Tides of Fire, page 39
Phoebe leaned on her window. Lit by the Cormorant’s exterior lamps, the irradiated woodlands spread around them in a black colonnade. Bryan glided them swiftly through the forest. He adjusted buoyancy and thrusters to keep them weaving through the trunks.
“Torpedo just entered the forest,” Adam reported.
The pinging had fluttered for a spell, but now it steadied.
“It’s still got us tagged,” Adam said. “We bought some time, but as it speeds up, it’ll start closing on us again.”
“Where do we go?” Datuk moaned.
Phoebe pointed ahead, where the forest shimmered and shone. “If nothing else, I want to see what’s out there before I die.”
They all settled in, except for Bryan, who continued to work his magic. The dark forest swept around them. A few branches scraped and scratched at their outer shell, like the claws of the dead.
After a few minutes, it was clear that Adam had been right. The torpedo gained on them—first at a steady pace, then ever faster.
Phoebe stared at the glowing expanse beckoning ahead. By now, the radiant hues had brightened, differentiating into swirls and eddies of bioluminescence. It was as if they were sweeping from the dark fields of Kansas toward the splendor of Oz.
But they would never make it.
Trapped by the press of trees and branches, Bryan had no room for some clever last-minute maneuver. All they could do was keep going, driving across the forest. She remembered the lone creature sweeping through the coral trunks, desperate, terrified.
She felt the same way now.
That poor—
She jerked straighter in her seat.
“What’s wrong?” Adam asked.
She turned to Bryan. “Blink all our lights. As rapidly as you can. Raise the lamp pole, too.”
He frowned at her, clearly busy.
Right.
She set about doing it herself. Adam helped. So did Datuk.
In moments, the exterior lights strobed the darkness. The lamp pole extended, flaring brightly with its twenty thousand lumens.
Despite the blinding brilliance, Bryan kept them moving. But the Aussie was not Phoebe’s intended audience.
Earlier, the lone creature who had fled through the dark forest had been drawn by their lamps. Phoebe prayed their lightshow now might do the same for the denizens of that radiant glade.
She waited and watched.
Adam concentrated on the sonar screen. “Torpedo is closing fast. It’ll be on us in under a minute.”
Phoebe refused to take her eyes off the shimmering forest. “C’mon . . .”
After a few more seconds, she spotted a subtle change, so faint it could be wishful thinking. Tiny trickles of light flowed into the darkness.
“Look.” She pointed—more to make sure what she was seeing was real.
Datuk leaned over her shoulder.
The trickles became streams, then radiant rivers.
“They’re coming,” Datuk whispered at her ear.
The Cormorant rushed to meet them. In another two hushed breaths, the vehicle was swamped by their flowing shapes, their sweeping arms. The flock circled in a candescent eddy of curiosity.
“I can’t see anything,” Bryan said.
Hopefully that’s true of another.
Bryan cut the thrusters before they crashed. The Cormorant was bombarded by the cries and calls of the creatures. It grew so loud that it drowned out the torpedo’s pinging.
Phoebe prayed the chorus would act like a sonar blanket. Military submarines sometimes took advantage of a similar situation, using the loud bubbling from colonies of pistol shrimp to hide their boat from searchers on the surface.
She pressed her palm against the glass. Her movement drew a swirl of luminous black eyes, peering back at her.
Adam reported with awe. “The torpedo lost its lock. Its path is erratic. I think it might—”
A thunderous boom shook the Cormorant. A shockwave shoved the vehicle hard, crashing them sidelong into a coral trunk.
As they bounced off, the polyps continued to swirl around.
A loud splintering echoed behind them. It sounded massive. More of the same followed, sweeping closer. The crackling sounded like a forest fire rushing toward them.
Phoebe knew what she was hearing. The torpedo blast must have felled one of the coral giants. She pictured the huge tree toppling toward the Cormorant.
“We’re moving,” Bryan said.
“What do you mean?” Adam asked.
Bryan lifted his hands from his controls. “It’s not me.”
Phoebe pressed her nose to the glass, meeting a large eye staring back. She recognized the bright intelligence shining in that luminous glow.
“It’s them,” she said. “They’re pushing us through the forest, trying to get us out of the way.”
The crackling grew louder—then thundered into a mighty crash on their left. The impact shook the Cormorant. Still, they were carried forward.
The waters slowly brightened, even through the press of creatures. Finally, the view opened up as the swirling mass swept aside. The polyps had accomplished their mission. They had rescued the beleaguered strangers and drew them home.
Phoebe laughed. She couldn’t help herself. “It’s so beautiful.”
A glowing wonderland surrounded them. Giant black boles twisted through the water, casting out huge canopies of branches. The trunks were streaked and painted with shining mats of algae. Elsewhere, waving bushes marked the presence of giant anemone-like creatures, which glowed in hues of every color imaginable.
But it was the keepers of this garden that held Phoebe’s attention. Everywhere, radiant and flickering polyps jetted throughout the forest. They swirled into and out of nests, tussling and rolling. Others spun joyously across the water. They came in sizes as small as her fist, to massive giants that hung shyly back.
Phoebe leaned her forehead to the glass, wishing she could swim among them. She remembered the joy she experienced freediving, both in her native Barbados and along the California coast. To be one with the ocean and its creatures. To accept the limitations of her species, while honoring life in all its myriad forms.
Adam offered sobering words. “We’re too late.”
With great effort, she tore her eyes from the view.
He was looking over his shoulder, back the way they had come. “We can’t make it to the fissure. Not in time.” He turned to them. “We’re trapped down here.”
42
January 24, 5:18 P.M. NZDT
Pacific Ocean, six hundred miles NE of Auckland
Monk took in the view from the bridge of the Titan X. The only sign of the battle two hours before was a flotsam of debris: sections of broken boats, orange jackets that still held dead bodies, life preservers that had failed in their duty. Oil barrels rolled in the chop. Pools of petrol burned in patches.
The largest of the latter was a flaming lake. It marked where the Dayangxi had sunk. The wreckage was continuing to leak fuel, feeding the funeral pyre above. There were no such markers for the sites where the hunter-killer sub and the amphibious LCAC had gone down.
A gruff complaint announced Kowalski’s arrival. “Screw that. I don’t care who’s on the bridge. I’m not putting out my cigar.”
Monk turned as the big man marched in, trailed by redolent smoke. He was flanked by Jarrah, the head of security. They both carried assault rifles and holstered sidearms.
“How are our guests?” Monk called over.
“All tucked into their beds,” Kowalski said. “Sweet as can be.”
The new captain of the Titan X called from the helm. “How many total?” William Byrd asked.
“Eighteen,” Jarrah answered crisply. “That should be all of them.”
“We crammed them into the two brigs,” Kowalski added. “It’s tight quarters, but better than a long walk down a short plank.”
Monk shook his head. They had rounded up the last of the Chinese soldiers. The injured had been moved to the ship’s medical ward, where they were handcuffed and under guard. Their treatment was better than they deserved—more of their comrades floated out in the water. But Monk had held off recovering the bodies.
And for good reason.
He stared out the windows. Several drones circled the flaming lake. They were still guarding the waters where the Dayangxi had gone down. No doubt the ocean’s depths were similarly patrolled.
Monk feared sending out any of their boats to retrieve the dead. He didn’t want to attract the attention of those automated weapons. They likely remained on target, but he wasn’t taking any chances. It was one of the reasons he had kept the Titan X at its current position.
To wait out the enemy.
Monk pictured the VTOL drone that he had watched land on the LCAC to recharge. With the base ship sunk, the drones would eventually lose power. Once everything was quiet, he would entertain moving.
Kowalski had informed him that there were a couple dozen people alive on the wreckage of Titan Station Up. They would have to wait. The safety of the hundred-plus aboard the yacht was his priority.
Plus, four others.
Monk stared down at his toes.
Not much I can do for them.
He crossed to the sonar station. “How do things look down there?” he asked the bridge tech.
Byrd joined him.
“The seaquake seems to be quieting,” the man said. “There are some continuing tremors, but they’re not as violent.”
“And the fissure?” Byrd asked.
“According to the sonar, it’s nearly closed up.” He swallowed and turned to them. “I’ve still not heard anything from the Cormorant.”
Monk scowled. “Captain Tse is down there, too. Her bathyscaphe is armed. Keep a close watch for her. We don’t want her ambushing us.”
The tech nodded. “Will do.”
The radio operator shouted from across the bridge. “Sir! I’ve got a satellite call.” He turned and lifted a handset. “They’re asking for you, Dr. Kokkalis.”
Monk hurried over. The ship had been trying to reach someone for the past two hours, but they’d had no luck. The heavy ash, the constant static energy, and the EM interference from the raging volcanos had continued to stifle communication.
How did anyone get through to us?
He took the receiver. “Dr. Kokkalis here,” he said.
“Monk, that’s quite formal. I think we’re better friends than that.”
“Gray!”
Kowalski shoved forward in a cloud of smoke. “Of course, he calls after all the heavy lifting is done.”
“I don’t have much time,” Gray said. “I can’t count on this connection holding. We found some clean air, even a bit of sunshine.”
Monk wished for the same. He stared at the midnight gloom smothering the ship. To the east, a line of volcanos cast up fountains of fire. It looked as if those islands were being blasted apart.
“I need you to do something,” Gray said. “Right away.”
“What is it?”
During the next twenty minutes, Gray shared a digital recording and a wild tale. Monk did his best to fill in his side. He put the conversation on speakerphone so everyone could hear. It seemed they all had pieces to a two-century-old puzzle.
But it came down to one urgency.
“Get to Raoul Island,” Gray finished. “As swiftly as you can. Broadcast that recording as loudly as possible. Keep it playing.”
Even with Gray’s explanation and assurances, Monk found his claim hard to believe. But if Gray and the others had managed to quiet Mount Tambora, it was worth a shot.
Raoul Island was only eight miles from their current location.
Monk squinted and picked out the fieriest of those peaks.
That’s gotta be it.
Gray had a final warning. “Major Xue still hasn’t been able to reach his father. If the Chinese send out another ELF signal—”
Monk didn’t need Gray to finish his statement.
It’s game over.
Monk signed off and faced the bridge crew. They all knew what they needed to do.
“What about Dr. Reed and the others?” Byrd asked.
Monk turned to the sonar operator. “Keep trying to reach the Cormorant. For as long as we’re in the area. Share that recording. Broadcast it down to them.” He pointed at the man. “From my pre-dive training, I was told the acoustic modem can send text messages. Is that right?”
The other nodded. “Texts can reach even farther through water than voice calls. And they have a lower probability of interception.”
“Perfect. Then you’re going to send a message along with that audio recording.”
“What do you want me to say?”
Monk told him and stared down at his toes. He prayed his message reached the Cormorant.
And no one else.
43
January 24, 5:38 P.M. NZDT
Six miles under the Pacific Ocean
An hour after entering the fissure, the Qianliyan neared the top.
Daiyu sweated profusely. The humidity in the sphere had grown severe. She had dumped most of her batteries to hasten her ascent. To conserve what was left, she had shut down circulation, utilizing only the CO2 scrubbers.
The space also reeked from Yang’s body, tainting the heavy air. She tasted his bile on her tongue. It filled her nose. She longed for fresh air.
Through the acoustic phones, she listened as the grinding of rock slowly ebbed. The cliffs had closed to within a meter of either side. Much of her perspiration was not due to the humidity, but from her anxious attempts to keep her ascent fixed between those walls. She had to constantly tweak the thrusters to guide her climb, avoiding outcroppings and falling boulders.
She risked a glance down to check her sonar screen.
Almost there.
A harder tremor shook the Qianliyan. The walls surged toward her, closing half the distance.
She grimaced and swore.
I will not die down here, she promised herself for the hundredth time.
She concentrated on the cliffs. The sonar screen showed a clear ride to the top. She prayed for more speed, trying to will it so.
Only a hundred meters to go.
She stared up, hoping to see the exit. But the seas remained dark. Somewhere up there was a glowing forest of coral. To her, it was a mirror of the aurora borealis that heralded her bright future. She searched for any telltale sign of it.
The grumbling of the earth dimmed in her phones. She prayed it meant the quake was finally coming to an end.
As she strained to listen, a new noise rose. It was a low-frequency roaring, a steady hum that sounded angry. She squinted upward, trying to discern where it was coming from, what it could be.
The perpetual blackness above slowly brightened to a lighter gray. She swore she could see swirling hues at the edges.
My aurora . . .
Anxious to confirm this, she switched off the Qianliyan’s exterior lamps. The world closed around the vehicle as it swept upward.
I was right.
She smiled as the halo of brilliance grew.
I’m coming.
Then the earth shook with another violent tremor. The Qianliyan jolted hard, striking one of the cliffs. She was thrown to the side. She switched the exterior lamps back on.
The walls were pinched tighter now.
The vehicle rebounded off the opposite wall. She fought the thrusters, but the Qianliyan rattled back and forth. She was tossed about in her seat. Something got damaged. The exterior lamps snuffed out, leaving only the interior lights. The CO2 scrubbers died with a sharp grinding whine.
A moment of claustrophobic panic flushed through her.
She held her breath until the tremor settled. She stared up at the aurora borealis shining even brighter now.
Less than five meters away.
The Qianliyan swept upward.
Four . . .
Three . . .
A scream of metal on stone ground the Qianliyan to a sudden halt.
Daiyu twisted and spun in her seat.
No . . .
The vehicle was stuck, pinned by an outcropping she had failed to spot. She checked her sonar.
Only another two meters.
The top of the fissure was right there. The shine of the glowing coral forest mocked her. Still, she refused to relent.
She took on more ballast. If she could drop the Qianliyan a meter or so, she could maneuver around the blockage. She filled all her tanks, weighing down the vehicle. She regretted dumping all her torpedoes.
“Gāisǐ de!” she screamed, swearing at the world.
She shoved around in her seat as if trying to wiggle herself free.
Something finally did give.
The Qianliyan lurched with another screech of tortured steel. The heavy vehicle broke free with a jarring jolt. It dropped swiftly.
She hollered in great satisfaction and stared up, momentarily mystified by the view.
A huge shadow fell through the glow toward her.
She squinted, trying to understand what it was. It crashed onto the top of the fissure, accompanied by a loud metallic gong. Something poked down at her. It was a muzzle and a long barrel. She recognized what had crashed.
The battle tank from the LCAC.
Full of residual air, it had taken the armored vehicle two hours to plummet the six miles. She frowned at this testament to her failure, as if it were mocking her.
A rock fell from the cliff’s edge, dislodged by the impact. It bounced between the walls and struck the scallop of her window. It was hard enough to break a seam between the glass and the titanium.
A pencil-thin stream of water shot inside. It hit her stomach. Under the extreme pressures of the deep, the force drilled through her belly, severed her spine. Fiery agony nudged her hand and shifted the throttle.
The Qianliyan rolled, throwing her to the side.
The watery laser cut her open, slicing her nearly in half.
Her life spilled into her lap.
She struggled to push it back in.
Not like this.
The sphere imploded, crushing her last thought away.
