Ice Station - Matthew Reilly [76]
The only other Marine alive at the station was Mother. And the mere prospect that she could have killed Samurai was absurd.
Schofield’s head was spinning. All he knew for sure was that Samurai Lau was dead and that someone among them had killed him. The problem was, they all could have done it.
Montana, Gant and Santa Cruz were ready to dive.
Strapped to their backs were Navy-made, low-audibility air tanks, or as they are more colloquially known in the Marine Corps, ‘stealth tanks’.
Water is a great conductor of sound, and regular scuba tanks make a lot of noise as they pump compressed air through their hoses to a diver’s mouthpiece. Any commercial underwater microphone will detect a diver by the loud hisssssing noise that his breathing gear makes.
With this in mind, the US Navy has spent millions of dollars developing a silent self-contained underwater breathing apparatus. The result is a scuba system known as LABA – low-audibility breathing apparatus. Scuba tanks that are all but noiseless underwater. LABA tanks are undetectable to conventional audio detection systems, hence the comparison with stealth aircraft.
Schofield watched the three Marines as they reached for their face masks and prepared to jump into the murky pool. Then he turned and scanned the pool, empty save for the diving bell that hovered out in the centre. The pod of killer whales had left the area about forty minutes ago and hadn’t been seen since. As he gazed at the pool, however, he felt someone tap him on the shoulder. Schofield turned.
And saw Sarah Hensleigh standing in front of him. Dressed in a figure-hugging blue and black thermal-electric wetsuit. Schofield was momentarily taken aback. For the first time that day, he noticed just how shapely Sarah Hensleigh was – the woman had a great body.
Schofield raised his eyebrows.
‘This is what I wanted to ask you about before,’ Sarah said. ‘When we were outside. But I never got a chance. I want to go down with them.’
‘I can see that,’ Schofield said.
‘This station lost nine people down in that cave. I’d like to know why.’
Schofield looked from Hensleigh to the three Marine divers on his left. He frowned, doubtful.
‘I can help,’ Sarah said quickly. ‘With the cave, for example.’
‘How?’
‘Ben Austin – one of the divers who went down there at the very start – said it was an underground cavern of some sort, right,’ Sarah said. ‘He said it had sheer ice walls and that it stretched off for several hundred feet.’ Sarah stared at Schofield. ‘My guess is that if the walls in that cave are sheer, then it’s a good bet that the cave was formed by some kind of seismic event in the past, some kind of earthquake or undersea volcanic eruption. Sheer walls are created by sudden upthrusts of rock, not slow, gradual movement.’
‘I’m sure my men will be safe from sudden upthrusts of rock, Dr Hensleigh.’
‘All right then. I can tell you what’s down there,’ Sarah said.
That got Schofield’s attention. He turned to the three divers standing by the edge of the pool. ‘Montana, Gant, Cruz. Just hold on a minute will you.’ Schofield turned back to face Sarah Hensleigh, his eyes serious. ‘All right, Dr Hensleigh, tell me what’s down there?’
‘All right,’ Sarah said, as she collected her thoughts. She’d obviously thought about this a lot, but now Schofield had put her on the spot.
‘Theory One,’ she said. ‘It’s alien. It’s a spacecraft from another planet, from another civilisation. Now, that’s not really my field – it’s not really anyone’s field. But if that thing is alien then I’d give my right arm to see it.’
‘Mother already gave her left leg. What else?’
‘Theory Two,’ Sarah said, ‘it’s not alien.’
‘It’s not alien?’ Schofield raised an eyebrow.
‘That’s right,’ Sarah said. ‘It’s not alien. Now this theory, this theory really is my field. This is pure palaeontology. It’s not a new theory by any means,