The Legacy of Heorot (27 page)

Ordinary use. Cadmann smiled thinly into his faceplate. This evening's exercise would hardly be considered that.

He reached back over his shoulder to adjust the re-breather apparatus. Very light, very compact, intended for underwater repairs on a docked Minerva. It was certified for an hour of swimming, half that of "vigorous activity." It'll do. Half an hour fighting that thing and one or the other of us won't need oxygen any more. Okay, down we go—

"Cadmann, this is Sylvia."

"Go." It was impossible to speak distinctly into the throat microphone.

"I've analyzed the photos. Cadmann, that thing has to be amphibious.

It may spend more time underwater than on land."

"Uh-huh." I already thought of that one. And they're hard enough to kill on land... "Thanks. More?"

"No—except, be careful."

"Uh-huh." He stretched and dove down to join the others at their work at the net. He felt the reassuring pressure of Zack's "monster killer" spear gun against his thigh.

Moscowitz had promised them a stopper. Joe Sikes's machine shop had delivered it. The device looked like a pistol with a webbed black plastic grip. Immediately in front of the handpiece was an ammunition clip that looked as if it were constructed for shotgun shells. This was almost true: special cartridges drove carbon-steel-tipped spears carrying enough high explosive to blow the engine out of a Skeeter.

This should stop them, and the net should hold them. Hah. The net had better stop them. This island is starting to look infested with the bastards.

He swam to the cave mouth and waved to the spear gunners watching the work. One waved back and went to join Carlos on the other side of the cave.

Carlos had opened his wet suit down the front. One of the spear guns was strapped to his leg. He worked methodically, carefully, but he never stopped. He'd done that all day, driving Cadmann on with his example, working through exhaustion, through fear... as if the devil was on his tail.

Welcome to hell, Carlos.

A silver trail of bubbles hobbled from the side of Carlos's mouth, and he gave Cadmann a "thumbs up." Cadmann wiggled the meter-long barbed-steel pinions holding down his corners of the net. No give to them at all. If the rock held, the net would.

A catfish and a samlon swam by almost in tandem, the samlon close behind, chasing playfully. Cadmann allowed himself a twinge of hunger. The fish were getting big and fat, especially the samlon. If he'd had time, he would have snatched that one from the water.

They began to ascend. Cadmann's aching muscles sighed relief.

Their heads broke the surface. Both scrambled out in almost comic haste, sucking air. The sun had dipped below the west wall and there were only a few minutes of light left.

Armed men and women surrounded the temporary camp. Packing and crating from boxes of hastily shipped equipment were piled randomly into a central area; no one had taken the time to collect or remove them, but they were out of the way, no shelter for monsters to hide behind. Two machine guns occupied the top of an empty crate.

A faint burning smell hung in the air. The low steady vibration of a flare drill tickled Cadmann's feet. An electric generator hummed near the shelter. A series of cables linked it to batteries of portable lights set up on every side, giving the entire area a bright greenish-yellow glow.

Cadmann and Carlos stripped off their mouthpieces and gloves. Cadmann opened the zipper on his wet suit.

Skeeters glided across the river. Their searchlights danced yellow ovals on the rushing water. Guards carrying explosive and incendiary rounds patrolled in tight shifts while the technicians erected their tents and tested their equipment. The canyon thrummed with the sound of a Skeeter bringing in a second generator.

Carlos pointed to the machine guns and patrols. "They take you seriously, amigo."

Sure. Now. "Good."

A tent flap raised, and Jerry waved a thin arm at them. "Over here."

"Join you in dos minutos, Cad. Want to get a gel on my face cut."

Cad nodded, then crossed to the tent. He had to duck going in. A small gas heater burned in the corner, and the air was toasty. "What do we have, Jer?"

"Everything you wanted," Jerry answered. He held up a plastic pouch. Its contents seemed darkly purple in the artificial light. "This should do it."

"Great. How are the other preparations going? Andy?"

The big engineer spread out a sheet of color-coded graph sheeting on the table. "Deep radar shows a network of caves going back into the mountains for at least a kilometer. It would be death to go in there and take it on its own terms."

"There's no way in hell to kill it and be sure it's dead unless we go in. You know that."

"Swell. Shit, man. I don't like it at all."

"Have to burn the egg sac," Cadmann said.

Jerry grinned. "I've read Red Planet too." His look became serious.

"All right, I grant you that. There may be young. Or eggs. And right now it's wounded. There isn't a better time, but I still don't like it."

"No more do I, but you just do the best you can up here. Do it right, and we won't have anything to do but collect a corpse."

"Corpses, if it has young. All right. Come on."

He led the way out and behind the tent where a tripod-mounted laser drill burned into the ground. The men working the drill were shielded and wore goggles against the glare and the fat sparks that popped and flew like flaming moths. Sizzling melted rock bubbled up out of the cavity, flowed a few inches, then turned sluggish and puddled.

Thirty meters away, a second drill was searing into the rock, and just beyond a rise Cadmann could see the sharp, flickering lights of yet another.

The laser shut down abruptly, and someone yelled, "We're through!"

"Lay the pipe through." Twelve meters of flexible metal piping was run through while the rock was still hot. The top end was fastened to a pump and a twenty-gallon drum.

"What have we got there?" Cadmann asked, curious now.

"Call it napalm, only nastier. Burns longer, hotter. Top layer will vaporize. When we touch it off there'll be a shock wave that should kill anything down there. Its waste products are toxic, it will burn up any oxygen down there."

"Just like Godzilla. Oxygen destroyer—"

Andy laughed. "Always wondered why they had that film aboard Geographic. This stuff isn't magic, but it's pretty nasty. Homemade, too."

"So was ‘foo-foo gas.'"

"What the hell was that?"

"Gasoline and old-fashioned granular laundry detergent. Big factor in the 1995 Argentine revolution."

"Viva la revolución." Andy grinned.

"Stealing my lines, compadre?" Carlos joined them. His facial scar was sealed tight under a waterproof astringent salve.

"You'll get your royalty payment." Andy breathed deeply. "You guys ready?" Cadmann and Carlos nodded. "Then let's do it."

Carlos held the spear gun at the ready this time, while Cadmann worked the tip of his knife into the plastic unit of human blood Jerry had brought from the clinic.

The pouch was rubbery-firm for a moment, then, as its skin was pierced, it collapsed. Its contents spilled into the river upstream from the cave. The blood streamed through the lamplight in dark tendrils, then was sucked into the cave and vanished.

If it worked, the thing would come streaking out of the cave and into the net. And Cadmann didn't care if the effect was like pushing a pound of Cheddar through a cheese grater.

Carlos dimmed his light. Together they waited.

And waited, clinging to anchor spikes. Cadmann listened to the hiss of the river and the steady sigh of his own exhalations as he pushed them into the re-breather.

And waited.

Nothing.

After ten minutes, they surfaced. Cadmann spit out his mouthpiece as he climbed up, and swore savagely.

Zack helped Carlos past a slippery patch. "Let's go to plan two."

Andy was manning the pump, awaiting a hand signal from Zack before he sent the explosive liquid flowing into the ground.

"If it's in there," he said with obvious satisfaction, "this is going to make it very unhappy."

Cadmann nodded and found a comfortable place to sit. He was suddenly aware of fatigue and cramped muscles. Somewhere someone was cooking, and the fragrance of lamb stew with fresh vegetables was suddenly overwhelming.

Carlos appeared, holding two heaping bowls.

"They should give medals for this, Martinez."

"By the time the paperwork goes through, we'll both be dead and gone."

"Too true."

The stew was thickened with leftover Year Day rice, and utterly delicious. Cadmann leaned back against a rock, listening to the useful bustle around him, warmed by the food and the nearness of his friend.

The clouds shrouded the stars. The twin moons must have already risen, but another two or three hours would pass before they were visible this low in the gorge.

All there was now was the steady gurgle of the water and the human sounds around them. For some reason that he couldn't name, Cadmann felt a sudden, strong urge to see the stars, the moons.

Why?

Because you're going down there tonight.

"What are you thinking about, Cadmann?"

"Mary Ann." His teeth wrestled with an undercooked, mildly seasoned portion of lamb. It resisted for a moment, then his teeth found the grain.

"I'm hoping she's not worried."

"Sí. I was thinking of Bobbi. I hope she's well, out of surgery, and not worrying about me. It is not good for las palomitas to worry."

"Especially when there's nothing to worry about."

"Precisely."

They turned to face each other, and Cadmann managed to hold his bland expression for about five seconds before both gave in to a wave of grim laughter.

"Clear the holes!" Andy shouted, and the hose was pulled from the ground, the pumps and barrels wheeled away toward the rock wall.

A wire was run down the pipes and its end clipped into a detonation switch. Andy came over to sit with Cadmann and Carlos, twenty meters from the hole.

"You ready for this?"

"If you're going to collapse this whole shore area, the least you can do is give us time to swim for it."

"Naw. We've got at least eight meters of rock under us. We've already identified enough outlets to release the pressure. Fireworks no. Earthquakes yes. Ready?"

"As we'll ever be."

He switched on his radio. "Two and three?"

"Standing ready."

"Good news. On zero. Three, two, one—"

Cadmann squinted as Andy said "zero!" sharply, and twisted the detonator toggle. There was a dull thud that shook the rock beneath them, and a jet of flame-tinged smoke erupted from the hole.

There was a second, more violent tremor, and a tickle of panic shot up Cadmann's spine. Then silence except for a steady hissing sound and a jet of grayish smoke from the hole. Cadmann sneezed against a horrid chemical smell.

Andy got to his feet. "If it's down there, it should be very dead," he said.

Shoulds were going to get them all killed.

"How long before we can go down to check?"

"How quick can you get wet?"

"Got it. Zack?"

There was no reply, and he raised his voice. "Zack?"

The camp administrator's voice came in over the radio. "Is that

Cadmann bellowing for me, or has one of our elephants gone into rut?"

"We haven't hatched any elephants yet."

"Then put Cadmann on."

The smoke streaming from the ground was taking on a darker color. Got you... I hope. "Zack, Cad here. I need those dozen men you promised me."

"You'll have them. You're sure you have to go in, Cad? It's probably dead." Zack hesitated. "No, dammit, ‘probably' isn't going to help me sleep any better. We'll Skeeter in the last two from camp. Take about twenty minutes."

"Twenty minutes," Carlos mused. "Time for a short nap or a long prayer. Or another bowl of stew. Come on."

"Aren't you worried about cramps?"

"Nah. I've been through menopause."

Cadmann stood, shaking the stiffness from his knees. "You're a very sick man, Carlos. Probably your most endearing trait."

GRENDEL'S MOTHER

Beowulf spoke:

"Let your sorrow end! It is better for us all to avenge our friends, not mourn then forever. I promise you—she shall have no shelter, no hole to hide, no towering tree, no deep bottom of a lake where her sins may hide."

BEOWULF

The water was dark and cool, shallow now and calmer than the rushing currents of the Miskatonic behind them. Cadmann's head broke the surface and he held his handlamp up. Its beam probed the blackness as he climbed out onto the limestone gallery.

Carlos surged out of the water, and their combined beams gave Cadmann a grasp of the dimensions of the chamber. The roof was only a meter above his head and was dappled with some kind of webbed moss. Something far to the left gave off a faintly purplish luminescence. Although there was no smoke in the air, it had to be rich with nerve poison. He didn't dare remove his mask.

The chamber was too small to hide anything much larger than a rat; the torchlight splashed bright and hard against the farthest wall. Shallow pools stood beneath embryonic stalactites. A slow, steady drip of water raised echoes everywhere.

The rest of the men were out of the water now, and Cadmann adjusted his throat mike.

"All right. Anyone see anything? Jerry?"

"Not a thing. I think it went deeper back."

"Agreed."

A slick, rounded hump of rock was the next barrier. Cadmann clambered to the top and played his torch down into the darkness.