Deep Storm (25 page)

Strange. The arm seemed sluggish, almost lazy, in response to his movements of the trigger

Groves voice abruptly intruded on his thoughts.

Weve stopped, the pilot said. He turned to Horst. Whats up?

Im not sure. The engineer tapped at his keyboard, peered at one of the screens.

Is there a proximity warning with the tunnel-boring machine?

No, Horst replied. It began work on schedule. Its dug four feet of fresh shaft already.

Then why has the Doodlebug stopped?

Unknown. Horsts fingers flew over the keyboard. Its only responding intermittently to commands.

Christ. This is all we need. Grove slammed his hand against a bulkhead.

The pilot was bearable when things went well, but hit a snag and he became a prize asshole. Adkinson fervently hoped this shift wouldnt turn out to be one for the record books.

Can you up the gain? Grove asked.

Its already at maximum.

Well, damn it, youd better

There, Horst said. Its moving again.

Thats more like it, Grove replied, tone settling back to normal. Okay, Adkinson, prepare to

Oh, shit! Horst said. And the sudden urgency in the engineers voice sent a stab of fear through Adkinson. Its rising!

What is? Grove asked.

The Doodlebug. Its not descending. Its coming toward us!

Adkinson swung to face the engineers center screen. Sure enough: through the greenish wash of sonar, he could see the robotic creature moving upward. Even as he stared, it seemed to increase in speed.

Well, stop it! Grove cried. Shut it down!

Horst typed desperately. I cant. Its not responding on any of the channels.

There was a sudden, shrill alarm. Collision warning, said a disembodied female voice. Collision warning

Its no good! Horst called out. Fifty feet and closing.

Adkinson felt another, stronger stab of fear in his vitals. If the Doodlebug rammed them if it damaged the exterior of the Marble it could damage the complex webwork of struts that maintained their structural integrity

In sudden panic he wheeled around, hands clenching and unclenching, looking illogically for an exit.

Im scrubbing the mission! Grove shouted over the bleat of the alarm. Horst, decouple the EM link. Were heading for the surface.

Its been decoupled. The Doodlebugs still coming. Thirty feet away now and closing fast!

Shit. Grove grabbed for the radio. Dive Control, this is Marble One. Were terminating the mission and returning.

Marble One, say again? the radio crackled.

The Doodlebugs malfunctioning were making an emergency ascent.

Adkinson gripped his seat, desperately trying to keep himself under control. He could sense them ascending now with painful slowness. His eyes were riveted to Horsts screens. Hurry up, goddamn it, hurry up

Collision imminent, said the silky female voice. Collision imminent.

Ten! Horst almost screamed. Oh, Christ!

Brace for impact! yelled Grove.

Adkinson hurled himself over his console, grasping the reinforcing bulkhead as tightly as he could. He clenched his jaw. For a strange moment, it seemed that all the furious noise within the Marble the wail of the proximity warning, Groves shouts were muted in a suspended agony of waiting. Then from below came a wrenching impact; the Marble bucked, yawed sideways, metal squealing and shearing; a sudden, furious, uncontrolled ascent; Adkinsons skull banged violently against the floorand then darkness closed in over all.

Chapter 29

Crane trotted along the labyrinthine corridors of deck 3, accompanied by a young marine with close-cropped blond hair.

What is it? Crane asked. Whats happened?

I dont know, sir, the marine said. My orders were to escort you to the Drilling Complex. On the double.

The marine stopped to open an unmarked door, which gave onto a narrow service stairwell. They took the metal steps downward, two at a time, until they reached deck 1. The marine threw open another door, and they ran through another warren of passageways. As he ran, Crane noticed that the walls of this the lowest level of the Facility were painted a dull red.

Ahead now lay a large set of double doors. As Crane approached, the marines stationed outside pulled the doors open for him. Beyond lay the Drilling Complex, the large equipment hanger he had seen from above the day before. Equipment bulkheads and racks of instrumentation lined three of the walls. Numerous open hatchways led to labs, equipment bays, monitoring stations, and breakout rooms. The ceiling two levels high in this space was festooned with cranes, gantries, heavy chains, and hydraulic equipment. Technicians hurried here and there, speaking in low tones, their faces drawn and worried. Somewhere in the distance, an alarm was sounding.

In the center of the hanger, people stood clustered around what was clearly the upper seal of a water lock. Among them was Admiral Spartan. Crane walked quickly over to them.

Whats going on? he asked Spartan.

The admiral glanced at him for a moment before returning his gaze to the water lock. Theres been some kind of accident with Marble One.

What kind of accident?

Weve lost communication with the crew inside, theres no way to know for sure. Apparently, the robotic mechanism that pulls the Marble down the dig shaft malfunctioned. Rammed the Marble. And now, Marble One is rising out of control.

Oh, Jesus. Did they lose pressure?

Exceedingly unlikely. Any injuries are more likely to result fromimpact.

Blunt trauma, Crane muttered. He glanced around, thinking quickly. You said the Marble has a crew complement of three?

Correct.

I dont have any medical equipment on hand.

Emergency field kits are being brought as we speak.

A loudspeaker rasped, Estimated time until impact, two minutes.

A field kits not enough, Admiral, Crane said. Im going to need to prep the site for emergency treatment. And Ill need Dr. Bishop to assist. Especially if theres triage to be done.

Spartan turned to look at him again. Not in the Drilling Complex.

But Crane began.

You can use the temporary infirmary on deck four. Ill have Dr. Bishop brought there. Spartan beckoned to one of the numerous marines stationed nearby. Locate Dr. Bishop and escort her to deck four, he ordered.

The marine saluted, then moved briskly away.

What if there are neck injuries? Crane demanded. We cant just move those crewmen He fell silent when he saw the expression on the admirals face.

A lab technician looked up from the nearby control console. Admiral, he said. Marble Ones rate of ascent is slowing slightly.

Whats the current rate?

Thirty-four feet per second, sir.

Equilibriums off, said Spartan. Thats still too damn fast.

Crane waited, going over the stabilization procedures hed need to follow once the Marble was secured. For all his specialized training, it would come down to the same procedure any trauma paramedic would follow. ABC: airway, breathing, circulation. If the collision with the robotic digger had been violent enough, there might be lacerations, contusions, possible concussions. Since he had to move the crew to deck 4, hed need to get cervical collars fixed, place the men on short boards as a precaution against

Estimated time until impact, sixty seconds, came the disembodied voice from the loudspeaker.

Isnt there any way to slow it? Crane asked.

Just before it impacts the water lock, were going to discharge a cushion of CO2 Spartan said. Theoretically, that will reduce the impact. But the timing has to be exact.

He walked over to the lab technician. Release the gas at minus five seconds.

Very good, sir. The tech looked pale.

Crane glanced around the large hangar. The frantic activity had ceased, and a hush had descended. Everybody was standing still waiting.

Thirty seconds, came the voice from the loudspeaker. Pressure seal deactivated.

Spartan plucked a radio from the console. All hands, brace for impact!

Crane stepped over to a nearby bulkhead, took hold with both hands.

Rate of ascent? Spartan asked the tech.

Steady at thirty-two feet per second, sir.

The loudspeaker crackled. Fifteen seconds.

Spartan looked quickly around the Drilling Complex, pinning everyone in turn with a brief gaze, as if assuring himself all the necessary players were in place. Then he turned back to the tech. Release the CO2.

The tech snapped a series of buttons. Released, sir

At that moment, Crane felt a sharp thump beneath his feet. The Facility shuddered slightly.

It was as if an electrical circuit had abruptly been completed. Instantly, the Complex leapt back into activity. Orders were shouted; technicians in white lab coats and marines in fatigues ran to their stations. The metal floor rang with the sound of heavy footsteps.

Water lock integrity? Spartan asked the tech.

One hundred percent, sir.

Spartan picked up the radio, punched in a frequency. Open the hatch, he snapped. Get my men up here.

Outer water lock doors opening now, said the tech at the control console.

Crane saw three workers wheeling a bizarre-looking contraption into place beside the water lock: a steel scaffold about seven feet tall, onto which was set a large metal ring with a toothed circumference. What looked like a pair of industrial-strength lasers had been fastened onto the ring, in 180-degree opposition to each other. Clearly, this was the device that would cut a circular hole into the side of the Marble, creating an exit hatch and releasing the crew inside.

Marble Ones in the lock now, the tech said. Closing outer doors.

How long will it take the laser to cut an exit hatch? Crane asked.

Eight minutes, Spartan said. Thats at two hundred percent normal operating speed.

Cranes attention was distracted from the laser gantry by a commotion at the main entrance. Three marines entered, pushing makeshift gurneys ahead of them; another followed in their wake, medical field kits slung over his shoulder. Spartan looked over at Crane, made the slightest nod of his head in the direction of the Marble. Youre on, the nod told him.

Crane walked over to the laser gantry, gesturing for the marines to wheel the gurneys and trauma equipment up behind him. He busied himself prepping the gurneys, opening the kits, and laying out instruments, readying the C collars and short boards for the upcoming extraction, running down mental checklists, preparing for the injuries that likely awaited.

Lock sealed, said the tech. Equalizing pressure.

Bring the retractor into place, Spartan ordered.

There was a whirring noise, and Crane looked up to see a large robotic clamp being dollied into position over the water lock.

Pressure equalized, said the tech.

Open the lock, said Spartan.

For a moment, all fell silent again. Then Crane felt a rumbling beneath his feet. The two panels of the water lock drew back from the floor, revealing a surface of dark water. The clamp slowly descended with a mechanical whir, swaying back and forth beneath the heavy cable, jaws yawning wide. It reached the water and kept descending until fully submerged. The whirring noise ceased. Crane heard a muffled clunk. The cable began to rise again, more slowly this time. He saw the top of the clamp break the waters surface. Inch by inch it rose, revealing its webbing of hydraulics, its heavy jawsand at last, very slowly, Marble One itself came into view, suspended between them.