BENEATH - A Novel (25 page)

He remembered the digital image recorder kept with the TES equipment. He decided to run back, grab it, shoot a few minutes of video and then be ready to receive Connelly's check in.

Willard turned back to TES and squinted as his eyes adjusted from the pitch black above to the glaring light. All at once, Willard's muscles tensed like a twisting rope. He stared straight ahead, watching to see if what he thought he saw—the TES cables moving downward—happened again.

All at once, a spew of worse case scenarios filled Willard's imagination. The TES cables were dangling! Cut loose! The weight of the sphere was no longer pulling the cable down, allowing it to sway back and forth freely. Willard leapt forward, moving too damn slow in the low gravity.
Too damn slow
!

Willard's mind wrestled with the possibilities.

The sphere could have been knocked loose and sunk to the bottom.

It could have sprung a leak and imploded under the pressure.

Something could have eaten them
!

As he approached the border of the closest TES panel, the most likely scenario rammed into Willard's consciousness. "Damn it, Connelly."

Willard activated his com. "Connelly, come in."

Thirty seconds past. No response.

Willard reached the control panel and took in the screen, which was now alive with blinking messages. It confirmed his fear that the sphere had detached.

"Connelly, if you are reading me, respond now."

With a tightly clenched jaw, Willard began to pace. He knew Connelly had voluntarily separated the sphere. He wondered if she might try a stunt like this and had warned her not to try it without him present. She swore she wouldn't. Typically, she was honest with him. So what made her detach?

Must be important
, he thought. But no matter what it was they had found down there, Connelly was still getting a lecture, if only to make him feel better for all this waiting.

Willard raised the volume on his com and heard a loud hiss. After ten more minutes of waiting, he swore to God he would spare Connelly the lecture if they'd just check in. He walked to the hole TES melted in the ice and looked down. The water was black below, hidden from TES's lights. He was cut off and helpless to help.

Willard tightened his fingers until they hurt. "Dammit, Connelly…What have you gotten yourself into?"

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Limbs sprawling, Harris dove to the floor of the control center and slid into a nearby console. After quickly righting himself, he looked back to where Peterson stood, still wielding a rake with dagger-like blades. Harris had been immediately wary of Peterson's unsanctioned visit to the control center, but what tipped him off to the ensuing attack was Peterson's unusual stance. It was clear he was hiding something behind his back. And the tone of his voice somehow sounded threatening. When Peterson reeled back and swung the rake around like a sickle, Harris had already flung himself to the floor.

Peterson yanked at the rake, pulling its imbedded blades from the chair's backboard. Harris realized that if he hadn't moved, he would be bleeding to death from twenty stab wounds. Harris climbed to his feet just as Peterson freed the rake and faced off with the captain.

"Peterson…" Harris's tone was authoritative, irritated. He decided that wasn't the best idea. No need to egg the man on. "Michael, put the rake down. Tell me what's bothering you."

Harris watched as Peterson shuffled forward. He could see that his actions were slightly off, staggered and stiff, but just barely. Then he met Peterson's eyes…his
red
eyes. Peterson still had pupils, but the whites of his eyes had gone red, as though the vessels within had burst.

The rake came back, readied for the next assault.

"Michael, wait," Harris said. "Don't do this."

"I do only what must be done," Peterson said, his voice sounded different. Scratchy.

"Peterson...what?"
This isn't Peterson
, Harris thought.
He's not himself
.
Perhaps the sting he received is affecting his mind, causing hallucinations
? Harris cursed himself. He shouldn't have let Choi go back to the surface. He needed her here.

"You should not have come," Peterson said.

The rake came around like a picket fence caught in a tornado. Harris ducked just in time, feeling the breeze from the farming tool turned weapon
whoosh
over his balding head. "Come where? What are you talking about?"

"You," Peterson said with a deathly gaze that stung Harris's eyes, "are not welcome here. You must be—" A gurgling sound rose up from Peterson's throat. "We must be…immunized!" Peterson lunged forward and brought the rake down hard, smashing the view screen above Harris head.

Harris could see that Peterson had gone completely insane. The reasons for his mental state no longer mattered. It was clear that if Harris didn't fight back, he would die. And with this maniac left alone on the ship, who knows what would happen to the others on the surface.

Peterson swung the rake up over his head, preparing to bring it down again. Just as he began his downward motion, Harris bolted forward like a charging ram. The rake flew through the air and clambered to the floor as Harris tackled Peterson around the waist. Both men fell to the floor, a tangled mess of flailing arms and legs.

Having been in his fair share of fights during his early military years, Harris knew that once the advantage was gained, you should never let your enemy regroup. And right now, Peterson was his enemy. He was the entire crew's enemy. Harris unleashed a flurry of blows to Peterson's kidneys that he knew would cause the man to pee blood for the next few weeks, but he needed to end this fight quickly and that usually did the trick. The effect was instantaneous.

Peterson clutched his side and winced. Harris stood and watched as Peterson's legs shook with the pain. The man was beaten.

Moving to the com console, Harris prepared to call the crew back from the surface. He didn't want anyone out of his sight until they understood what was happening to Peterson. He'd only turned his back to Peterson for five seconds.

"Interesting, the way you feel pain." It was Peterson.

Spinning around quickly, Harris almost fell over backward with surprise when he saw Peterson standing on his feet, looking as though nothing had happened. He wore no expression of pain and aside from the fresh wrinkles on his uniform, appeared just as he had when he first entered in the control center. Peterson charged forward, wildly flailing his fists.

Harris sidestepped, placed a hand behind Peterson's skull and extended his foot. Peterson went down hard, striking his forehead on the nearest console. The crack of bone on metal made Harris wince.

Petersons's body lay still on the floor, a pool of crimson liquid gathering around his head. With a slow jagged movement, Peterson moved his lips. "P…Plea…"

Harris starred at Petersons's lips, utterly amazed the man was still attempting to form words. A flash of movement to the side told Harris that Peterson's failed speaking attempt was all just a clever distraction. But the realization came too late. Looking down, Harris saw the rake swing across the floor in a wide arc. The pole clipped him behind both ankles with surprising force that sent him to the floor.

When he looked up, Peterson was already standing above him.

"Vaccination."

He wasn't sure if the man was just speaking gibberish or if he was pleading for some kind of cure to whatever was wreaking havoc with his mind. It didn't matter. As Peterson raised the rake above his head, Harris realized that he would die above Europa, along with the rest of the crew.

Peterson brought the rake down, smashing into Harris's skull. When Peterson stood back, blood gushed over the sides of Harris's face and onto the floor. Peterson stepped over the body and exited the control center.

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The sphere dropped down, falling gently away from the TES cable like a slightly buoyant stone. With a dull pop two panels on opposite sides of the sphere opened and locked into position. They looked like flippers. From the rear, a previously concealed compartment opened. Two propellers extended out into the water and began spinning. Having transformed into a sleek submersible, the sphere launched through the water.

A bolt of excitement shot through Connelly. TES had already performed beyond their best predictions and now the submersible was working flawlessly.

Sitting behind the controls, which looked like those of a fighter jet, Connelly thrust the control stick forward and the sphere sped up. Robert fell back into the seat next to Connelly and quickly buckled himself in. "Warn me next time you're going to do that."

Connelly hardly heard the words. Her thoughts were preoccupied with catching the pod of bio-whales. They had covered a fairly large distance in a short amount of time. Determined not to lose sight of the creatures, Connelly pushed the sphere to its max speed of thirty knots, hoping that the creatures wouldn't mind a snooping tailgater.

Within a minute, they were pulling up behind the pod, gaining on the baby and what must be its mother, a sixty-foot behemoth swimming just above. Connelly eased up on the speed and kept pace with the pod. A squeeze on her arm broke her concentration. She looked at Robert, whose face was pale. "Be careful," he said. "Please."

Connelly grunted an unintelligible response that confirmed she had heard the words, but made no indication of whether or not she would heed Robert's warning. If these creatures wanted to lose them, they could—Connelly felt sure of it. If the bio-whales saw the sphere as a food source, they would have eaten them when the sphere was dangling helplessly from the surface. Twisting her lips, Connelly began a mental brawl, one side arguing Robert's point, the other compelling her to push forward.

With a deep sigh, Connelly eased back on the speed. Robert's advice was usually wise. It pained her to not venture closer. But as she slowed, so did the pod, like they were waiting for the sphere to catch up. As if to confirm Connelly's suspicions, the baby craned its head around, a feat an Earth whale could never do, and called to them. The sound was soft and inviting, like a deep resonating coo. Connelly looked at Robert, her eyes probing for his thoughts.

"Go ahead," he said with a quick nod. "If we're going to die while making first contact with an alien species, so be it."

"We made it this far," Connelly said. "We're not going to die." With that she accelerated the sphere forward, nearing the outer edge of the pod. They bobbed up and down in the wake of the bio-whale's pulsing wing.

Robert gripped the sides of his seat. "So says you."

With the pod of whales surrounding them, the interior of the sphere transformed into a world of glowing colors. Bio-whales swam on every side, some coming closer to take a peek, some paying no attention. Connelly half worked the controls and half gaped in amazement. Sweat beaded on her forehead as she worked to avoid a collision with one of the creatures, an accident which would certainly be fatal.

The light within the sphere suddenly grew brighter and Connelly found herself navigating around the head of the largest creature. Looking back, she could see all seventy-five feet stretched out. She wondered if this was as large as the creatures grew.
Maybe there are other, larger specimens
? she thought.

A large black eye, the size of a cantaloupe stared inside the sphere, watching them. Connelly stared right back into the eye and saw intelligence.
 
A gentle moan vibrated from the creature's skull and vibrated the inside of the sphere. Connelly could feel her organs shake within her body. She wasn't sure what the noise meant. It could have been a warning, a greeting or just a grunt. But as Connelly looked into the giant's eye, she was sure it meant something. They were going to have to figure out what, someday.

"Umm, I feel ridiculous bringing this up now, but ahh, have we had the external cameras running?" Robert's voice sounded nervous.

Tension sprung into Connelly's body and panic set in before she had time to process the question. The sensation was much like the tricks her cousin Tom pulled on her when they were teenagers. He would look at her homework, license or other important document and say as seriously as he could, "You spelled your name wrong." Connelly always fell for it, feeling momentarily panicked while her mind reminded herself that it was impossible, she could never make such an obvious mistake. And even though she knew she had spelled her name right, she always double-checked after Tom left the room, just in case.

Connelly reached forward and checked the status of the external camera array. All were functioning. All were recording. Thank God.

A sudden shriek, louder than any sound Connelly had heard in her life, ripped through the interior of the sphere. Connelly and Robert both fell to the floor, clasping their hands over their ears. Even after the sound had dissipated, a constant ringing plagued her hearing. Connelly rubbed her head, clearing the confusion away. When she refocused her thoughts, something had changed.