Oh hell, no.
The mini-sub. One of Ridley’s many additions to the cargo sub was a tiny mini-submersible—the type used for scientific and salvage work, with mechanical claws. The bottom of the massive Typhoon’s hull had been fitted with a tiny dock of its own, so the mini sub could be raised and lower from winches inside the cargo section, from its own pressurized compartment. If the pressure in the chamber was correct, the mini-sub hatch could even be opened while the Typhoon was submerged. When Duncan had first seen it, he had assumed Ridley had primarily wanted it installed as some kind of Bond villain escape route, but the more information Chess Team had gained on Manifold Genetics, Duncan had wondered whether Ridley had been looking for some kind of underwater mythological find. Another problem for yet another day. Now, Duncan realized that the opening to the mini-sub’s hatch had been left open the last time he was in here a few months ago.
Bastards are nesting in my new submarine!
A small explosion down on the concrete dock pulled Duncan’s attention away from the sub. One of the 40 mm grenades the Gen Y team had. Things were going to hell rapidly. He scanned the enormous subterranean room below him. The M202 FLASH was still on the floor in one of the few places where the fire had yet to reach, but it wouldn’t be long before that thing exploded too.
He spun around quickly and let loose with another burst of the flamethrower—a short burst this time, more to see than to roast anything. But no one was around, and the last of the salamanders from earlier was still cooking on the concrete floor. The stench reminded him that he hadn’t eaten in a long time. He glanced to the disabled train, wishing again for the electricity, and then remembered the man with the backpack and the egg. He scanned the room but saw no sign of the Gen Y man. He was about to head for the rail tunnel, but it would be a long 10-mile run back to Central. He turned back to the raging inferno in the submarine dock.
One problem at a time.
He headed over to the freight elevator and saw that it wasn’t functioning, but the doorway was open and the car was down on the dock level, but the car had no roof and the door on the dock level was open. From the flickering light of the flames outside the door of the freight car, Duncan could see that there was a series of metal rungs embedded into the wall on the side of the elevator shaft—a service ladder. He held the flamethrower’s wand with one hand and used the other to descend quickly, allowing his hand to jump from rung to rung rapidly. Twisted ankle or not, he had been a Ranger and balance wasn’t an issue for him. After all the craziness, he wasn’t about to die going down a simple ladder.
At the bottom, he made his way past a door to a bathroom that was on fire. He glanced inside and saw the room was wrecked and looked like it was coated in feces. Charming. He continued along the concrete floor, skirting fires and leaping a few of the smaller puddles of liquid flame, landing with his weight on his left ankle instead of his injured right. He knelt down and inspected the launcher tubes on the M202. Amazing. Only one of the tubes was damaged, and that was one of the three that had already fired. He didn’t know if the fourth tube would fire correctly, but he slung the weapon over his free shoulder anyway.
He ran around the dock to the sub, letting off the occasional burst from the flamethrower to entice a stray salamander to retreat just a bit faster. As he got to the far side of the massive craft, sweat was pouring from his forehead because of the heat of the flames. He saw about thirty of the yellow and black salamanders covered the side of the sub’s hull, slithering around and over each other, hissing and spitting their tongues out to taste the acrid air. Duncan tried to fire a burst of flame, but the wand of the weapon just sputtered. He was out of fuel. He flipped the strap from his left shoulder and let the weapon clatter and bang to the floor. None of the creatures came for him—they were all operating in defensive mode, protecting the nest.