James Rollins - Ice Hunt

Finally, he could stand it no longer. “Chief, you have the conn. I’m going to watch from Cyclops. Patch any communication from the shore team to the intercom there.”

“Aye, sir.”

Perry left the bridge and headed toward the nose of the submarine. He climbed through the hatches and past the empty research suites. He opened the last hatch and entered the naturally illuminated chamber beyond.

He crossed under the arch of clear Lexan. The water sluicing over the glass splintered out in jagged lines of ice, growing visibly into complex fractal designs over the Lexan surface. Beyond the sub, the view was poor. Steam rose off the submarine’s carbon-plate hide, and flurries of snow swirled down in frosted strokes from the heights of the mountainous ice ridges.

Perry stared toward the cavernous opening that led down into the Russian station. He made out the vague shapes of men, trudging, bent against the wind. Bratt’s team. They disappeared into the mouth of the tunnel.

The intercom buzzed. A tinny voice spoke. “Captain, bridge here.”

He crossed and pressed the button. “What is it, Chief?”

“The watch radioman reports no reception from NAVSAT. We’re blanketed under another solar storm, leaving us deaf and dumb for the moment.”

He swore under his breath. With the satellites down, he needed word to reach the outside world. He jabbed the intercom button. “Any ETA on how long we’ll be out of satellite communication?”

“It’s anyone’s guess. Radioman says he expects short bursts of open air, but he can’t say when. Best guess is that the current bevy of solar storms will quit sometime after sunset.” Another long pause. “He’s going to try an ionosphere bounce with the UHF, but there’s no guarantee anyone’ll hear us in this weather. With a bit of luck, we might raise Prudhoe Bay.”

“Roger that, bridge. Have him keep trying as long as we’re surfaced. But I also want a SLOT configured and hidden out on the ice.” A SLOT, or Submarine-Launched One-Way Transmitter, was a communication buoy that could be deployed and set with a time delay to burst a transmitted satellite report. “Set the SLOT to transmit well after sunset.” This should help ensure their message got out after the solar storm passed and reopened satellite communication.

“Aye, sir.”

Perry checked his watch. Five minutes had passed. He stepped back under the Lexan arch. Visibility was mere yards now. He could just make out the line of pressure ridges, but no details. He kept his vigil. After another interminable minute, ghostly shapes pushed through the snow. It was the first of the evacuees.

Through the hollow of the boat, he could hear the outside hatch clang open. He imagined the whistle of wind. More and more shapes appeared out of the squall. He tried to count them, but the swirling snow confounded all efforts to tell one from another, man from woman.

His jaw ached from clenching his teeth.

The intercom buzzed. “Captain, bridge again. Patching through Commander Bratt.”

The next words were scratchy with static. “Captain? We’ve hauled through all the levels. I have two men with bullhorns running the occupied areas of the Crawl Space.”

Perry had to resist interrupting his XO and demanding to know Amanda’s fate.

The answer came anyway. “We learned Dr. Reynolds is still here.”

Perry let out a deep sigh of relief. She hadn’t returned to the drift station and been caught in the attack. She was safe. She was here.

The next words, though, were disquieting. “But, sir, no one has seen her in the last hour or so. She and one of the geologists went searching for an AWOL student in the ice tunnels.”

He hit the button. “Commander, I don’t want anyone left behind.”

“Roger that, sir.”

Perry checked his watch. “You have seven minutes.”

Before any acknowledgment could be transmitted, the control station cut in again. “Bridge to Captain. For the past few minutes, we’ve stopped picking up any evidence of weapon fire from the hydrophones. Sonar also reports suspicious echoes that could be a sub diving. Air venting, mechanicals…”

It could only be the Drakon. The Russian hunter/killer was on the move. Time had run out. Perry knew he couldn’t risk the lives here. He spoke into the intercom. “Patch me back to Bratt.”

“Aye, Captain.”

A moment later, his XO’s voice scratched out of the speaker. “Bratt here.”

“Commander, company is on the way. We need everyone out of there now!”

“Sir, we haven’t even cleared all of the Crawl Space yet.”

“You have exactly three minutes to empty that station.”

“Roger that. Out.”

Perry closed his eyes and took a deep breath. Glancing over his shoulder, he took one last look out Cyclops, then ducked out of the room. He climbed back through the sub and assumed command of the bridge again.

Men milled in ordered confusion, helping wide-eyed civilians down ladders and into the living spaces beyond the control station. The interior of the sub had already dropped a good twenty degrees, open to the blizzard above.

Dr. Willig suddenly appeared at Perry’s side. “I know you’re busy, Captain,” the Swedish oceanographer said breathlessly, snow melting in his hair.

“What is it, sir?”

“Amanda…she’s still down in the Crawl Space.”

“Yes. We know.” He kept his voice clipped, tight. He couldn’t let his own panic show. He had to be leader here.

“Surely we’re going to make sure everyone is out of there before leaving.”

“We’ll do our best.”

His answer did little to fade the fear in the old man’s eyes. Amanda was like a daughter to him.

The chief waved from his station. “We’ve got Commander Bratt on the line again, Captain.”

Perry checked his watch, then glanced to the open hatch. The ladder was empty. Where was his XO? He crossed to the boat’s radio. “Commander, time’s run out. Get your ass over here now.”

The answer was faint. The entire bridge had hushed. “Still missing a handful of civilians. In the Crawl Space now with Lieutenant Washburn. Request permission to stay behind. To offer protection for those still here. We’ll find them…then find a good hiding place.”

Perry clenched a fist. A new voice spoke at his side. It was Lee Bentley, one of the NASA crew. “I left the commander my schematics of the station. Detailing the access tunnels and old construction shafts.”

Beyond the scientist, all eyes focused on Perry. Dr. Willig had never looked paler. They awaited his decision.

Perry hit the radio’s transmit. “Commander…” He held the button. Fear for Amanda hollowed his heart, but he had a boatload of crew and civilians to protect. “Commander, we can wait no longer.”

“Understood.”

“Find the others…keep them safe.”

“Roger that. Out.”

Perry closed his eyes.

Dr. Willig spoke into the heavy silence, his voice rich with disbelief. “You’re just going to leave them behind?”

With a deep breath, Perry turned and faced the chief of the watch. “Take us down.”

Blood pounding in her ears, Amanda crouched in the nest of bones. The smell of bowel and blood filled the small space. Lacy’s corpse looked like some broken mannequin, unreal. Something had torn the geology student apart. Something large.

Amanda panted though clenched teeth.

The girl’s body lay on its back, limbs broken, face smashed, like she had been shaken and slammed repeatedly against the ice.

Amanda kept her eyes away from the corpse’s belly. It had been ripped open. Frozen blood trailed from the open cavity. Out in the wild, wolves always ate the soft abdominal organs of their prey, burrowing into the bellies first, feasting on the rich meal inside.