Solutions

Mariana Trench

Sergei waited in the corridor outside Terry's door until the Prometheus pushed away from its docking sleeve.

"Decided to stay, eh?" called out the Russian in broken English, laughing sadistically as he made his way down the corridor.

Terry sat on the floor, fighting to remain calm.

The knock startled her.

"It's Benedict."

She wiped her face and opened the door.

"My dear, why on earth are you still on board?" he asked innocently.  "The Prometheus departed early this morning."

"Who are you kidding?  Your Russian goon's been sitting outside my door for the last few hours—"

"Sergei?"  Benedict shook his head.  "I didn't know."

"Sure you didn't.  Is this how you get yourself off, Benedict, by screwing with other people's emotions?"

Benedict's eyes flashed a warning.  "We'll speak again after you've regained control of your emotions."

She watched him disappear down the corridor.  Terry slammed the cabin door shut.  She waited ten minutes, then reopened it and made a dash for the companionway.  She ascended two levels and ran through the corridor leading to Heath's lab.

Terry knocked, then pushed open the door.  The room was empty.  Locking the door behind her, she hurried through to the adjoining room, looking for the government agent.

The fossilized skull stared back at her.

Distraught, she left the lab and headed upstairs to B deck.

She spotted Captain Hoppe in the control room.  Remembering how he had stood up to Benedict, she approached, pulling him aside.

"Are you all right?" he asked.  "You shouldn't be here—"

"Can I speak with you in private?"

"The Epimetheus should be arriving momentarily," the captain said, more for his crew than for her.  "Come upstairs.  We'll watch her as she descends."

Terry followed him up the access-tube ladder into the observation deck.  She waited impatiently while he activated the observation dome, retracting the titanium outer covering from the reinforced LEXAN glass.

"Speak quietly," he said.  "The walls have ears."

"Benedict's keeping me on board like some kind of prisoner—"

"I know."

"Can't you help me?"

"I'm—I'm not sure."

"Where's Heath?  What happened to him?"

"The paleo-biologist?  I believe he left earlier this morning aboard the Prometheus."

Her heart sank.  How could he have left without taking her?

"Captain, please, I have to get off this ship."

Hoppe appeared nervous.  "What can I do?"

"Radio the authorities for help."

Hoppe shook his head.  "All comm links aboard the Benthos and her subs are routed through the Goliath.  There's no way to bypass the system."

Terry felt tears of desperation welling in her eyes.  "Can you pilot the Epimetheus? "

The question seemed to perturb the captain.  "We wouldn't get very far.  We certainly can't outrun the Goliath—"

"How close is the nearest island."

"About a hundred and twenty nautical miles due west of our present position."

"We could make it."

Captain Hoppe turned to face the abyss.  He nodded toward a faint light in the distance.  "Here comes the Epimetheus," he muttered.

"Captain, please—"

For a long moment Hoppe stared at his dark reflection in the glass.  "I've been with Benedict for more than twenty years.  He took me in.  At the time I was a useless alcoholic who had just killed my wife and little girl driving drunk."  Hoppe looked into her eyes, wiping back a tear.  "I guess my daughter'd be about your age now."

"You'd be saving my life."

"I want you to return to your cabin and remain there.  Don't speak to anyone.  I'll meet you on G deck at three hundred hours."

*        *        *        *        *

For the next fourteen hours Terry remained locked in her cabin, anxiously awaiting her chance to escape her benthic prison.

Benedict has wasted little time.  The moment the Epimetheus had docked, he ordered the sub into the Trench, this time keeping the Benthos hovering close by.  Terry heard the sub redock  sometime after midnight.  At this point she had no idea what Geo-Tech was doing in the abyss, but had decided the deployment of the UNIS robots was nothing more than a clever ruse to disguise Benedict's own personal quest.

At ten minutes before three in the morning, Terry opened the door to her cabin, the iron bar clenched firmly in her right fist.  Barefoot, shoes in hand, she quietly made her way down the two flights of the companionway, stepping out onto G deck.

She waited in the barren corridor and listened.

Someone's voice . . . coming from the hangar.  Captain Hoppe?

Hurrying down the deserted corridor, she approached the watertight door, surprised to find it slightly ajar.  She peeked through the crack and saw Captain Hoppe squatting on his knees by the far wall, his back to her.

Terry entered the hangar, pushing the thick door shut behind her.

"Captain, what are you doing in here?"

AS she touched the man's shoulder, he tumbled sideways, blood gushing from his severed throat.

Terry's scream was stifled by Sergei's hand.

"What kept you?" whispered the Russian, taking her from behind.  He grabbed a fistful of her long hair, then pressed the blade of his hunting knife to her throat with his free hand.

"We have a little fun before I kill you, da?  Drop the weapon."

The iron bar clanged onto the floor by her feet.

"Now remove your pants," he whispered, his tongue flicking in her ear.

Terry felt the blade of his knife cut her neck, drawing blood.  Reaching to her waist, she unbuckled her jeans slowly, her mind racing.

"Push them down, down to your ankles."

She wriggled the skintight jeans down over her hips, bending to maneuver them over her calves, casually slipping her right foot out of the pant leg.

Panting like an animal, Sergei maintained a grip on her hair while placing the knife between his teeth, freeing one hand to pull his own pants down around his ankles.

Retrieving the knife, he pressed the point to her spine.  "Bend over.  Spread your legs."

Terry leaned forward, registering the point of the knife at her back.  She spread her legs apart, shifting her weight, preparing herself.

Sergei returned the knife to his mouth, then tore away Terry's underwear.  She shook with disgust as he reached between her legs to guide himself in.

Now!

Terry mule-kicked upward with her free leg, slamming her heel into Sergei's exposed genitals.

The Russian howled in pain.

Dropping to one knee, she strained to reach the iron bar as Sergei yanked her backward by her hair.  Grabbing it, she spun around and—as hard as she could—slammed it into the Russian's skull.

Sergei dropped in a heap, blood seeping from the top of his head.

She backed up, then hit him again, hearing a satisfying crack.

For a long moment she stood over him, wanting to scream in defiance at the vile creature.  Instead, she bent down and pulled her pants back up, then leaned over the Russian and checked for a pulse.

Still alive . . .

The iron bar poised above her head, she searched the man's pockets with her free hand, removing a magnetic pass card from his shirt.

The Russian began to stir.  Lunging awkwardly, he grabbed her leg.

She let out a half scream, then bashed his knuckles with the metal bar.

Sergei moaned in agony, releasing his grip.

Terry ran to the watertight door leading to the corridor.  Verifying it was sealed, she entered the hangar control room, locking the hydraulic door behind her.

She scanned the control panel, locating the flood valves, and twisted them counterclockwise.

Seawater poured in from ventilation pipes in the hangar's flooring.  Sergei rolled over and got to his knees, clutching his head.

Staggering to his feet, the Russian killer sloshed through ankle-deep water, making his way to the watertight door leading to the corridor.

Terry searched the control panel.  The red light verified both the corridor and control-room doors could not be opened while the hangar was flooding.

Sergei tugged at the corridor like a drunk, then noticed Terry sitting in the control room.  He pressed his face to the reinforced LEXAN porthole, his eyes exuding a predatory malevolence.  He swung his fist, pounding the glass.

The water rose to his waist.

Sergei banged again.

She watched as his hatred changed to fear.  He pounded harder, becoming desperate.  The water level rose above his neck.  He pressed his face to the glass and leered at her.

The water level reached the ceiling.  The out doors opened.  Terry watched Sergei grab his head a second before his skull imploded like a ripe melon.

She turned away, then slumped in the operator's chair, emotionally exhausted.  The remains of the two mutilated bodies drifted slowly toward the open hangar door, heading for the waiting darkness of the Trench.

A movement caught her eye.  Terry shrieked as a colossal brown head suddenly appeared from the abyss.  Flat crocodilelike jaws opened wide, revealing a frenzied row of hideous pointed teeth.

Terry froze, watching in fascination and terror as the forty-foot prehistoric marine reptile pushed its head into the hangar and snatched Sergei's remains in one gargantuan bite.  The beast spun upside down as it swallowed, spewing shards of flesh in all directions.

Luminous scarlet eyes searched the hangar for more food.

The remains of Captain Hoppe moved past the beast into the Trench.  The freakish reptile pushed itself away from the hangar door to follow, gliding away like a sinuous eel.

Still shaken, Terry pressed the controls, sealing the hangar doors.

All thoughts of boarding the Epimetheus and stealing the sub disappeared.  Dying aboard the Benthos was far better than facing the terror circling outside.

Terry heard the hydraulic rams activate, forcing water out of the hangar and into holding areas located throughout the Benthos.  Long minutes passed as the chamber finished draining.

She waited until the panel lights turned green, then exited the control room, inhaling the humidity left behind by the sea.  Walking along the damp floor, she inspected the room, verifying the absence of any evidence she had been there.

She held her breath, hearing a strange noise.  It was a deep scratching sound, coming from outside the hangar door.

Terry ran from the chamber, sealing the corridor door shut behind her.