Beyond the Ice Limit

18

GIDEON THROTTLED HIS DSV to its max as he sped toward the scene of the disaster. He had heard the exchange over the UQC and watched in horror as the lights of Alex’s sub winked out as it was apparently swallowed. But they were not gone entirely—there was a ghastly, greenish glow now from inside the creature, and as he approached he could even see the dark, blurry outline of the sub within.

The titanium sphere, he knew, was incredibly strong, resistant to pressure down to a depth of three miles; she would be safe inside it. She could cut her way out of the Baobab with the torch or, perhaps, irritate the creature enough to regurgitate her…

“Gideon,” came Lennart’s voice. “What are you doing?”

He didn’t bother to answer, keeping himself focused, cursing the slowness of the sub’s propulsion.

“Your orders are to remain at the waypoint.”

“The hell with orders.”

As he closed in, he could now make out sounds: not digitally through the UQC, but through the water itself, picked up by his sub’s exterior hydrophone and broadcast into the interior. He turned up the gain.

“There’s nothing you can do. Stop now.”

A sloppy, wet groaning sound filled his capsule, along with a rapid clicking, overlain by some kind of low rumble.

“Stay back, Gideon. That’s a direct order.”

Ignoring this, he dropped down, coming in low, only ten feet above the seafloor. If he approached the creature from below, the mouth wouldn’t be able to reach him; he’d cut into its trunk with his torch, chop the whole damn thing down if that’s what was necessary. But even as he descended he saw, inside the monster, the sudden bright spark of Alex’s own acetylene torch lighting up, and—in reaction—the upper trunk of the creature flexing abruptly. The lights of her sub winked out and there was a muffled popping sound; a huge, roiling belch of air bubbles was expelled from the creature’s mouth.

She’d hit the eject.

The creature writhed horribly. But the sub didn’t emerge; didn’t break free. More air erupted.

“No!” Gideon cried.

Now the trunk was warping toward him, bulging grotesquely like a puff adder.

“Gideon!” came Lennart’s voice. “What you’re doing is suicide. Get the hell away from it!”

He lit his torch, waving it at the creature as he motored forward. A tiny voice in his head told him that this was crazy, David coming at Goliath, but he pushed it aside. Through the forward viewport he saw one of the strangely thin tentacles of the creature whipping sinuously across the ocean floor. He had to do something now. He pushed the joystick down, reached the root, halted, and extended his torch, slashing at it, the heat making it pop and sizzle like seared meat. The tentacle coiled frantically, causing silt to cloud the water. He slashed again, each movement riling up more silt and engulfing him in hazy darkness.

An all-too-familiar message popped on the screen:

CONTROL TRANSFERRED TO SURFACE

He felt the joystick stop responding.

“No!” he cried.

“We’re getting you out of there.”

And now the sub started to rise. The silt cleared and Gideon—in a last, spontaneous move—grabbed a long, floating section of root that he’d chopped free with the mechanical arm and stuffed it into the science basket, next to the black boxes.

And then a voice came through the hydrophone. It was Alex’s voice: calm, pleasant, remote as the stars.

“…Let me touch your face.”