James Rollins - The 6th Extinction

Gray remembered seeing a picture of that fifty-foot-long polar truck, capable of carrying a small plane on its back. The photo had been found in Professor Harrington’s files that had been recovered from DARPA’s servers.

“I… I am,” Stella said, again speaking tentatively, as if she were walking on thin ice. “My father believed the CAAT could serve a similar role.”

Jason nodded. “Makes sense.”

The kid cast Gray a surreptitious glance. Gray suddenly realized Jason had been quietly testing Stella, using information from her father’s files to see how open she would be with them.

Maybe he wasn’t so moonstruck after all.

“How many people can this CAAT hold?” he asked.

“We’re specked to carry a twelve-person team, including the bridge crew. But in a pinch, we could squeeze in another six or seven.”

It was why they had to abandon Karen and the others. Gray had seen the cramped quarters down below. It seemed the vehicle’s engine and mechanics took up most of the available space. The crew’s quarter held a tiny mess hall and bunkroom, and Stella had come with a full complement of British soldiers, all armed, expecting they might run into trouble. There was no way the CAAT could carry Karen and all twelve of her fellow researchers.

But that was never an option.

Stella made it clear that Professor Harrington would allow only Gray and his two men to be ferried across Queen Maud Land to his secret base. It seemed the man’s paranoia had only grown worse upon hearing about the attack. Stella had been en route by air when she picked up their radio chatter after Gray escaped from the destroyed base. She promptly turned around and sought out the CAAT, which was already out on the ice for a different mission. She made an emergency landing and rerouted the treaded tank for her rescue mission.

In a small concession, she had left two British soldiers with Karen and the others — along with rocket launchers and heavy weapons — in case the enemy managed to hunt down that roving module. It was the best that could be made of the situation.

Gray joined Jason at the helm. “How much longer until we reach our destination?”

Stella glanced over to the map on the dynamic positioning system above the pilot’s head. She studied it for too long, plainly trying to weigh how much to say.

Jason interceded, applying a boyish lightness to his words. “It’s not like we can tell anyone.”

She kept staring at the map, but Gray noticed the ghost of a smile edge her lips. “I suppose that’s true.” She pointed to the DPS screen. “See that small peninsula shaped like a half-moon? About twenty miles away. That’s Hellscape.”

“Hellscape?” Jason asked, bunching his brows at the ominous-sounding name.

Her smile broadened. “You misunderstand. Not hellscape. It’s Hell’s Cape . As in Cape of Hell.”

“Like that’s much better,” Kowalski commented dourly from across the pilothouse. “You’re not gonna sell a lot of time-shares with that name.”

“We didn’t name it.”

“Then who did?” Gray asked.

Stella hesitated — then finally broke down and spoke freely. “It was Charles Darwin. Back in 1832.”

After a stunned moment of silence, he asked the obvious question. “Why did he name it Hell’s Cape?”

Stella stared at the map, then shook her head. She repeated her noncommittal response from a moment ago. Only now her voice was frosted with dread.

“You’ll see.”

It doesn’t look that bad for Hell .

Jason watched the CAAT grind its way over the last mile toward the icy cape that jutted into the Southern Ocean. By now his eyes had adjusted to the darkness, seeing well by starlight and the glowing tides of the aurora australis in the dark sky.

Ahead, the curve of the shoreline — a mix of blue ice and black rocky cliffs — sheltered a small bay. At the bottom of the cliffs, waves crashed against a beach filled with boulders. This was one of the rare areas of the coastline free of ice.

“So where’s this base?” Kowalski asked.

It was a good question.

Stella stood behind the pilot, leaning down and whispering into his ear. The man slowed the CAAT to a crawl as the vehicle approached the coast. He guided the giant belted treads up to the edge of a cliff—

— and then over it.

“Hold on to something,” Stella warned.

Jason grabbed for the rail along one wall while Gray and Kowalski clutched the edges of a chart table.

The CAAT crept farther out until half its length jutted beyond the cliff. Then it began to fall, its front end tipping forward. Jason tightened his grip, expecting to plunge nose-first down to the rocky beach. Instead, the front treads hit a slope hidden below the precipice. The CAAT teetered, the back end lifting. Then they were trundling along a steep grade made of loose scree, heading to the boulder-strewn beach far below.

He let go of his hold and shifted forward to join Stella.

The slope looked man-made, likely bulldozed into place, made of the same loose stone as the beach. But to the casual passing eye, the construction would be easy to miss, especially sheltered by the curve of the cape.

At the bottom of the incline, the CAAT hit the beach and followed alongside the base of those towering sea cliffs, its treads churning across the sand. Ahead, a cavern opening appeared, cut like an axe blow into that ice-rimed rock face. The CAAT slowed and made a sharp turn toward that dark mouth. Its twin head lamps speared into the blackness. The tunnel ended after only thirty yards, blocked by a wall of cold blue steel. It rose five stories high and stretched a hundred yards wide. Along the edges, the barrier looked cemented into place with concrete.

As the CAAT entered, a massive set of double doors opened in that wall, pulling to either side on tracks. Bright light — blinding after the hours of darkness — flowed out, bathing over them.

“Welcome to Hell’s Cape,” Stella said.

Beyond the wall, a cavernous space opened, floored in steel but with natural stone walls. It looked like a cross between the deck of an aircraft carrier and the world’s largest industrial hangar. Another full-sized CAAT sat parked alongside six smaller ones, each half the size of their big brother. There were also two prop planes fitted with floats being serviced on the other side. Elsewhere, a trio of forklifts moved crates, while overhead a track-and-pulley system drew a shipping container along the roof.

The pilot drove their vehicle into that chaos and drew abreast of its twin, as the giant doors sealed behind them. The CAAT came to a halt with a heavy sigh of its diesel engines.

As soon as they stopped, Stella waved them to the stairs leading below. “Let’s disembark. My father has been anxious to meet you all.”

She led the American team down to the lower level and out a ramp that dropped from the stern. The air was unusually warm, smelling of oil and chemical cleaners. Jason gaped at the sheer size of this installation.

Stella spoke to a thin British officer who had run up to them, breathless, his eyes worried. Once finished, she faced them and pointed across the cavern. “He’s up on the observation deck.”

On the far side of this massive hangar, a giant steel structure filled the entire back end of the cavern. It climbed eight stories, with interconnecting stairs and bridges. The very top level held a row of tall glass windows.

There was something vaguely familiar about the layout.

Gray noted it, too. “Is that the superstructure from a naval ship?”

Stella nodded. “From a decommissioned British destroyer. It was brought here piecemeal and reassembled.”

Similar to the outer doors, the repurposed superstructure had been sealed along all its edges by concrete, like caulking a window into a frame.