“I am,” she replied.
“Lieutenant Harper is standing by at the hatch, Captain.”
Orlova glanced at Nelyubov, and said, “Just once, it would be nice to catch her by surprise.”
“We don’t always get what we want, ma’am,” he replied with a smile. “Good luck.”
“Thanks. And to you.” She stepped out of the office, walked across the bridge, and took one last look at the viewscreen as Nelyubov settled in the command chair. She paused at the threshold, and said, “If Doctor Duquesne finds out anything interesting, I need to know at once, regardless of the situation. Is that understood?”
“All clear, Captain,” Nelyubov replied, as she stepped through the seldom-used hatch at the rear of the bridge, leading to the docking hatch beyond. Harper was standing beside it, and for the first time, Orlova saw her wearing formal dress uniform, a sight that caused her eyes to widen in disbelief.
“Yours is waiting on board,” she said. “I figure if we’re going to go over to Kolchak, we might as well look the part.”
“Don’t take this the wrong way, Kris, but I didn’t even know you had dress uniform.”
“You’d be surprised what I have tucked away.”
“Actually, I doubt I would,” she replied, stepping through the hatch, the promised uniform hanging up. “Can you get us started? It ought to be a short flight.”
“Not a problem,” Harper said, moving to the cockpit, closing the airlock and detaching them from Alamo with the touch of a control, the centrifugal force of the ship’s rotation tossing them easily clear of the hull. Orlova pulled on the tight jacket of the dress uniform, the tough fabric immediately itching, then switched boots, bundling her surplus clothing into an overhead locker as the engines kicked in, hurling them towards the enemy cruiser.
Adjusting her tie, Orlova sat in the pilot’s seat, Harper manning the sensor controls. Ahead, Kolchak loomed, growing larger by the moment as they approached. She looked across at the communications systems, no attempt yet to contact them, not even to warn them off.
“See if you can get a message laser on them, Kris,” Orlova said. “Try and use an unconventional approach, not the usual reception complex.”
“Auxiliary navigational sensors,” Harper replied, playing the beam around. “They’re configured to handle this sort of signal in an emergency. Keep us straight and stable.”
“Alamo to Transfer Two,” Nelyubov’s voice said, barking over the speakers. “We’re picking up signs of an imminent missile launch from Kolchak. I have a salvo in the tubes ready to ward them off, but you’re going to have to alter course to get into our defensive perimeter.”
“Negative,” Orlova replied. “Harper, I need that signal. Now.”
“Got it!” Harper said. “We’re in. I have Colonel Clarke.”
“Colonel,” Orlova said, “Are you aware that I am on board a shuttle heading right for you?”
“What?” Clarke asked. “Captain, if this is a trick...”
“You have a missile aimed right at us, Colonel, but I somehow have the idea that you aren’t the one with his finger on the trigger. If I’m right, then I think we need to talk, privately, and urgently. If I’m wrong, well, I guess you’re just going to have to go ahead and kill me.”
There was a long pause, and Orlova kept her eye on the sensor display, ready to reverse course should Kolchak launch, programming an evasive maneuver that stood at least a chance of saving their lives should Clarke decide to open fire. Finally, just as she had given up hope, the channel crackled again.
“Airlock Ten, Captain. I will guarantee your safety, and permit your safe return to your ship. I think you’re right. We do have a lot to discuss, and after what I just learned, I don’t dare talk on an open channel.”
“Thank you, Colonel. We’ll be alongside in three minutes. Out.” Turning to Harper, she said, “Watch them. Like a hawk.”
“Don’t worry. Way ahead of you. Though I’m damned if I know what we could do if they betray us.”
“Between us,” Orlova said with a smile, “I’m sure we can think of something.”
Chapter 17
The searchlights of the submersible were swallowed in seconds by the stygian abyss through which they descended, an endless, eternal black void, barren and dormant. The doleful sound of the sensors sweeping the gloom was a constant echo in the darkness, detecting nothing within the limited range of the pickups. Salazar peered out at the scene beyond him, the sight sending shivers running through his soul. This was wrong, somehow. Worse than space. At least space had starlight, even out on the fringes of a system, even in the interstellar void itself.
This was nothing. Endless emptiness, and still they continued to descend, though they had long ago lost sight of their entry point into the darkness. Beside him, Foster worked her controls, struggling to pinpoint their target, untold thousands of feet below. She looked up, shaking her head in frustration.
“There’s nothing, Pavel.”
“I can see that,” he replied.
“No, I mean there’s absolutely nothing at all. We haven’t found an icy ocean yet that didn’t have some sort of life. Even Enceladus has a few struggling bacteria huddled around fissures on the floor.” Tapping the display, she continued, “This planet is dead, Pavel. No trace of organics, no sign that they have ever been here. The water is safe enough, no toxins, no contaminants, and the heat source is volcanic, not radioactive. The conditions here are perfect for the evolution of life.”
“Maybe God didn’t get around to it yet.”
Turning sharply to him, she said, “Why haven’t we? Humans have been visiting this system for decades, and we aren’t the first to crack the ice cap. I don’t care how careful they were, someone would have released something, and in this sort of environment, it would spread like a virus, with nothing to stop it. Like the bacteria on Triton from the first lander. Under far worse conditions than this, it’s spread thousands of miles from the original impact site.” Shaking her head, she said, “Down here? This ought to be well on the way to being terraformed. If there was any sign of life, I’d show it.”
“Maybe there’s something your systems can’t pick up,” he replied. “Some contaminant that kills the bacteria in the cradle.” He paused, then said, “No, it can’t be that simple. It’d be on the surface as well, surely, and there would be some trace of it up top. There’ve been bases up on the ice since the first settlement. Someone would have reported something, and I can’t think of anything that would wipe out all life except humanity.”
Pausing, Foster pulled a mediscanner from the wall, ran it over Salazar, and said, “You’re fine. No sign of weakness, no sign of infection, not even the bacteria in your gut.”
“We’re in a sealed chamber.”
“Not that perfect,” she replied. “Nothing is that perfect. Though if you want to find out for certain, I can probably get some water through the sample lock.”
“I think we can find a better guinea pig. Colonel Clarke, perhaps. I’m sure he’d be only too glad to volunteer for the job.” The submersible rocked to the side, and he carefully adjusted the trim, trying to keep their descent steady. “We’ve just past thirty thousand feet. Deeper than any ocean on Earth. Ten and a bit to go.”
“Getting some good images of the ocean floor now, at least,” she replied. “Lots of cracks, mountains, and some point heat sources that look like volcanic vents.” She frowned, then continued, “Correction. There’s something else down here. Steady temperature, no sign of boil-off. Almost exactly where we thought our target would be.” Peering over her controls, she added, “I think we’ve found what we came for.”
“Next question,” Salazar asked. “Has anyone else? Any sign of the UN submersible? It must be heading in the same direction as us.” Glancing at the clock, he said, “Still nine hours before we have to return to the surface. I’d s
ay we’re clear for descent as long as we don’t have anyone actively trying to stop us.”
“No sign of the submersible, but that doesn’t necessarily mean anything, Pavel. We’ve barely got a twenty mile range on this thing, and they could easily be coming down on a different vector.” She looked at the display again, and added, “This point source is huge. Miles across. Temperature about the right level to be some sort of installation.”
“Any outgassing?”
“Can’t tell. Might be able to later. Resolution getting better the deeper we go.” She reached for a panel, and said, “I think it’s time to use the first probe.”
“Agreed,” he replied, and she tugged the control, the submersible briefly rolling to the right as it dropped its payload, Salazar carefully adjusting the trim to bring them back on course. “Easier than I’d expected. Or the simulators were better than I thought. Altering course.” He paused, then added, “Getting a little more heat on the outer hull.”
“Yeah,” she replied. “That’s our little point source on the surface radiating. It’s so damned strange. We ought to be picking up some sort of life. Every other world...”
“Maybe there’s something preventing it,” Salazar said. “Or maybe it’s there, and it’s just something we can’t recognize.”
“Or our sensors are being tricked,” Foster said, eyes widening. She reached up, threw a control, and the few remaining images on the screen faded out. “That’s a direct-link pickup from the camera. No reliance on sensors, remote signaling, anything. It can’t be over-ridden. Not in a million years.”
“The probe?” he asked.
“Connected by a cable. Low-tech, but the only way we could manage it.”
“Then alter its course to take it directly underneath us. If you’re right, if we can’t trust the sensors at all, then we’re not going to have any idea where the ocean floor is.” He paused, then added, “That heat source is real enough, though. Outer hull temperature is rising.”
“Probe is now two thousand feet below us, descending,” Foster reported. “Switching to camera pickup.” A new image flickered into life on a side monitor, and she added, “Nothing new to report. At least, not yet, anyway. Just the same inky darkness and rising heat levels. Looks like it’s not going to get beyond safe limits, but someone’s throwing around an awful lot of power down there.”
“Or something,” Salazar said, darkly. He looked at the primary viewscreen again, and out of the corner of his eye, saw a light moving along one side, just for a second. He looked at the screen again, and finally, it returned, steady this time. Glancing across at the sensors, he confirmed Foster’s suspicions. It wasn’t reading on the sensors, not at all. “I think we found our friends.”
“Pretty close,” Foster said, squinting at the image. “Can’t get a proper reading.” She paused, looked down at the probe monitor, and said, “Wait one. They’re below us, and I think...” Her hands danced across the controls, and she continued, “Got it. Three thousand feet down, same design as us. We’ve found them.”
“Or they’ve found us,” Salazar warned. “There’s not a damn thing we can do if they decide to start something, remember. I can’t exactly dodge a torpedo, and we didn’t have time to even think about fitting any sort of countermeasures package.”
“Range, estimated, fifteen miles and closing,” she continued, “heading towards the same target, but they’re going to get there first.” She pulled out a control panel, placing it over her lap, and said, “I’m going to test the manipulator arms. See how well they work at this depth.”
“They’re rated to sixty thousand feet,” Salazar replied. “Not that we’re going down that deep, I hope.” He looked at the dot again, and said, “I can almost see it getting closer. I can’t see any light from the city, though.” Turning to Foster, he said, “Could be that they’re broadcasting only in the infrared.”
Nodding, Foster brought up a filter, and the screen was a brief riot of color, shapes and images dancing across the display before it settled down to reveal a twenty-four-sided shape, a perfect geometric form, sitting on the surface below, its surface perfectly smooth. She looked at Salazar, who looked back at her with equal concern.
“Unless that’s only been on the surface for a few days, shouldn’t it be covered in silt?”
“I would have assumed so,” she replied. “I’m still not getting any readings from it. I think I can push our probe harder, get there before the other submersible. Should I try?”
Frowning, Salazar said, “I don’t know. Something about this is really beginning to worry me.” Looking across at the probe pickup, he said, “A smooth geometric shape. No sign of any access port, no sign of an artifact, nothing. I haven’t the first idea what we actually expected to find down here, but I’m pretty sure that this wasn’t it. And that scares the hell out of me.”
“We could go back,” she replied. “Hang around at the ten thousand feet level until detonation. There’s nothing up that high.”
“That we know of,” he warned. “With no reliable sensor feeds, we can’t trust anything our eyes, and I’m beginning to wonder about those.” Pursing his lips, he continued, “Do it. Full burn. But I’m leveling off the submersible. I don’t want to get any closer until we have a better idea what we’re facing. Frankly, I’ve got no objection to letting the other guys take the risks.”
Tugging a lever, Foster said, “I’m bringing the probe to full power. No chance of retrieving it. It’ll be a short life for the batteries at this speed, but we’ll get to where we’re going first. Guaranteed.” The camera feed intensified as the probe descended, the mysterious shape thrown in higher and higher resolution. “That’s strange. It’s emitting in ultra-violet as well. No visible light, but it’s like a beacon to anyone with decent equipment.”
“Correct me if I’m wrong, but the only way that is possible is if it’s intentional.” His left hand danced across the systems monitor, and he added, “Nothing wrong with the sensors, either. Nothing that I can detect. I suppose someone might have hacked in and decided to have a little fun with the feeds, but I’d have assumed that we’d have detected that.” He paused, then continued, “This is really beginning to give me the shivers.”
“Two thousand feet to go,” Foster said. “We’re past the enemy ship now, though they seem to be accelerating their descent. What the hell do they know that we don’t?”
“No idea,” Salazar said, reaching to a ceiling control panel, “but I’m preparing for ascent. There’s something very wrong about this.” He looked at a reading, and added, “Hull temperature is still rising, even though we’ve leveled off. What’s the probe picking up?”
“Just the same. Rising. Still well within design limits, though.”
“Let’s hope it stays that way.”
The two of them watched the probe pickup, almost mesmerized by the strange structure it was approaching, almost seeming to pulse with energy as they drew ever nearer. Salazar continued to work the controls, preparing for a return to the surface, but something continued to draw their gaze, focus their attention. Somehow, strange symbols seemed to appear, darker patches in the otherwise uniform surface, none lingering long enough to recognize or identify.
“Five hundred feet,” Foster said.
“Take it to a hundred,” Salazar said. “Then hover over it. Let’s go slow and steady. We’ve still got a few minutes before the others make it down.” He frowned, then said, “Outside heat is continuing to rise.” Tapping a control sequence, he said, “I might be able to at least approximate the sort of power we’re talking about down there. Something that can heat water at this range has to be a hell of a lot more powerful than any volcanic vent I can think of.”
“One hundred feet,” Foster said. “Wait one. Eighty feet. It’s still dropping. As though something’s pulling it down.” Desperate hands rattled across the controls, and she continued, �
��No response to course change requests. I don’t get it. This shouldn’t be happening, Pavel!”
“Cut it!” Salazar ordered.
“What?”
“Cut the cord! If there’s something….”
He was too late. Foster’s fingers were inches away from the control that would have severed the connection between submersible and probe, but it hit the surface first, and with a blaze of light, all the on-board systems died, the emergency lights failing to come on, the air filters slowing to a stop. For the first time, all was silence.
“What happened?”
“I don’t know,” Salazar replied. “But if we don’t work it out, we’re as good as dead.”
Chapter 18
Cooper trudged through the icy wilderness, staggering in his suit as he struggled to keep out of sight, one eye constantly on his sensors to track any possible ambush. He hadn’t expected to last more than a handful of minutes on the exposed terrain, but it had been hours since the attack, long enough for him to track a wide circle around the enemy installation, ready to launch his own strike from an unexpected quarter.
He looked down at the communication controls on his wrist, the red light shining in the darkness, the suit still unable to complete an electronic handshake with any friendly signal. Looking up at the sky, he saw a pair of dots moving across the horizon, his heads-up display quickly identifying them as Alamo and Kolchak. At least they were still up in orbit, though he had no way of knowing what had happened up there. The battle could have been fought, his people defeated.
No.
He couldn’t, wouldn’t think that way. Captain Orlova wouldn’t go down while her ship was intact, and he had no intention of surrendering to any United Nations officer. From orbit, he’d had a chance to take a good look at the enemy installation, and it was a conventional surface station. A single dome, rising about the terrain, with a pair of landing pads on either side, communications antenna and navigational beacon placed at a safe distance. If they were following normal doctrine, they’d have a shuttle on permanent standby, ready to evacuate the base at a moment’s notice should it be necessary. He was going to do his best to make it so.
Battlecruiser Alamo: Depth Charge (Lost Adventures of the Battlecruiser Alamo Book 1) Page 14
