by Greig Beck
“Why have we never found this?” Greg asked, leaning over the railing.
“It doesn’t surprise me that it remained hidden,” Abby said. “After all, Alaska not only boasts the biggest land size, but also holds the smallest population of the fifty states. Only six hundred and fifty thousand people call Alaska home.” She turned. “You’d have to stumble onto it, or fall into it.”
Cate‘s head jerked up.
“Ouch.” Greg grimaced.
Abby momentarily put a hand over her mouth. “Oh god, sorry Cate, I didn’t mean like your grandfather, um, might have.”
Cate waved her away. “Forget it. And for the record, we know the locals must have been aware of it. The native Nantouk people called Baranof Island Sheet’-ká X'áat'l – The Forbidden Island. And the general understanding is that the pretty blue lake outside was simply known as Tlagoo Khwáanxʼi – Bad Water. Or at least that used to be what we understood.”
Cate stared into the dark void. “But there was another legend. One much older.” Cate remembered her grandfather’s letters. “The Bad Water was not named because it was undrinkable, but because it was dangerous for some reason. Remember the cave drawings – either the Nantouk or some other ancient people knew about the body of water, and fished from it.” She turned to face the group. “What if the Bad Water, Tlagoo KhwáanxʼI, they referred to wasn’t the blue lake at all, but instead this subterranean sea.”
“Maybe it’s haunted,” Greg said. “You know, some sort of ancient curse, or it’s taboo.”
Cate shook her head slowly, not really listening to anymore as she stared into the blackness. A ghost walked up her spine, making her shiver. She still found it hard to believe she was going to be dropped into that dark hole within the next few hours. She turned, beside her both Abby and Greg looked drained of color, and she knew exactly what they were feeling – trepidation, doubt, and fear. Same as she did, but she kept telling herself it was really just excitement and exhilaration. She knew it was a lie – she was scared shitless.
Cate gathered herself, and grinned, and then slapped Greg on the shoulder making him jump. “Okay team, let’s go suit up. It’s party time.”
* * *
Cate zipped up her coveralls, and swung her arms a little. The loose material was comfortable and designed to keep them warm while giving them full a non-restrictive movement in the confined space.
Abby zipped hers up, with Greg watching from the side. The young woman was smaller than Cate, but had an impressive set of breasts that Greg seemed to find mesmerizing. She managed to catch his eye and gave him a mock stern look. In return, he simply wiggled his brows, and crossed to Abby.
“All set there? Let me check your collar.” He turned her around and ran his fingers along the top turning the collar out from where it had accidently folded inwards against her skin. “There; snug as a bug in a rug.” He stood back a pace, one hand on his chin. “It suits you.”
“Thank you.” Abby spun as if modeling. “I call it the baggy submariner look.”
Greg held his arms out, and then flexed them. “And I call mine the action romper suit – ready for anything.”
Cate sniggered. Greg would have weighed about ten stone, dripping wet. She turned to see Jack Monroe enter the tent, his huge body in his own suit bulging at the arms and chest, testimony to hard work on an athletic physique. She found it hard to look away, and her eyes travelled up and down his body. Stop it, she thought, angrily.
There was a small smile on his lips as he nodded to her. “We’re ready. Sub’s all sealed and we’ve done a full power check; all good there. Crane will be lifting it into the hammock any moment, and then…” he pointed down with a single finger.
“And then, next stop hell.” Greg grinned at Abby.
“Or to a wonderland.” Valery Mironov entered the tent with Sonya. Cate noticed his coverall uniform was similar to theirs, but had a gold crest of his initials on the breast. His silver beard was perfectly trimmed as always, and he grinned a perfect smile.
“Welcome back,” Cate said. “Everything in order?”
“Of course, Cate. We’ve been introducing ourselves to Dmitry and Yegor. As you know, this investment is expensive, and I’m sure we all want to get the maximum benefit from it. We also want to come back safely. And now…” Mironov held his arms wide. “…it looks like we’re just about ready to go.”
“Ah, speaking of that.” Greg had his hand up. “Safety, I mean. Not that we’re expecting any trouble, but we already know that the thickness of the granite shell over the lake makes communications impossible. But what if we, um, need to call home in an emergency?”
Cate rolled her eyes, and went to respond, when Mironov came and stood beside her.
“If I may?”
Cate nodded. “Please.”
Mironov turned back to Greg. “Good question, Mr Jamison, because when you plan for things to go right, you must also plan for when they go wrong. We’ll be entering zones that are well over a thousand feet below solid rock, and then entering water that is even deeper. The combined pressure will make it what they call abyssal zone water. Unfortunately, there is no way a signal will get through that much geology, and given the size of the subterranean sea, we may be well away from any signal relay buoys we drop. So…” He smiled, seeming to enjoy the suspense. “I have taken the trouble of having communication pipes drilled down right across the Alaskan continent – all the way down to the water. My engineers will be lowering a goodies package of extra supplies, plus two-way communication silos. We’ll be moving between those, periodically checking in with our surface support personnel. If we need to call home urgently, then we make our way to one of them.”
Cate couldn’t hide how impressed she felt. “I’d say we certainly backed the right guy.”
“How many, and how far apart, are they… the buoys I mean?” Abby asked.
“Twenty overall, and first one is close, just fifteen miles,” Mironov responded smoothly.
Greg scoffed. “That’s close? We’re talking underwater distance here.”
“I’m guessing you needed to find suitable geology for drilling,” Jack said. “Also some parts of the subterranean body of water are deeper than others. Right?”
“Exactly, Mr Monroe.” Mironov looked along the faces of the small group “Now if—”
“One more thing.” Greg held up his hand again. “If we’re in trouble and need to get out quick, I don’t suppose climbing up one of your communication silos is a possibility?”
“No.” Mironov began to look bored.
“We’ll be fine,” Jack said. “The Priz Class submersible is basically an underwater tank. It’s low tech, and slow tech, but its got plenty of room, is tough and reliable… at least now it is.”
“Now it is?” Greg’s eyebrows shot up.
“Early models suffered implosions at depth. But its seals were strengthened with the new models.” Jack grinned as Greg pretended to faint.
“Anything else?” Cate tilted her head back slightly. There was silence, and she looked to Mironov, who nodded.
“Okay, people, then we’re good to go.” She led them out.
* * *
Cate hugged her arms tight to her body, trying to squeeze out the cold attempting to needle its way in through the fabric of her clothing. They stood staring up at the vessel sitting in a cradle awaiting lift off. They would need to enter it before it was lowered into the cavern and then on into the water – there would be no intermediate platform or pontoon waiting for them below.
Once they arrived down on the water, the two Russian crewmembers would then decouple them. The cables would be left dangling, and awaiting their return, hopefully within twenty-four hours.
“Where’s Yegor?” Cate asked, turning.
Greg shrugged. “He said he had to use the bathroom, but…” he checked his watch. “That was ten minutes ago. Maybe he’s got the runs; nerves and all.” He wrinkled his nose. “And we’re gonna be stuck with him i
n a small metal room – yech!”
“I think he’s gone home.” Dmitry frowned for a second or two, and then brayed with laughter, holding up a hand. “I joke; he will be back. Maybe he call his wife or something. He always do things by himself.”
“Go and find him,” Jack said, and then stared into the distance. “Forget it; here comes the big grizzly bear now.”
Yegor jogged back to the group. “I’m here, and ready.”
“Where’ve you been?” Jack’s voice was sharp.
Yegor scowled, and then waved an arm out at the cold landscape. “I never see Alaska before. I go looking around.” His gaze was unwavering. “I here and ready now.”
Jack grunted, holding his gaze. After another moment, Yegor turned to the submersible, walking to it and laying a hand on the cold steel of the hull. “And you are ready too, my Prusalka Kpacota.” He stood back looking up, admiringly.
Mironov smiled, and said something in Russian to Yegor. The big man nodded and grinned sheepishly. Mironov turned to the group. “Kpacota is an old Russian word, for beautiful woman.” He raised his brows. “Let us hope it is not one of the temperamental ones, yes?”
Cate and Abby groaned, but Greg nodded vigorously.
Cate turned to the Prusalka; it was the first time she had seen the vessel in its entirety. The craft itself was a stubby, bulbous-looking vehicle, finished off with striking orange and white bands. Along each side were three fist-sized glass panes – not portholes, but cameras, Cate knew. The rear had a powerful curved-blade propeller with three controlling struts, and there was a small conning tower on top. Underneath was a set of folded mechanical arms, making it look like some sort of praying mantis awaiting its next meal.
In between the arms was a capsule – a mini submersible that was an escape pod of sorts. The problem was, it was no bigger than a coffin, and was designed for one, maybe two people. Jack had told her the Priz class had been modified in the last decade to give it a sleeker design, and more safety features – the pod being one of them. This was following an incident in 2005 where an older model had got itself entangled in cables on an underwater hydrophone array off the coast of the Kamchatka Peninsula. Six hundred feet down, the thick steel cables defied being untangled, moved or cut.
The men were trapped on the seafloor for seventy-six hours before a British remotely-operated vehicle with advanced equipment only just managed to sever the coils of steel with only a few hours of air remaining. Looking at the pregnant, vitamin-capsule shape, she couldn’t imagine what it looked like before its slim-down makeover.
Cate went to step up onto the first rung of the ladder, when Sonya held up a hand.
“Wait.”
“Huh?” Cate jerked back a step.
Sonya was already scaling the steps like a monkey, and quickly dropped down through the hatch.
“What’s with that?” Cate asked Mironov, feeling pissed off by his assistant.
Mironov shrugged, and grinned. “It’s okay, Cate. Ms Borashev just likes to be thorough in regards to security.”
Yeah right; like what’s she going to be able to do, anyway? Cate wondered. She folded her arms, tight, and glared at Jack for no reason.
In another minute Sonya climbed back out and down. She spoke softly to Mironov, and the Russian billionaire nodded as he listened. He then turned to Cate and graced her with a small bow. “Mission leaders first.”
“Thank you.” Cate climbed the ladder, and was about to drop down in through the hatch, when she looked back down at the crew. There were smiles, grins of excitement and some of nerves. She also saw Valery still talking softly to Sonya. He reached up to brush a strand of loose hair from her forehead. She could clearly see the look of adoration in Sonya’s eyes. Definitely something there, she thought, as she dropped down into the cabin.
Cate was immediately assaulted by the smells – oil, stale air, and ancient body odor. The submarine was as cramped as she expected. It looked like a combination of spaceship and electronics workshop with walls of equipment, small screens everywhere, and the lighting inside was a dull red. The design was probably practical and functional, but the Russians sure didn’t believe in aesthetics or comfort.
There were two seats at the front, and five in the belly of the craft. An open area at the back could have contained extra equipment or passengers, as the submersible could pack in twenty if it needed to undertake a deepwater rescue. But for now, the space had some modest supplies stacked neatly at the rear, but also a larger chair, with its own control panel – Mironov’s personal seat. They all had to hunch slightly to fit, Jack, Yegor and Mironov especially, but at least they wouldn’t have to crawl over each other.
Yegor and Jack sat at the front, and Cate, Greg, Abby and Dmitry, all took the seats in the main compartment, with Mironov easing back into his own, and crossing his long, thin legs. He looked relaxed and at ease, as if waiting for a movie to start in his private theatre. Dmitry immediately set to checking monitors and dials, and Cate, Greg and Abby started to prepare their own sampling and recording equipment.
Each of the team had multiple screens in front of them, including a viewing screen, as the only glass was at the front. The window was in a curved convex-design, based on the eggshell-dome shape – it was the strongest structure in nature and allowed the massive forces applied to it to be spread across the entire surface. Deep-sea submariners found out the hard way that flat portholes blew inwards at greater depths. For now, Jack and Yegor had a view, and those at the back of the bus would have to be satisfied with remote viewing, or leaning back to see around the two pilots.
Dmitry turned to speak a few words in Russian to his big colleague, who nodded and gave a deep, “Da” over his shoulder. The smaller man then rose to his feet, and leant over Cate.
“Get ready for lift. I must close hatch for descent.” He grinned, patted her shoulder and then climbed the ladder, pulling the heavy metal circular disc down over his head and spinning the wheel on the primary hatch. He leapt down, and then sealed the interior bulkhead hatch. They were now sealed in.
An image of a blood-lit steel coffin flashed into Cate’s mind, but thankfully, small spaces never worried her. However, with the bracing external air shut out, the cocktail of old and new smells crowded around them, threatening to overwhelm her senses. She hoped she got used to them as the voyage progressed, and new air was pumped in.
Yegor pulled a headset over his large head, and pointed to another sitting on the console waiting for Jack.
“Okay, bridge is yours, Captain Monroe.”
Dmitry also pulled a set of earphones over his head and began to speak softly. Cate couldn’t make out whether it was English or Russian.
Jack switched on his microphone. “Confirm systems check, confirm hatch seal, confirm crew readiness; we’re all good to go here, Base Control.” Jack turned in his seat. “Hang on everyone; the first step is a big one.”
“Always is.” Cate picked up the seat belt and pulled it over her shoulder, buckling it at her waist. Greg and Abby did the same. She noticed Dmitry didn’t, and she leant across.
“Buckle up.”
He nodded. “Soon, I need to make some adjustments. Besides, I trust your ground crew to lower us safely.” He shrugged. “And if they drop us a thousand feet, a seatbelt is not going to make much difference, Da?”
“Da,” Cate said slowly.
Cate heard the clank of steel on the hull and she clasped the edge of the desk-like console before her. Beside her, Greg’s face might have been drained of color, but it was hard to tell as small green flaring screens and the overhead red light gave him a ghoulish appearance. She looked over her shoulder, behind them, Abby’s eyes moved from screen to dial, and then back, her face wide-eyed with excitement. At the rear Mironov smiled, his legs still crossed. He nodded to her, relaxed, confident, and she wished she could borrow some of his nerve.
Dmitry still unbuckled, hovered over differing pieces of equipment, making adjustments and tweaking cont
rols. He finally eased back, and then swiveled in his seat.
“Up, up and away.” He finally strapped himself in.
The craft groaned, shuddered, metal strained, and then it lifted.
“If seals break, I think happen now.” Dmitry held up a finger, his eyes on the roof of the ship, as he listened for several seconds. “Wait, wait…” he dropped his hand. “I think we okay.”
They could hear the rumbling of the enormous tractor-like sled even through the reinforced hull of Prusalka, and there was only the slightest sensation of movement inside as they were conveyed to the edge of the hole. Cate held on tight, knowing this should only take a few minutes, and then they could expect the drop to the water below would take at least sixty more nerve-racking minutes.
Dmitry turned in his seat. “Dr Granger, all my life I have loved the ocean. But this is new for me. Please tell me more about this body of water we are about to enter.” He shrugged. “It was all hush-hush, so our superiors tell us little. Now we are all locked in, and all friends, you can share some more please?”
Still clinging to the console top, Cate leaned back and turned to Mironov. The Russian billionaire just shrugged, and she guessed he thought like her; there was no reason to keep this a secret now they were all about to plunge into this mission together. Besides, it’d be a useful distraction for her, for all of them, during the drop.
She let go of the console, and swiveled in her seat. Her fingers ached, and it was only then she realized how tight she had been hanging on.
“Well, we have, and haven’t seen it. We have strategraphic images taken from satellites, and some sonar readings, but as for seeing it physically, we only had glimpses of a dark water environment.” She decided to withhold the image of the tooth, as she didn’t want to worry the Russian crew, and didn’t have all the answers to questions she knew they would ask.
