Katya's War (Russalka Chronicles) by Howard Jonathan L

Author:Howard, Jonathan L [Howard, Jonathan L]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Osprey Publishing
Published: 2013-11-05T08:00:00+00:00

It was to become odder still. While the Vodyanoi had been on station outside the evacuation facility waiting for contact to be re-established with the expedition, it had continued its survey of the mountain within which the facility lay. One of the elements it had positively identified was the disguised communications relay by which the facility kept in touch with the Yagizba Enclaves. As they grew closer to the mountain, and the probable location of Giroux’s transmission was refined into a smaller and smaller area, it became obvious that the two did not match up at all.

“That puts him physically outside the base,” said Sahlberg. “How did he manage that?”

Kane said nothing, but watched as the search area shrank steadily as they grew closer. Suddenly he leaned forward. “Mr Sahlberg, that area seems to be on the move. Is that an effect of varying signal strength, or…”

“No, sir,” said Sahlberg, studying the figures on his console. “He’s moving. Just a moment, we should be just about… There!”

On the main display, the search area resolved into a single point. “He’s descending the mountainside,” said Sahlberg, astonished. “What does he think he’s doing?”

“Is he falling?”

“I don’t think so, captain. His path is following a ridge line. No, look! He’s following the escarpment downwards. He’s not falling, sir. He’s climbing down.”

“Do we have any sort of inventory for the evacuation site? Would they have AD suits?”

“Unlikely, sir. Just soft suits for maintenance.”

Katya knew why Kane was asking. Giroux was descending too fast. In a soft suit, he would be breathing a mixture of gases that included helium rather than nitrogen, and he should be taking rests to allow his body to acclimatise.

“He’s approaching a cliff, captain. He’ll have to stop.”

The bridge fell silent but for Ocello trying to raise Giroux on the radio. They watched as the sharp contact point moved closer to the edge of a great cliff that stood above a gorge.

They watched as he reached it.

They watched as he jumped.

“Range, damn it! How far away are we?” shouted Kane.

“Three kilometres, sir. We’ll never get there in time.”

They could only watch as Giroux plunged into the abyss, deeper than their test depth, then deeper than their design depth, and then the contact went dark.

“There’s a Soup lake down there,” said Ocello quietly. “He’s gone in.”

However Giroux had survived the explosion, however he had had escaped the site, they would never know. The Soup was a dense emulsion of heavy metals in particle form, created in a natural process that had baffled Russalkin scientists ever since it was discovered in the early seabed surveys. No submarine dared enter it; no diver could hope to return from the crushing pressures within the toxic lakes.

“He must have been dead long before he reached it,” she said. “The pressure change was too rapid. Nobody could have survived it.”

“Nobody could have survived that explosion,” said Kane to himself, but Katya caught his muttered words. Abruptly he stood. “I shall be in my cabin. You have the bridge, Ms Ocello.

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