“The tanker’s called the Tonga. She’s a Malaccamax VLCC, a very large crude oil carrier designed with a draft shallow enough to navigate the Antarctic coast. She’s as big as they come, over a thousand feet long and two hundred feet wide. The crown prince had her scrubbed and refitted to haul his sea monsters. Inside the cargo hold are saltwater pens three times the size of our hopper. David told me they had already captured a Dunkleosteus, a sixty-five-foot Ichthyosaurus, and a Helicoprion shark.”
“That’s incredible. And these species all survived the trip to Dubai?”
“The Dunk was in its aquarium when David saw it; the rest I don’t know about. Bin Rashidi’s kept everything quiet, since he ordered his team to follow the Liopleurodon ferox. Moving out ahead of the Tonga is the Dubai-Land, a 280-ton fishing trawler. That’s the hunter’s boat. David’s on board with one of the Mantas.”
Jonas turned to Mac. “What’s the status on our subs?”
“Number One is being recharged. Number Two is in the dry dock ready to launch.”
“Inform Mr. Reed I want to be in the water in fifteen minutes. Zach, you’re with me; it’s time for your first piloting lesson.”
I followed him out the door and down the steel stairwell, my heart racing.
33
“Why, sometimes I’ve believed as many as six impossible things before breakfast.”
I followed Jonas into the bowels of the ship. Reaching the lowest deck, we made our way aft through a tight corridor, past the engine room to a watertight door.
WARNING: PRESSURIZED DIVE CHAMBER
Do NOT enter when red light is ON.
The light was off, the door open.
Jonas led me inside.
Perched on rubber blocks above a pair of sealed horizontal doors in the ship’s keel was the Manta submersible. Aptly named, the hydrodynamic vessel was dark brown on top with a white belly, its body nine feet long with an eighteen-foot wingspan.
“She really does look like a giant manta ray. What’s the hull made of?”
“Layered acrylic,” answered a mechanic, his navy-blue jumpsuit and leather jacket stained with grease.
“Zachary Wallace, Cyel Reed, our chief engineer.”
Reed snorted sarcastically. “One chief, no Indians. And still no damn heater down here. I had to pour boiling water over the starboard wing just to tighten the support struts on your damn laser.”
Jonas examined the Valkyrie. “It came loose when I pulled out of a barrel roll. Think it’ll hold?”
“Will it hold? Yeah. If you quit trying to fly it like an F-15. Weight distribution’s off. You don’t put a luggage rack on a Ferrari and expect it to perform. Barrel rolls or the ability to melt ice — pick your poison, J.T.”
Jonas turned to me. “We can pull the Valkyries. It’s your call.”
“Melting ice is more important to me, especially where I’m going. Maybe the additional weight will help stabilize the sub in the currents.”
“And maybe if I eat coal for breakfast I’ll shit diamonds later,” the mechanic scoffed. “Only I wouldn’t bet my life on it. Anyway, she’s ready to launch.”
Four minutes later, I found myself seated in the starboard cockpit while Jonas methodically ran through an abbreviated systems checklist from the portside command console. “Hatch sealed. Life-support: go. Batteries: go. Back-up systems: charged. Valkyries: charged. Chamber is pressurized. Mac, are you online?”
“As always. Why does this feel like a bad déjà vu?”
“My life is one big déjà vu. How far away are bin Rashidi’s ships?”
“The trawler’s still a good four miles out. The Tonga’s changed course, moving south. As for the creature, there’s nothing on sonar. Maybe they’re just coming ashore to get supplies?”
“Maybe. Keep us apprised. Mr. Reed, Manta 2 is ready for launch. Flood the chamber.”
Water rushed into the compartment, lifting the buoyant submersible off its blocks. Rusted hinges groaned as the keel’s three-inch-thick steel doors opened beneath us, venting the chamber to the Southern Ocean.
Jonas maneuvered the two-man submersible out of the flooded dock, into the ink-black sea. Rather than power-on the headlights, he adjusted the cockpit glass to night-vision mode, our surroundings blooming into a tapestry of olive-green.
Below us lay a carpet of sea stars and urchins. Above, a blizzard of shrimp-like krill congregated beneath an island of surface ice. Seconds later the ocean rained emperor penguins, their tiny arms propelling them into the depths, their darting forms trailing bubble streams.
Jonas gave them a wide berth. “You ready to take over?”
“Give me a quick tutorial.”
“Joystick steers, the two foot pedals accelerate the port and starboard propulsors. It’s all about coordinating your limbs with your navigation console. Just remember green is right-side up, red means you are upside down. Switching control to your command console… now.”
I grabbed the joystick while my feet searched for the foot pedals that operated the sub’s twin thrusters. Within seconds our smooth ride became a herky-jerky nightmare.
Jonas pointed to my navigation monitor. “Watch the current, you’re buffeting. The gauge will suggest a course adjustment.”
I glanced at the reading and banked three degrees to starboard, the slight change smoothing out the ride. “It’s an incredible machine. How much pressure can she handle?”
“More than Vostok can deliver. But I’m not sold on lending her to you just yet.”
My stomach tightened. “Jonas, my son—”
“I don’t see how getting to this alien vessel before MJ-12 will force this Colonel to release Brandy and William. Seems like there’s something you’re not telling me. As for this E.T. who helped you seven years ago, how is that even possible? The ice sheet’s been in place for millions of years. How could it still be around? For that matter, how important could its technology be? And depending on your father to function as a reliable copilot isn’t exactly a selling point.”
“Jonas, this extraterrestrial exists in the upper dimensions, where time has no relevance. It’s the reason I know about zero-point energy. As for Angus, he can be taught to maintain the autopilot.”
“Maybe. But this is more about your credibility, Zach. As someone who’s been the target of smear tactics, I can discount the things I’ve read about you in the paper; however, strictly from a business perspective, we’ve already invested a lot of money in your energy company. With the Institute essentially out of business, the conspiracy stories are starting to wear a bit thin.”
“Jonas, the generators worked. We still have the schematics and more than thirty countries who are ready to do business.”
“Not anymore. While you were out of commission, NASA announced that the E.T. attack on the Capitol may have been provoked by gravitational fluxes caused by your Vostok generators, which affected the aliens’ life-support systems. It’s a lie, I’m sure, but it’s an effective one. No nation on the planet will risk using your generator to supply power.”
I felt exasperated. Once more, the powers-that-be had reasserted control over humanity’s future.
Mac’s voice over the radio interrupted my thoughts. “Jonas, another vessel just entered Prydz Bay. Looks like it’s the support ship for that submarine Zachary described.”