by J. E. Gurley
He had held the helicopters in reserve instead of using them in the search for survivors for just this purpose. Deploying several AN/SSQ-101 Sonobuoys would expand their acoustic receiving footprint and allow them to change RF frequencies to sweep for quiet targets, like the stealthy Kaiju. At the same time, it would make locating his ship more difficult, if the Kaiju employed any type of sonic detection. Ten minutes later, the two Seahawks were aloft and fanning out on either side of the Hatcher. At one and two mile intervals, they deployed the buoys. He joined Druze at the sonar station and watched the scope. After another hour of nothing, he was beginning to think they had missed the Kaiju altogether.
“I’ve got it!” the sonar operator yelled. “7,000 yards off our port beam.” He looked up at Wilkins with a stunned expression. “It’s at a depth of two-hundred feet, just sitting there.”
So much for engaging it, he thought. “We can’t touch it at that depth. Recall the Seahawks. The F-35’s should arrive shortly. If they’re armed with Stingray or Mark 24 Tigerfish torpedoes …” He paused. The airdropped anti-submarine torpedoes could reach depths of twenty-four-hundred feet, but they would only tickle the Kaiju. “We’ll watch and wait,” he finished.
They sat atop the Kaiju for the hour Australian Command requested. The F-35’s showed up, but carried only conventional bombs and missiles, no anti-submarine weapons. With no target to attack, they circled the area until they ran low on fuel, and then returned to their carrier. Frustrated, Wilkins stepped outside on the deck for a breath of fresh air and a cigarette break. He leaned on the railing and stared out at the ocean. The waters looked calm and serene but two-hundred feet below, a storm was brewing. He could feel it in his bones. He was from New Orleans, brought up on gumbo, jazz, and voodoo. He didn’t believe in voodoo, but he did believe in premonitions. The Kaiju had not stopped for a sightseeing tour or for a quick nap. It was there for a reason.
I wish I had some damned depth charges, he thought.
He almost missed the flash as an object pierced the cloud cover and struck the ocean three miles away. For a moment, he thought it might be a nuclear missile intended for the Kaiju, but no detonation followed.
“Just a shooting star,” he said, but part of him did not believe in such coincidences. He finished his cigarette, tossed the butt in the ocean, and went back to resume his sonar vigil.
18
Wednesday, Dec. 20, 0120 hours USS Mississippi, NNE of Efate, Vanuatu –
Talent remained confined to the brig for fifty-eight hours, during which time he re-evaluated his opinion of submarine brigs. They were indeed worse than jail. He lost all sense of time and at times, thought he was losing his grip on reality. They had taken his watch, his cell phone, and of course his kukri. They had allowed him his boots and hat, but not his bola tie. Afraid I’ll hang myself, he thought bitterly. He was more likely to commit homicide than suicide. He was willing to do almost anything, accede to any demand placed upon him, to escape his dreary confinement and the boredom of his prisoner’s routine.
He passed the time dozing or staring at the blank bulkheads. If he could have focused his anger, he could have burned a hole through the two-inch-thick steel plating confining him. The guard brought him food three times a day and left two bottles of water with each meal, but refused to speak to him. The food was good, much better than the slop they served in the Maricopa jail, but his appetite had left him.
He could not even use his meals to mark time. The guards delivered food at irregular intervals, whether by design or tied to shift changes, he could not say. Knowing the guards worked six-hour duty shifts, he created a crude mental calendar based on different guards, but he never knew if a guard had just come on duty or if his shift was almost over.
On estimated Day 2 of his incarceration, he considered going on a hunger strike, but decided no one would care. He ate to keep up his strength, but mostly just to have something to do with his hands. The morning of Day 3 dawned with him awake and pacing his cell. Twice a day, again at irregular intervals, they escorted him to the head and then directly back to his cell. He saw no one along the way. He decided they were deliberately clearing the corridors to keep him away from the crew. He could learn nothing about the Kaiju, but by the sounds of increased activity that filtered in through the air ducts, he suspected they were getting closer to it.
He welcomed the commander’s summoning as a break in the boring routine. If nothing else, he hoped to learn something about the Kaiju before they shoved him back in his cell. He tried to look confident as he entered the commander’s office, but the stern expression the sub’s captain wore did not bode well for his future. He was not surprised to find Walker there as well. Walker flashed him a quick smile that vanished when the commander cleared his throat.
“You’ve presented me with quite a dilemma, Mister Talent,” Commander Murdock began. “By the time we discovered you aboard ship, I couldn’t spare the time to chase after the freighter to send you on your way.” He glanced at Walker and then back at him. “I toyed with the idea of setting you adrift in a rubber raft and let you become someone else’s headache.”
Talent smiled. “I’m pleased you reconsidered.”
The commander leaned across his desk and scowled. “It’s not too late, Talent. Don’t tempt me. It’s only seventy-five clicks to the nearest island. You could make it before you ran out of food and water if you rowed real hard.” He turned to Walker. “If I even suspect that you had anything to do with this, Major, I’ll place you in the brig with Talent.”
Talent spoke up before Walker could reply. “It was my idea, Commander, not Major Walker’s. He informed me that you refused to allow me to join his team. I decided to take matters into my own hands.”
“You’re an obstinate bastard, Talent. I’ll grant you that. Are you a fool as well?”
Talent nodded his head at Walker. “According to the major, I must be if I want to go with him.”
Murdock averted his gaze and shuffled some papers on his desk, stacking them into a neat pile, as he said, “Well, that’s not likely to happen. Walker’s team is disembarking in one hour from the amidships deployment airlock.” He laid the stack of papers in front of him, picked up a pen, and began signing them. Talent wasn’t sure if the commander was through with him or not. He waited. He leaned forward to get a peek at the digital clock on the commander’s desk, surprised to see it was almost 1:30 a.m., and that it was Wednesday. His mental clock had been off by almost six hours.
Murdock looked up at him and pointed the pen at him as if it were a weapon. “I’ll allow you access to non-restricted areas until I can get you off my ship, but if you abuse your privileges or give me another minute’s grief, I’ll clap you in irons and feed you bread and water until your intestines explode. Do I make myself clear, Mister Talent?”
“Yes, sir.”
“Okay then. You may leave. I suggest you recall your recent confinement before you make any decisions you might later regret. Walker, you will remain here. I have a few choice words for you.”
Talent left the room, unsure of his exact status. Was he free or still a prisoner with a larger space to wander? It was true he wasn’t going anywhere for the time being, but he was still stuck on the sub, and he was no closer to the Kaiju than he was before.
* * * *
After Talent left, Commander Murdock leaned back in his chair and smiled. “Do you think he’ll bite?”
“If I know Talent, he’ll be waiting for us at the deployment hatch.”
“I hope you don’t regret your decision. If anything happens, if this mission goes sour, the big boys back at USPACOM will stomp on you with both feet. I’ll get a reprimand, a black mark on my record, but you’ll bear the brunt of it.”
Walker had considered that. If the mission succeeded and survived, he would have two dead Kaiju under his belt. Public opinion would shield him from anything too severe. If it failed or if he died, it did not matter anyway. They could say what they wanted about hi
s cold corpse.
“Talent claims he’s lucky. Maybe he is. We could use some luck. I just know that my gut tells me to bring him along. I have a feeling he’s going to contribute something to the mission that might make a difference between winning and losing. If I’m wrong ….” He shrugged.
“Well, the Kaiju hit Efate and moved on, but stopped in the middle of the Coral Sea. That’s one bit of luck.”
“Yes, but why?” Walker didn’t like sudden changes in Kaiju behavior. They were agents of destruction. If it was just floating around, there was a reason.
Before Murdock could answer, the telephone on his desk rang. He picked up the receiver and answered. He stared at Walker as he listened and nodded his head. “You have a call from a Doctor Wingate Rutherford from NASA. Know him?”
“Gate? Yes. How the hell …? What does he want?”
“I’ll put it on the speaker.”
“Aiden, or should I say Major Walker?”
He recognized Gate’s deep voice, but Rutherford sounded on edge. “Gate. How did you track me down?”
A soft chuckle came over the speaker. “It wasn’t easy. Director Caruthers pulled a few strings, made a few calls. I’m afraid I have some rather disturbing news.”
Walker sighed. It would take something extraordinary for Gate to make it through the layers of military protocol to reach him. Few people were even aware of his mission. “I’m sitting down.”
“NASA picked up an object headed for your Military Grid Reference Coordinate 58LFL0844662651. It struck the ocean at 21028’South and 166033’East on Tuesday the 18th just after 2300 hours local time. I apologize for the delay, but stripping away the damned layers of red tape took time. Sorry I can’t provide more exact coordinates, but I had to extrapolate the trajectory from very few fixes. We had to use a military satellite. They were not happy about that.”
Walker cursed under his breath. “Another Kaiju?”
“No, it’s too small for that. It’s less than twenty meters in diameter.”
Walker got the same feeling he had when he knew someone had him in their crosshairs. “That’s smaller than the communications node. What’s your opinion?”
Rutherford paused so long he thought they had lost the connection. Then he said, “I shouldn’t speculate.”
Walker knew Rutherford too well to accept that as his answer. He wouldn’t have called if he didn’t suspect something ominous. “Go on, spill it.”
“Well, my sources told me that the Kaiju broke off its attack on Vanuatu and headed south; then, stopped moving.”
Walker looked at the commander for permission to confirm. He nodded. “That’s right. It stopped between Vanuatu and New Caledonia.”
“Hmm. That’s what I suspected. It’s hovering directly over the New Hebrides Trench.”
Walker had heard of the Marianas Trench, but not the New Hebrides Trench. “So?”
“The New Hebrides Trench connects with the Tonga Trench and the Kermandec Trench. The entire region of Melanesia is extremely geographically active. The Pacific Plate collides with the Australian Plate, squeezing the Caroline Plate, the North and South Bismarck Plates, and the Solomon Plates between them.”
Walker sat up. As usual, Rutherford was taking a long time to make his point, but he was beginning to grasp where Rutherford was heading.
Rutherford continued. “Any major seismic disturbance could spread throughout the sub-oceanic region, causing sudden shifts in tectonic plates, creating enormous tsunamis, and invigorating a storm of volcanic activity. It would present a very promising target to a species intent on wiping out life on the planet.”
The blood drained from Walker’s face. Rutherford was describing an apocalyptic scenario, regional at first, but slowly spreading around the globe as shifting tectonic plates found new alignments. He was no geologist, but it sounded possible. “Could they do it?”
“I’ve conferred with a few colleagues in the proper fields – physicists, geophysicists, tectonicologists, and a specialist in gravity drives. The aliens’ use of gravity drives in the Kaiju pods and directed gravity waves for communication indicate a conversant grasp of the technology needed. The geophysicists and tectonicologists agree that if they could generate a sufficiently powerful localized gravity blast, it could destabilize a large section of the New Hebrides Trench, causing untold damage to the surrounding mantle.”
“So the Kaiju is waiting for the new pod before moving on? Why?”
He heard a sigh over the receiver. “I suspect the Kaiju was sent to arm the device or to place it in the proper spot. Using a gravity drive in the proximity of an armed gravity bomb might not be a wise idea. It now seems likely that the Kaiju was never headed to Australia.”
“What do you mean?” Murdock demanded. “It has been on an almost straight-line course since arriving.”
“Its goal has been to rendezvous with the pod. At first, it mystified me why the two objects arrived in such widely flung areas. Then I realized it would have expended a tremendous amount of energy on the journey as fuel for the gravity drive. Once it landed, it began to replenish its store of energy.”
“Then why not land in eastern Australia near Sydney or Melbourne?” Walker asked.
“The aliens are learning. The Kaiju face less opposition in a remote area. My original projections were correct in that. However, the rest has crumbled under circumstances. Even I did not expect such a dynamic shift in focus of their efforts.”
This time Commander Murdock posed a question. “How do we stop it?”
“I wish I knew. Triggering the bomb before it is in place would cause less damage than allowing it to reach the depths of the trench, but the resulting blast would still destroy the surrounding islands and, of course, anyone in close proximity.”
Murdock shook his head and growled in frustration. “That sounds like we’re damned if we do and double-damned if we don’t.”
“I’m sorry, Commander. We don’t know the mechanism of the device, so disarming it is unlikely.”
“It’ll be damned hard to wrestle it from the Kaiju.”
“Aiden, I’m sorry to deliver this ghastly news. I hoped I was wrong, but too many people better acquainted with the field of gravimetrics and geophysics concur. The aliens are trying to initiate a cataclysmic event. If they succeed … well, you’re a military man. You can better guess their strategy from there.”
“They’ll carpet bomb the entire planet with gravity weapons, wipe out every living thing. They can then come in and strip the planet of its minerals.”
“Or plant a colony,” Rutherford added.
Walker had not thought of that. If the aliens wanted to colonize the planet, they would leave no one alive.
The telephone crackled loudly. “I think I’m losing the satellite connection. They warned me this might happen. I’ll speak quickly. You must somehow prevent the aliens from triggering the device or seize it and take it to a land mass to explode. That might reduce the bomb’s effectiveness.”
Walker considered the implications of delivering the bomb to Vanuatu, New Caledonia, or even Australia. The U.S. would soon be at war with more than the aliens.
“That will still leave the Kaiju to deal with, but I’m sure you have a plan for that or you wouldn’t be there. One more thing …”
The connection failed.
Murdock leaped up and keyed the intercom. “Communications, can we reestablish the connection with Doctor Rutherford?”
“Negative, sir. He was calling from Houston. The NASA satellite he was using passed out of range. There are no geosynchronous communications satellites in the immediate area. The next satellite won’t be within range for four hours. Even then, it might be difficult. It’s an old I-3 satellite launched in 1996 by INMARSAT. The technology is outdated. It’s past due for decommissioning.”
Murdock sighed. “Son, I received my commission in 1996.” He collapsed in his seat and stared at Walker, who was equally aghast at the foreboding news from his friend.
“What the effin’ Jesus Christ do we do?”
“My mission hasn’t changed. If Gate is wrong, which he never is, we still have to stop the Kaiju. It’s unlikely to remain in the area of the blast.”
“That thing has already sunk two subs. Now, I’ll have to risk my boat. Short of going kamikaze on it, I don’t know what I can do that hasn’t been tried already.”
“The device is smaller. Maybe it’s more vulnerable,” Walker suggested.
“It’s like tap dancing on a landmine.” He slapped his palm on the top of his desk. “Oh, well. As you said, it’s my responsibility. I’ll think of something. Maybe your friend Rutherford can tell us more when we reestablish contact with him.”
Walker was wondering about the ‘one more thing’ Rutherford had not had time to finish. Was it a warning or a suggestion? “If anyone can figure this out, it’s Gate. He’s become a …” He hesitated, “a driven man since Nusku.”
Murdock nodded. “An alien invasion can do that to people.”
“No, it’s more than that. Gate was a catastrophist. He made predictions about disasters. It was all facts and figures to him, lines on a graph. Then, he saw death and destruction close up and personal. He volunteered to go inside the Kaiju. That took guts, but it changed him. He has a hatred for the aliens that’s eating him up inside. He’s determined to defeat them. That’s good for us. He’s smart enough to pull it off, but I’m afraid it’s going to burn him up like gasoline on a fire. That’s a shame. He’s my friend.”
“If this war goes on much longer, everyone will suffer from PTSD. You take care of the Kaiju. Leave the bomb to me. We’re not beaten yet.”
Walker nodded his assent, but deep inside, he wondered.
19
Wednesday, Dec. 20, 0130 hours USS Mississippi, New Hebrides Trench –
Three things puzzled Talent concerning his meeting with Commodore Murdock. First, that the sub’s captain had released him at all. If the punishment fit the crime, why not simply keep him confined until they reached a port? The commander’s threat to set him adrift struck home. He didn’t have the personnel to keep a twenty-four hour watch on him, and yet that was exactly what the commander had proposed.