Armen Gharabegian - Protocol 7

They walked up to the massive cycles and stood in front of them, frankly astonished.

“What the hell are these?” Andrew asked.

Each cycle had a huge cockpit-comfortable for two, a squeeze for three-with a cargo hold and some sort of engine compartment. It seemed to be built to fit around a massive wheel and knobby tire, twelve feet tall, but the cockpit and cargo hold didn’t actually seem to touch the wheel at any point. The two components seemed to be held together by some type of magnetic force-field-a field that was deactivated at the moment, so the cockpits sat crookedly on the ice itself, waiting to be lifted up and borne away.

“These are MC-7s, or better known as Mag-Cycles,” Lucas said as he approached the nearest upright wheel. It towered over him, almost twice his height. “They are the old-generation Vector5 tech. Used to be standard issue for fast ice transport.”

“MC-7s?” asked Andrew. He’d never heard of such a thing. “How did you get them? How do they work?”

There was an ominous thoom from deeper into the passageway. They all turned to see the lights blazing brighter than ever.

The Crevasse Spiders were on their way.

“Later,” Lucas said. “Let’s get moving.”

As one of the cycles fired up with a thundering, sizzling WOWWing sound, Simon smelled the tang of ozone in the air, despite the frigid temperature. A blue glow radiated from the wheel housing, and Max and Simon stood in awe, their faces lit by the blue light of the MC-7 as the cockpit levitated, floating rapidly to ten feet above the icy ground, and hovered just above and behind the upright wheel. There was a breathless pause-just an instant-and then the wheel spun madly, dug into the icy floor, and sped away. The cockpit rode high above it in complete silence-except for the deep vibration of the ice itself, the vibration that Simon’s team had felt in the Spector just moments before when the cycles first approached.

The first cycle to leave had been stuffed with provisions and equipment, so completely filled there was barely space for the pilot. But it was clear that two passengers and the pilot were all a MC-7 could handle-and there were only two cycles left. Simon saw Nastasia being helped into one of the remaining vehicles already, by a pilot who kept looking nervously over his shoulder at the Crevasse Spiders as they broke barrier after barrier, still slowly approaching.

Simon gestured to Samantha and Ryan and pointed to the cycle nearest to them. “You go ahead,” he said. He looked at Sam for a moment, then looked at Max. “Andrew can handle a little exercise,” he said. “He and I will go on foot along with Lucas. Will you take Sam with you in that last cycle?”

Max looked positively offended. “What the fuck are you talking about? You know I’ll have nothing of that. I go where you go.” His expression was fierce, even angry. Simon had seen that look before; he knew there was no arguing.

He sighed. “All right then. Sam, why don’t you go with Andrew, and we’ll join you on foot.”

Samantha looked back at the rapidly approaching Spiders. A few more barriers, a few more twists and turns, and they would be right on top of the Spector. Then she looked forward at the darkness beyond the down-sloping passageway-more unknowns, more danger.

She really didn’t have any choice, and she knew it. Andrew pulled gently at her arm, helping her into the cockpit of one remaining cycle, while the one next to them glowed brightly and roared to life. As they were about to enter, the man in front of the cockpit said, “Bit tight in here. These aren’t made for three.”

Seconds later however, the hatch had closed over them, and Simon caught a glimpse of Andrew holding Samantha tightly in his arms as the cockpit lifted up into the air. Before they knew it, the cycle shot away, screeching as it barreled down the passageway and disappeared into the black tunnel ahead.

The first of the CS-23s forced itself past the final mountain of ice and stone. There was nothing between them and their quarry but an icy clearing as long as a football field.

Simon eyed the strange weapon that Lucas had been firing at them mere moments before. “You have any extras?” he asked.

Lucas grinned and called to one of his lieutenants, who threw him a new weapon. “This do?” he asked.

“Perfect.”

The other foot soldiers melted into the dark, out of sight and beyond the scanners of the Crevasse Spiders. The last three men-Lucas, Simon, and Max-confronted the black tunnel ahead them.

“Let’s get the hell out of here,” Lucas said.

They moved forward into the icy darkness.

“How deep does this thing go?” Max asked.

“Do you mean how far?” replied Lucas. “For miles in all compass directions, a thousand feet above us and thousands of feet below us.”

Despite everything he had seen so far, Max was still shocked at the answer. Simon said nothing, at least not at the moment; he was content to listen carefully as they walked, the icy floor crunching and whispering beneath his boots.

“Actually, this particular passageway starts to wind down in a tight spiral just a mile ahead and then drops into a fissure called the Gorge. We’ve managed to gather our belongings into a little safe house tucked below the bend. We’ll meet the cycles and your people there.”

Simon shook his head mutely. It was hard for any of them to comprehend the vastness of the world below. “Please tell us,” he said, trying to sound reasonable and patient as he boiled inside. “Please. Who are you, and what are you running away from? I mean, why do you guys have these strange rifles and vehicles deep within the ice? And who the hell is Vector5?”

Lucas stopped for a moment, turning back toward Simon and Max, who were following two steps behind. With the bright light from his helmet shining right into Simon’s face, he asked, “You mean you have no idea what the fuck is going on down here?”

“Absolutely not,” replied Simon.

“Then how did you bring this amazing vehicle three thousand feet below the ice? How did you possibly escape from the CS-23s?”

“Would you mind?” said Max, referring to the beaming light from Lucas’ helmet that was blinding him.

“Yeah, sorry.” Lucas flipped the light mechanism upward, which illuminated the ceiling of the tunnel.

Simon didn’t really know how to begin. “We were heading to Station 35, thinking that maybe we would find some sort of clue as to where my father had been taken.” He didn’t want to give up too many details-the journal, the message, the coordinates given to him in Corsica. Simple is better, he thought. And safer. “The submersible started to malfunction, and we got lost, only to find ourselves in a long underwater tunnel. It led us to the gigantic dome under the ice.”

Lucas nodded, knowing all too well what Simon was referring to-the submarine drop-off at Fissure 9.

“The next thing we knew, we were being chased by these strange whatever-the-hell-they’re-called, and then you started shooting at us.”

Lucas looked stubborn and embarrassed at the same time. “Well, you looked like new Vector5 tech at first. You understand. But as soon as you showed yourself-”

“-you mean ‘didn’t fire back,’” Max said acidly.

“-then we stopped.”

Max held his hand in front of Simon for a second and interjected, “Before Simon continues, I should ask who the hell you are and what the fuck is going on down here.”

“All right guys.” Lucas picked up the case he had dropped. “Let’s keep on walking before we all freeze. I’ll explain.”

He had barely taken a few steps before the words came out of his mouth. “This is the greatest secret ever kept. We were lucky enough to escape from the people who control it just a few weeks ago, and we’ve been trying to navigate through this maze ever since, hoping to reach the very fissure through which you entered. But we’ve never been able to find it.”