Уильям Мейкл - Operation - Antarctica

Banks sat up straight in the chair, suddenly hit by inspiration that had eluded him until now. The golden circles and markings on the floor weren’t the cause of the problems on the base; his reading had just made that clear.

The circles are attempts to contain the demon, possibly even an attempt to control it. The saucer is sitting in a prison the Germans made for it.

It had held all these long years from the war until now. But somehow, the bonds that held the demon had been slipped, if only a fraction. And now whatever lived in that prison was trying its best to escape.

He let the men sleep while he sat at the table, pondering his epiphany. He couldn’t make heads or tails of the talk in the journal of color washes and valves, at least none that would help him. From what he could gather, the man, Carnacki, had a piece of equipment that he used in his work that utilized the color theory mentioned, but as they’d found no sign of any such equipment on the base, Banks didn’t think the Germans had used the same methods.

He looked for the other bag of papers before remembering that it must still be back in the hut; he hadn’t seen it recently, hadn’t given it any thought, and now that he needed it, it was in the one place he couldn’t, wouldn’t go to fetch. He remembered that it had been occult symbols he hadn’t understood, blueprints for building the saucer, and those, impossible, shots of the saucer in orbit. It all added up to something that he thought he should understand, but which remained too far away from how he’d always understood the world worked.

But merely the fact that the demon could be controlled, even expelled, gave Banks hope, and that was something that had been in short supply this past twenty-four hours.

He sat there, wide-awake now, idly reading passages from Carnacki’s journal. The man had obviously had dealings with Churchill, and knew something about all this demonic mumbo-jumbo, but it was like reading a fairytale for all the sense it made to Banks. He could see nothing that would be really useful in bringing their situation to an end.

He was still of a mind to sit this one out, wait for the relief and tell them his theory, but any thought of an easy time of it was thwarted after a few hours of respite. It started, as before, with a high chanting, monks singing in the wind.

Banks quickly roused the men.

“Get the plugs full in, lads,” he said, almost shouting so that they’d hear him. “And remember the Gaelic. It’s the only thing that saved us before. Get ready to move.”

“We’re not going back outside again, surely, Cap,” Wiggins replied. “We’ve only just got fucking warm.”

It was only on hearing the question that Banks realized he’d come to a decision while sitting in the quiet room.

“No. We’re not heading out,” he said. “We’re heading in. It’s time to face this thing. This ends now, one way or the other.”

He led the men out into the main chamber. As soon as he opened the room door, the sound of the chanting got noticeably louder, even through the earplugs.

“Dhumna Ort!” he muttered, which helped, but didn’t deaden the sound entirely anymore. He motioned the men forward, and was pleased to see that they had all unslung their weapons, and had fallen into formation behind him. Hynd brought up the rear as Banks led the other three quickly across the large empty space to the double doorway that led to the hangar corridor.

He realized he had no clear plan, but it felt good to be on the move again, and with a definite goal in mind. The first step was to get to the saucer room. He was hoping something else would come to him by the time they got there.

The heat in the corridor beyond the double doors was almost stifling, but Banks wasn’t of a mind to divest himself of his outerwear — the experience in the hut had impressed on him just how quickly the temperature might change. It was getting uncomfortably sweaty inside his gear, but it was a small price to pay if it stopped him turning like the dead men he’d seen with the Oberst.

But they wouldn’t be able to put up with such heat for long, for it was going to sap their strength just as fast as any prolonged exposure to the cold. He headed up the corridor at double time. The chanting got louder, it got hotter, and Banks wasn’t quite sure if he was running into action, or running to answer the call of the dark void of eternity.

As long as we get to the bloody hangar room, the why of it doesn’t really matter.

He kept telling himself that, but wasn’t sure he believed it.

The hangar room glowed as golden yellow, and as warm, as any midday summer sun, and the saucer hummed and vibrated, as if excited at their approach. One thing changed as soon as they entered the hangar — the chanting stopped again, and all compulsion left Banks.

We’re where it wants us to be. Again.

Banks pulled out his earplugs, and the squad followed suit when they saw.

“Cally,” Banks said. “Can we cut the power?”

“Cut it? I don’t even know where it’s coming from — or going to,” the corporal said.

Banks nodded toward the saucer.

“We can assume it’s coming from there,” he said, then walked over to the tall metal containers banked beside the gauges and meters, “and it’s going here, then out to the rest of the base.”

“I get that much,” McCally said, “but what’s powering yon fucker?”

Banks looked back at the saucer.

“I think we are. I think we have been since we got here.”

“So what’s the plan, Cap?” Hynd asked.

“There’s two bits of it,” Banks said. “The first is easy — we cool things down around here; cut off the power leaving the saucer, stop it heating this room and the rest of the base. Let’s see if we can stir things up, take the initiative.”

McCally looked at the tall metal containers again.

“Breaking stuff and blowing shit up? Aye, I can do that.”

He took Parker and Wiggins with him and went over to the tall metal containers. It took all three of them, but once they put their combined weight into it, they got the racks of containers on the move. One last effort, a heave from all of them, and the whole row toppled forward and crashed to the floor with an impact that shook the whole hangar and made the saucer wobble where it hovered.

Another effect was also immediate. The lights went out in the corridor beyond the double doorway, and a cold breeze blew up from the rest of the base. The yellow glow from the circles on the floor faded to their previous gold, the radiated heat from them no longer so oppressive as before.

“Still too warm by half,” Banks said. He caught sight of shadows moving across the floor and looked up. Snow swirled in spiraling vortices outside the glass of the dome, and now that the chanting had stopped, and his plugs were out, he heard the whistle and roar of the wind.

“There’s a storm out there, lads,” he said. “Let’s get some of it in here.”

He raised his weapon, pointing at the dome. As the rest of the squad followed his lead, they heard another sound, not from outside, but from back down in the base itself, a loud metallic clanging.

“We’re about to have company again, lads,” Banks said. “Let’s give them a welcome.”

He aimed upward at the glass between the iron supports of the dome and sent three quick shots into it. The rest of the squad fired only a second behind him. The glass shattered immediately, shards falling around them like icicles.

The storm took full advantage, roaring into the hangar like a caged beast, suddenly freed.