CHAPTER 6
Rina
MARIANA TRENCH: CHALLENGER DEEP
The air was stale and smelled of mold. Rina’s eyelids felt heavy, weighed down by the relentless pounding in her head. She was scrunched up in a ball on her left side, every bone and muscle hurting as if it had been torn apart.
Someone moaned beside her. She slowly opened her eyes. It was dark. She wiggled her nose, feeling her damp hair strewn across her face. Where was she? She had to think straight. The last thing she remembered was...Bauman’s fist. Her jaw was throbbing. Low drones were coming from beneath her.
She lifted her arm to roll on her back, but a searing pain on the right side of her torso snatched her breath. She slid her fingertips gently over a bulbous bruise over her ribs. It had to be the size of a plate. Her right thigh hurt just as much. Bauman had used more than his fist.
Angry and frustrated, she used her weight to thrust herself onto her back. The pain shot through her and she stifled a scream as tears formed in her eyes. Shaking and barely able to breathe, she went limp, her thoughts fading.
The unexpected memory of Bauman’s fist burst into her mind and she woke up abruptly. She wanted so much to rip off his head. She moved her leg slightly and sensed the PDA was still inside her pocket. He was too stupid to take it. Above her, she noticed outlines of light surrounding two rectangular panels. She took the PDA from her pocket and felt for the button in the upper right hand corner. She pressed it and a cloud of light illuminated the area.
A floor compartment.
She pressed the button again and the device shut off. When did she last recharge it? There was another moan. Shiro.
“Wake up,” she said, her throat scratchy from thirst. How long had they been unconscious? “I think we’re in the mini-sub going down into the trench.”
“What?” Shiro thrust himself up to a sitting position, banging his head on the door panel in the process. “Ow! I bit my tongue! Where are we?”
“Shh. Listen.”
The whirring of engines and propellers filled the silence.
“Crap!” said Shiro. “He put us in the sub going down into the trench.”
“Really?” she said.
“My tongue is bleeding.”
“Quit being a baby, Einstein. We have to stop the countdown.”
“How?” he asked, his lisp worse from his cut tongue. “He probably removed the override switch.”
“This is no time to be negative, retard. Let’s just see what we can do,” she added, tamping down her frustration.
“I’m not negative, lizard lips, I’m realistic.”
“You’re realism is negative. Now help me open this door.”
With their legs and arms, they heaved and pushed until the lock snapped open. Too easy, she thought. A rush of light flared into their enclosed space and she turned her head away, blinking several times. When her vision adjusted; they were staring at the wheel of a yellow hatch on the ceiling.
“We’re in a floor locker,” she said.
Shiro got on his knees and looked around. “Wow, it’s an X-38. And I thought he was a cheap guy.”
The X-38 was the pride of Vector Industries, a subsidiary of Steinman Conglomerate. Only two existed in the world; one was owned by the military and the other by Vector itself. A year ago, she had the rare privilege of exploring the Puerto Rican Trench with an X-38. The systems were state-of-the-art, controlled and monitored with computers inset into the two-foot thick walls. Anchored to its bottom were the ballast tanks and batter pods. It was designed to withstand over nine tons per square inch of pressure for more than ninety-six hours, a remarkable accomplishment hailed as a victory over the seas.
“Of course it’s the best,” she said, lifting herself out of the compartment and sitting on the floor. “He couldn’t tell the President he was going to send an old sub into the Mariana.”
Rina swung her legs onto the indigo carpet padded with soft rubber to ease the strain on the physical joints. Next to them on the wall, three rows of green lights above two black metal doors signified the readiness of the main systems. As she crawled to the front, the dark gray interior of the mini-sub was perfect for revealing the four wall terminals with keyboards—two in front, two in back. She passed several sets of ceiling, floor, and wall straps scattered throughout the crawl-only vessel and hoped they wouldn’t have to use them. She stopped and stared out one of the three-foot-wide portholes. Total blackness. She shook off a chill and kept going.
Upon reaching the main controls, she sat on the two-foot ledge and watched the charcoal-gray joystick move on its own between her legs. The forepart of the sub was transparent Titanium, a ten-inch thick domed window allowing a full view of the outside. The only light came from luminescent marine life. This was the darkest area on the planet; it was as if they were encased in solid rock. As her nerves began to tighten, she forced herself to change her thoughts.
Behind and to her left was the main systems station with its slide-out keyboard. Scrolling rows of yellow data lit up the black display. Sitting on her knees and facing the terminal, she tapped the upper left-hand corner of the screen, Mechanics and System Flow.
“He’s removed the manipulator arms,” she said. “We’ve got eight minutes until detonation.”
“Crap!” said Shiro. “Do something!”
She lifted the PDA from her pocket. An open crack ran along the side of the red case. The jerk busted my baby.
“Hurry up, woman!” Shiro had plopped himself beside her.
“Knock it off with the ‘woman’ stuff.”
“What am I supposed to call you, ‘man’?”
She rolled her eyes and pressed the silver button on the PDA. The visual display flickered then turned on. The low battery light was blinking. She had maybe fifteen minutes of power left. She quickly flipped the unit over and opened the cable compartment. A thin, coiled USB cord unfolded and she hooked it into the port just beneath the monitor. She began typing on the keyboard. The exterior lights came on.
A deep raspy laugh echoed through the sub. She stopped and listened, trying to make the voice.
“I wanted you to be awake when you die,” said Bauman. “How are you feeling, Rina? A little sore?”
One good punch was all she’d need to loosen those gold caps. Tearing out his remaining hair would be good too.
No. He wanted her to lose control. She refused. “Never felt better, Bauman. You’re a kitten. So where are your New Continuum friends?”
“What the heck,” he cleared his throat. “North Dakota, far away from the New Madrid and listening to our conversation. You’ve caused monumental problems for us and we all wanted to hear your last words.”
As he spoke, she carefully scanned the sub. On the ceiling, hidden between the relay switches, was a small blue light. A miniature camera. She laid on her back and kicked it until it cracked.
“It doesn’t matter,” said Bauman. “We’ll hear your scream.”
She began searching for the hacking programs in her PDA.
“Soon the New Continuum will bring this planet into unity,” he went on.
She wanted to shut him up so bad. “You could’ve thought of a better name. Psychopathic Killers-R-Us is more appropriate. By the way, did you tell your little worm buddies, the one hundred and fifty nukes planted in the rift are going to kill them too? When the New Madrid ignites, the central half of the country is going to sink into a river of boiling magma and that includes North Dakota. You’re all going to burn, thanks to your best friend.”
She heard men yelling in the background.
“Yeah, guys,” she said loudly, gratified by the commotion. “The big maggot wants you dead.” The mic clicked off.
She began mumbling to herself, angry she didn’t see this coming. She swiped at a sweat droplet stinging her eye.
“Crap!”
“What happened?” asked Shiro.
“He erased the original hacks, but...,” she kept typing, “he didn’t know duplicates were
hidden in certain subfiles. Got them!”
Shiro was hovering over her shoulder. “You rule!”
“This is my game,” she said, keeping focused on the screen as she typed.
“You’re the Queen.”
The lights went out and the engines whined to a halt. “Oops,” said Rina.
“We’re going to be vaporized and all you can say is oops?” Shiro said angrily. “I take it back. You’re not the Queen.”
“I liked it better when you called me ‘woman.’” Her fingers didn’t pause. “Get on a terminal and sound off the countdown.”
No more mistakes, Rina.
The power came back on. Shiro crawled to the station across from her.
“Six minutes,” he said.
“I have to find Alfalfa.”
“Who’s he?”
“Alfalfa is the man,” she said. “He’s Jordy’s base code. Once he’s inside a computer, he starts tearing apart the hard drive, literally causing a meltdown. If the person is stupid enough to keep his computer on, Alfalfa will eventually blow up the motherboard.”
“Wow. Is he the one you sent to Bauman?”
“Oh yeah. Did you know Bauman was spying on the President of the United States?”
“The President?” asked Shiro. “Holy cow. Why didn’t you tell anyone?”
“Who would believe a hacker? So I did the next best thing—I sent him Alfalfa. This little guy is the perfect weapon.”
Three programs popped up on the display, each one containing twenty lines of code.
“Blue tail, is it you?” she said, typing. “No. Mariana?” The lights flickered. “Oops.”
“Knock it off with the oops,” said Shiro. “This is freaky enough.”
She didn’t answer. Flower lily was next.
“Four minutes,” said Shiro.
She tapped the Enter key and a three rows of data appeared.
“Got him!”
“Cancel the detonation!” said Shiro, his eyes wide.
The screen wavered and the lights shut off again. An insidious laugh came over the speakers. Bauman had turned her own virus against her. Four Alfalfas were chasing her through the system. Her fingers were beginning to cramp.
“What’s wrong, Rina?” said Bauman, sarcasm heavy in his voice. “Can’t outrun the zippers? And you’re wrong about the New Madrid. We’ve done an extensive study on the rift and you’re foolish to think you can outsmart us. Oh look, one of those zippers is getting real close.”
He’s connected, she thought. He can see everything I’m doing.
“She can beat you anytime, Bauman,” said Shiro. He leaned towards Rina and whispered from the corner of his mouth, “What’s a zipper?”
“Yes, explain it to him,” said Bauman. “After all, they’re your creation. We just made them better.”
She wished so much for him to shut up. Using Shiro to distract her was making her angrier, and more determined.
“If an attacker goes after Alfalfa,” she said, “he creates subfiles that hunt and shut down the enemy’s program, forcing them to restart. Zip up, zip down. Shoot!”
The screen fluctuated again.
“You can’t beat them,” said Bauman.
“You shouldn’t put anything past me,” she said, turning and hastily crawling to the back of the sub; grateful she wore jean-shorts, nothing hindered her legs. “So, how’d it go when I told your lame-o friends you were going to kill them?”
She signaled Shiro to bring the recessed flashlight in the wall. She yanked open the gray metal doors to the main circuitry. Over fifty circuit boards sat vertically in the narrow chamber. Colored wires and relay switches crowded the small space. Above the boards were the abbreviated names of each system.
“It’s been proven one man cannot rule this world,” said Bauman. “We’ve already formed a High Council to oversee Earth’s affairs. Your feeble attempts to disband us are foolish. They only exemplify your stupidity.”
“Really?” She slid out three circuit boards. Rearranging the wires was tedious but if not done right, she could force the detonation. She kept glancing at the inset wall monitor displaying the countdown in bright yellow numbers.
“Two-minute warning,” said Bauman. “First you’ll see a bright flash of light. Unfortunately, you won’t feel the heat melt the skin off your bones. But it will be satisfying to hear your blood-curdling scream.” His laugh echoed through the sub again.
“You’re a monster,” she said, eyeing Shiro, who had sweat rolling down his face. He was terrified.
“And just where are you, Bauman?” she asked.
“I’m in a jet over the Antarctic,” he said. “I’m rather excited about your death. I’ve been waiting a long time for this.”
“You’re a coward,” she said, “and an idiot. You put me, the enemy, the one who created Alfalfa, smack in the middle of the most critical stage of your plan. The detonation sub. How’s that for exemplification of stupidity?” She gripped a set of wires on a circuit board and said, “Eat this, moron.”
She ripped out the connection to the surface and angrily threw it across the sub. The mic went dead. She shoved the three boards into Shiro’s arms.
“Slide these back in,” she told him.
She rushed back to the main computer up front. Snaps and beeps told her the boards were in.
“One minute!” yelled Shiro. “If you’re going to do something, do it now!”
“I’m hurrying,” she said. “Let me concentrate.”
The lights flicked on. An alarm began to blare. Overhead, twirling red lights signaled the oncoming blast that would end their lives.
“Thirty seconds,” said Shiro, “and we’re toast. Rina—”
“Don’t talk,” she said, her fingers flying across the keyboard. “I can do this.”
Suddenly, the screen went black. All the data disappeared. Rina sat back and stared at the monitor. Her gut was in one big knot and her jaw was still hurting.
“Did you do it?” asked Shiro, his brow scrunched in worry.
“I used the sub’s programming to kill the Alfalfas but I’m not sure I stopped the detonation.”
“We’ll know in eight seconds,” he said. “You did all you could.”
Although his OCD was at times annoying, on very few occasions, Shiro was consoling and not panicked but now, unfortunately, his calmness wouldn’t help. She sighed and wondered if it were her last breath. Her heart began to pump hard and fast, pounding in her chest like a jackhammer. She started trembling and cupped her hands over her ears, squeezing her eyes shut. The rush of panic was strong and she wanted to scream, but she knew it would do no good.
Don’t let Bauman win, she thought. Don’t let Bauman win. She repeated the words over and over, trying to slow her breathing.
The memory of the F-5 tornado in Oklahoma was nothing compared to this, although she’d felt bad about Shiro getting forty-two stitches in his leg from a flying fence plank. There is no escape from this. The Mariana would be their grave. She watched Shiro as he silently stared out into the cold darkness. If she’d just listened to him and not hacked into the satellite, things would be different, but here they were, waiting for the flash of light. Waiting to die. Nothing could be worse.
A deep rumbling vibrated the small vessel. The ship began to sway and they grabbed onto wall straps for support.
“This is it!” shouted Shiro.