by J C Ryan
“When we are ready to proceed, during my weekly equipment check, I will make the adjustments to the flow regulators which will allow the gas pressure to build in the four natural fissure vents. I will see to it that Jezza is assigned to monitor the fissures and the access area after I’ve made the changes. No one else will see the pressure building, and she will be able to let us know when it’s time to leave.”
“And have you figured out a way for us to escape? I don’t mind dying for a noble cause, but I would rather live.”
“I believe so, but it will be risky.”
When Telestra didn’t elaborate, Dekka probed, “Well, what’s the plan?”
“Several years ago, while she was inspecting fissure four, Jezza discovered a side channel that opens on the surface. We will climb out through it.”
Silence followed her statement. “Dekka?”
“Dear Lord! You’re going to have us crawl through the belly of a fire breathing dragon and out through its mouth, hoping it doesn’t sneeze?”
“Something like that,” she agreed. “I know it sounds crazy, but that's exactly what I hope they will think if they discover us missing. It’s unlikely they will look for us there.”
“Let's hope and pray that's how it will work out for us,” Dekka replied.
CHAPTER 15
Onboard the Itinerant
THE ITINERANT BROKE the surface and Marcus ordered the hatches opened even before they pulled alongside the Mystic Sea. The crew was all on deck anxious to clear the sub as swiftly as possible, so she could return for their remaining crewmates and captain of the ill-fated Trepang. They all knew time was growing short for those left behind.
As the last man boarded the Mystic Sea, Captain Dean Griffith hollered to Marcus, “Anything you need?”
“A miracle!” Marcus replied. He heard the Captain wish him Godspeed as he closed the hatch, water spilling in around him as the Itinerant submerged rapidly.
As he entered the bridge, he caught the tail-end of a message. “Better hurry, you guys are out of time. Seawolf out.”
“What’s up, Bill?”
“The Trepang slipped again, not far, only about ten-feet this time. But the Seawolf reports there are increasing sub-marine seaquakes in the area, at the moment, and she could go over the edge any time.”
“Great. That’s all we need,” Marcus mumbled. He paced the bridge restlessly as they descended. “Can we still mate up?” he demanded as soon as they approached.
“Yes,” Taka replied. “Her angle hasn’t changed.”
“Thank God. All right, here’s how this is going to work—we’ll get the remaining crew onboard first, then the prisoners, then the bodies of the deceased, if we have time. Let’s get this done and get out of here,” he said as the hatch to the Trepang opened revealing Nicholson’s smiling face.
“Glad you’re back. Now get out of the way, we’d like to get out of here!”
Marcus laughed in spite of himself. “Come on!”
Nicholson disappeared, and the crew of the Trepang began to board. Within minutes, the last of the prisoners were boarding, and Dunlap and Sommers were preparing to hand up the first body, under the supervision of Locklin who refused to leave until all of his crew was rescued.
Nicholson had argued endlessly with Locklin while waiting for the return of the Itinerant and now muttered something that sounded a lot like ‘damn fool’ under his breath while he and Sommers tried to load the bodies double-time.
They’d just passed the body of the last deceased crew member up and were picking up Brideaux’s body, when they felt a tingling in their feet and then the sub began to shake.
“Seaquake!” Marcus yelled down the hatch. “Get up here, NOW!”
The men grabbed Locklin and unceremoniously lifted him through the hatch where he was hoisted roughly aboard the Itinerant. “I can climb a ladder myself, dammit, I don’t need your … ouch … hey … ow!” they heard him protesting.
His feet disappeared, and Nicholson started up the ladder. The sub lurched violently, throwing him off the ladder and Sommers to the floor. They felt the sub sliding and heard the groaning of metal as she reached the limit of her depth tolerance.
“C’mon, c’mon, c’mon!” Marcus shouted.
The two men, hearts racing, scrambled for the ladder and climbed, almost as one body, toward the Itinerant. As they reached the hatch, they were grabbed by their hands and shoulders, hauled swiftly the rest of the way, and dumped abruptly on the deck on top of one another.
The hatch slammed closed and was just being sealed behind them when they were all jarred by a sudden impact and the sub’s forward motion ceased.
“What happened?” Marcus yelled.
“We’ve hit a rock!” Taka said loudly, her voice trembling.
“Are we clear of the Trepang?”
“No, we haven’t fully disengaged the clamps yet.”
“Get us loose!” he shouted.
“Trying, Marcus, trying, but they’re stuck.”
“Bill, get the Seawolf. See if she can tell us what’s happening.”
“Itinerant, this is Seawolf, go ahead,” they answered almost immediately.
“Can you see what’s happening? We can’t disengage from the Trepang.”
“Itinerant, it looks like you’ve come into contact with another large object, probably a rock, and have become an anchor holding the Trepang in place. We can’t tell more than that with our sonars.”
“The Mystic Sea has a mini-sub with a Remote Operated Vehicle on board. See if they can send it down for a look.”
“Will do Itinerant, stand by.”
Several long minutes passed before the Seawolf radioed again. “They’re prepping it for launch now.”
For each and every one of the souls on the Itinerant it became the longest wait of their lives as they felt every tremor of the seaquakes rattling through the body of the Itinerant, and their own.
One of them summed up what all of them felt—“So this is what eternity feels like.”
Shortly after, Mystic Two, the mini sub, reached depth and launched the ROV. Those aboard the Itinerant still held their breaths—they had no idea what their situation was. Would they be able to get out of there? No one knew. They had to wait. The sour scent of fear grew with every tremor of the seaquakes.
“Itinerant, this is Mystic Two, do you read?”
“We read you, Mystic Two,” Bill responded.
Marcus sighed with relief. He looked at his watch. It had been twenty-five minutes. But it might as well have been twenty-five hours, twenty-five years, or twenty-five decades.
“Itinerant, we’ve sent the ROV out, and we’re receiving visual now. Looks like there was a mudslide. The Trepang appears to have rolled as she slid. You’re wedged on the bottom between a large rock formation and the sail, partially covered in sediment.”
“Our docking clamps won’t release from the Trepang – they’re jammed or something. Can you make out what the problem is?”
“Standby Itinerant, repositioning to check it out.”
Taka sat at her station, arms crossed, biting her lower lip, while Bill spun nervously side to side in his chair. Marcus stood frozen in place, greeting Dunlap and Sommers with a nod as they joined the bridge.
“Itinerant, this is Mystic Two. There’s a lot of sediment covering the area, but it looks as if the impact with the rock twisted the docking seals. I’m sorry to tell you, but I don’t think they can be released. It looks pretty bad.”
“Just great,” Marcus muttered. “Now what?” He paced the deck, we’re too deep to send out divers – below Seawolf’s crush depth – shit!” He scratched his head, spun around, and started pacing in the opposite direction, stopped, spun around, stopped, and spun slowly yet again. “Taka, the Trepang is sliding tail-first, isn’t she?”
“Yes, she is.”
“Which direction did she roll? It feels like we are nose down.”
“That’s correct, Marcus. We docked with
our nose to Trepang’s starboard side and she rolled to starboard.”
“Bill,” Marcus said, motioning for Bill to pass him the radio mic. “Mystic Two, this is Itinerant.”
“Itinerant, Mystic Two, go ahead.”
“If we push with our starboard engine, from your vantage point, can you tell if that turn would be enough for us to escape?”
A long moment of silence passed before the Mystic Two answered. “Negative, Itinerant, you’re nose down against the bottom. You’d only push yourself deeper into the mud.”
“Well, so much for that idea,” Marcus said. “I’m open to suggestions people.”
At that moment, the Seawolf broke in, “Mystic Two, get clear! Itinerant, hang on, a large seaquake just occurred, arriving in ten seconds!”
They barely had time to grab hold of something solid before violent tremors shook the sub, and her metal hull began to moan as the Trepang slid again, dragging her into the deep trench with it.
The last thing Marcus heard was Bill yelling, “C’mon!” as the sub spun upside down and the lights went out.
* * *
Washington DC
DANIEL, SALOME, SCOTT, and Bill waited patiently as the other Cabinet members left the room. “Thank you for staying,” Daniel said. “We need to discuss the prisoners.”
Bill and Scott, not being privy to the knowledge that the prisoners were on the Trepang, looked surprised.
“Have they been located?” Scott asked.
“We believe so,” Daniel answered carefully. “I need your counsel, Scott, on our international legal position, and input from all of you on the best way to handle this situation.”
“As discussed with the late President Campbell, the crimes they committed were against humanity which puts them under the jurisdiction of the International Criminal Court—the ICC,” Scott said.
“That’s right,” Daniel said. “The court in The Hague in the Netherlands.”
“Correct.”
“Do we know if the treaties that apply are still in place and if the ICC is functioning?” Daniel asked, turning to Bill.
“We don’t know at this time, sir. They were never officially recalled by Brideaux, and it is debatable if he did, that it would have been valid. However, I would like to suggest that this is an excellent opportunity to re-establish those treaties. It would go a long way in easing the hostile feelings toward our country if we support and assist with the restoration of the ICC and turn the prisoners over to them.
“If we set the example of following International Law, we put ourselves on par with all nations and encourage them to support and follow International Law as well.”
“I agreed with Bill,” Scott said. “If the United States were to do otherwise, it would encourage other countries to defy what was once established and could, in the worst-case scenario, eventually lead to another world war.”
A knock sounded on the door, and the Chief of Staff stepped in. “Excuse me, Mister President, there is an urgent call for you from Admiral Johnson.”
“Thank you, Glenn, I’ll take it in my office in just a moment.”
“Yes, sir.”
Daniel turned back to the three. “You’ve been very helpful, thank you. Please work together on this matter and keep me updated. Salome, I will leave it to you to make the arrangements for the transportation of the prisoners to the Netherlands when the time comes.”
Daniel stood, indicating that Salome was to follow him, went to his office, and pushed the button for speakerphone. “Yes Admiral, what can I do for you?”
“Mister President, I’m afraid I have some very bad news. We’ve lost the Trepang and the Itinerant.”
“Dear God, what happened?”
“There was a severe seaquake that caused a sub-marine landslide. It carried the Trepang into the Aleutian Trench. The Itinerant was docked with her in the process of completing the last rescue dive and was unable to release her docking clamps. Unfortunately, she was dragged into the trench along with the Trepang.”
“Is there any chance at all that the Itinerant survived?”
“The ROV they were using was damaged in the slide as well. It has been retrieved and is being repaired as we speak, but it will be several hours before we can send it down again.
“The Seawolf is searching the area but is officially at the limit of her operating depth.”
“Officially? Then that means she can go deeper?”
There was silence for a moment before Johnson continued. “Yes, sir, she can go a little deeper, but she isn’t supposed to. However, unofficially, she has already passed her operating and crush depths in the search for the Itinerant without result. She has truly gone as deep as she dares, and we’re damn lucky we didn’t lose her too.”
“I see. Please give the Captain of the Seawolf my sincere thanks for his efforts and initiative in this search, and do not reprimand him for his actions.”
“I will. I suggest that Secretary Willis and I convene at your office within the hour for updates on the situation as they come in.”
“I’d appreciate that, yes. I’ll see you shortly.”
CHAPTER 16
Washington DC
DANIEL, SALOME, ADMIRAL Johnson, and Secretary of Defense Cliff Willis gathered in the Situation Room once again, to monitor the activities in the North Pacific.
Over the last two hours, the USS Seawolf, USS Idaho, and USS Utah submarines were working a search grid trying to locate any sign of the Itinerant. “She’s either lost completely or too deep for them to detect,” Johnson reported.
Daniel shook his head miserably. “How long until they can launch the ROV again?”
“They’re preparing her for launch now, and the Mystic Two is standing by to depart as soon as the ROV is ready to go.”
“Will we have a live feed from the Mystic Two?”
“Yes, we’ll be able to see and hear what is happening as it happens. Captain Wiekelan, aboard the Enterprise, will also be updating us as needed.”
Daniel nodded. The wait seemed inordinately long, but at last, the Mystic Two was ready to depart.
“Mystic Two proceeding with all due haste.”
Those gathered in the Situation Room listened to the smooth interaction of the three-man crew aboard the Mystic Two as she descended into the depths and returned to the last known coordinates of the Trepang and Itinerant.
“All right, that’s as deep as we can go. Send out Bendoth.”
“He’s on his way!”
“Bendoth?” Daniel inquired curiously.
Johnson laughed. “It’s the nickname of their ROV – an acronym for ‘Been There Done That.’ Apparently, they use it quite a bit and have had several … what they call, ‘adventures’ with it.”
“Sounds more like nightmares to me.” Daniel smiled half-heartedly.
“The water is still very murky with all the suspended sediment particles in it. It’s going to be difficult to see anything in this mess.”
“Understood, Mystic Two, just do your best,” came the voice of Captain Wiekelan.
“Let’s follow the slide path and see what we find,” suggested one of the Mystic Two’s crew.
To give Daniel a better understanding of what he was hearing, Admiral Johnson pulled out a nautical chart of the Alaska Peninsula and Aleutian Islands to Seguam Pass. “She was laying here on this slope at 364 fathoms—2,184 feet.
“As you can see here,” his finger drew a line down the points where a series of closely spaced curved lines came together, “this is a steep ravine that drops down to more than 3,500 feet before falling off into the Aleutian Trench.”
“There’s no way the Trepang could survive that, is there?”
“No, Mister President, there isn’t. She was already below crush depth when she first came to rest on the bottom.”
“What about the Itinerant?”
“Her crush depth is 4,000 feet. There’s a possibility she’s still in one piece—if she was able to break away from the T
repang in time.”
“How deep can that ROV go?”
“Ordinarily, private vessels that carry an ROV have either micro or mini class that have very shallow limits within a few hundred feet. Mystic Sea’s ROV is a custom design. It can reach depths of nearly 23,000 feet. If there’s anything to find, this ROV has a good chance of doing so.”
“And all we can do in the meantime is sit here and wait,” Daniel said glumly.
“Unfortunately, yes, Mister President,” Johnson confirmed as the Mystic Two reported they had begun the grid search pattern of the slide area—they had to be sure the subs didn’t get buried under the slide.
It took hours for the little ROV to complete the grid; hours that passed with an agonizing lack of information.
“That’s it for the ravine. We’ve completed the grid and found nothing.”
“If they’ve gone into the trench, there’s nothing we can do for them. There are a couple of shelves on the west side of the ravine—check them before proceeding into the trench,” Wiekelan ordered.
“Copy, Enterprise. Proceeding to check the shelves on the west side.”
The little ROV made its way south-west along the ledge at the bottom of the ravine until it came to a slightly wider area where the ledge turned back toward the north. From there it began a slow ascent, shining its blindingly bright lights over the surface of the ledge.
“Starting search at 6,000 feet. The area isn’t too large, this won’t take long.”
Thirty minutes seemed a long time to Daniel, but at last, the Mystic Two reported, “Nothing here, coming to 5,900 feet to search the next ledge. At least a lot of the sediment particles have settled out, visibility is a lot better than when we started.”
Evidently, this ledge was smaller than the last because within fifteen minutes another negative contact report came through, and ten minutes after that, yet another one.
Daniel was losing hope – everyone was losing hope. The Situation Room was heavy with despair and silent in the growing sense of grief.