Free Subterrestrial by Michael McBride Page B

Mr. Nabahe. The Halversen Company has invested an ungodly amount of capital into building a tunnel connecting North America and Asia. From a business perspective, its motives aren’t entirely altruistic, I grant you, but neither are they heartless. It anticipates making billions of dollars annually not merely by utilizing its rail system to decrease the cost of shipping consumer goods; it intends to corner the global energy market by owning the pipelines that bring US oil to Russia and China, and Russian natural gas to North America. With so much at stake, it would be easy enough to just let the chips fall where they may, but corporate leadership sees this as an opportunity to make a positive impact on science and publicly affirm its commitment to the environment.”
    “So this is all about PR? They’re worried the international media’s going to eat them alive.”
    “Even if it were, does that change anything? Regardless of the motivation, is not the end result still the same?”
    “What do you intend to do with them if we find them?” Hart asked.
    “Relocate them. We’ve already begun preliminary negotiations involving the long-term lease of land we believe would be suitable as a substitute habitat.”
    “Wouldn’t it be simpler to leave this place like you found it and just build a bridge?” Payton asked. “Turn this into a preserve.”
    “There are logistical concerns that make overland travel infeasible.”
    “Namely the logistics of leasing foreign land for a private enterprise,” Nabahe said.
    “I was thinking more of the geography and the weather, but you’re right, there are certain financial considerations that are impossible to ignore.”
    “What assurances can you provide that none of these animals will be harmed in any way?” Hart asked.
    “Any that you require. The company’s legal staff has been authorized to draft any agreement that meets your specifications, not limited to creating a conservancy to ensure the humane and ethical relocation and reestablishment of this species in a location of your choice.”
    Hart looked from Thyssen to Payton to Nabahe, who stared blankly off into space as though lost in contemplation.
    “When do we start?”
    “I’ve taken the liberty of having supplies prepared for you. I hope you don’t mind.”
    “You mean right now?”

V
    Peak #13
    Bering Sea
    4.6 Miles Northwest of Wales, Alaska
    65°13′ N, 168°47′ W
    They called it Great White Island not because of the height of its central peak or the fact that it was covered with snow and ice, but rather because from a distance it looked like the dorsal fin of its namesake shark breaking the rough black waves. Martin didn’t believe in romanticizing such things. The way he saw it, this was just another in a string of ugly stone protrusions in the middle of these desolate ice fields. From the sea to the sky, everything was either black, white, or gray. He understood why most towns up here were dry; it wouldn’t take much diminishment of a guy’s inhibitions to give in to the urge to wrap his lips around the barrel of a shotgun.
    He shielded his eyes from the blowing snow and stared to the south, where the horizon was smudged with black smoke rising from the Kookooligit volcanic fields on St. Lawrence Island. So far, the seismic activity along the northern perimeter of the Pacific Ring of Fire had been fairly minimal and had yet to result in any major eruptions, but that didn’t mean half of the scientific community wasn’t floating around the Aleutian Islands waiting for something to happen, while the Red Cross and other humanitarian aid agencies readied themselves for another disaster on the scale of Fukushima.
    The eastern rim was stable, at least for the time being. Let the media swarm and forecast a fiery Armageddon. It kept them away from the real story: the thirty-one subterranean passages from which seawater with a specific gravity similar to that of the Bering Sea spontaneously gushed forth.