Colony by Benjamin Cross (ready player one ebook .TXT) 📗

the hell was it doing? Panic and exhaustion turned suddenly to rage in Callum’s chest. “Come on!” he shouted. “I’m right here!”

Then, still writhing, the creature began to rise up out of the water as if levitating. Water dripped from its feathers, which changed colour suddenly, shimmering from the grey-blue of the water to a brilliant white. The sea around it seethed with bubbles and a large shadow began emerging out of the depths.

“For God’s sake, w-what now?”

The creature continued its incredible ascent until its entire torso was suspended above the surface of the water. Below it, a huge, dark fin broke through the water’s skin, followed by a pointed nose.

Clamped around the base of the creature’s neck was a tripartite metal pincer, each of the three fingers speared firmly into its skin. Another identical metal pincer gleamed around the base of its tail. Both were attached to mechanical arms, which trailed off into the now-unmistakable shadow of the Sea Centaur.

Callum let out a massive sigh of relief as an equally unmistakable voice boomed out from the loudspeaker: “You sure know how to pick your company, McJones!”

Chapter 8 Atomic Particle Explosion

1

“Your symptoms are mild, you lucky son of a bitch,” Peterson said, resealing the Centaur’s hatch. “And your foot wound’s nothing but a scratch.” He gestured towards Darya. “She’s a different story.”

She was on her back, head propped up against the wall, fighting to remain conscious. Callum knelt beside her. Her skin was freezing and her lips were blue. “She w-won’t stop shivering.”

“That’s good,” Peterson replied. “That tells us she’s only moderately hypothermic. If she was still… well, then she’d be in a world of shit.”

Callum took her hands, attempting to warm them. But his own were just as cold. “Darya?”

“I’m o-okay,” she answered; her voice was low and breathy. “W-what about you? I-I… thought… that thing…”

“I’m fine,” he said, stroking her cheek. “But I won’t be going swimming again any time soon.”

“Help her get her clothes off,” Peterson ordered, “yours too. And don’t worry, Docs plural, it’s nothing I haven’t seen before. Come on now, every second counts.”

Working as fast as he could with numb fingers, Callum unzipped her thermal jacket and pulled it from her shoulders. Then he removed her underlying fleece, thermal top and undershirt, followed by her boots, trousers, long johns and several pairs of saturated woollen socks. The previous night, they had laughed at the drawn-out process of removing each other’s clothes. “Does this count as foreplay in the Arctic?” he had asked. She had laughed and moved on top to straddle him. “Not a chance!”

Now she was silent, and as her pale skin emerged before his eyes once more, the atmosphere couldn’t have been more different. “Are you sure this isn’t going to make her c-colder?”

“Nope,” Peterson replied. “Those wet things are preventing heat getting to her skin. Yours too, so quit stalling and strut your stuff.”

As Callum stripped himself down, Peterson turned the heating system to max, and a burst of super-heated air flooded the cabin. “I hope you appreciate the sacrifice I’m making here. Any minute now and I’ll be sweating like a whore in church.” He pushed to the back of the craft and began rooting around in an overhead compartment. “And keep her talking, McJones. Don’t you let her sleep now.”

Before he could open his mouth, something patted against Callum’s head and tumbled to the floor.

“Thermal blankets,” Peterson said. “One for each of you. Make sure you wrap ’em round good and tight.”

Callum removed the silver blankets from their packets, tucked the first one around Darya and pulled the other around himself. He watched as Peterson now wrestled a bright orange machine with an attached respirator from the back of the compartment. He placed it down beside Darya’s head, sloshed some drinking water into one of the inlets and turned it on.

“Here, place this over her mouth and nose.”

Callum took the face mask and did as Peterson instructed.

“It’s an IRS, an Inhalation Rewarming System,” Peterson said, cranking up one of the dials. “A souped-up humidifier. Hypothermia kills because it decreases the core body temperature. The fastest way to treat it is to reheat the core and not just the outside of the body. Like most things, it’s plain old common sense.”

Callum held Darya’s hand underneath the blanket and watched as the machine ticked away, the transparent plastic mask filling with vapour. Peterson scrutinised the various dials and then sat down next to him.

“Why doesn’t she stop shivering?”

“She will,” Peterson replied. “Trust me.”

After what felt like a lifetime, Darya’s hands fell still. The deep blue left her lips and the first traces of pink flushed back into her cheeks. Ten minutes later and they had eased her up into a sitting position.

“How are you feeling?” Callum asked.

She squeezed his hand. “Like I am no longer an ice cube.”

“We should get you back to the Albanov as quickly as possible so you can get checked out.”

“No,” she protested, pulling the mask from around her mouth. “I will be fine. I just need drink of water.”

Peterson grabbed the bottle of drinking water and handed it to her. “Easy does it, princess. Small sips.”

She raised the bottle to her lips and took two enormous gulps.

“Or I guess you could down the whole thing, sure.”

Callum eased the bottle from her fingers. “I really think you should get checked out.”

“No! I need to get my camera.”

“Your camera?”

“Yes, it is the only evidence for those animals.” She looked to Peterson. “Will you please help me to find the camera? It fell from my bag, but the water is not deep here and it will be near to where the boat is sinking.”

“If it’s the animals you’re interested in then I can do better than that,” Peterson replied with a grin. He pointed out through the curve of the front screen.

Darya climbed to her feet. Confusion turned to wonder on her face as her gaze skipped up over the console and through the window. Callum rushed to support