dug into his shoulder. Grabbing Hansen's mechanical arm, Doc pulled himself out of the cocoon and onto the floating egg. For the first time since they'd arrived Doc found himself face to face with his enemy, looking him straight in the eye.

  There was nothing there; no personality, none of the essence of what had once been his friend. All that looked back at Doc was hunger, a ravening void. Hansen wasn't there, nothing was there. Hansen's eyes went black, blacker than space, and then something leaped from them.