Armen Gharabegian - Protocol 7

Simon realized they needed to regroup and make decisions quickly. “You think we’re still being followed?” he asked Max, who scowled at the thought, and then nodded.

“What the fuck have we gotten ourselves into?” Hayden said, his voice trembling on the edge of hysteria. “This wasn’t supposed to be like this. Underground? In tunnels, for Christ’s sake? And being chased by I don’t know what!”

“Relax,” said Max, strong but reassuring.

“But-”

“Relax,” Max said again-and this time it was more an order than a bit of advice.

Hayden started to argue again. He opened his mouth; brought up an accusing finger, and suddenly Max was out of his seat and hovering over the inventor, almost nose to nose with him. The rest of the crew watched them in fascination and horror.

“Hayden!” he hissed. “We agreed to do this, all of us, together, no matter what. You

remember that?”

“But-”

“No fucking ‘buts.’ None of us knew what we were getting into at the time-how could we? But this is what it is. Now. Here. And if you can’t handle it properly, okay. Then get your gear and get the fuck out of the Spector.”

Hayden gaped at him in disbelief.

“You’re fucking kidding me.”

“No, Hayden. I’m not. Get on board or get out.”

Hayden lifted his chin, still defiant, but his tone had changed. The hysteria was gone; the anger tightly controlled. He looked at the others now, talking to all of them. They listened in rigid silence. “We need to decide what to do quickly,” he told them. “That’s all I’m saying. We’re descending farther and farther into this hell, and if we don’t have a plan for escape, we will all freeze to death, stuck thousands of feet below the ice.”

Simon was in deep thought, listening with one ear as he contemplated their next move. These are ordinary people, he realized. Extraordinary brains maybe, but ordinary people. None were equipped for the danger that was confronting them. He was asking far too much, and he knew it, and there was nothing he could do about it now.

He stood up suddenly, nodding at his father’s oldest friend.

“Hayden, you’re absolutely right. None of us want to perish in this hell.” He looked at Max, who watched him closely, eyes narrowed. “So let’s assess what our options are and decide what we should do together, all right?”

“Maybe we need to contact the authorities, guys,” Samantha said, quiet but steady. “This is out of our scope. This is out of anybody’s scope.”

“Who is it that you want to contact?” Max said, frustrated at the sheer naivete of the comment. “Do you realize that we are violating international law by even being here?”

“You want to try and go back, then go,” Simon said with a weary finality. “Me, I’m ready to pack my gear and go searching for Oliver on foot if I have to. These very tunnels are evidence that something crazy is happening down here, and we’re part of it now, all of us, whether we like it or not.”

“And the longer we sit here,” Andrew said, his eyes still on the deepscan console, “the closer our pursuers get.”

“Still on our tail?” Max said, already knowing the answer.

“Tight as a tick on a dog’s ass, I’m afraid. Someone-three someones actually, though I have no idea what they are or what they look like-is heading our way this very moment. I’m gathering we don’t want to confront them quite yet.”

“Exactly,” Max said, but he couldn’t suppress the glint in his eye. “Not yet.”

While the others had been talking, Ryan had been scanning the walls of the alcove, looking for options. “I do believe I’ve found a possibility,” he said, and they all turned to see. “Max,” he said, “can you make just this section of the hull transparent? Right here?” He pointed to a large blank patch to his right.

“Sure,” Max said. He manipulated the console, and a portion of the wall as big as a bathroom mirror faded away, revealing the rocky floor and the cracked and not-so-distant wall of the alcove.

“This looks just large enough for us to go into,” Ryan said, walking to the transparent image and double-tapping on one particular portion of a crack in the ice wall-little more than a gap in the ice. But as the image zoomed forward at his command, they could all see it: a vertical crevice just a bit wider than the Spector itself that seemed to go far back into the wall, revealing an open, lighted area beyond.

“Good work, Ryan,” Simon said and clapped him on the shoulder.

Then Simon turned to Max. “You think we can fit in there?”

“Well, there’s only one way to find out,” replied Max, as he slid his hands over the holographic controls. The Spector turned on its slowly churning treads and trundled toward the opening. As they approached, Max noticed the sharpening image on the forward deepscan display: the crevice was indeed a passageway through the ice wall-a very long and twisted path that descended gradually to another dome, hundreds of feet below.

As they accelerated toward the new opening, Hayden made a disgusted sound in this throat. “So that’s the plan? Just keep running until…when? We run out of power, food, or luck? Or just whichever comes first?”

Simon was the one who rose to the bait this time. “Hayden,” he said, seething. “If you would like to wait here for whoever is on our tail, then be my guest. But we are moving on. You want to complain, fine, but right now is not the time. We’re going to be discovered any second.”

Just as the nose of the Spector entered the small passage, Andrew stiffened at his display and said, “I think we already are.”

Suddenly, a huge mechanical tentacle, a flexing arm, curled around the corner of the alcove wall at the edge of Tunnel 3 and flailed, searching for a hold. It banged into the ice, anchored itself, and pulled. An eight-legged creature made of unusual materials, three stories tall, dragged itself into view.

“Mother of god,” Samantha whispered. “What in the world?”

Max accelerated before Samantha spoke another word. The Spector cut through the ice, treads spinning, and penetrated the narrow passageway, turning slightly to the left to keep to the widest portion.

Don’t get much smaller, Simon prayed. Ten feet narrower, fifteen feet at the most, and we’ll be stuck like a plug in a pipe.

There was a deep mechanical thoom at their back. Simon didn’t have to look to know what that sound meant-the mechanical Spider, like an angry dragon from hell, was approaching. He felt a rush of adrenaline as they pushed forward.

“What are your thoughts now?” Simon asked Hayden, dripping sarcasm. The effect was dampened a bit by the sudden high, screaming contact of the Spector’s smartskin with an upthrust outcropping of ice. It sounded far too much like a human scream.

“Max,” Simon said. “Dial up the transparency on the rear-sorry, the aft-section of the Spector. I want to see what’s behind us.”

The vehicle suddenly veered to the right and nearly sent Samantha into yet another tumble, but she grabbed at a locked-down cabinet as she fell, and it helped to steady her. An instant later the entire rear of the vehicle seemed to disappear, and the crew could see the jagged opening of the passage and the bluish light of the dome they had just left behind.

The robot Spider, swooping and twitching, was still coming for them on all eight legs. They watched in horror as the huge beast wasted no time in its graceful gallop across the alcove floor. It looked more menacing the closer it came, the blinding lights attached to its limbs swiveling to focus directly on the back of the Spector.

Max was getting more and more concerned as the passage continued to narrow. He had very little room to maneuver; a few yards farther and he would have even less. And one subtle mistake would take off one of the side panels, he knew that for sure: the ancient ice was as hard as stone.