Kraken Rising: Alex Hunter 6 (15 page)

Aimee gathered her thoughts; conscious that she needed to inform, to warn the McMurdo guys about what lay ahead, but also cautious about panicking them. Her lips compressed, and her throat tightened, as she wrestled with the memories.
Damnit
, she thought, there was no other way to roll it out, but as the unvarnished truth.

She sucked in a huge breath, filling her lungs, and then let it out slowly. “About five years ago, I was involved in an undocumented mission to travel into a newly opened crater in the ice. There was a missing plane, and the first team in had vanished. My friend was a member of that team.” She swallowed and went on. “Well, anyway, in the course of our investigations, we detected what we thought was a huge reservoir of natural petroleum.” She shook her head. “Wasn’t petroleum. Oh no, it wasn’t anything as simple as that.”

Aimee paced now, pushing strands of shining, black hair back off her face. “There was no oil, and no empty caves or lifeless caverns below us.” She shook her head at the memory. “There was life down there all right, and not just lichens, microbes, or even blind shrimp in shallow rock pools. No, no, no, there was a whole freaking world down there – warm, alive, primordial, and more deadly than anything on the surface. It was a place where we, and our team of apex killers, like these guys,” – she thumbed over her shoulder at Dempsey and the HAWCs – “suddenly found ourselves just another part of the food chain … and nowhere near the top. Of the several dozen people that went into that hole, only three of us made it out alive.” She looked at the ground, her eyes watering. “So, we sealed it off and made it a restricted zone – Area 24.” She exhaled. “And now, ladies and gentlemen, we’re all going back down.”

Jackson, Dawkins, and Jennifer Hartigan blinked with disbelief, and Aimee maintained eye contact with Mitch Dempsey.

“Yes, we’ve read the briefing notes,” Dempsey said softly. “But we are prepared for all eventualities. There were mistakes made, and we learned from them – the first team expected to encounter nothing. We know that to be erroneous now, and have adjusted our methods and firepower accordingly.”

“Yeah, I hope so.” Aimee went back to staring at the ground, hugging herself.

“Wait a minute, exactly when were you going to tell us this?” Dawkins’s neck strained. “And what
additional firepower
do we get?”

“You get our protection, fuck-knuckle. All you’ll ever need.” Casey Franks sneered at Dawkins. “Welcome to real soldiering, pussy.”

“That’s enough,” Dempsey said evenly.

“And you expect our help?” Dawkins had stepped forward to jab a finger at Dempsey.

Hagel grinned and loomed closer to the McMurdo soldier. “Who said anything about a request, asshole?” He jammed a blunt finger into Dawkins’s chest, pushing him back a step.

“Now wait a minute, mister.” The towering soldier Jackson moved in, and went to grab Hagel’s hand.

In a flash Hagel had spun to grip the giant’s hand, and twisted it around, holding it in only one of his own hands, and forcing the bigger man to grimace in pain, and then forcing him to his knees. Hagel mimed drawing a knife and stabbing Jackson in the side of his neck –
a kill stroke
. He grinned. “Like we said, we’re all the protection you’ll ever need.”

“
Enough
,” Monroe raised his voice. “They’re right, this is not a voluntary mission. This has orders from the highest level and is of critical importance to the nation – no, to
all
nations. Make no mistake, we must succeed,
as a team
.”

Hagel pushed Jackson away, but continued standing over him.

“Back in line,” Dempsey said to his HAWC. Hagel grinned a little more into Jackson’s face, but complied.

“Sergeant Monroe is right. We will succeed,
together
.” Dempsey motioned to the door. “Be ready to leave in fifteen minutes.”

The HAWCs filed out, and Dempsey looked from Monroe, to each of the McMurdo soldiers.

“Make no mistake, people; we are all expendable in pursuit of the success of our mission.”  He paused, looking for any challenge. There was none. “You now have fourteen minutes.”

Three PLA Special Forces commandos remained on the surface. The base cook, Lim Daiyu, the sole survivor they’d found so far, was still unconscious on a cot in the rear of the facility’s sleeping quarters. They had decided to let the man sleep. At least that way they didn’t have to listen to him wail about monsters and demons anymore.

PLA Operative Chen Zu yawned; the team was at ease now, tending over into boredom from the lack of activity. They had been unable to monitor Captain Yang for hours, as the fixed-line communications had been ripped from the shaft, and their wireless updates had at first become scratchy, before then hissing over to nothing but white-noise, the further the descent team moved from the elevator shaft and deeper into the tunnels.

All PLA soldiers had emergency walkie talkies, but though they were high powered, it was unlikely they would connect. Also each second of usage meant they reduced battery life. There was nothing they could do but wait.

He watched as his two comrades, Dijiang and Lanling, played a game, slapping down cards hard and fast, and roaring their approval or cursing at their luck, good and bad. Chen drummed his fingers; he was bored, but couldn’t relax. Captain Yang being out of communication reach was expected and of no concern. However, what did gnaw at him was the
Kunming
going dark – the destroyer was only just off the coast, and seemed to suddenly vanish. As its primary role was to support them, it going offline was a mystery.

He drummed faster. He hoped it was just atmospheric ionization causing the disruption, but he desperately needed instruction. Yang had ordered them not to use the long range communications over the satellite link as the American base at McMurdo would undoubtedly be listening. If he disobeyed his captain’s order, demotion, and then possibly missing front teeth, was the likely outcome.

He ground his molars, as his peers roared over the finish of their card game. He watched, trance-like, as Lanling began to reshuffle the deck, his hands moving fast and deftly flipping, slotting, and reslotting the cards, finishing with a fanning motion that zipped the entire deck together. The man was about to deal, when his eyes went wide, and then Chen felt his own nerves shock when one of the proximity alarms suddenly squealed and blinked its warning. All Chinese bases had alarms and sensors to detect anyone or anything coming close to the main structure.

It was the western quadrant alarm that flashed, and the motion sensitive cameras swiveled to zero in on the movement. Chen was on his feet, and the two seated soldiers had forgotten their cards and swung to the control panels, rapidly improving resolution and zooming in on the snow line.

Chen leaned in over their shoulders, and then snorted. He felt his heart rate ease back a few beats. A small group of penguins stood hunched over, facing into the wind and sporadic snow flurries, every now and then shaking themselves, or flapping stubby wings.

The alarm continued to flash and beep. He exhaled. “The penguins will continue to set off the alarms.” He tapped Lanling on the shoulder. “Can you isolate them and remove their profiles from the sensors?”

The soldier grunted and worked at the console for several minutes, before sitting back and shaking his head. “This unit is not sophisticated enough to remove the distraction.”

The alarm continued to beep at them. “Switch it off,” Chen said.

“They’re all interconnected.” Dijiang shrugged. “We switch it off, we will lose all the external sensors.”

Chen grimaced. “Then someone better go up and shoot them. That noise will make us crazy.”

The two men ignored him for several moments, before Dijiang half turned. “You’re the best shot.”

Chen groaned, knowing neither of them was going to budge. He yelled over the alarm. “Then turn it off until I get back … or I might shoot you as well.”

Lanling switched off the sensors, the alarm suddenly quietening. He zoomed in on the six small birds on the hilltop. “Only about two hundred yards.” He spun in his chair. “Penguin and noodles for dinner?” He grinned.

“I hear they taste like fish shit,” Dijiang said with a curled lip.

“I don’t care if we make hats out of them,” Chen growled. “Soon as they’re gone, I want those alarms back on.”

Chen cursed as he selected a rifle and swiveled the scope up and into place. He walked down the metal lined corridor, and then opened the airlock outer door, immediately having to hunch into the wind.

He grumbled. The breeze was up to fifty miles per hour now, and the fast moving snow stung like gravel when it hit his exposed skin. He pulled again at his hood, and pushed through the soft snow on the westward side of the building. He could just make out the several black and white dots, and he leaned against the building’s edge to steady himself and sighted at the birds. They jumped into focus, and he readied his aim as he brought the crosshairs over the center of the largest penguin.

He snorted. “Dumb bird,” he whispered with one eye screwed tight. The penguin continued to shake and flap its wings. He gently squeezed the trigger, and the top half of the penguin disappeared in a puff of black and white feathers. “
Hi-ya!
” He grinned, pulling his head back momentarily, but then sighting again at the birds.

He frowned around the scope. The bird he had just shot continued to stand, and its one remaining flipper-wing continued to shake and flap. “
Wha …?”

Chen pulled his face away from the scope, just as the dart took him in the neck, piercing his fur-lined hood and embedding into his flesh. He reached up and felt the small projectile in his skin, but already his arm felt like lead, and a monstrous fatigue dragged him down into blackness.

*

“Robo-penguin strikes again.” Casey Franks lowered the dart gun. She turned to Dawkins who lay beside her and grinned. “Let’s go meet the neighbors.”

The ten white-clothed shapes lifted from the snow, and rushed the base door. Big Ben Jackson brought up the rear, dragging the unconscious body of the Chinese soldier with him, and Hank Rinofsky ran at the shoulder of Aimee Weir.

They waited. The HAWC leader, Dempsey, held up a hand, three fingers splayed as he counted them down. He spun the wheel and pushed, the HAWCs rushing forward, guns up. Casey Franks and Vince Blake led them in – both still had tranq-darts loaded.

Blake spoke Cantonese and Mandarin fluently. Their priority was to assess how many were still above surface and incapacitate them quickly – non-lethally if possible, but by any means if necessary. Recriminations were for the politicians to argue over later.

Like a pair of bloodhounds, Franks and Blake went in low, fast, and silent as ghosts. Their task was to take down obvious targets. Casey knew that they needed a balance of speed, silence, and caution, as the Chinese usually wired their facilities with explosives, and if they thought their base was compromised they wouldn’t hesitate to self-destruct.

Blake took off down the corridor to the right towards the sleeping quarters, and Casey headed into the control room. She found two men at consoles, and one spun towards her, his eyes momentarily going wide. He lunged for a rifle and she fired two darts. Both struck their targets – the throat of the guy going for the gun and the back of the neck of the other. Both men slumped to the floor, eyes rolled back.

She quickly met with Blake who shook his head, and then she headed back to the entrance and met with Dempsey in the darkened hallway.

“Two down. Clear,” she said.

Dempsey nodded, gun up. He turned to the rest of the HAWCs. “Search.” They scattered, seeking more inhabitants, performing a lower level examination.

At the control room, Dempsey waved over John Dawkins. The young man came forward cautiously, and the HAWC captain pointed.

“Disable this unit.”

Dawkins looked briefly at the consoles, nodded, and then sat down to start flicking switches. The HAWCs came back in, announcing all clear.

Casey stood at ease, feeling relaxed, but her eyes darted from doors to alcoves and to anywhere else that could potentially launch a threat. Rinofsky knelt beside the downed guards. He grabbed one of them by the jaw, turning the man’s head, and then peeled an eyelid back.

“Big bastards; not your usual PLA.” He stood. “They’ll sleep for a couple of hours.”

“Secure them, and our penguin marksman from outside. I like my peace and quiet.”  Dempsey looked at Aimee, who seemed to be shivering. “You all right, Dr. Weir?”

She looked anxious rather than cold. “I’m fine.”

Dempsey grinned. “It’s okay to be a bit nervous.”

“It’s not that.” She turned her head, sniffing. “There’s something, a hint of a smell. Makes me feel a little unsettled, is all.”

Dempsey sniffed. “Can’t smell a thing. Just relax.  He checked his watch. “Franks, take Dawkins and check the elevator. I want it …”

An alarm screamed.

“
Fuck
.” Casey backed into a wall, gun up. Dawkins cringed at his console, and like Casey, the other HAWCs spun, guns ready.

Aimee covered her ears. “What the hell is that?”

Hagel pointed at John Dawkins, still hunkered down at the console. “What the fuck did you just do?”

The young McMurdo soldier shook his head, his chip-toothed mouth working. Overhead, a mechanical Chinese voice started intoning from speakers throughout the base.

Dempsey spun to Blake. “What’s he saying?”

The HAWCs face was white. “It’s a countdown.” He turned. “Detonation in 180 seconds, 179, 178 …”

*

Lim Daiyu carefully eased the door of the storeroom cupboard open a crack. Once again he had been forced to fold his body into a confined space in the face of a threat. He didn’t recognize the people now entering the camp, but heard the voices and guessed they were American. He had seen them drag the limp body of one of the soldiers along the corridor – it didn’t look like they were taking prisoners.

He had been a coward when the thing from the pit had risen up. He had hidden, and not tried to fight or save any of his friends. He crushed his eyes shut, willing courage into his trembling limbs. His eyes flicked open. This time he would not dishonor his family name.

When all of the foreigners were congregated in the main communication center, he stepped out of his hiding place and headed for the commander’s office. Once inside he knew what he must do – it was the only piece of training he had shared with every member of the team – if there was ever an irresistible threat, and the base compromised, then protection of the camp’s secrets was paramount.

He went to the wall and entered a code into a small metallic box. The door sprang open. Inside there was a single smaller box, under a Perspex lid. He flicked the lid up and pressed the single button underneath. A screen asked to
Proceed
or
Cancel
. Lim Daiyu became calm, and he prayed, not for his life or for the dead, but that the demon, the
Zhày
ǔ
, would also be taken in the blast.

He pressed
Proceed
, and then sat down slowly, cross-legged, on the floor to wait.