The Trench - Softcover

Alten, Steve

Softcover

ISBN 10: 0786018046 ISBN 13: 9780786018048

Verlag: Pinnacle, 2013

Inhaltsangabe

Its appetite is ravenous. Its teeth, scalpel-sharp. For the first time, the captive 20-ton Megalodon shark has tasted human blood, and it wants more . . .

On the other side of the world, in the silent depths of the ocean, lies the Mariana Trench, where the Megalodon has spawned since the dawn of time. Paleobiologist Jonas Taylor once dared to enter this perilous cavern. He alone faced a Megalodon shark and cut its heart out. Now, as the body count rises and the horror of a monster's attack grips the California coast, Jonas must begin the hunt again and face his deepest fears—all in order to save his job, his family, and himself.

Über diesen Titel

Über die Autorin bzw. den Autor

New York Times bestselling author Steve Alten is best known for his Meg series, a set of novels featuring a giant prehistoric shark. In addition to The Trench, the Megalodon series includes Meg: A Novel of Deep Terror, Meg: Primal Waters, Meg: Hell's Aquarium, and Meg: Origins. He lives with his family in Delray Beach, Florida. Visit him at stevealten.com.

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THE TRENCH

By Steve Alten

KENSINGTON PUBLISHING CORP.

Copyright © 1999 Steve Alten
All rights reserved.

ISBN: 978-0-7860-1804-8

Contents

......

Excerpt

CHAPTER 1

Deep Pressures

Mariana Trench12 degrees North Latitude144 degrees East Longitude

March 22, 2001

Retired Navy deep-sea pilot Barry Leace wipedthe sweat from his palms as he checked the depthindicator of the Proteus. Thirty-four thousand, sevenhundred and eighteen feet. Nearly seven miles ofwater above their heads, sixteen thousand pounds persquare inch of water pressure surrounding them.

Just stop thinking about it ...

Barry glanced around the tight quarters of thefour-man submersible. Racks of computer monitors,electronics, and a bewildering jungle of wires filledthe pressurized hull. The watertight coffin barely hadroom for its crew.

Below the navigation console, team leader EllisRichards and his assistant, Linda Heron, stared outthrough tiny portholes in the floor of the Proteus's bow.

"See those animals with the furry green pelt?"Linda asked. "Those are Pompeii worms, capable ofwithstanding temperature variations from twenty-twodegrees all the way to eighty-one degrees Celsius. Thehydrothermal vents supply sulfur for bacteria to liveoff, which in turn are digested by the tube worms—"

"Linda—"

"—which are a source of food to all sorts of bizarre-lookinglife-forms."

"Linda, enough with the goddamn biology lesson,"Ellis said.

"Sorry." Embarrassed, the petite geologist turnedback to the porthole, cupping her hands around hereyes to eliminate glare.

Smiling to himself, the sub's fourth crewman, KhaliHabash, looked down from his control console atLinda. The girl loved to talk, especially when she wasnervous, a quality the Arab never hesitated to exploit.

Khali's real name was Arie Levy, a Jew born andraised in Syria. It had been nearly ten years since theday Arie had been recruited by MOSSAD, Israel'scovert intelligence agency. Since that time he had leda double life, spending half his time in Israel withhis wife and three children, traveling around theArab world and Russia the rest of the time, posingas a plasma physicist. It had taken four hard years ofsacrifice for the agent to infiltrate Benedict Singer'sorganization, but here he was, seven miles beneaththe Pacific, about to learn secrets that could changehumanity forever.

Arie checked the external temperature gauge.

"Hey, Linda, can you believe the water's seventy-eightdegrees?"

The girl perked up again. "Incredible, isn't it? Wecall it hydrothermal megaplumes. The hot mineralwater pumping out of these black smokers is sevenhundred degrees. As it rises, it warms the freezing seawatercolumn until it reaches neutral buoyancy at abouttwelve hundred feet above the floor of the Trench.Ocean currents then spread the plume laterally. Thefloating layer of soot from the minerals creates a ceilingthat acts like insulation, sealing a tropical layer ofwater along the bottom of the gorge."

"The layer never cools?"

"Never. These hydrothermal vents are 'chronic'plumes. They've been active since the Cretaceousperiod."

Ellis Richards checked his watch again. As theproject's team leader, he was perpetually worriedabout falling behind schedule. "Christ, three hoursand it seems like we've barely made any headway.Linda, is it just me, or does it seem like this pilot hasno idea what he's doing?"

Barry Leace ignored the insult. He checked hissonar and cursed under his breath. They had movedtoo far ahead of the Benthos, Geo-Tech Industries'(GTI) mobile deep-sea lab community and submarinedocking station. The billion-dollar mother ship resembleda domed sports arena, with a false flat surface foran underbelly, dangling three mammoth shock absorbersfor legs. Hovering just above the turbulentseafloor in neutral buoyancy, the 46,000-square-foottitanium structure reminded Leace of a monstrousman-o'-war as it followed them north through themost hostile environment on the planet.

Barry Leace had served on three different submarinesduring his tenure in the Navy. He had long ago becomeaccustomed to living in claustrophobic quartersbeneath the waves. Not everyone could make it as asubmariner. One had to be in tip-top mental and psychologicalshape, able to perform while knowing thatdrowning in darkness within a steel ship hundreds offathoms below the surface was just an accident away.

Barry had that fortitude, that mental toughness,proving it time and again during his twenty-six yearsof service. That's why he was so surprised at howeasily his psyche was unraveling within the MarianaTrench. Confidence that had been nurtured throughthousands of hours of submarine duty had suddenlydissipated the moment the Proteus cleared its abyssaldocking bay aboard the Benthos.

Truth be known, it wasn't the depths that unnervedhim. Four years earlier, through man's intervention,Carcharodon megalodon, a prehistoric sixty-foot speciesof Great White shark, had risen from this very trenchto wreak havoc. Although the albino nightmare hadeventually been destroyed, and its surviving offspringcaptured, at least a dozen people had died within itsseven-foot jaws. Where there was one creature, theremight be more. Despite all of Geo-Tech's precautionsand technical innovations, the submersible pilot was stilla bundle of nerves.

Barry pulled back on the throttle controls, slowingthe main propulsion engine. He had no desire to gettoo far ahead of their abyssal escort.

"What is it now, Captain?" Ellis asked. "Why arewe slowing?"

"Temperature's rising again. We must be approachinganother series of hydrothermal vents. The last thing Iwant is to collide with one of those black smokers."

The team leader squeezed his eyes shut in frustration."Goddamn it—"

Barry pressed his face against the porthole, eludingEllis's tirade.

The submersible's lights illuminated a petrifiedforest of sulfur and mineral deposits, the toweringstacks rising thirty feet or more from the bottom. Darkbillowing clouds of superheated, mineral-rich watergushed from the mouths of the bizarre chimneys.

Arie watched Ellis Richards move menacinglytoward the pilot's navigational console. "Captain, let'sget something straight. I'm in charge of this mission,not you. My orders are for us to cover no less thantwenty miles a day, something we'll never come closeto at this snail's pace."

"Better safe than sorry, Mr. Richards. I don't wantto get too far ahead of the Benthos, at least not until Iget a feel for this sub."

"A feel for ... I thought you were an experiencedpilot?"

"I am," Barry said. "That's why I'm slowing down."

Linda looked up from her porthole. "Exactly howfar ahead of the Benthos are we, Captain?"

"Just over six kilometers."

"Six kilometers, that's all? Benedict Singer's goingto flip." Ellis Richards looked like he was about tohave an aneurysm. "Look, Captain, the Prometheusand Epimetheus are expected to arrive topside earlynext week. Neither submersible can even begin itswork until we complete ours."

"I know that."

"You should. GTI's paying you a king's ransom topilot the Proteus. We can't keep waiting for the Benthosto play catch-up every time we go out. We'll addanother thirty days or more to our timetable, which iscompletely unacceptable."

"So is dying, Mr. Richards. My job is to keep usalive in this hellhole, not take chances so you can earnyour bonus...

Details zur Ausgabe

• Verlag: Pinnacle
• Erscheinungsdatum: 2013
• Sprache: Englisch
• ISBN 10: 0786018046
• ISBN 13: 9780786018048
• Einband: Taschenbuch
• Anzahl der Seiten: 496
• Kontakt zum Hersteller: Nicht verfügbar
• Verantwortliche Person: Nicht verfügbar