
Полная версия
At depth
— You know, I would like to say this is a fabrication, but I cannot state the opposite with one hundred percent certainty, because…
— Look at this — Frost interrupted, handing Tucker his phone with a video recording. — It was taken from our unmanned submersible.
Tucker pressed play. Half a minute later, he returned the phone.
— And do you have the coordinates for the location of these remains?
— Of course. The information is too valuable to be disregarded. Have you ever encountered anything similar? — Frost asked.
— During my student years, I was fortunate enough to join an excavation our university was conducting in eastern Algeria. The professor there asked my partner and me to take tools and increase the depth of the pit, as he suspected some Spinosaurus fragments might remain deeper down. The main part of the skeleton had been removed before us, so we only expected to find some fragmented bones. But as we dug, a small section of soil crumbled from the side, and we spotted a protruding bone. We thought it was another fragment of our dinosaur. We kept digging and digging, but the thing turned out to be massive, having nothing at all to do with the Spinosaurus. It was an entire, separate skeleton. I am bound by an oath and have no right to reveal exactly what it was. But I can say one thing: if the information about that discovery were made public, we could safely rewrite all the history textbooks on the Cretaceous period. And to answer your question, I won’t lie. Yes. I have seen a lot of unexplainable phenomena.
— And what can you say about this find? — Frost asked, pointing to the photographs.
— Based on the skeletal structure, it bears a resemblance to a mermaid from this angle. But it’s difficult to tell; half of the skeleton is buried. — Taking a deep breath, Tucker returned to the main subject: — Alright. What exactly does this expedition entail?
— You will submerge into the Atlantic waters and follow a pre-determined route. Your duty is to use the manipulator arm to retrieve all finds whose size permits it. Those that are too large must be meticulously filmed using the drone, their coordinates fixed, and a superficial examination conducted, relying solely on visual contact. In the future, if these finds prove valuable, the company will take measures to lift those remains to the surface. We will entrust their study to the person who discovered them. Regarding the timeline, the voyage will last approximately two months, perhaps an extra week to allow for on-site delays for studying the finds. The total sum due for your services is indicated on the reverse side of the photograph.
Tucker did not look at the reverse side of the photograph but immediately asked:
— When is the departure scheduled?
— The submarine will be launched within a few days. Practical tests will then be conducted for some time, and if the vessel performs according to all stated specifications and everything proceeds as planned, the expedition will commence in three months.
The scientist gazed into the distance toward the ocean and said:
— You know, I could refuse, because there are plenty of remains of prehistoric beasts on land. However, I’ve grown weary of studying dinosaur bones, and besides, who knows, in a place where no human has ever set foot, the chances of finding something truly extraordinary might be far greater.
Having concluded his statement, Tucker Hughes extended his hand to Frost. Frost shook it and said:
— I sincerely look forward to our collaboration. And since you have made your decision, I should add a few things. You will need to arrive at the destination two weeks prior to departure. You will undergo a medical examination to ensure your body is prepared for the dive; you will also be required to undergo instruction on the operation of the submarine, which will be your home for two entire months, in addition to a few other minor procedures. Do you have any remaining questions for me?
— None whatsoever.
— In that case, I will leave you my contact details…
— I’m afraid that would be futile, Mr. Frost. You see, my colleagues and I are about to embark on an alcohol marathon, and by the morning, I won’t be able to find my trousers, let alone a business card.
Stephen Frost spoke in a serious tone:
— I fear, Mr. Hughes, you’ve slightly misunderstood the gravity of the situation. You must remain sober, because no one else must learn about our conversation.
The paleontologist annoyedly lowered his eyelids, and when he raised them, he said:
— Of course.
— Excellent. I was genuinely pleased with our conversation.
With that, Frost rose from his chair.
— Likewise — Tucker replied, languidly shaking Frost’s hand.
The waitress immediately brought the glass of water and handed it to Frost.
Returning to the table with his colleagues, Tucker called the waitress and ordered a non-alcoholic beer.
— I don’t get it — Fernando burst out indignantly.
— Yes, Mr. Hughes — Jan echoed. — We planned to relax.
Taking a deep sigh, Tucker replied:
— Exactly, we planned to relax. I don’t want to over-relax today, only to have my head aching tomorrow morning because of it.
5. STAGING BASE
His name within the company was known only to those who governed it. He consistently wore the same type of clothing: stark suits in dark shades of black or grey. Notably, his shoes, polished to a high shine, always matched the colour of his suit. He was short-haired, clean-shaven, and possessed a low, resonant voice. On his left wrist, he always wore a luxury brand watch, which he rotated, much like his ties — a different one for each day of the week. Everyone addressed him as «Mr. Smith» or simply «Smith.» He had been appointed the expedition’s curator.
He provided the recruiting staff with information about the scientists whose candidacies he considered most suitable for working aboard the submarine. However, his core competency was the ability to obtain, purchase, extort, and steal data from classified archives. It was his success in this area that made the upcoming expedition possible. With the information he managed to gather, the dive into the Atlantic depths would not be a pointless endeavor and, most importantly, would not be conducted blindly, but along a clearly defined route.
The day of departure was drawing near. The crew’s physical training phase was concluding. All medical and preventative procedures were being finalized.
Late that evening, Smith visited the base’s medical laboratory, where the crew members were being examined. He approached Doctor Kate Moore, who had finished reviewing the examination results for the final crew member just hours before. She was slated to accompany the crew as the resident physician. At thirty-eight, Dr. Moore had firmly committed her future to medicine, sacrificing a family she saw no reason to start if it meant disappearing at work for twelve hours a day, or sometimes not leaving the research institute for two or three days running. While working for a subsidiary of «Best Technologies,» Kate was told she would accompany the submarine crew. Management had presented it as a request. However, Kate understood that immediate consent was advisable, as she was not working for a typical pharmaceutical company. Here, the management offered boundless opportunities, but in exchange, personnel were forced to adapt to a local corporate culture that never truly considered staff input — a fact known to all employees. Previously, she had been tasked with monitoring the condition of volunteers taking part in trials for new drugs. The work ahead, she knew, would be much simpler and more tedious.
Kate was focused on the monitor, examining the blood test results, when Smith approached her. Leaning closer, he asked:
— Well, what’s the verdict on their health?
— Essentially, everything is normal. Kayla Fox is only experiencing minor strain with her lungs; they aren’t functioning at full capacity. But it’s not critical. I’ve already given her two injections. In a week, she’ll be as fit as a fiddle.
— Is there anything else to do?
— No. I’m finished.
— Do you remember everything?
— Saturday, twenty hundred thirty-seven hours, Heathrow, Terminal Six.
— Then see you soon — Smith tossed out nonchalantly as he left the laboratory for the psychoanalyst’s office.
— Ah, Mr. Smith — said sixty-five-year-old psychoanalyst Quentin Duff. — You’ve arrived just in time.
— So, — Smith said, as if drawing a preliminary conclusion, — what’s the status of their mental faculties?
— Let’s go through the list.
They both sat down on the sofa positioned against the wall to the right of the entrance. The doctor began sorting through his notes while simultaneously discussing the examination findings:
— Number one. Luther de Bont. Forty-nine years old. We don’t need to dwell on him. I’ll just say I wish I had nerves of steel like his. In the event of any emergency, he will remain cool-headed and act rationally. I can state that with absolute certainty.
Putting aside the captain’s folder, the doctor moved to the next one:
— Number two. Morgan Sinclair. Thirty-seven years old. Senior First Officer. The captain himself sought him out. That he can endure a long time underwater is clear as day — his previous submarine service experience is a factor here. His candidacy is very promising. He possesses well-developed phlegmatism. A prolonged, unchanging environment is unlikely to throw him off balance. Moving on. Number three. Henry Mills. Forty-one years old. Engineer. Your man.
— Yes. Ours — Smith confirmed. — How did he perform?
— How shall I put it? He is intensely interested in working with cutting-edge technology. The time dedicated to practical testing was clearly insufficient for him. He wants more time to observe how the sub will behave. He possesses a trait that slightly borders on obsessive-compulsive disorder. In other words, he likes to check the same thing a thousand times. For example, if he locks the door before bed, he might check ten times in five minutes to ensure it’s secure.
— On the other hand, that’s a plus.
— Agreed. With a man like him, constant oversight of the equipment’s operation will be guaranteed. Next. Number four. Hector Cage. Forty-two years old. Ichthyologist. He is experiencing an inner suppression stemming from professional dissatisfaction. Since changing jobs, he stopped traveling the world to study rare fish species. His new university does not offer him this opportunity. Consequently, he has very high hopes for this expedition and is eagerly awaiting its commencement. If negative energy builds up, he will prefer to keep it contained until someone happens to catch him at a bad moment. However, given that he hasn’t participated in marine fauna research for over two years, his state is perfectly adequate for the dive. He will perform his work with great fervor. So — Quentin Duff sighed, moving on to the next folder: — Number five. Kayla Fox. Thirty-five years old. Biologist. I must say, she has a very unusual combination of traits. Her psychotype is characterized most prominently by scrupulousness and fastidiousness. Yet, curiously, she also exhibits certain melancholic features — specifically, a proclivity for creative pursuits. I wouldn’t be surprised if she’s conducting illegal experiments at home, growing some sort of centaur or alien. It’s also worth noting that she possesses a very valuable quality: she can keep secrets. Though, she might also keep secrets that should rightly be shared with her superiors.
— Could she find something at the bottom and conceal it from us? — Smith asked with a doubtful tone.
— Given that she will be working in a severely confined space for a long duration, I don’t think so. Furthermore, she understands that she could potentially gain permanent employment working with unique materials. So, it is highly improbable. Not in this instance.
— Fine. Who is next?
— Sixth. Dr. Moore. I didn’t spend too long interviewing her. After all, we’ve been working together for several months now. I only asked about things I couldn’t inquire about with my colleague. Her general psychological profile is quite transparent. There is only one weakness that might manifest during the voyage: she is unable to be idle for long periods. In other words, if all crew members remain hale and healthy, she will simply have nothing to do, and this, in turn, will negatively impact her morale. Therefore, however strange it may sound, healthy patients on board could become a problem for her.
Any problem is solvable — Smith thought instantly.
Duff continued:
— Ah! Number seven. The most interesting specimen: Tucker Hughes. Forty-five years old. Paleontologist. He’s ready to work like a beast for months. But I guarantee that after finishing his long and productive labor, he will confidently head to the nearest brothel or pub to remember the finer things in life and embrace oblivion. It might also sound strange, but he is fully capable of restraining his natural instincts and base urges. My diagnosis: eligible.
— Excellent — Smith summarized, shaking Duff’s hand.
Maintaining his iron composure, Smith walked with a confident stride to the technical bay. There, he approached the sole staff technician and said:
— Connect me to the port.
— Right away — the engineer replied obediently. After establishing communication via a secured channel, he handed the receiver to Smith.
As soon as someone on the other end answered, the curator spoke only a few phrases:
— This is Smith. There are no changes anticipated. Everything is progressing in strict accordance with the plan. The captain and the first officer must be back at the base by Friday. They will return with the rest of the crew at the scheduled time.
— Acknowledged.
— End communication.
After the brief call, Smith left the technical bay. Finding the first empty room, which turned out to be a storage closet for housekeeping supplies, Smith dialed a number on his cell phone.
— This is Smith.
— Go ahead.
— Everything is proceeding as planned. But there’s something else that needs to be done before the dive.
— I’m listening.
— We need a pathogen.
— Which one specifically?
— A mild, non-lethal strain that is easily detectable and quickly treatable with standard medications. Several strains with varying incubation periods. The resulting pathologies must not be transmissible to others.
— In what format should it be distributed?
— Via food products.
— Deadline?
— Thirty-six hours.
— Understood.
6. «AMPHIBIA XXI»
At seven thirty in the morning, Anguilla’s Clayton Lloyd International Airport received a charter flight from Heathrow. After eleven hours of travel, the seven passengers were met by a thin man of average height, whom Captain De Bont, First Officer Morgan Sinclair, and engineer Henry Mills knew well by sight. They called him Stanley. Whether or not it was his real name, they didn’t dwell on it. They had met Stanley during the practical trials of the submarine. The others were seeing him for the first time. He was dressed like a typical resort town resident: a baseball cap with a curved brim, a loose shirt with colourful patterns, and baggy white trousers. All the clothing was pure cotton. Stanley’s eyes were hidden behind wide sunglasses. While he occasionally took off his baseball cap indoors, even the captain, first officer, and engineer, who had spent three weeks with him during the trials, did not know the color of his eyes.
Stanley helped load the travel bags into the minibus’s luggage compartment. As soon as everyone was seated, he reversed and drove the vehicle to the eastern side of the island, where an eight-seater seaplane was waiting at the dock. Stanley himself took the pilot’s seat. With a smooth motion, he started both engines and began gaining speed, accelerating until the fuselage lifted from the water, after which Stanley turned the plane toward its final destination.
Even before the seaplane began its descent, an object in the middle of the open water caught their eye through the porthole. This surface station was massive, equivalent in size to two football fields. Most of the area was concealed beneath a roof, the center of which featured a retractable section measuring twenty by forty meters. A control center with a radio mast and repeater station stood tall on the opposite side. Another structure, the accommodation block, was visible between them. All three parts were connected by steel above-water bridges, each a meter and a half wide.
A pier ran along three sides of the perimeter. The seaplane stopped near one of these. After mooring the aircraft, Stanley led the crew along the jetty toward the station’s covered section.
The scientists and the medic, arriving here for the first time, looked around with curiosity. Through the glass windows of the control centre, a silhouette could be seen moving inside. Electronic locks were installed on the doors at the entrance to the accommodation block. The bridges connecting the sections also featured checkpoints in the form of barred doors made of high-strength steel. To the side of the doors were biometric locks with palm and retinal scanners, as well as a microphone for voice reading and identification.
Stanley placed his palm on the panel and tilted his head closer to the retinal scanner. After a few seconds, a message appeared on the screen: «Say «Picturesque Bay».
Stanley articulated clearly into the microphone:
— Picturesque Bay.
A signal sounded and the lock disengaged. Walking forward, Stanley held the door open for the crew members. A few metres later, at the entrance to the station’s covered section, he performed the exact same procedure, only this time, instead of «Picturesque Bay,» the system required him to say «Galvanic cell.»
The entire crew was now inside.
Stanley pulled the main switch, and the darkness was instantly replaced by the glare of powerful LED lamps. An imposing surface hangar appeared before their eyes. The floor providing support underfoot occupied only a quarter of the total area, consisting of a heavy-gauge steel deck welded around the hangar’s perimeter, extending ten metres from one edge and seven metres along the adjacent sides. Tools lay everywhere, including a welding machine, wrenches and adjustable spanners, an angle grinder, a power drill, and a grinding machine. Judging by the fact that only one of the many metal cabinets was left open, all these tools had been used for minor tasks, likely conducted to eliminate small defects. A forklift and manipulator arm, which had evidently finished their work long ago, were visible somewhere at the far end of the hangar. Two cargo launches were moored below nearby.
The gaze of all crew members, and especially those arriving for the first time, was fixed upon the object in the centre of the hangar, almost entirely concealed underwater.
«Amphibia XXI» is an ultra-modern submarine, incorporating the latest technology. It is the newest development by «Best Technologies,» embodying the pinnacle of innovative achievements in the company’s history and a new milestone in global progress. It is the world’s only analog submarine capable of withstanding pressure up to eight hundred and fifty atmospheres, which allows it to reach virtually the maximum depths of the Atlantic Ocean. The displacement of the «Amphibia XXI» when fully submerged is two thousand one hundred and fifty tonnes, with a length of thirty-five meters. Equipped with a nuclear reactor and four engines, the «Amphibia XXI» can achieve an underwater speed of up to thirty-five knots and maintain operational autonomy for up to one hundred and ten days. Functioning thanks to its reactor, the submarine has an onboard system for the autonomous generation of oxygen supplies. Due to the well-tuned system of interconnected equipment and centralized access to its controls, the minimum crew size required to maintain and operate the submarine is just three people.
After having brilliantly passed all practical trials under the command of Captain Luther de Bont, the Amphibia sat dormant in the private cove, located eighteen kilometres north of Island Harbour, awaiting the start of its mission. For now, the only visible parts above the water were the top of the conning tower and the entry hatch. The rest of the hull was concealed beneath the water’s surface, leaving the ichthyologist, biologist, paleontologist, and medic to merely guess at the submarine’s true dimensions.
Captain De Bont hit a button on the wall panel, after which a folding gangway began to extend from beneath the floor. The crew members used it to proceed to the center of the hangar. The Captain opened the entry hatch and was the first to descend the ladder, receiving the others and their travel bags as they followed.
Stanley remained above — or perhaps left the hangar. In any case, it no longer mattered. Only the final stage of preparation remained before launch. All crew members had to quickly acclimatize to life on the submarine. While this was standard procedure for Captain De Bont and his First Officer Morgan Sinclair, and engineer Henry Mills had managed to take his first steps, the rest of the crew required some time for familiarization.
— Well, ladies and gentlemen, — Captain De Bont said, taking a deep breath and spreading his arms wide, — allow me to give you a tour. Morgan, Henry, and I have already become somewhat familiar with it, but everything will be new to you at first. Follow me.
The Captain turned elegantly on the spot, beginning the briefing:
— This compartment is called the «Central Command.» This is where we will control our beauty. I confess, when I was first brought here and shown this marvel of engineering, I was, to put it mildly, stunned. On a standard submarine, you need an entire team of specialists just to correct the boat’s position. But here, you can manipulate all systems from a seated position, using just keys and touch panels. Add some combat equipment and torpedoes, and submarines like this would be priceless to any military fleet.
— And why «Amphibia»? — asked the medic, Kate Moore — Can it move across land?
She instantly turned around when she heard Henry’s voice behind her, answering the question:
— Some people believe that the deep ocean floor constitutes an entirely different environment, one that is markedly distinct from the marine environment we know, concealing something new, previously unknown to humanity. There is still water there, but not the kind we are accustomed to. And our Amphibia is heading precisely there.
— So, it turns out you are one of the people who built this boat?
— Something like that. I was the Senior Assistant to the Chief Designer.
— And why wasn’t he taken on the voyage?
— He’s sixty-nine. He’s a bit too old for these kinds of trips.
The Captain, meanwhile, continued to familiarise the scientists with the central compartment, pointing to the chairs in front of the monitors:
— These are your workstations. From these monitors, you will observe what is happening in the ocean outside. Cameras with floodlights are installed throughout the hull, so keep your eyes peeled and try not to miss anything. Please follow me to the next compartment.
Конец ознакомительного фрагмента.
Текст предоставлен ООО «Литрес».
Прочитайте эту книгу целиком, купив полную легальную версию на Литрес.
Безопасно оплатить книгу можно банковской картой Visa, MasterCard, Maestro, со счета мобильного телефона, с платежного терминала, в салоне МТС или Связной, через PayPal, WebMoney, Яндекс.Деньги, QIWI Кошелек, бонусными картами или другим удобным Вам способом.






