Starfish Read Online Free Page B

rift's never stable," Clarke replies. Not much point in being here if it was.
    Ballard swims up through the fallout and pops an access plate on one of the generators. "Well, according to this there's no damage," she calls down, after looking inside. "Hang on, let me switch channels here—"
    Clarke touches one of the cylindrical sensors strapped to her waist, and stares into the fissure. I should be able to fit through there, she decides.
    And does.
    "We were lucky," Ballard is saying above her. "The other generators are okay too. Oh, wait a second; number two has a clogged cooling duct, but it's not serious. Backups can handle it until— get out of there! "
    Clarke looks up, one hand on the sensor she's planting. Ballard stares down at her through a chimney of fresh rock.
    "Are you crazy ?" Ballard shouts. "That's an active smoker!"
    Clarke looks down again, deeper into the shaft. It twists out of sight in the mineral haze. "We need temperature readings," she says, "from inside the mouth."
    "Get out of there! It could go off again and fry you!"
    I suppose it could at that , Clarke thinks. "It already blew," she calls back. "It'll take a while to build up a fresh head." She twists a knob on the sensor; tiny explosive bolts blast into the rock, anchoring the device.
    "Get out of there, now !"
    "Just a second." Clarke turns the sensor on and kicks up out of the seabed. Ballard grabs her arm as she emerges, starts to drag her away from the smoker.
    Clarke stiffens and pulls free. " Don't —" touch me! She catches herself. "I'm out, okay? You don't have to—"
    "Further." Ballard keeps swimming. "Over here."
    They're near the edge of the light now, the floodlit Throat on one side, blackness on the other. Ballard faces Clarke. "Are you out of your mind ? We could have gone back to Beebe for a drone! We could have planted it on remote!"
    Clarke doesn't answer. She sees something moving in the distance behind Ballard. "Watch your back," she says.
    Ballard turns, and sees the gulper sliding toward them. It undulates through the water like brown smoke, silent and endless; Clarke can't see the creature's tail, although several meters of serpentine flesh have come out of the darkness.
    Ballard goes for her knife. After a moment, Clarke does too.
    The gulper's jaw drops open like a great jagged scoop.
    Ballard begins to launch herself at the thing, knife upraised.
    Clarke puts her hand out. "Wait a minute. It's not coming at us."
    The front end of the gulper is about ten meters distant now. Its tail pulls free of the murk.
    "Are you crazy?" Ballard moves clear of Clarke's hand, still watching the monster.
    "Maybe it isn't hungry," Clarke says. She can see its eyes, two tiny unwinking spots glaring at them from the tip of the snout.
    "They're always hungry. Did you sleep through the briefings?"
    The gulper closes its mouth and passes. It extends around them now, in a great meandering arc. The head turns back to look at them. It opens its mouth.
    "Fuck this," Ballard says, and charges.
    Her first stroke opens a meter-long gash in the creature's side. The gulper stares at Ballard for a moment, as if astonished. Then, ponderously, it thrashes.
    Clarke watches without moving. Why can't she just let it go? Why does she always have to prove she's better than everything?
    Ballard strikes again; this time she slashes into a great tumorous swelling that has to be the stomach.
    She frees the things inside.
    They spill out through the wound; two huge giganturids and some misshapen creature Clarke doesn't recognize. One of the giganturids is still alive, and in a foul mood. It locks its teeth around the first thing it encounters.
    Ballard. From behind.
    " Lenie! " Ballard's knife hand is swinging in staccato arcs. The giganturid begins to come apart. Its jaws remain locked. The convulsing gulper crashes into Ballard and sends her spinning to the bottom.
    Finally, Clarke begins to move.
    The gulper collides with Ballard again. Clarke moves in low,