Behind Borger, the sonar officer called to Emerson. “Captain! Impact in ninety seconds!”
Borger’s voice came in again over their headsets. “Has that drill punched through the hull?”
“Yes!” Tay shouted.
“How big is the hole?”
Tay looked to his left. “About two feet in diameter. Maybe more. And it’s goddamn scary looking!”
“Listen to me,” Borger ordered. “Listen! We have barely one minute left. And exactly one option. And you have to do it RIGHT NOW!”
96
Caught by the increasing pull from the alien ship, the trajectory of the Mark 46 Mod 5 torpedo curved tighter and tighter, until it smashed into the side of the hull with its full force at forty-two knots.
The nearly one-hundred-pound warhead exploded in a concussive blast at more than eight thousand feet per second, directly into the alien wall. The already glowing hull instantly brightened beyond its white color, turning ultraviolet. The impact rippled in all directions, causing waves within the metal itself.
The resulting shockwave raced outward, traveling faster than the speed of sound. Great swaths of coral that were still wrapped around the lower half of the ship were instantly obliterated. Plant life either disintegrated or became flattened under the intense pressure, as did all sea life caught in the devastation.
The wall of devastation could have run for miles without obstruction, but found itself caught in something far more powerful instead. Abruptly, in less than a hundred yards, the shockwave began to slow, simultaneously with the momentary disappearance of all color from the alien hull. At that instant, all light and explosive force began to transform into pure energy.
The outward movement of the shockwave slowed to a sudden halt at which point it froze for a moment before relinquishing its momentum and beginning to recede. Like a vacuum pulling it back into the darkness, the torpedo’s deadly force was reabsorbed first, then redistributed through the walls of the alien shield.
In just moments, the devastating blast vanished almost as quickly as it had begun.
97
The blast was heard by every living thing within several square miles, including Junior Sergeant Levin and the rest of his four-man team, all of whom had reached the lowest level of the Valant oil platform.
Feeling the shaking of the platform, Levin peered out over one of the rusted railings and down into the dark water but could see nothing. Nothing except the brightly lit Pathfinder ship in the distance, where the gunfire continued unabated.
However, unlike Popov and his team, Levin’s team met no resistance at all. From what they could see, most of the platform was largely empty. No sound at all could be heard from the bottom level, which was the rig’s largest. And aside from just a few lights left on, the entire vessel appeared to be vacant.
Levin signaled two of his men to check the span of the bottom level, while he and the fourth man maintained positions near the stairwells. Their rifles were pointed up, ready for any surprises descending from above.
Several minutes later, the two men returned and signaled that the level was clear. Levin nodded, and together, he and two more climbed to the next level, leaving one team member to secure their escape route.
***
Popov was not aware of the other team’s stroke of luck aboard the oil rig. Instead, he and his men continued to press forward, methodically dropping magazines and reloading. Each team member maintained a steady stream of fire.
Popov’s own luck, if you could call it that, was being close enough to make it onto the stern of the ship before the Americans were fully ready. The emergence of more American machine guns rang out only seconds after Popov’s leap over the side, and he was thankful the timing went in the Russians’ favor. The second stroke of luck was having more room to maneuver than some of the sailors above them, two of whom were killed by ricocheting bullets in confined spaces. Three others were killed by inferior training, rather than circumstance–– something Popov and his team were relying on.
Still, the remaining Americans continued to fight back, but were forced to retreat to the middle of the ship. This provided the Russian team enough room to move up the ladders, pushing forward toward the science ship’s main lab.
Even with his team down to three, Popov eventually managed to force his way to the lab’s door. He carefully made his way into the room with a sense of relief, only to find it empty.
The female officer he was looking for had clearly fled. Outside, his men continued to fire in short controlled bursts while Popov’s dark eyes scanned the room. The equipment all looked in order. An open drawer and a satellite phone lying atop the counter indicated an abrupt exit.
Popov soon spotted the compact laboratory refrigerator and advanced immediately across the room, where he yanked the glass door open. Stacks of small test tubes lined the top two shelves, all filled with a clear solution exhibiting a slight pinkish hue.
Without hesitation, he withdrew a black neoprene pouch from within his wetsuit and unzipped it along three edges––the inside carefully lined with a silver-coated material. He hastily grabbed a handful of tubes and placed them in a single layer inside the pouch. Then he did the same again, layering the second row over the first.
Popov ignored the machine gun bursts and yelling from outside. He returned the pouch under his wetsuit before checking the room again. He noted three microscopes of varying sizes behind him, two wide computer screens, and several wire cages. He opened a tall cabinet and quickly scanned the shelves before doing the same to the overhead cabinets, but he found nothing else of consequence.
Popov unslung his weapon and yanked the door open again, stepping out behind one of his men.
“To the rig!” he yelled.
***
Below and further back toward the stern, the sound of wet feet slapped noisily across the metal deck before stopping next to one of the fallen sailors. The man lay face down with blood pooling beneath his chest.
Jake Corbin reached down and quietly picked up the M4 carbine. In one motion, he flipped it over and withdrew the magazine, quickly slapping it back into place. He searched the soldier and found a second unspent magazine, tucking it just beneath the top of his suit. Not far away, Alan Beene found a second rifle and signaled back to Corbin.
Still in bare feet, both men moved back to the ladders on opposing sides. And climbed without a sound.
***
It was Popov’s only mistake.
They had so effectively cleared the rear of the ship that he simply did not expect more men approaching from the stern. Let alone two Navy SEALs.
When he realized his mistake, it was already too late.
Popov watched both his men go down in front of him in a flurry of bullets as the Americans reached the top of the ladder. The Russians returned fire as they collapsed, wounding Corbin in the shoulder and forcing Beene to jump against an inside wall.
Caught in the crossfire, Popov took the only option he had and instantly launched himself from the upper deck out over the water. Plunging forty feet into the dark swells next to the ship, he was followed by a hail of bullets. Beene emptied the remainder of his ammo and ran forward, grabbing the fallen Russian’s rifle and waiting for Popov’s body to reemerge.
98
To Levin, still scouting the Valant oil rig, the sudden silence in the distance was not a good sign. The gunfire aboard the Pathfinder had stopped too abruptly. Even once in the water, Popov’s team would have to continue returning fire until they were far enough away to re-submerge. Which meant they either got under quickly or not at all.
He continued clearing the area on the top platform, including its wide landing pad. They had found no one at all aboard the rig, leaving him both curious and concerned.
They knew the crew on the Valant was not large, but what were the chances of the entire group being aboard the Pathfinder at the start of the attack? It was possible but highly unlikely.
Finding the top level als
o empty, he descended again to the crew’s living quarters. The rig was old but clearly still functional, as evidenced by the multitude of lights and partially stocked kitchen.
Down another hallway, Levin entered what appeared to be a large office. A metal desk sat near the far wall with two old-style monitors on top and a larger computer underneath. Piles of papers and photographs, along with a keyboard and mouse, littered the rest of the desk. Levin turned to examine an air conditioner on the outside wall, still running and accompanied by a noisy hum.
He returned and watched one of his men shake his head, indicating the rooms were empty. Levin called to the other two team members downstairs over the headset hidden behind his ear.
“Find anyone?”
“No one.”
Levin moved back out through the door, where he peered curiously across the water to the Pathfinder. Something wasn’t right.
***
Levin’s instinct was correct.
Les Gorski was less than twenty feet away, hiding inside the Valant’s broken elevator. With legs spread wide, balancing atop ledges on either side of the shaft, Gorski’s right hand clung to the crossbar behind the doors. His left tightly gripped a rifle.
99
Admiral Langford looked up when his office door opened to see Merl Miller rush in, swiftly reaching back and shutting the door.
Miller remained standing, dressed in a dark blue suit and spotted gold tie. His thin gray hair was neatly combed as always. “Emerson has repelled the attack and currently maintains control of the ship. But his crew has taken heavy losses.”
Langford exhaled heavily. He stared at his desk, thinking. “And the team?”
“Most of the team is alive.” Miller paused before finally adding, “but Alison Shaw is missing.”
“Oh, Jesus.”
“She was below the surface when the torpedo struck. As were two of Emerson’s men, Tay and Lightfoot. They’re organizing a search team now.”
Langford nodded solemnly.
“Unfortunately, it’s not over. Emerson has lost contact with the Valant oil rig. They think it’s been seized.”
At this, Langford raised his heavy brow. “Is there anything on that rig?”
“Nothing of material importance.”
“What about the sub?”
“We’ve lost it on sonar. Emerson and Lawton think it either sank or escaped.”
Langford rose from his chair and leaned forward onto his desk. “Then if the Valant has been taken, those bastards are trapped.”
“Maybe,” Miller replied. “The Valant has a landing pad.”
Admiral Langford considered it. “You don’t think the sub was their way out?”
“Their sub may be largely invisible, but it’s still slow. This team hit the Pathfinder to get the bacteria, which means they’d want the fastest exit possible. A sub gives us days to find it.”
“You think they’ll try to fly it out?”
“It’s what we would do.”
Langford nodded. He reached for his phone and pressed a button.
After a moment, his secretary’s voice could be heard through the speaker. “Yes, Admiral.”
“Get me Admiral Collier at Naval Operations.”
“Yes, sir. One moment.”
It took only seconds for the line to be picked up. “This is Collier.”
“Admiral, this is Langford. I have Miller here with me. I understand Captain Emerson still has control of his boat.”
“That is correct, sir. We are ready to call off the air strike.”
Langford nodded and began to speak, when he suddenly paused.
“Hello?”
He peered up from his desk at Miller before speaking again into the microphone. “One second.” He pressed the handset against his shoulder.
Miller raised an eyebrow, expectantly.
“Get Captain Emerson on the phone.”
***
An exhausted and bleeding Popov reached the first pillar of the oil rig and after several deep breaths, managed to pull himself up onto the metal platform. He laid there for a full minute before finally rolling over and examining his wound. He was more fortunate than he expected, finding that the bullet had passed clean through his right side. Muscle damage primarily. His breathing was short, more from the pain of inhaling than internal damage. He had suffered worse.
Popov peered up at the underside of the rig, dark and out of the full moon’s reach. He then looked at the glowing numbers on his watch and rolled back onto his stomach, pushing himself up.
He examined the control box mounted on the inside of the pillar wall and punched the down button. Overhead and with a clank followed by a loud hum, the utility elevator began its descent.
Popov tried his headset, pressing the tiny button just inside his ear and calling to Levin. There was only silence. He tried again. Still nothing. He pulled the device out and angrily threw it into the water behind him.
Not until Popov reached the lower maintenance level did he dare to remove the pack from inside his wetsuit. It was still there and still sealed, which was all that mattered.
The rest of his men were gone. Popov’s only mission now was to reach the landing pad atop the Valant before the Yak arrived. He hoped Levin had done his job and cleared the rig.
***
The sound of thumping rotors returned and the fearsome silhouette of the Sea King helicopter came into view, rounding the right side of the Valant.
Levin and one of his men instinctively ducked back behind two steel beams and watched it pass by before disappearing again. The Americans were doing reconnaissance.
A loudspeaker echoed through the metal halls behind them. “Valant, this is Pathfinder. Do you copy? Valant, this is Pathfinder. Please respond.”
The broadcast was not a problem for Levin. But the message was. Whoever was calling was clearly expecting someone to respond, which meant the oil rig either was not supposed to be empty…or it wasn’t.
Both men jumped when they heard Popov’s voice calling out, just one level below them. Levin signaled his man to remain near the hallway opening while he ran for the stairwell and descended.
Not far from him, under the faint glow of an overhead fluorescent bulb, stood Alexander Popov. Both men scanned the open areas behind one another. Tired and cautious, Popov approached.
“Where are the others?” Levin asked.
“It’s just me.”
Levin’s eyes showed surprise but that was all he needed to know. “Did you get the samples?”
“Yes,” Popov held up the pack. “What did you find here?”
“No one. It appears empty. But I think some may be hiding.”
The helicopter passed by once more, shining a bright spotlight at the rig. Popov and Levin moved hastily out of the path of the light and into the stairwell.
***
From the inside of the elevator, Les Gorski gently pulled the doors open with his fingertips, enough to peer through with one eye.
He studied the lit hallway. There was no movement.
He could hear the repeated calls on the radio several rooms away.
Gorski fought to control his breathing and turned his head, pressing an ear against the slit between the doors to listen.
Nothing. He’d heard two voices before, followed by a pounding down the steps in the stairwell. But he didn’t know whether that meant they were going down or more were coming up.
He also couldn’t hear any of the distant gunfire coming from the Pathfinder, only the sounds of the helicopter circling the rig. That meant whatever had happened over there was over. And now they were here.
In the end, none of that mattered. What did matter was for him to get to the radio. He needed backup. And the crew aboard the Pathfinder needed to know what was waiting for them on the Valant.
All he needed was thirty seconds. Just enough time for one message to warn them. A quick trip down the hall and back.
Gorski took a deep breath and pried the doo
rs further apart. Once wide enough, he stepped forward with one foot and braced the left door open with his boot and shoulder. Then the second foot, forcing the right door back until both doors were separated. Once it was far enough for him to position his rifle between them, he propped them open. He had nothing else to use, which meant he would not only have to do it quickly but unarmed as well.
He stared down the hall and counted.
One. Two. Three!
***
Near the other end of the hall, Levin’s man stood waiting, casually shifting his weight. It was now less than ten minutes until the Yak aircraft arrived.
The loudspeakers of the radio echoed again, while outside the American helicopter continued to circle. And even though the message was in English, the Russian soldier still made out a few faint words. It was a language that all Spetsnaz troops had recently been instructed to learn.
Curiously, the soldier stepped into the mouth of the hallway then inched gradually further, listening intently to the broadcast. It was only then that he was close enough to hear the footsteps.
***
The sudden gunfire startled Popov and Levin, leaving them scrambling up the metal stairs, then out the rusted door of the stairwell.
Levin’s rifle went instantly to his shoulder as both men ran into a large room before the ringing of the shots completely disappeared. They rounded the corner into the wide hallway.
He whistled to his man who promptly answered.
“Down here!”
The soldiers ran down the hall, passing several rooms, until they reached the doorway where their teammate was standing. Intensely focused with his rifle aimed downward, he towered over the crumpled figure of Les Gorski.
Ripple (Breakthrough Book 4) Page 30