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Thanks, as always, to campy for proofreading this chapter.
KP © Disney; original characters © the author.
I.
The command center shuddered violently. Ron, Stark, and King all lost their footing and were thrown to the deck.
"Dude, did you touch anything?" Ron asked Stark as he struggled back to his feet.
"No," a visibly annoyed Stark snapped.
"I wonder what's happening?" King asked as the deck plates vibrated gently and he sensed upwards movement.
"Don't know, but with KP on the case, we're Chauncey," Ron said confidently.
"Meaning?"
"We should do what she asked us to do: find the off switch for this thing."
"Off switch?" Stark said in disbelief. "Where do you come up with this stuff?"
Flashing a look of knowing disdain that would have impressed Bonnie Rockwaller, Ron simply replied, "You wouldn't understand. It's an outer space save the world thing."
II.
Spruance and Nimitz powered up their sleds and quickly backed away from the lair as it began to move, not wanting to be caught up in any cavitation wells. Once the two SLUGs had retreated to what they hoped was a safe distance, Spruance keyed in a message for the captain: Object is rising to the surface. Awaiting orders.
III.
Kim had not only begun to lose sensation in her toes, she found herself growing lightheaded and sleepy and concluded that part of the cryogenic process involved induced hibernation. I so don't need this, Cousin, she thought with annoyance as she yawned.
She knew she had to work quickly if she was going to escape her prison and not take a nap for the next five decades. While part of her wanted to keep hitting the sides of the tube, both to vent her anger and to keep her circulation going, Kim accepted that she had to concentrate on her surroundings and so stopped her banging. Her teeth chattering, her body shivering, she forced herself to survey the interior from top to bottom. It didn't take long to confirm that there were no interior controls, no handles, and no bars. In short, there was no question: she was trapped. For a moment, she was gripped by an unaccustomed despair, something she'd last felt in the storeroom at Bueno Nacho headquarters more than a year earlier. Making matters worse, this time, Ron wasn't present to boost her spirits.
It's so not supposed to end this way, she mused. I'm supposed to beat the bad guy, Ron and I are supposed to find a way to go to college together, build a life, share a future …
She imagined an older version of herself in bed with Ron on a weekend morning, children rushing into the room, laughing, screaming, giggling …
Now middle-aged, she saw herself at a wedding. The bride was blonde, had green eyes, her face, Ron's smile. He, too, had matured, and stood by the girl's side, happy – until his trousers fell down …
Younger again, and triumphant, she took in the breathtaking vista from atop K-2 after completing her solo climb, anticipating a celebration with Ron after her descent …
She was alone with Ron, on a beach, holding each other close, kissing hungrily, hands exploring, going where they'd not gone before …
Head in the game, Possible, she chided herself as she realized she was drifting. If any of those reveries were going to come to pass, she knew she had to escape, and fast. Ron's right. I can do anything, she told herself. Which means I can get out of here. I just need to focus.
She looked downward and carefully studied the floor. At its center was the grate through which the cryogenic sleeping gas seeped. As cold, frustrated, tired, and numb as she was, she couldn't help but smirk. If Ron were here, he'd probably wish we had a shrink ray thingie so we could squeeze through and into the ventilation shaft. She stared blankly at the metal grille and, realizing she was drifting again, shook her head. She was about to look up and away when her gaze settled on a screw, and then on three others, with each in a corner. It's screwed into the floor! If I can remove the screws I can … do what? Kim grimaced: the opening into the shaft was far too small for her to climb down and she most definitely did not have a shrink ray. Even if she did, she'd only be heading into the gas. As she once again considered her seemingly hopeless predicament, her fury mounted and she found herself wanting to throw and break something – which soon gave her an idea.
Kim looked at her suit and focused on the zipper tag at her throat. Her hands trembling from the cold, she grabbed the tag and twisted. A moment later, the small metal rectangle came loose. "Sp-spankin'," she said to herself, pointedly ignoring the vapor cloud that formed as she spoke. She then took a deep breath and knelt down. It was hard to see at the bottom of the tube thanks to the mist and she had to feel her away about. Soon, though, she found one of the screws. Her hand shaking, she brought the tag down to the screw and carefully slipped the tag's edge into its slot. She began to twist her hand counterclockwise and, much to her relief, the screw began to rotate. Seconds later, it was free.
IV.
"Okay, Vlad, I'll tell my people," Lott said, his back to Syms and Director. The president hung up the phone, swung his chair around, and looked at the chairman of the Joint Chiefs of Staff and the leader of Global Justice. He looked annoyed. "Kratkost says we'd be doing him a favor if we blew the thing up."
"I'll relay an order to the Enterprise, stat," Syms said eagerly.
"Hold your horses, Curly," Lott said, using the nickname he'd given the bald general the first time they'd met.
"Sir?"
"If Ivan is so eager to have me take out his trash, I want to know why," Lott said, earning an approving nod from Betty Director.
"But the threat to the carrier strike group …" Syms protested. "We may be looking at a scenario Five Tango Beta Dash Six."
"Invasion by Mutated Giant Killer Manatees?" Director asked incredulously.
"No, that's Five Tango Gamma Slash Four. Five Tango Beta Dash Six is a sneak attack at sea using seemingly outmoded technology."
"How can it be a sneak attack if we've already engaged the weapon?" Director retorted.
Lott rubbed his temples, and spoke before Syms could answer. "Bets, you think the cheerleader is so good, find a way to talk to her, figure out what's going on."
"Then?" she inquired.
"Sir, permission to at least authorize the Enterprise carrier group to take defensive measures," Syms importuned.
Lott considered his general's request for a moment. "Tell them that if the blintz looks like it's actually going to attack, they should deal with it."
"Deal with it? How?"
"With what I believe Bets' colleagues in the spook community would call 'extreme prejudice'."
V.
Ron, Stark, and King realized that other than the button Stark had inadvertently pushed during their previous visit to the control room, they didn't know the function of any of the buttons, switches, or levers that surrounded them, and, given that the craft now appeared to be in motion, randomly pressing buttons might not be the best course of action, as tempting as that was.
"I wonder if there's an owner's manual somewhere?" Ron asked.
"I'm sure it's right in the glove box," Stark sneered.
"You figured out where that was?" Ron asked. "Coolio."
Stark growled. "You really can't be this stupid."
"Hey, you don't need to get personal," Ron snapped.
Stark was about to reply when King declared, "Hot darn!"
Stark and Ron turned to the SLUG and saw he was grinning triumphantly. In his hand was a manual, with Latin letters on the cover.
"Ah booyah!" Ron said. "English rocks."
"Actually, it's not English," King said. "It's German …"
Ron's face fell. "Booyah denied."
"… And fortunately, mein Herr, I'm fluent."
"Booyah restored!" Ron said as he exchanged a high five with King.
VI.
Cochrane stood alone on the flying bridge, watching the ocean, as he patiently waited for the object to break the surface. He scanned the surrounding area, spotting the missile cruisers, destroyers, and tenders that comprised his strike group. He'd ordered the ships of his armada to stand off, wanting to give the submersible a wide berth when it breached. He then looked skywards, where a squadron of jets patrolled the leaden grey skies. Finally, he cast his gaze upon the waves, knowing that somewhere beneath his fleet the Colorado silently patrolled the depths.
The captain was grateful for the discretion that had been given to him by the Pentagon. He was fully prepared to destroy the Soviet weapon, but would wait for now, hoping that once it surfaced, he might be able to contact Stark or one of his party and gather more information before issuing any orders. Still, he was uneasy. For while he was determined to give his people an opportunity to return to the Enterprise, he could let nothing endanger his ships.
VII.
Kim had undone three screws and was working on the fourth when she dropped the zipper tag. Her entire body was trembling from the cold and she felt her extremities going numb. The desire to give up was growing stronger, but she forced herself to concentrate. She carefully felt around for the makeshift screwdriver, and was greatly relieved when her fingers brushed across it. With difficulty, grasped the tag and then brought it to the fourth screw.
She carefully, slowly rotated the tag, but nothing happened. She turned again, and, much to her frustration, nothing happened again. She twisted her tool a third time, and this time the screw gave way; a small smile formed on her all-but-frozen face.
A few moments later, she had removed the screws and removed the grate from the floor. Unsteadily, she rose to her feet, struggling to remain awake. She was almost erect when she dropped the grate. She'd now lost all feeling in her hands and was having trouble closing her fingers. She bent down and retrieved the metal rectangle, fighting off the urge to curl up and go to sleep. She forced herself to stand up, then rammed the object against the glass, which cracked, but, much to her disappointment, did not shatter. Now sensing she was about to succumb to the gas, Kim summoned her ebbing strength and slammed the grate against the glass. She watched with growing satisfaction as the single crack turned into a spider web of fractures. Determined to break free, she took one more swing, this time breaking the walls of her prison. She tumbled forward and through the broken glass, tripping over the edge of the cryogenic unit before she collapsed to the deck.
To Be Continued …