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SV1 CONTROL STATION:
Carter paces back and forth behind Scott while staring at the image from the SV1 on one of the monitors. A short distance from the tip of the torpedo-shaped device, flashes of sunlight sparkle inside a twenty-four-foot diameter cloud of space debris. According to the data from the sensors mounted outside the main body of the SV1, they have gathered the optimal weight to material ratio for a safe retrieval and descent back to earth. Now comes the tricky part. Getting the metal and plastic to form into separate spheres.
Scott turns to look up at Paul. “Is everyone ready? Because this whole project will be a waste of time if this doesn’t work. Not to mention, we’ll all be unemployed.”
Carter turns around to look at the security personnel, who have gathered behind him, all just as anxious as he is. “Cross your fingers.” He turns back to Scott. “Go ahead.”
Carter crosses his arms and stares across at the monitor. The cloud of metal and plastic begins to shimmer, and the tiny flashes appear to be moving in a concentrically smaller circle. When it forms into a solid silver ball, he smiles and reaches down to put his hand on Scott’s shoulder. “It worked!”
Everyone around him claps and cheers. Scott smiles and presses a button to shut down the device, but his smile slips away as he stabs it several more times. “It’s not shutting down!”
Carter studies the digital information on the desk monitor. “That’s not our signal.”
“I know, it’s the same signal as before. It’s as if someone else is trying to take over control of the device. Someone is hacking the system. That’s the only explanation.” Scott starts hammering away code on the computer, trying to divert the possible hacker.
“Can you do anything to regain control of the device?” Carter asks.
“I’m trying every trick in the book, but nothing is working. What we need is the designer of this system? Maybe they can shed some light on how to stop this hacker. Is there any way to get that person here?”
Carter is tired of all the compartmentalized-for-security bullshit from Preston, but his previous inquiries about who built the torpedo has gotten him nowhere, so he gave up trying. “I’ll let Preston know what’s going on. That’s all I can do about it.”
***
THE NORDVULK RESEARCH SHIP VULCAN, 200 MILES NORTH OF ICELAND:
Terry Hardin steadies himself against the railing in rhythm with the slight movement of the deck, as he stares through his digital binoculars. With the bridge of the ship four meters higher than the strange flat face of the ice sheet, he can see three massive blocks of ice rising above the flat surface, as if something tried to punch a hole up through the thick ice.
As the sleek, twenty-two-meter long ship moves closer, he notices the large white blocks appear to be resting on something below the surface of the water. He turns to his first mate. “I wonder what could have come up with enough force to smash through that much hard ice.”
Tim Nichols looks at the image from the binoculars on the computer monitor. “I don’t know. According to our charts, the sea floor in this area should be ninety-one-meters deep, but our current reading is only eighteen. This must be the location of the seismic event.”
Hardin turns from the window and sets the binoculars on the ship’s control console. “Let’s send the rover down to see what’s going on.”
With help from the other three researchers on board, it only takes ten minutes to get the remote controlled submersible on its way to the bottom of the ocean. Hardin operates the controls while viewing the image from the rover’s camera on a large monitor in the control room, with Tim and two researchers standing behind him to watch, leaving one person to keep an eye on the cable feeding off the reel.
With the camera lens pointed down, the image filling the screen is mostly dark, with the white face of the frozen ocean sliding past the side of the rover before it drops below the ice sheet. The high intensity lights illuminate a massive seamount created by magma roiling up out of the North Atlantic Rift, eighteen meters below the pale blue ice.
Hardin levels the rover and slowly rotates in a circle to check the surrounding area. Adrenalin rushes through his veins when he sees the strange object protruding from the cooled magma. It is something he would never have imagined. A giant mirror appears to rise out of the ground before disappearing through the ice sheet. “It looks like it has a slight curve. I’ll follow it to see how far it goes.”
Fifteen minutes later, Hardin sees the control cable leading back toward the surface. He eases the rover’s camera lens close to the nearest numbered yellow band along its length.
Tim enters the number into the computer, and gasps when he sees the answer. “It has a diameter of two-hundred and twenty-four-meters. Whatever it is, it’s as big as an American baseball field. I have no idea how deep it is.”
“All right. Bring the rover back on board for me. Let’s fly one of our drones over the ice sheet to see what poked through the surface.” He looks at one of the researchers, who leaves the bridge and hurries down the stairs to the main deck.
Hardin steps out onto the lookout station, feeling the cool breeze flowing across the ice from the north. He looks over the railing when the researcher hollers up at him. The researcher is standing next to his friends and holding a one-meter quad copter. When a woman holds up the control pad, he leans out over the rail. “Let’s go see what happened.”
Hardin steps back into the bridge and stares at the image from the drone’s camera on the overhead monitor. It shows that the edge of the ice sheet is perfectly square for a hundred or so meters, as if sheared off by a giant chisel. As the drone gains altitude, they can see three triangle-shaped blocks of ice at a slight upward angle, with the points meeting in the center.
According to the readout from the drone, the extrusion is one-hundred-meters due north from the ship. As the drone moves around the thick blocks, small flashes of sunlight appear to reflect back up through the narrow gaps between the wedges of ice.
Hardin steps outside and tells them to bring the drone back to the ship, and Tim joins him. “I’ll call NordVulk and tell them what we’ve discovered. These recordings are going to blow their minds.”
Hardin goes back into the bridge and grabs the satellite phone. When he finishes the call, He walks outside for a last look at the three-meter wall of sea ice. He was hoping to get onto the ice sheet and go down inside the gaps in the blocks for a closer look, but Director Sliven ordered him to bring the recordings back to NordVulk immediately. “Take us home, Tim.”
Hardin remains outside, tucked behind a slender wall with a window. He does not intend to let NordVulk be the only group going to see these recordings. In three hours, he will be back in the harbor, and the second thing he is going to do is contact MUFON.
He grins at the irony. His friends in the Mutual UFO Network are looking to the skies, and he finds one right here on the very planet he lives on.
***
SV1 CONTROL STATION:
Scott enters one command after another, desperately trying to regain control, but nothing seems to work. He slams his fist on the counter. “Damn! What is going on? Why won’t it respond to anything?”
Carter leans over Scott’s shoulder. “Reboot the system.”
Scott spins around and stares at Carter with a look of shock. “Are you nuts? This isn’t your home computer, Paul. You can’t just turn it on and off when it locks up on you.” He waves his hand at the data on the desk monitor. “Even if we did, we are not in control anymore. I can’t even tell it to restart itself.” He rolls his chair closer to the screen. “That’s strange. It’s off. I don’t know what happened, but it shut down.”