by Ben Hammott
The Iceberg
JANE AND JACK had arrived in Antarctica the day before and had spent the night on the American container ship. The following morning, after they had been briefed and studied satellite images of the iceberg, the crack along its top and the entombed spaceship, it was time for a closer look at the icy behemoth.
John Devonport, their assigned pilot, and Lieutenant Christopher Northwood, the British soldier who would babysit them, greeted Jane and Jack when they arrived at the waiting helicopter and introduced themselves.
“Miss Harper, where do you want go first?” asked Devonport.
“I need to take a look at the edges of the iceberg so I can judge its condition.”
Devonport indicated the open rear passenger door of the helicopter. “Climb aboard, strap yourselves in, put on the headsets and we'll be off.”
“I'd prefer to sit up front for the better view,” said Jane.
The pilot nodded. “Okay, I'm sure Lieutenant Northwood wouldn't mind sitting in the back.”
Northwood nodded his consent.
Once they were all aboard, the pilot lifted the helicopter from the deck and headed for the drifting iceberg.
As the helicopter approached the iceberg, Jane and Jack stared down at the men busy on the ice ledge around the tunnel where a helicopter had just dropped off a forklift which headed for the tunnel they had flown through in Haax's scout ship. It seemed to have happened ages ago instead of the few days that had passed.
Jack spoke into the mic of his headset they all wore. “I don't envy those inside.”
Jane was in total agreement. “I wouldn't set aboard that spaceship again if they offered me ten million.”
The ice cliff that formed this side of the iceberg filled the screen and slid by when the pilot turned and flew alongside. Jane scrutinized the ice for cracks or telltale signs of deterioration. The iceberg's immense size worked against its stability and the bobbing action of the waves would place stress on any fractures or weaker points; these were what Jane searched for. The gigantic spaceship at its heart was an unknown variable and it was difficult to predict what adverse effect it would have on the iceberg's stability.
After a few minutes, Jane pointed out of the window. “Who's that?”
Devonport's gaze followed Jane's outstretched arm. “The Russians.”
Jack looked at the men working on a small ledge of ice and a flat ship by a neat hole in the side of the ice wall. “It seems the Russians are carrying out a salvage operation of their own.”
“Rather them than me,” said Jane. “They are welcome to what they can get. The alien technology should be shared with everyone, not just those lucky to be first on the scene.”
Devonport's eyebrows rose. “I wouldn't let Admiral Thomson hear you say that. If it was up to him he would plant an American flag on the ice and blow anyone other than Americans who got too close out of the water. He can barely stand us British being involved, so you can understand his feelings towards the Russians.”
“I'm glad they are here,” Lucy said, defiantly.
Devonport smiled.
It took them two hours to circle the huge iceberg and arrive back at the ice tunnel. When Jane had noticed anything that caused her concern, the pilot had moved nearer so she could get a closer look. They had been lucky and witnessed a couple of incidents of ice calving from the ice walls. Though none had been of a size to affect its stability, yet, it was a sign the iceberg was deteriorating and the approaching storm they had been warned about would speed up the process when it arrived.
Jane and Jack looked down again at the activity around the ice tunnel as a large helicopter lowered a shipping container beside one already in position on the ice ledge.
“What are the containers for?” Jack asked.
“The aliens' storage pods,” replied Northwood, glancing out the window.
“Where to now, Miss Harper?” enquired Devonport.
Jane turned to the pilot. “I want to check out that crack in the ice that has the Admiral and the others so worried.”
“Okay, on our way.” The pilot took a wide berth around the entrance so it didn't interfere with the larger helicopters and flew over the top of the iceberg.
While they flew the length of the crack, Jane studied the satellite scan of the iceberg on the tablet she had borrowed and overlaid it onto the spaceship image. It was as she suspected―the crack stretched out from the front edge of the spaceship. The conflicting movement of ice and metal must have caused the fracture. Jane glanced at the pilot. “Can you set us down on the ice so I can take a closer look?”
Devonport nodded and turned the helicopter to search for a suitable landing zone. He found a level area about one hundred and fifty feet from the crack and set the helicopter gently down on the ice.
Jack, Jane and Lieutenant Northwood climbed out onto the wind sculptured surface and headed across the ice in places frozen into waves of glass-like hardness.
They halted at the edge of the two-yard-wide crack and stared into the void that was much deeper than Jane had expected. Jack shone his flashlight into its dark depths, but the beam failed to pick out the bottom.
Jane glanced each way along the crevice that almost stretched from one side of the iceberg to the other. “This isn't good. I was hoping it was only a surface crack, but it's too deep for that. The iceberg's definitely breaking apart.”
“Any idea how long before that happens?” Jack asked, pulling the hood of his jacket over his head to keep out the chill.
Jane shrugged. “It could be a few days, a month or happen in the next five minutes. Predicting what the ice will do is like trying to predict next week's lottery numbers. However, I think it will happen sooner rather than later now I've seen how deep it is.”
“So the iceberg breaks in two pieces―it's so big I can't see that matters an awful lot,” said Northwood. “I mean, look at the size of this thing. I've been on islands that were smaller.”
Jane looked at Northwood. “The problem is, Lieutenant, over two thirds of an iceberg is under water. When the ice below melts or breaks away, or large sections calve off from one side, it destabilizes its mass. If it becomes heavier on one side or becomes top-heavy it could roll on its side or flip completely over. The smaller the iceberg, the more likely this will happen. We also have an added unknown variable, the spaceship. It must weigh thousands or millions of tons, much heavier than the volume of ice it replaces.”
The soldier realized the danger. “And because it's situated nearer to one side of the ice mass, its weight will increase the chances of the iceberg flipping over.”
“Exactly!” When Jane gazed along the crack and noticed something on the far side, she moved along to where a zigzag in the ice reduced the width of the opening and jumped across.
Jack shook his head in dismay as he eyed the edges of the crevasse that might be unstable and he promptly followed her across. He wished she wouldn't take so many risks.
Jane dropped to one knee and examined something on the ice.
Jack halted beside her. “What is it?”
Jane's eyes roamed the ice before pointing at something on the ground. “What do you think these marks are?”
Jack knelt and examined the lines of scrape-marks Jane's finger pointed at. He saw nothing to distinguish them from the thousands of marks, grooves and scratches covering the weathered surface. “More to the point, what do you think they are?”
Jane glanced around as she stood. “I'm not sure, but something's not right. Most of the marks are in straight lines, scoured by pellets of ice blown by the wind, but the way these tracks curve from side to side isn't natural.”
Jack cast his gaze over the ice and followed the tracks that curved in an erratic winding path. If he didn't know better, he would say they were animal tracks, but there weren't any animals in Antarctica that could have made them.
Jane suddenly had a sickening thought and grabbed Jack's arm. “What if we're not the only ones on the icebe
rg?”
Jack knew exactly what she meant. “That's impossible, isn't it?”
Their eyes followed the tracks that led to or from the crack out onto the ice.
Noticing their anxiousness, Northwood jumped across the crevice and approached. “What's the problem?”
“We're not sure,” Jack replied. He glanced at the soldier's assault rifle. “Is that thing loaded?”
“It wouldn't be much use if it wasn't.”
Jack took that as an affirmative. He followed the tracks over to the fissure twenty-five feet away, shone the flashlight into the void and moved the beam along the crack. Something glinted. He froze and stared at the two reflected points of light when they moved. Something rose into the circle of light. It was the head of a Hunter climbing up the ice wall. Jack moved the beam and counted six more.
Shocked by the sight, Jack was unable to move for a few moments until his brain had processed the terror. He stumbled back and turned to Jane. “Hunters!”
Screeches erupted from the dark crevice.
A fearful chill shivered through Jane's body.
The soldier raised his rifle, aimed it nervously at the crack in the ice and fired at the first two to appear. Their dead carcasses toppled back into the crevasse.
Jack grabbed Jane's hand and shouted, “Run! We have to get back to the helicopter.”
They sprinted across the ice and jumped across the crack.
Northwood quickly followed.
The Hunters emerged from the crevasse and rushed across the ice in pursuit.
Northwood turned and fired a short burst at them. Blood sprayed from the side of one. It took a few more bounding strides before it tripped and rolled across the ice. Unable to fight their instinct to feed, two Hunters leaped on the corpse and ripped off chunks of warm flesh. Northwood aimed at the two feeding Hunters, easier targets now they were stationary, and fired a short burst at each. Both collapsed across the corpse they had been devouring. Wary of the loud weapon that turned in their direction the remaining two Hunters drifted away and ran in a wide arc towards the helicopter. They were trying to cut off the humans' retreat.
The pilot, who had stepped out of the helicopter for a smoke, was busy observing the dark skies on the horizon growing speedily closer, and fretted that it would soon be upon them. When gunshots rang out, he at first credited them to distant thunder, but the second burst turned him around. He stared in the direction his passengers had headed to see if they were on their way back and glimpsed two dark shapes amongst the airborne ice and snow sweeping across the iceberg and three smaller shapes rushing towards him. He thought he detected shouts carried on the wind and peered at the three hazy shapes that had to be Jane, Jack and the lieutenant. The flashes of gunfire from one of them confirmed it, but who were the other two? As far as he was aware they were the only ones on the ice. He gazed at the two shapes in an attempt to bring form to their indistinct outlines. Was it the Russians?
When the two shapes came nearer he saw exactly what they were―monsters―and they would reach him before his passengers did. He climbed back though the rear door he had left open, threw himself in the pilot's seat, and revved the idling engine while fastening the seat harness.
The Hunters fought their fear of the loud machine that had previously caused them to seek refuge in the ice crack, and focused on the food inside. When it began to rise into the air the lead Hunter jumped. It landed in the doorway and gripped the frame to stop from toppling out when the helicopter tilted.
The pilot fought the controls when the sudden extra weight tipped the machine off balance. He glanced back and physically trembled at the horrific monster that turned its evil head and snarled at him. Two gunshots rang out. The Hunter jerked and screeched when it toppled back through the doorway. The pilot, momentarily shocked, recovered when he turned back and realized the helicopter was heading for the ice. He quickly compensated, skimming a few inches across the surface before lifting the machine into the air. Shaking from the adrenaline rush, he glanced down at the ice. The lieutenant had his rifle raised and beside him Jack pointed and shouted, his words drowned out by the loud engine. No doubt they were pissed because he had abandoned them, but he would have been dead if he hadn't. He would pick them up, but not until he knew where the other monstrosity was. His searching eyes swept the ice as he spun the helicopter, but he saw no sign of the second monster.
Something breathed behind him and sent a blast of warm putrid air over his neck. Fearing what he already knew was there, he slowly turned his head. The Hunter's snarl seemed like a grin to the pilot. Its head darted forward and blood splashed the cockpit controls and canopy.
After Northwood had shot the Hunter clinging to the helicopter, Jane and Jack had watched the helicopter plummet. When it had swerved perilously close to the ice, they had thought it would crash, but at the last second it had lifted into the air. It had been enough time for the remaining Hunter to climb aboard. The pilot was unaware he had gained an extra passenger and though Jack had screamed a warning, his voice couldn't compete with the helicopter's deafening engine and went unheeded. Northwood was unable to get a clear shot at the Hunter as the helicopter had turned, putting it on the far side. They were helpless to do anything as the monster climbed inside. A few moments later the helicopter danced erratically and then headed straight for them.
Jane, Jack and Northwood ran out of its path.
The helicopter crashed and screeched along the ice until it struck a lump and rolled over. The rotors sheared off and flew through the air like missiles. The tail snapped free and was dragged across the ice by its spinning rotor. It cut a circular path in front of the three runners before running out of momentum.
Jack glanced behind at the sound of buckling metal and saw the body of the helicopter tumbling towards them. “Head right,” he shouted.
The three runners veered right. The rolling carcass of the helicopter missed them by inches. They halted and watched the helicopter come to a hesitant halt.
Jack rested his hands on his knees and panted heavily.
Jane, also panting heavily, lay on the ice to rest.
Northwood, the fittest of them all, breathed heavily but remained standing. “I'm going to check on the pilot.” He headed for the mangled wreck.
Jane sat up and looked at Jack. “No one could have survived that crash, could they?”
Jack shrugged. “It's unlikely, but I've seen cars mangled almost beyond recognition and the drivers walked away with only a few scratches and bruises.”
Jane looked at the helicopter. “But if the pilot could survive, so could the Hunter.”
Jack gazed over at the wreck for signs of movement. Though he doubted there would be any survivors, there was always a slim chance. “Hey, Lieutenant, remember the monster,” Jack called out.
Northwood turned his head. “It's not something I'm ever going to forget.”
Jack helped Jane to her feet and she glanced around at the desolate surroundings. “Now what do we do? We're stuck on the ice with the damn monsters again.”
Jack smiled. “Maybe only those few Hunters got out, but if the helicopter's radio isn't damaged, we can call for help.”
Jane held his arm as they walked towards the crash. “That's one of the things I like about you, Jack, you are forever the optimist.”
Jack smiled. “I'd be happy to hear the whole list if you…”
A crunching of metal cut short Jack's reply.
The helicopter rocked as something moved about inside.
Northwood aimed his weapon at the wreckage while cautiously moving around to the cracked canopy.
“Maybe the pilot did survive,” said Jane, hopefully. “He was strapped in―the monster wasn't.”
Northwood stared at the front of the helicopter. Blood, human or alien, covered much of the cracked transparent canopy and blocked his view of the interior. When he stepped nearer he glimpsed something moving within. It was nothing more than a shadow and revealed no details to whom
or what it was. He stepped closer. There was a clear patch on the left side that would allow him to peer inside.
Jack and Jane halted a short distance away and apprehensively watched the soldier. Both sensed something was going to happen.
“This is a bad idea,” whispered Jack, reluctant to distract Northwood with a warning now he was so close to the crashed vehicle.
The cockpit windscreen erupted in a spray of transparent shards when something crashed through it and landed on the ice between Jane, Jack and Northwood. It was Devonport's head.
The Hunter leaped from the helicopter wreckage, skidded towards Northwood and slashed at him with a claw, knocking the weapon from his grasp. Northwood tripped to the ground and stared at the horror that attacked him. Its head and skin was covered in cuts and one eye a mangled mess. The Hunter slashed savagely at Northwood's face, neck and chest with raking claws, dishing out a death that was mercifully swift if not pain free.
Jack thrust the flashlight into Jane's hands and snatched Northwood's rifle from the ice, aimed it at the Hunter and pulled the trigger. Nothing happened. He gave it a quick examination, but unfamiliar with the weapon, he failed to see the problem.
Though little snow fell day to day in Antarctica, thousands of years of the accumulated stuff was picked up by the increasing gusts and formed a curtain that hid the gruesome sight of the Hunter feeding upon the soldier.
Jane grabbed Jack's arm and pulled him away. “We can't help him now and we need to go before it comes for us.”
They headed off across the ice, jumped across the crack and ran.
Jane glanced at her companion as he slung the rifle over his shoulder. “What's the plan, Jack?” She was confident he would have one.
