“At the post office, they didn’t really come at us until we switched on the generator. And in the engine room; they’ve torn out all the electrical cabling and fittings completely. And they didn’t come onto deck again until we buggered about with the control panel.”
“You’re saying we did it? We brought the fuckers back aboard?” Mac said.
“Afraid so,” the captain replied. “But maybe we can get them to bugger off again by switching off what we switched on.”
- 11 -
“Maybe we should stay here, Cap,” Mac said. “We’re safe here, right?”
Banks looked out the window to where the creatures continued to mill around, almost aimlessly. They hardly looked threatening now in sharp contrast to the frenzy they’d showed minutes earlier.
Maybe Mac’s right. But twice now these buggers have caught me off guard. There won’t be a third time.
“The chopper will be coming down on our signal,” he said. “We need to make sure they have a clear pickup area.”
“Back up on the top deck?”
“Not good enough; they’ll prefer a bigger, more open space,” he pointed out at the forward deck, “out there. Our best bet is to cut the power and hope the beasties, isopods, or whatever the fuck they are, get bored again and bugger off. McCally, can you cut the power from here?”
The younger man shook his head.
“That was Briggs’ specialty. I’d need to get back down to yon control panel and see what’s what. Although I’ll tell you something for nothing, Cap; I’m pishing my breeks here at the thought of meeting one of those big fuckers down there.”
“At least it’ll keep you warm,” Banks replied. “Come on, lad. You’re with me. The rest of you, keep an eye out the window there. If they look like they’re getting frisky, make plenty of noise and we’ll get back sharpish.”
Banks led the way out of the control room. It had got dimmer again in the stairwell, cloud obscuring the sun making it gloomy and gray away from the windows. He switched to night vision, turned down to its lowest level and was able to see clearly down the stairwell. There was no sign of any isopods. He gave McCally the all-clear sign and headed down, the younger man following at his back.
He stopped when they reached the corridor, almost exactly in the spot where he’d met the Russian woman earlier. She was still an enigma he hadn’t cracked yet. He had a feeling there was more to her story he hadn’t heard on the Dictaphone but he needed time to talk to her properly, time he couldn’t spare right now. He had a feeling he’d need to sooner rather than later; she might have exactly the expert knowledge needed to get the squad safely out of the situation. It would all have to wait, for now. His focus had to be on the control panel and getting the infestation of creatures off the boat’s deck.
One thing at a time, Banksy. One thing at a time.
At least Svetlanova had already proved her worth with her assessment of the effect of electrical field on the isopods. He was annoyed with himself that he hadn’t seen the pattern in the beast’s behavior for himself; it wasn’t as if there weren’t enough clues. But he’d been focussed on the job, which he’d thought was the boat’s computers. As it turned out, the job, the woman, had come to him.
And now I’ve got a new job. I’ve got to get her back to the base; I’ve got to get us all back to the base.
He forced himself into concentrating on the space in front of his rifle barrel. The shock of losing Nolan and then Briggs, was still there, still thrumming at his nerve endings but his training kicked in, forcing the tension into something he could use, coiled and tight, ready to be sprung when needed. Later there would be recriminations, booze, and maybe even tears, certainly sleepless nights. But for now, he had a weapon in his hands, and there was an empty corridor and a waiting control panel on the deck below.
And if any of those fuckers get in my way, they’ll find the real strength of my determination.
He moved out, quickly crossing the corridor to the next stairwell, then heading down toward the engine room with McCally right at his back.
The short stairwell to the control panel room was as empty as the one above had been. Banks stood there for several seconds, listening for any sound from the engine room beyond but there was no splashing, no indication the big beast was still there; for all he knew, it might be the one he’d seen up top of the superstructure.
The one who killed Briggs.
He pushed the thought away hard before thoughts of revenge could overtake common sense and motioned for McCally to come forward and get to work on the electrical panel.
McCally pried the front of the panel off and looked at the wiring.
“As I said, Cap, this was Brigg’s party. I’m not sure what circuits he wired or shut off.”
“Just do what you can, lad. And be quick about it. Sooner it’s done, the sooner you get back upstairs for a cuppa and a fag.”
He left the younger man to it and stepped forward into the doorway looking over the gallery walkway in the engine room. He didn’t walk out onto the walkway itself but peered around the corner, making sure he was alone before announcing his presence.
There was no sign of the large beast but suddenly it was the least of his concerns; the water level in the flooded engine room was several feet higher than it had been. Judging by eddies and flows visible below him, more water was still coming in through the rent in the hull; flooding in.
The boat might be afloat now, but there was no guarantee it would stay that way for long.
He went back to join McCally.
“How long, lad?” he said, his voice a whisper.
“Depends. Do you want it off permanently, or just off now?”
“Just switch the fucker off,” Banks said.
“Sorted then,” McCally said and yanked at two wires. There was a flash, a spray of sparks around them, quickly dissipating. Everything fell quiet. The red LEDs denoting the power was on dimmed and went dark.
They both heard it coming at the same time; a click-clack and scratching of feet on metal, accompanied by a slosh of water as a wave washed through next door. The engine room wasn’t empty anymore.
Banks put a finger to his lips and jerked his thumb upward. McCally nodded. The younger man stood closest to the exit, so Banks let him go first and waited while the McCally checked the stairwell up to the next deck.
He looked into the well to see McCally give him an ‘OK’ signal from above. Banks was about to step out into the stairwell when the scuttling suddenly got too loud at his back. He turned to see the head, antennae, and front legs of a huge beast push through the doorway. Its body was too large to fit in the doorway but it kept trying to get at the captain.
Banks tried to back away but misjudged the position of the doorway and got trapped in a corner. One of the beast’s large antennae whipped through the room, as thick as a steel cable; it would snap his spine like a twig or cave in his chest if it hit him. He crouched tight in the corner, almost kneeling, giving a small target and finally got his weapon round to point it at the beast. The isopod chittered like a grasshopper and the blue luminescence on its underside sent out a shimmering aura, filling the small room with dancing shadows and the acrid smell of burnt vinegar.
Banks fought down a gag reflex, aimed for the base of the antenna, and fired three quick shots, the recoil shoving him farther back into the corner. The noise was far too loud and would surely alert any other isopods in the area to his position. But he’d got his target; the antenna hung, bent at the base oozing sickly green fluid, and the creature thrashed violently. The smell got worse too and splashes of the green goop washed the wall. Banks sidled to one side, ready to launch his body at the door if there was any chance of any splashes reaching him; he didn’t want to get any nearer to the stuff than he had to.