Omega Deep (Sam Reilly Book 12)

by Christopher Cartwright

  Sam struggled to understand how the place had remained hidden for so long.

  His mind turned to the Dutch explorer Abel Tasman who discovered Van Diemen's Land, now named Tasmania, in 1642 before returning on another voyage in 1644, when he passed the coast of a mighty landmass, naming it Nova Hollandia.

  That landmass was later charted by British explorer Lieutenant James Cook, on board the HMS Bark Endeavor, and named New South Wales, before later being named Australia. Cook’s charts depicted a coast very different to the one Abel Tasman produced. No one ever came up with a logical explanation for the discrepancy, but now, Sam wondered whether or not the Dutchman had in fact discovered the 8th Continent, back when it still existed above the water.

  Could such a landmass have been destroyed in so little time?

  Studying the bathymetric readings, Sam ran his eyes across the ancient river which opened up to a shallow underwater tabletop, covered in vivid and impressive coral gardens. A digital camera, designed for just such a purpose, was dropped overboard so that he could get a better visual of the submerged environment.

  That image was displayed in color on a monitor next to the bathymetric readings.

  Sam grinned.

  It was a unique tropical playground that didn’t belong anywhere near the Southern Ocean. Tropical fish filled the place, swimming in and out through the coral reef, which was awash with color.

  Fifteen minutes later, the Maria Helena reached the exact coordinates Svetlana had given them. Sam studied the bathymetric reports, which provided a 3D image of the seabed below by using an array of hydrophones which combined to provide the sonar image of the seafloor.

  Matthew steered the Maria Helena in a counter-clockwise search grid, in an outward spiral.

  Sam stared at the digital image of the sea below. The water was so clear and the visibility so good that he could make out every intricate detail on the seabed.

  He crossed his arms. “Anyone see anything?”

  There was a general murmur of “No.”

  Tom said, “Shall we use the good professor’s cadmium?”

  Sam’s face hardened. “Typical. We find a wonderful new coral ecosystem, and already we want to poison it with cadmium.”

  Tom shrugged. “According to the professor’s instructions, nearly all of it should be absorbed by the blackbody paint on the Omega Deep’s hull.”

  “That’s only if we’re within 10 miles, close enough for the two elements to find their natural affinity with one another.”

  Tom met his eye. “I don’t think we have a choice. It’s not good, but it’s still only a small amount of cadmium and a lot less destructive than nuclear radiation if we can’t find the Omega Deep and this thing goes bad.”

  “Agreed.” Sam switched on the powerful UV lights and camera which would track the movement of the cadmium. The monitor showed very little, except the brief outline of the seabed. He depressed the button on the local VHF radio microphone and said, “Veyron, can you please release the first canister of cadmium?”

  “Understood. Releasing the cadmium.”

  Sam watched as the heavier-than-water cadmium sank into the water. He involuntarily held his breath, as he watched the toxic element drift slowly to the south, before eventually getting caught on a rising submerged atoll, which prevented it from going any farther.

  He cursed. “All right. Anyone got another idea?”

  Svetlana said, “It seems to me that the material worked. It showed us that the USS Omega Deep is out there, presumably somewhere to the south of us.”

  “You’re right,” Sam said. “Matthew, can you please take us across that reef?”

  Matthew’s eyes ran across the bathymetric image of the reef, taking note of the exact depth at its highest point, and landing back on Sam’s determined face. “It will be shallow, but we should have a few feet to spare beneath our keel.”

  “All right, let’s see what’s on the other side of that reef.”

  Matthew eased the twin throttles gently forward, and the Maria Helena’s bow slowly edged toward the reef.

  There was a concerned silence on the bridge, broken by the depth-sounder’s warning. It came on whenever the keel suddenly got within five feet of the seabed below. Matthew eased the throttles into reverse, slowing their forward momentum to a near standstill.

  The Maria Helena drifted forward across the shallow reef, revealing a narrow valley or ancient river, running southeast, at a depth of fifty feet.

  Sam’s lips curled slightly upward in relief. “We’ve crossed over.”

  “Of course, we have,” Matthew replied. “You don’t really think I would have put the ship into any danger just because you wanted me to follow one of your whims, do you?”

  Sam and Tom laughed.

  Matthew was, by far, the most conservative member of the crew. It was a good trait to have for a skipper. And his high aversion to risk often came to clash with Sam’s carefree, risk-taking behavior.

  Sam returned to the task at hand. “All right, Veyron. Can you please drop the second canister of cadmium?”

  “Understood, releasing it now.”

  Sam stared at the UV monitor and smiled as the cadmium followed the ancient river along its southeastern course.

  Matthew didn’t need to be asked to follow. Instead, he shifted the throttles forward, and the Maria Helena began her pursuit.

  The cadmium followed the river for nearly fifteen minutes before its weight finally caused it to catch on some coral. Sam stared at the UV monitor, as the fine particles thinned until there was nothing left to follow.

  But it was obvious now that the submarine would have had trouble leaving the ancient valley, so they continued, taking the same route the USS Omega Deep had before them.

  The submerged valley below opened up into a large open space, nearly a mile wide and ending in a concaved atoll, which rose nearly all the way to the surface.

  Sam said, “This is it. There’s no way the USS Omega Deep would have cleared that reef.”

  Matthew eased the throttles into reverse and brought the Maria Helena to a standstill. Sam ran his eyes across the bathymetric readings.

  The seabed was full of sand.

  Nowhere to hide a submarine so large.

  Sam swallowed, feeling disappointment weigh him down. “I don’t get it. I was certain it was here.”

  Svetlana glanced at the monitor and said, “What about here?”

  He looked directly where she was pointing. There was a shallow curved indent in the sand that ran nearly 600 feet in a perfectly straight line. It very well could have been where the Omega Deep had originally run aground. There were even large piles of sand where scuba divers had obviously gone to the effort to free the submarine from its buildup of sand.

  Sam said, “I don’t believe it. We’re too late. Someone’s already beaten us to it.”

  Svetlana made a winning smile. “I wouldn’t bet on that.”

  “Why not?” Sam asked.

  She pointed to the almost negligible increase in water temperature surrounding the aft end of the depression in the sand. “That looks to me like the thermal runoff from their active nuclear reactor.”

  Sam met her gaze. “You think the Omega Deep is right in front of us, hiding in plain sight?”

  “Yes.”

  Sam grinned, turned to Tom, and said, “Come on. There’s only one way we’re going to prove whether your dad’s submarine is down there.”

  Chapter Forty-Nine

  Sam stood inside the moon pool at the bottom deck of the Maria Helena and donned his wetsuit and scuba gear. The dive was shallow, less than 80 feet – closer to 50 to the top of the submarine if it was there – and they had no need to be down there very long, so he and Tom didn’t go to the trouble of setting up their closed-circuit rebreathers. Instead, opted to dive with a standard single dive tank containing 210 Bar of compressed air.

  He checked his Heckler & Koch MP5 and secured it to his right thigh. The 9mm submachine g
un was one of the preferred weapons among military special forces around the world, for its durability, reliability, and accuracy – even after prolonged periods of water submersion. It functions according to the proven roller-delayed blowback principle, making multiple subsequent shots highly accurate.

  Veyron glanced at him with a wry smile. “You’re expecting trouble?”

  Sam shrugged. “No, but I thought I should come prepared anyway. That way I’m less likely to find it.”

  “Not a bad principle.”

  Sam stood up on the diver’s platform at the edge of the moon pool. The water was so clear, he could now clearly see the outline in the sand where the Omega Deep had almost certainly been at some stage.

  In his left BCD pocket, he kept a pair of night-vision goggles. It was an absurd thought, but he and Tom had decided to bring them, just in case they were to find survivors inside the stricken vessel. By now, he imagined the entire system would be shut down and dark, to preserve energy.

  That’s if it was even there.

  The 30-billion-dollar question as to whether or not it was still there, remained to be seen.

  He and Tom quickly checked each other’s equipment.

  Elise entered the room, a worried crease across her brow, which was out of character for her. Without preamble, she said, “I just got off the phone with the secretary of defense. The USS Gerald R. Ford, the Russian aircraft carrier, and the Chinese Type II aircraft carrier will all converge on this location in under an hour.”

  Sam glanced at his watch, making a mental note of the time, and said, “All right. That just means Tom and I had better be back here well within that timeframe.”

  Elise said, “The secretary also wants me to remind you of the second package you were given.”

  “You can assure her I haven’t forgotten.” Sam motioned to the inbuilt pouch on the right-hand side of his buoyancy control device, where two of the HF magnetic homing devices were stored. “If the Omega Deep’s down there, it won’t be for much longer.”

  “Okay. Stay safe and get back here as soon as you can.”

  “Understood.” Sam turned to Tom. “You’re all set.”

  “Set and ready to go.”

  “All right.”

  Sam pulled his full-faced dive mask over his head and stepped into the moonpool.

  The water was warmer than he expected, more like diving in the tropics than the Southern Ocean. He descended to 20 feet, making certain that he cleared the rest of the Maria Helena’s keel. He glanced at his dive gauges. Everything appeared to be working correctly.

  “You still good, Tom?” he asked.

  “Never better,” Tom replied cheerfully. “Let’s go find the truth before World War III starts above us.”

  “Agreed.”

  Sam released some more air from his buoyancy control device, making him markedly neutrally buoyant.

  He descended another twenty feet before his hand reached something cold and made of steel.

  “Tom!”

  “What is it?”

  “I’ll be damned, but I think the submarine’s not missing.”

  “It’s not?”

  “No. It’s just hidden very well.”

  Sam ran his hand along the cold, invisible steel, as he and Tom descended on the port side of the hulking dormant submarine.

  At the base of the indiscernible object, he dug his hands deep into the sand and covered the top of the submarine with it. The sand scattered over the clear surface, slowly revealing the shape of the submarine’s conning tower.

  He ran his hand along the hull on his way down to the seabed, making certain that he didn’t accidentally crash into an invisible exterior of the naval predator. He grabbed some more sand and started back toward the sail deck, hoping to discover the USS Omega Deep’s registration plate – and definitive proof that he had the right submarine.

  Sam thought about the horrible task he’d been given. He needed to destroy the submarine, there was no doubt about that, but first he had to be certain.

  His gaze extended outward, along the sandy seabed, across a small coral reef that caught his attention. It was a colorful mixture of deep reds, greens, and purples. Vibrant and exuding life. His right hand felt for the homing beacons in his BCD storage pack.

  What a terrible waste.

  Behind him, he heard Tom yell, “Holy shit!”

  Sam snapped his head around, instinctively reaching for his knife, as though it might protect him from a shark or something.

  Instead, he was confronted by a much larger predator – the USS Omega Deep.

  Her Omega Cloak, a technological masterpiece had been unraveled like a magician’s cape, revealing her in all her glory.

  And confirming that someone was still aboard.

  Sam followed Tom down to the port side of the massive sunken sub. He watched as Tom swam out in front of him, dwarfed by the scale of the black monster that lay silent on the seabed. The submarine was matte black, and its exterior fuselage featureless. Sam noted the absence of the usual rubber anechoic tiles which reduce sound reflection and transmission. Somehow though, the whole ship seemed to still absorb light completely.

  The divers approached the stern of the submarine and located the escape trunk hatch. Unlike its predecessors, the Omega Deep was fitted with two escape trunks, one on each side – each with horizontal access doors in place of the vertical escape chutes fitted to previous craft.

  Tom shined his flashlight inside the narrow opening before going inside.

  Sam said, “Are you sure you want to do that?”

  “No. But I don’t think I could live with myself if I don’t. A third of the crew is still missing. I have to know the truth before we destroy what should have been my father’s legacy.”

  “All right. I’ll come with you.”

  “It’s all right, Sam. Prepare the magnetic homing beacons. I’ll be back out within a few minutes.”

  Sam followed him inside. “No way. We go together. You’ve got ten minutes. Not a second more.”

  Inside, there was a backlit numerical keypad which lit up red when a hand was close by. Sam entered the override code supplied to him by the secretary of defense’s office and the keypad color changed from solid red to flashing green. The pad flashed while the escape trunk filled with water, equalizing the pressure gradient on both sides of the door. After two minutes, the number pad turned solid green, and the escape hatch opened outwards.

  Tom ushered Sam in with a wave of his gloved hand and Sam entered the lockout trunk. A ten by six-foot room, the escape trunk can accommodate 22 swimmers without gear, or 10 fully-loaded Navy SEALs. Sam smirked at Tom, who somehow managed to fill most of the rest of the space with his massive frame, weapon, and diving kit. They closed the hatch and locked it off. Sam operated the pump switch on a simple control panel to empty the room. The two men stood and doffed their headgear as the water around them drained out of grates in the floor. Once the hatch was empty, they relieved themselves of their dive gear completely and checked the status of their weapons.

  Sam pulled night vision goggles for both of them from his pack, and they placed them on checking the ambient light settings. With a nod to Tom, Sam killed the lights in the hatch and they unlocked the door, opening it outwards on the count of three. They came out as two, one high and one low sweeping their carbines in opposite directions through the sections of fire to clear the immediate egress point. Using hand signals, Sam indicated Tom loop around the far side of the ordnance racks and meet up at the distant end of the room.

  The air was thick with moisture, smelling of musty condensation. There were small puddles here and there under the racks of storage in the center of the room. The room was empty of other people though – that much was clear from the outset.

  In the same fashion, the pair cleared room after room in the forward section of the submarine, finding everything intact and as it should be.

  “The forward section of the boat’s been flooded at some point,
” Sam said, relaxing a little and switching on the overhead lighting.

  Tom removed his night vision goggles and ruffled his own messy brown hair. “Yeah, the starboard escape trunk door’s off, and the chamber’s a mess. Some kind of firefight.”

  “Cause of the sinking maybe?”

  “I’d say boarders more likely.”

  “No one here now. What do you think?”

  “I think we should clear the rest of the ship.”

  They moved back to their insertion point, replaced their night vision goggles and started clearing the rest of the boat. It was as if the crew had just stepped out for a moment, leaving everything as it was. Bunk racks were tightly made with personal effects stowed under the mattresses. All ancillary systems were functioning, and there was power to all areas of the submarine. Sam was surprised at the headroom inside the newly built vessel. The last submarine he had been on was an Ohio class which had an ever-pervasive ceiling height of six feet, at the maximum. The Omega Deep had ample height for your average professional basketballer.

  They kept the lights off and moved through the ship room by room. The command center was empty with all systems on standby. The pair moved forward again, into the nuclear reactor room. The systems all indicated in the green, and in perfect order. Using his override login again, Sam ran a diagnostic on the batteries and backups, all of which showed operational and on standby.

  He was at the reactor’s main interface console when he felt it. The uneasiness of being watched. Tom knew it too. Sam sensed him take two steps back and flick the safety on his carbine. Sam slowly moved his hands to his own MP5.

  “You won’t be needing those, gentlemen. I’m the only other living soul on this vessel at the moment.”

  In night vision, the specter of the emaciated, heavily bearded old man was all that much eerier. He had a heavy, fatigued shuffle, and was leaning heavily on the apparatus surrounding the companionway. The man made his way into the glow from the monitor in front of Sam. With facial features negative in the green glow, hollow black eyes with iridescent white irises that stared out into the gloom.