The probe then dived, sharply, suddenly speeding up and continuing on down into the dark depths, until a darker cave, lined with conical teeth, rushed up to meet it. The film blacked out.
“Jesus.” Sam exhaled. “That’s it?”
“Yes and no. Orca is pretty tough, and he’s still operational. But we think it’s busted up pretty bad, and maybe, just maybe, it has beached itself somewhere. My instincts tell me that Orca can hear us, but doesn’t have the power to respond.” Bentley eased back in his chair.
Sam sat staring at the dark screen for several more seconds. “Sulley, show me the thing again… where it came to the surface.”
Sulley’s fingers rippled over the keyboard as he rapidly skipped the footage backwards, until the twilight blue surface was in frame. “Here we go.”
“Slow it down.” Sam leaned in close, watching as the thing glided in front of the camera. Its huge orb of an eye hung in-frame. “Freeze that.” He squinted. “Can you increase magnification, and tidy it up?”
“Sure.” Sulley enlarged the image. The eye filled the screen, but was now blurry. The scientist then tapped keys, using a resolution algorithm in the software to sharpen the focus. His mouth dropped open.
“Oh my god.” He leaned back. “Hey, you guys check this out.”
Sam folded his arms. “What’s a mere 220 foot drop to a HAWC?” He grinned at the screen.
In the center of the massive eye, in its soulless black pupil, was a reflection. It showed the glow of Orca’s nose-cone light, and just visible behind it were two diver-masked heads, one looking directly at them, and another facing away.
“They’re alive.” Timms clapped his hands. “Hey, Bentley, best day of your life, right?” He whooped.
Bentley gave him a brief, tight-lipped smile. “That doesn’t really mean anything… now. Orca was wrecked by that thing. If Cate and the Yank were hanging onto it, what do you think happened to them?”
“You’re not really a glass half full kinda guy, are you?” Sam got to his feet, filling the room. He hated hearing Bentley’s snide tone, but hated even more that the man was probably right. Whatever that thing was, being in the water with it was a death sentence — even for someone like the Arcadian. He drew in a deep breath and pushed the morbid thoughts away, staring down at the man.
“You know who one of my favorite military leaders is, Dr. Bentley? It’s this funny looking little Brit guy called Winston Churchill. Gave a rousing little speech one day about never surrendering.”
Timms saluted, and put on a mock voice. “We shall fight on the beaches, we shall fight in the fields and in the streets, we shall fight in the hills; we shall never surrender.”
Sam leaned forward, Bentley shrinking back. “I’d like to see a little of that fighting spirit now.” He straightened. “Alex Hunter wouldn’t surrender, doesn’t know how. It’s not in his DNA. To him, it’s fight or die.” His eyes bored into Bentley’s. “Tell me, why can’t that probe operate?”
“Maybe it can, in parts,” Schmidt answered quickly. “Probably busted up real bad, and the battery is at only ten percent strength — that’s bad. But we still have contact, so that’s good.”
Sam folded massive arms, thinking. He began to pace for a moment, the floor creaking underneath him. He stopped and turned. “You’re running all of the applications and processes concurrently, aren’t you?”
Sulley nodded. “Yeah, most of them. Some we rest, but others are constant background apps. We need them to be that way, so…”
“Shut them down,” Sam said evenly.
There were confused looks and Schmidt sat stroking his beard for a second or two. He suddenly spun to do some quick calculations on his screen. He turned back, eyebrows raised.
“You know, we haven’t tried that. I mean, chemical analysis alone used about ten percent of the battery. Shutting down all non-essentials, might, just might, give us enough kick to get vision back and also pull us into the water.”
Nods and murmurs from Timms and Sulley.
Bentley folded his arms tight. “Great, if we can shut down anything of scientific value we just might have the world’s most expensive underwater camera.”
“Better than nothing. What have you got now?” Sam waited.
Schmidt looked across to Timms. “Do it.”
Timms nodded, his fingers dancing over his console. “Shutting down magnetic resonance imaging, shutting down gyroscope,” — panels went from green to red on his screen — “shutting down environmental sampling, biological sampling, chemical analysis, depth telemetry, sonar…”
“No, leave that one for now,” Schmidt said. “We’ll also need ears once we’re in the water.” He shrugged. “Got to see and hear what’s coming.”
Timms continued switching off applications for a few more seconds before sitting back. “Batteries now up at forty percent — good as it’s going to get.”
Schmidt turned to Sulley. “Okay Sull, punch it.”
Sulley eased back on a joystick. “Reverse propulsion at one quarter.”
They waited. Timms shook his head. “Nothing.”
Sulley eased it back some more. “Reverse at one third power.” He turned to Timms who shook his head, his eyes on his own screen.
“Now at fifty percent.”
Timms grimaced. “Nada, but the battery drain is beginning to hurt us.”
Schmidt nodded to the screen. “Do it. Might as well be dead where it is now.”
Sulley frowned as he pulled back on the small stick. “RP at 70 %, 75 %, 80 %…” His teeth were bared, as if he were bearing the physical strain of the submersible himself.
The visual feed screen suddenly showed a sliver of light as the thing jerked back a quarter inch.
“Whoa! Gentlemen, we have movement.” Timms clapped once, and then there was suddenly a rush of a twilight blue glow filling the screen.
Sulley exhaled, grinning. He turned to Sam. “And we are now in open water.”
Hagel froze, just letting his eyes move over the foliage. Did he just hear something, or was his mind just fucking with him again in this weird ass place? He was sure he’d heard something soft and heavy, like someone dragging a sack over wet grass. He turned slowly. Maybe he was just spooking himself?
There was nothing now — no cricket chirrup, no birdcall, or even the rustle of a breeze in this fucked up ghost jungle. If not for the odd drip of water, and his own breathing, he might have thought he’d gone deaf.
Hagel was following a trail of sorts, but the ground was squashy soft, covered in thick moss and lichen. There were soupy looking puddles everywhere, and everything stunk like bad mushrooms. He continued on, carefully placing one foot in front of the other. He could just make out the others about fifty feet back. Franks was keeping them relatively silent, but still the sound of their movement carried.
Hagel came to a bend in the trail at an enormous fallen tree — its trunk easily five feet around. He paused, listening. There was more dripping. He pulled his scope down over his eyes, switching from light enhance in the twilight atmosphere to thermal. There was a ton of background heat, but mostly everything was cold as the grave. He scanned slowly, stopping as something just off to the left showed a flare of warmth. He approached and noticed a spattering on the ground. Closer now, he saw more spattering on the trunks of the trees. He let his eyes travel upwards, higher to the broad fronds towering overhead, and then switched his scope to distance enhance.
“Fuck me.”
He gritted his teeth and began to back up when he paused, turning to the line of the jungle. He frowned, seeing a natural tunnel formation within the undergrowth. There was something in there.