Beyond the Ice Limit

38

TWENTY MINUTES LATER, Gideon was in the water, watching once again through the forward viewport as the DSV sank into blue darkness. They hadn’t gone through the usual safety checklist, but John had been used so recently that they assumed—correctly, Gideon hoped—that one was unnecessary.

It was unbelievable—Frayne, drunk and joyriding a ten-million-dollar mini sub. If it was indeed joyriding. But what else it might be, Gideon couldn’t even hazard a guess. Revenge? Some crazy suicide mission to kill the creature?

Gideon was descending at the maximum allowable rate, with the control room monitoring his DSV through the wired connection to the surface. He might have to drop the wire if extensive maneuvering were involved on the seafloor, but for now he had a good connection to the ship. Which, at least, was a comfort: they were seeing everything he was, in real time, as well as monitoring his mini sub and its life-support systems.

The viewport had now turned black. A few bubbles flared white as they passed upward through the light of the DSV’s headlamps. He had a sonar lock on George: it was about three thousand feet below him, but he was catching up quickly. Frayne, he knew, was a rank novice in DSV handling, and he was no doubt having difficulty maneuvering. At the rate he was descending, he calculated he’d catch up with Frayne a few thousand feet above the seafloor.

Looking through the viewport, he strained to get a visual on George’s lights. But he knew it was fruitless; he wouldn’t see them until they were about five hundred feet apart.

What the hell he was going to do when he caught up with Frayne was still being discussed in mission control. If he wasn’t able to persuade him to turn around and return to the Batavia, there were various options—but all of them were difficult and dangerous. The technicians above were trying to prioritize and work them out, step by step.

There was no manual on this one.

The interior of the sub felt particularly claustrophobic. He hadn’t had time to psychologically prepare himself for the descent—hadn’t even had time to change his clothes. He had dressed for the cool morning air of the south, and he was now hot and sweaty, his shirt itching around his collar. He watched as the meters ticked off on the depth gauge. He was six hundred meters from the bottom; any moment, and George should come into sight.

And there it was: a blurry blob of light directly below him.

“Got a visual fix,” he reported.

“Keep descending,” Glinn’s voice crackled through his headset. “Try to match his rate and come up beside him.”

“Copy.”

The blob began to resolve itself into a wavering cluster of lights. Gideon increased his descent rate slightly into the red, impatient to catch up before they reached the bottom. God only knew what Frayne was planning to do, and he wanted to stop him well before they came within the purview of the creature.

Now the outlines of George began to materialize.

“Hail him,” said Glinn.

Gideon turned up the gain on the UQC. “George, this is John. Acknowledge.”

Nothing.

He repeated the call. Still no response. He was catching up fast, and now he paused to slow his own descent, to position his sub to ensure it was not directly above George but safely to one side.

“Frayne? Do you read?”

No answer.

“Hey, Barry! It’s Gideon Crew. Can you hear me?”

Silence.

“Look, Barry, can we please talk? What’s going on?”

Now he was only about thirty meters above George. He could see the clear outline of the DSV, see the dull red glow from the viewports, see the mech arm folded up in descent position. He slowed still further as the two mini subs closed in until he was almost matching its speed. In a moment he’d be able to look directly into George. God, maybe Frayne was unconscious, passed out.

He finally drifted level with George and peered through the side viewport. He was surprised to see Frayne, not passed out, but looking perfectly normal, working the controls with focus and calm.

And the man didn’t look in his direction. Not even a glance.

Gideon waved. “Hey, Barry. Look at me, will you please?”

No recognition that the man had heard.

Gideon glanced at the depth monitor. They were closing in on the bottom. If he didn’t stop soon, the AI would kick in and slow him down; so would the AI of George. Neither submersible would be allowed to slam into the seafloor.

“Frayne? Can you hear me?”

No response.

Gideon switched to a private frequency to speak with mission control. “Can he hear me?” he asked.

“He certainly can. And he can hear us, too. We know his UQC is on and at full gain.”

“It’s as if he’s a robot.”

“We can see that.”

“Can’t you transfer control to the surface and just bring his DSV back up, like you did to me?”

“He’s got the override sequence,” Glinn told him. “We don’t know how. Nobody is supposed to have it but me, Garza, and the maintenance technicians.”

“Jesus, what a balls-up.” Gideon shook his head. They hadn’t even given the sequence to him. He’d take that up with Glinn later.

“Okay,” said Glinn. “Listen closely. If he won’t respond, the technicians here say there’s a way for you to disable George.”

A schematic image of George flashed on his screen. Glinn’s voice went on, cool and even. “We want you to use your science arm for a simple procedure. His DSV has six thrusters. Insert the end of the arm into each thruster, wrecking the blades. They say you’ll only need to disable three to leave George DIW. Then we can attach a tow cable and haul it up.”

“There’s no other way besides wrecking the thrusters?”

“Everything else that’s vulnerable is protected by the outer hull. What we’re suggesting is simple and foolproof. We’re temporarily modifying the AI on your DSV so that it can be done—otherwise, it would be prevented.”

“Roger. Will do.” Now he saw, out the lower viewport, the faint outlines of the seafloor, just coming into illumination. At the same time he felt the autopilot begin to slow the sub.

“I can see bottom,” he said.

“AI modifications complete. Move in and perform the disabling maneuver as quickly as possible.”

“George is slowing, too—and veering off.”

“Pursue.”

Gideon maneuvered his joystick and accelerated to the max. But George was also moving at full speed, parallel to the seafloor. It seemed that Frayne was growing more accustomed to the mini sub’s controls.

“He’s heading for the Baobab,” said Glinn. “The creature’s active. Very active. Stay well away from it.”

“I’ve got it floored—I just can’t catch up.”

And now Gideon could see the faint outline of the creature, resolving itself in the glow of their headlight bars. It was moving—rippling—and the trunk was swelling frightfully, as if filling with water.

“It’s extruding its mouthparts,” said Glinn. “The Doppler sonar is picking up a current.”

Suddenly George angled upward, straight toward the extruding mouth. The funnel-like orifice was swelling with water and swinging toward the sub, pulsing and gaping.

“Break off!” Glinn ordered Frayne over the public channel. “Retreat!”

The George accelerated, caught in the current. Even as the order came in, Gideon could feel his own DSV being drawn upward and inward. Gideon jammed the joystick sideways, trying to get out of the current. He felt John being tugged toward the creature, heard the all-too-familiar thrumming of water along the hull…but then his vessel broke free, wobbling in the sudden turbulence. He immediately reversed course, pulling away from the monstrous creature and retreating at full speed. Reaching a safe distance, he stopped and turned back…

…And then he watched, horrified, as George—drawn closer and closer—began to tumble in the violent current. Moments later it was sucked bodily into the creature’s maw. In a horrible moment of déjà vu, he saw its shadow pass inside the semi-translucent gullet…and then there was a violent flexing of the trunk; a popping sound; and a sudden expulsion of air in a cascade of bubbles.

And over the hydrophone, he heard Frayne’s voice: calm, strange, distant.

Who are you…?