by J C Ryan
“She’s twelve-thousand-five-hundred gross tons, three-hundred feet long, with a total capacity for two-hundred souls.”
Marcus shook his head in wonderment. “Who owns her, Jacque Cousteau’s grandson or something?”
“No sir, a former Oceanographic professor from Oregon State University, a Doctor Dean Griffith.”
“Humph. Well, she’s big enough if we need her, and I hope we don’t. I’m going to review that report on the Trepang and get a few hours of rest, as is Brenda when she’s done eating. We’ll be back to relieve you in six. Wake me if anything happens before then.”
“You got it!”
CHAPTER 5
Onboard the Knyaz Pozharskiy
SHULGA’S EYES WIDENED as a new contact blip suddenly appeared on the sonar screen. He ran through the identification sequence, but nothing came up. Double checking the information, he realized that the contact was smaller than any of the military class subs he was familiar with, yet too big to be a privately-owned scientific research or rescue sub.
This is an unknown.
“Captain! New sonar contact, just coming into range, port side.”
“American?”
“Unknown, sir. It’s not in our data banks—too small for military, too big for private.”
“Heading?”
“She’s pacing the Americans, sir,” Shulga reported.
“I don’t like this,” Petrov growled as he began to pace the confines of the Command Center.
Five minutes passed. “Sonar report on new contact.”
“Still pacing the Americans, sir. Like us, she’s moving in closer as the Strait narrows.”
Petrov took a few more steps, considering his position and options. “Bring us to the starboard edge of the American’s baffles; we’ll give them an escort out of our territory.”
Turning to his weapons officer, he ordered, “Load tubes one and two – I want to be ready if they so much as twitch wrong.”
* * *
Washington DC
CHIEF OF STAFF, Glenn Baier, knocked on the door to the Oval Office and entered at Daniel’s bidding. “Mister President, the Head of Maintenance has the damage report and is ready to meet with you as you requested.”
He stopped short when he saw Attorney General, Scott Jenkins and a man he didn’t know sitting on the couch across from the President. “Sorry, sir,” he said a little puzzled, as he normally arranged the President’s schedule and meetings. “I didn’t realize you were in a meeting.”
Daniel smiled, recognizing the man’s consternation. “Don’t worry, Glenn, you haven’t been replaced, and this isn’t a formal meeting. You already know Mister Jenkins. This is my friend Raj Sankaran—we worked together at the New York Times.”
“Nice to meet you, Mister Sankaran,” Glenn said, shaking Raj’s hand.
“Send in Mister…” Daniel paused as he realized he didn’t know the maintenance man’s name.
“Seymour MacDougle,” Glenn finished for him. “But don’t call him that or mister—he hates it. Call him ‘Morey’, and you’ll get along fine.”
“All right, ‘Morey’ it is, and thanks for the tip!”
Glenn opened the door to admit a small, grey-haired, hunchback man who walked with a limp.
Hiding his surprise, Daniel greeted him, “Good day, Mister … ah, Morey. Please, have a seat,” Daniel invited, indicating a place on the couch. “You have the damage report ready, I’m told.”
“Yes, sir, I do.” Morey handed Daniel a folder. “The residence didn’t receive too much damage—mostly bullet holes in the drywall and doors on the ground and first floors and stairwells in-between. The second and third floors didn’t receive any damage except for some scratched paint on one of the bedrooms’ windowsills.
“Hayden and his damn fools had no respect for the historical value of this place and its contents,” he said indignantly. “—if you’ll forgive my language.
“Since the property is open for public tours, I suggest repairing the damage to the residence first.”
“That sounds reasonable,” Daniel said, opening the folder to inspect the meticulous notes and ledgers.
“The majority of the damage is in the lower levels of the East Wing,” Morey continued. “The repairs there will be much more extensive. The entrance to the Presidential Emergency Operations Center and surrounding area will need to be completely gutted and restored to remove all the damage and … blood stains.”
Daniel remembered the bloodbath they went through to escape during Hayden’s coup. “This is very thorough, Morey. You must have been doing this work for quite some time.”
“I started working here as a grounds keeper when I was a boy, raking leaves and trimming grass. In seventy years, except for a tour of duty in the Marines, I’ve never left. I’ve been head of maintenance for the past twenty years—there’s nothing I don’t know about how this place operates.”
Stunned at the man’s commitment to his job and obvious devotion to the property, Daniel was momentarily speechless. He finally found his tongue again. “All right, Morey, you are clearly well qualified to make the decisions on what needs to be done and when. I’ll leave this in your capable hands. You may begin the work at your earliest convenience. My door is open, just let me know if you need my help with anything.”
As the man got up to leave, Daniel stood with him and shook his hand. “And Morey, thank you for your dedication and service—to this country and to this office.”
Morey grinned, and his grip tightened slightly. “You’re welcome Mister President.”
As the door closed behind the humble old man, Jenkins spoke up. “All these years. I had no idea.”
Daniel shook his head. “That’s about the most amazing tale of commitment to a job I’ve ever heard.” Daniel smiled, and in a fake accent added, “Der ain't many o’ his kind walkin the earth no more.”
The three of them enjoyed a laugh before returning to their earlier discussion.
“So, Scott,” Daniel addressed the man he hoped to keep as Attorney General. “Can we legally release the information and recordings we have on Hayden?”
“Yes, I believe we can. A few years before the debacle with Brideaux, a law went into effect that, on a national level, allows the public dissemination of this kind of information to the American people in the event they have been deceived by the leadership of the country.
“It was intended as a sort of ‘spotlight’ on government officials, to keep them honest, letting them know the American people were watching.”
“That would certainly seem to apply in this case,” Daniel said. “Raj, what do we have in place to accomplish this?”
“We have already established the website that allows public viewing of the Oval Office and Cabinet meeting room. I recommend we utilize it.
“Roy and I looked through the recordings of both Hayden’s actions and ours. Neither of us see any reason why all of it shouldn’t be accessible to the public. We can put it up to show as a single program and also have it indexed by time, date, location, person, and topic.”
“That sounds perfect,” Daniel said. “How soon can you have it active?”
“It’s ready now. All we have to do is upload it to the site.”
“Scott? Any last-minute reservations about the legality of this?” Daniel asked.
“No. I feel we’re on solid ground.”
“Ok, Raj, get it uploaded. Inform the news channels and have them announce it on the news tonight while running the web address along the bottom of the screen.”
“You got it!” Raj was enthusiastic. At last, he was going to expose Hayden!
CHAPTER 6
Re'an headquarters Tunguska, Russia
VIKTOR STRODE BRISKLY into the conference room, head held high, and quickly took his seat at the table. He had long planned for and awaited this day. The time had come for the Re’an to rise up and take control of the world.
Deszik, the ‘son’ he had chosen in order to
control his mother, sat to his right; his Second-In-Command, Soltan, to his left. Stonash, Ama’ru, and Petya, his best commanders were also gathered for the meeting.
Looking at the four commanders before him, his mind drifted back more than one-hundred years, to the turn of the previous century, when he first awoke in the sleep pod here, in the cavern at Tunguska.
With the failure of his commander’s pod, as second-in-command, it had fallen on him to lead the B’ran soldiers to victory in conquering the L’gundo people. To aid him in his endeavor, he had promoted Soltan to be his Second.
Together they had awakened Stonash and the rest of the B’ran soldiers, along with the few remaining L’gundo scientists, and survived the explosive damage, caused by a pressure buildup of the volcanic gases that powered the facility.
It had taken years to repair and rebuild the facility, but the time was not wasted. Among the L’gundo scientists were their lead re-animation scientist, Dekka, and two of his assistants, Tellek and Baynor.
He used Deszik to control his mother, Telestra, and eventually took her as his wife. She was not a willing party in the marriage—she did it to protect her son. Telestra was also the leader of the rest of the L’gundo, so he gained control over them through her.
Petya had been a young boy when his soldiers found him wandering outside the facility after the Tunguska explosion, he’d been searching for the source of the powerful event.
Ama’ru was a young man from Petya’s village who had been searching for him when he went missing. Viktor’s men captured him not too far away from the facility.
Viktor had killed and reanimated them both, to the horror of the L’gundo scientists.
Thus, had begun the compulsory work of Dekka and his team to use the re-animation technology to build a new and powerful race called the Re’an. Petya and Ama’ru were two of the first three to be transformed.
Over the years, they had captured, killed and reanimated many more people. The process of the restoration of life by placing a computer chip in the brain and re-animating the body had become much more sophisticated. Now, they were able to program the mind, change the personality, substitute identities, and control almost every aspect of the person.
They had also developed techniques to augment anatomy and improve the senses, intelligence, strength, endurance, vision, and hearing. The Re’an were now a race of ‘Super Soldiers.’ With more training and enhancements than any of the others, Deszik, Stonash, Ama’ru, and Petya were the best of them all.
Viktor began. “Today is a day we will remember with pride. This day has been in the making for more than a century. Today we set in motion our plans to establish the reign of the Re’an across the world.”
The men raised their morning drinks in salute.
“The four of you,” Viktor gestured to Deszik, Stonash, Ama’ru, and Petya, "will each lead a team of six—including yourselves—to the canyon site in the United States and recover our base there.
“Deszik will be in command of this operation. Each of you will choose five of your best men from your regiment to accompany you. You will use commercial airlines to fly to a location near the canyon, and the teams will assemble in Flagstaff before descending into the canyon together.
“Teams One and Two will fly out of Yemelyanovo airport near Krasnoyarsk. Teams Three and Four will fly out of Yakutsk airport. Team leaders will fly out in six days. Three members from each team will depart the next day, and the final two on the third day.
“You will meet your team members and then have two days to reach Flagstaff. Join the other groups going down in the canyon and meet up at dusk, the following day. I expect you to reach and enter the canyon site by dawn the next morning.
“Team One will be yours, Deszik. You will fly into Phoenix, Arizona. Team Two will be Petya’s, flying into Las Vegas, Nevada. Stonash, you have Team Three flying into Albuquerque, New Mexico, and Ama’ru will be in charge of Team Four which will fly into Denver, Colorado.
“Soltan has your travel documents and itineraries. Everyone should be ready to leave Tunguska for their designated departure airports in four days. Any questions?”
There were none, so he dismissed them. “Petya,” he called, stopping the man as he reached the door.
“Yes, sir?” He turned back to face Viktor.
Viktor looked around to be sure the room was clear, and no one was in the hallway near the door. “You have been with me for a long time Petya, grown up under my command, earned my respect and trust.”
Petya listened without response.
“I have some … concern about Deszik and have a special mission for you. I want you to be prepared to take command of this operation should he fail to meet our … expectations. Do you understand?”
In other words, kill him if he steps out of line.
“Yes, sir – I will be watchful and address any … situation that might arise.”
“Thank you, Petya. You may go now.”
* * *
Onboard the Itinerant
“GOOD MORNING, CAPTAIN, Dunlap,” Taka greeted as Marcus and Karl Dunlap stepped onto the bridge.
“Good morning, Taka! You’re up bright and early.”
“Keeping an eye on Ivan”
“Good thinking. And what’s he up to?”
“Like us, pacing the Trepang, except that he’s moved in close – nearly into her starboard baffles.”
“When did he move in?”
“Almost the instant we were in sonar range.”
“Hmmm. I’d say our presence makes him nervous. Any attempt at contact or signs of aggression?”
“No, sir, unless you consider his change in proximity aggressive.”
“It could be. Continue monitoring. What’s our position?”
“We’ll be exiting the strait in about thirty minutes.”
“How is the Trepang doing?” Dunlap wanted to know.
“She’s held a steady speed of 15 knots, a little slow, but she’s holding together.”
“I sure am glad I’m not aboard. With all her damage, that has to be one hell of a rough ride,” Bill interjected.
“Let’s hope she continues to ‘hold together’,” Dunlap replied. “I’m happy to rescue people, but I’m happier if they don’t need it – it’s much better for them!”
“Why don’t you two get some breakfast? Gus and Brenda will be here in a few minutes, and I’ll watch the store in the meantime.”
The two excitedly left the bridge. Ed’s breakfasts were to die for.
* * *
Onboard the Trepang
LOCKLIN HOBBLED INTO the Command Information Center (CIC), with the help of Corpsman Gibbs. “Report,” he barked before he even sat down. The pain in his shattered knee was wearing him down, making him feel like a wounded lion, and he spoke more harshly than he intended, but he didn’t apologize. With the Russians this close and the boat’s damage, he needed his crew on their toes.
“Sir!” responded Seaman Yoder from the number one sonar station. “We’re clear of the straight and the Russians continue to pace us just outside our starboard baffles. The Itinerant is pacing to the port.”
“Depth is one-hundred-twenty-five feet, speed holding at fifteen knots, sir!” barked the helmsman.
“It’s shallow here, watch the bottom. Steady as she goes,” Locklin ordered, settling back in his chair with a frown.
“Steady as she goes, aye, sir.”
“Larson,” Locklin addressed his exec. “How are the repairs holding?”
“The number one sonar array remains inoperative. A leak has developed in one of the vertical launch tubes as a result of the dent, and a couple of the welds in the bow are also leaking. I have a team looking at the launch tube to see if it can be repaired, but a diver will have to be sent out to repair the leaking welds.”
“And that can’t be done while we’re underway,” Locklin said bitterly. Again, he cursed Brideaux and his stupidity.
Should we stop for repairs?
>
“So, we either stop for repairs and let the Russians circle us like a hungry shark, or we stay shallow and hope to God we don’t have to go deep.”
“That’s it in a nutshell, sir.”
Damn you Brideaux.
* * *
Onboard the Knyaz Pozharskiy
“WHAT ARE THE Americans doing?” Petrov asked.
“They are slowing and going to the surface, Captain,” Shulga answered in surprise.
“What about the other sub?”
“It is slowing but holding at one-hundred-twenty-five feet off to port.”
“Surface. Bring us in behind the Americans. I want to stop that sub from joining them if they try.”
“Aye, sir.”
“As soon as we are on the surface, send a signal to the Americans. Ask if they need assistance.”
“Sir?”
“Just do it!”
“Aye, sir.”
Several tense minutes passed before the answer came.
“Sir, the Americans respectfully decline.”
“Govno! I want to talk to them. Change to an open frequency and send it to them. Let’s see if they will speak.”
“Aye, sir.”
“Tupolev! Make sure those torpedoes are ready!”
“They are ready, sir!”
* * *
Onboard the Trepang
ENSIGN SCHMIDT BLINKED as he read the message from the Russians. “Sir! They sent a message on an open radio frequency. I think they want to talk.”
“Just what I need, a conversation with Ivan while we’re in the middle of repairs. Larson!” Locklin called the exec to his side. “Can Hunter get out there, repair those leaks, and get back in here in five minutes?”
“He was on deck the moment we surfaced, but I don’t think he can make the repairs that fast, but … maybe. He can try.”
“Tell him to hurry, we don’t have much time.”
“Aye, sir,” Larson said and moved away to notify Hunter to get the job done and get back inside pronto.