He felt the air tickle the hair in his nose. It was getting warmer. He looked up towards the dark rear of the capsule, and heard the sound of turbulent liquid — the boiling water that was created by the ice-melt would first cool behind them, and then freeze, effectively creating a solid plug. This was designed to ensure that no more contaminants could enter the pristine environment below. But it also meant there would be no return journey via this way.
The capsule thumped, slowed, and then shuddered as it impacted with the dark ice. There came a grinding that had Alex clamping his teeth as the vibrations shook every atom in his body — shake your teeth loose, Bentley had said — now he knew what the guy meant. The drill sensors must have engaged more of the heat unit’s source, as the temperature jumped and an oven-like blast rushed up past Alex’s face, searing his skin.
He leaned forward, yelling, “Keep your eyes and mouth shut.”
He let go of one of the struts to pull goggles down over his face. His eyes were the only soft organ exposed to air, and would suffer first from the heat. Alex concentrated on his breathing — in and out, in and out. Through his gloves, he felt the heat start to make the Kevlar-woven material begin to soften. It could withstand significant heat, many hundreds of degrees, so he felt confident it wouldn’t burn or melt. But it was the mask that worried him. If it melted and then degraded, he would enter the water near blind.
Alex concentrated on a soothing image — Aimee Weir, her face, her voice, and her shape. He counted the seconds and ignored the pain, the pressure and the heat. He felt Cate against him. The bulky thermal material seemed flimsy on her now, but as long as she stayed cocooned inside her thermal sheeting shell, she might just be okay… for a while.
Cate had brought a sheet for him, but he had refused it, making sure she kept them all. He knew that what he could take, she could not. Instead, he crushed his eyes shut and took himself somewhere else. Part of the HAWC training in regard to physical pain was twofold — on one level they were taught how to tolerate extreme discomfort, and to be able to simply ignore insults to their body that would have normal people screaming. The second level was the prolonged agony of significant physical trauma — torture. In the event of this happening, they were taught how to place themselves in a state of near hibernation, and mentally remove themselves, leaving their bodies behind, and viewing the insult to their flesh and bone as something that was happening to someone else. Death then became not something to be feared, but a doorway to a blessed release.
Seconds passed, minutes, and then more minutes — each new moment attacking his body and mind. Inside, deep in his cerebral cortex, something stirred, something rebelled at the torment.
Get out! The voice was furious, and created more pain, this time from deep within his skull.
Alex breathed rhythmically, and clenched his eyes even tighter. He tried to focus, but the pain ripped him back, and allowed “the Other” to stir. If it gained control now, he, it, was liable to simply try and exit the capsule, destroy it while it was burning its way through ice that was harder than rock.
Aimee, he whispered. His hand on the internal metal strut vibrated, and then his fist tightened, increasing pressure. The steel-titanium blended structure began to bend inwards under his force — it wasn’t him doing it, but the other being deep inside him. “Not now, please not now,” he whispered over and over, through clenched jaws.
The blistering heat, the ever-present grinding vibration of the drill, and the sensation of pressure on his ears became Alex’s world. There was nothing else, until…
They hit stone, and Alex only just reached out in time to grip Cate and hold on tight to stop them being thrown onto the probe’s maneuvering struts. The thermal drill tip retracted, and the circular cutting blades were brought to bear on the rock. The noise was near deafening, and Alex gritted his teeth, and then screamed his anger and pain, fighting back against the thing that wanted to let loose its fury inside the confined space.
You’ll die. It’ll all be for nothing…
… unless you use the woman, a sly voice whispered, deep inside his head. Use her as a flesh cloak — shield yourself — and live!
Alex moaned. The flesh cloak was an extreme Special Forces survival tactic — you used the body of an animal, gutted, and worn as a cloak to stay warm, or cool.
It will work, the voice again, sneering.
Alex shook his head, trying to fling it away. He knew it wanted to take him into its world of anger and madness. The cynical laugh started, taunting him, jeering and mocking, wanting him to let go, surrender to it, and then… it was gone, everything was gone, and he felt like he was floating.
Alex opened his eyes in confusion, and it took him a few seconds to determine what was happening, and then it came in an instant: they were free-falling. They had broken through the crust that acted as a ceiling over the underground sea.
“Hang on!’ he yelled, and was relieved to feel Cate cling to him a little tighter. In turn, he jammed his breather in his mouth and then wrapped a large arm around her head — he knew what was coming — if they struck rock, they were dead. But even if they hit water, the surface tension would make the landing traumatic on soft tissue.
He braced himself, gripping on with every ounce of strength he possessed. The longer the capsule fell, the greater the velocity, and then the greater the impact. How long had it been — five heartbeats, ten? — eventually they would reach thirty-two feet per second, and they had been falling now ten, fifteen, twenty…
They hit the water at a slight angle. Alex, one arm down and around Cate, was thrown to the side. His head connected with the armor plating of the outer shell. There was nothing after that.
CHAPTER 17
Shenjung Xing heard shouts from within the cave opening, and he clambered back up over the rubble, stepping carefully back into the cavern. A hundred feet farther along, a group of the soldiers were standing before a huge wall of stone, combining their beams of light up onto its flat surface.
Captain Wu Yang looked briefly in his direction, and then back to the huge edifice. As he approached, Shenjung could see the carvings and raised lettering etched deep into the stone.
“Hoowah. This is old,” he said softly. The work was crude chiseling, but the images were intricate and clear.
Yang stepped closer and placed his fingers into one of the carved lines. “Certainly not done by any of Zhang Li’s team. The rock and the markings have an unbroken cover of moss.” He rubbed his fingers together, and then wiped them on his pants. As he stepped back, debris crunched beneath his feet. He turned.
“Comrade Shenjung, you are a man who works with rocks and stones, and must have come across cave art before. What is your opinion?”
Shenjung panned his light across the tableau. “I am not a specialist in the ancient works of man, but yes, I have encountered many things before in my excavations.” He leaned in closer, bringing his light up and reaching out a hand, first touching the moss, rather than the stone images.
“Acarospora sinopica, a lichen; it grows on iron rich stone. But it is remarkable for being very slow growing, and in the right conditions, can live for thousands of years.” He half turned. “Current research has found that some lichens may even be immortal.” He stepped back, looking up at the wall. “For this depth and covering, it could be at least five thousand years old, and perhaps even tens of thousands.”