by J. L. ROBB
Walking together through the generous entrance to the Oval Office, Justin noticed that the President looked pretty grim himself. The President wore his heart on his sleeve and was genuinely distressed by the year’s chain of events.
As the countdown began, The President took his place at the dark, cherry podium.
“…three, two, one.”
“My fellow Americans:
“I would like to thank Admiral Justin McLemore and Sheryl Lasseter for joining me. They are here to enhance the details of this not-so-good news.
“As always, it is with great pleasure that I serve you and this great country. I am honored that I was chosen to serve the greatest nation that has ever existed in the history of mankind.
“Today I don’t plan to paint a rosy picture, because you would all know it was fake. As you know, I inherited a distraught and threatened economy from the previous administration. We are in the greatest financial distress since the Great Depression, as is the entire world.
“Last January, it appeared that we were in full-recovery mode, and we were. However, though the attacks on our soil have not resulted in the deaths of as many as those who died, who were murdered, September 11, 2001; the death and destruction has been significant, and very expensive. As a result, at a time when our country didn’t need it, the cost of providing security has increased significantly.”
Muhammed and Mehdi watched the broadcast, the digital signal a little iffy because of the early snowfall in Korengal Valley. They had eagerly awaited the speech and wondered if there would be anything said that they didn’t already know. There would be.
“Last spring, not just the United States but the whole world, was hit head-on by the largest solar flare in 50 years, caused by a coronal mass ejection of great magnitude. This CME resulted in electric power grid failures all over the world.
“Coronal mass ejections are violent discharges of plasma from the Sun’s corona, or outer atmosphere. CMEs provide the largest explosions in our solar system and hurl billions of tons of plasma gas away from the Sun’s corona at speeds of one to two million miles an hour, sometimes faster. If directed toward Earth, the electromagnetic damage caused to our electronics and electric grid systems can be enormous, not to mention the damage to orbiting satellites.
“I would like to personally thank Sheryl Lasseter for saving the American people from the grid disaster suffered in parts of Europe and throughout China. Much of China has been without electricity since the CME last spring. Had it not been for Sheryl’s quick decision and judgment, we would still be recovering. I know it ticked a lot of people off when the grid systems were suddenly shut down; but believe me, it was the right decision.
“That leads me to my next topic.
“Several months ago, the Goddard Space Flight Center and NASA’s Jet Propulsion Laboratory began tracking an unknown object emerging from well-beyond Jupiter, 365 million miles away. Most of you have heard about it on CNN, FOX and the major networks. We have been monitoring this situation carefully with our allies and trying, frankly, to determine whether the people of the world need to be told.
“If the object should directly affect the Earth, as in a collision, it’s kind of like, what difference would it really make? There would be nothing we could do, so do we worry the people of the world with something we can do nothing about? Why create a panic situation?”
“This is boring! Turn it to CNN.” Mehdi was an impatient sort, an impatience that was taking a toll on Muhammed and his usually calm demeanor. Muhammed ignored him.
The President continued. He had great communication skills, but the worry on his face was undeniable.
Jeff listened to the President’s speech in his kitchen but already knew what they knew about the mysterious object. Chad and The Admiral had kept him informed.
“There is a possibility that this object will strike Earth. Many scientists optimistically believe it is possible that the gravitational effect of Jupiter may alter its course. It has changed course two or three times that we know of, but the present course indicates that a collision with Earth looks imminent. At its present speed, the anticipated impact date is next January 16 to 18, 2012. I know that December 21, 2012, at least according to Mayan predictions, has been portrayed on numerous news and cable programs as the date of the end of days. Several other apocalyptic writings seem to indicate that 2012 will be the last year of life as we know it.”
The lone video tech in the Oval Office looked from behind the camera in disbelief at what he was hearing. How could they have not told us sooner was the look on his face. But then again, like the President said, what could anyone do? Why worry? He couldn’t wait to get home and roll himself a big, fat doobie and relax with a gallon of chocolate passion ice cream.
“I want to address one other topic, a topic that the investigative reporters apparently know nothing about.
“Russia reported less than two hours ago, the disappearance of one of its warships in the Pacific. We do not know what type of ship it was, but all indications are it was a submarine.”
The President didn’t tell the whole story, but he had already been informed that it was a Nerpa nuclear attack submarine. There appeared to be no survivors.
Muhammed slapped Mehdi on the back of the head, telling him to keep his hands off the television. The subject was interesting to Muhammed, and it should’ve been important to Mehdi too; but the only thing important to Mehdi was killing.
Muhammed had spoken with Yousef just two weeks earlier and already knew a nuclear submarine would disappear. The Japanese had financed the mission on Dmitry’s last visit to Tokyo. Dmitry had finally met the reclusive Kyoto Kushito for dinner and was surprised at the magnitude of Kyoto’s request. At first he didn’t understand what Kyoto meant when he asked Dmitry if he could score a fish. In all his years smuggling arms, no one had ever requested a nuclear sub. Kyoto said money was no object, and it wasn’t.
The nuclear sub, now hijacked, silently made its way through the Marianas Trench, the deepest trench on Earth, maintaining a depth of 2200 feet below the surface, the maximum safe limit. The Chechnyan sailors took over the submarine, killing anyone who resisted. They then discharged through the torpedo tubes, debris, clothing and bodies of those killed, along with several barrels of crude oil into the sea, leaving a trail of apparent destruction.
The sub moved westward, toward America, and would soon be in position, insh’Allah, to show the world the wrath of Allah.
“Finally,” the shaken President continued, “there has been an outbreak of the Spanish Flu in the United States, Canada and Mexico. Europe, Africa and Asia have experienced outbreaks of smallpox, but only a few Spanish Flu cases have been reported. The Centers for Disease Control and Prevention and USAMRIID, the U.S. Army Medical Research Institute of Infectious Diseases, are working hand-in-hand to find a viable vaccine for this flu; and of course they are researching the latest information about reported cases of vector borne transmission of the HIV AIDS virus in Ghana by the anopheles mosquito.”
Jeff dozed as the speech went on, an effect of the oxycodone he was taking for pain; and he wondered if his hearing would soon be back to normal. One hour later the phone rang. Even under the effect of the oxy, Jeff had been programmed all his life to respond to interruptive noises, and he did.
“This is Jeff.” The salutation was to-the-point, the medication wearing on his patience. Jeff was usually friendlier. Today he was sleepy, his body hurt and the ringing in his ears was driving him crazy.
“Jeff? You awake? This is important.”
“I am. Hey Chad, what’s up?”
“You sound groggy.”
“I guess you didn’t hear. Park Place got blown up, and I was the Kleenex. Abe too.”
“Wow! Did you get hurt?”
“Not really. Been hurt worse. What’s up Chadbo?”
“Did you hear about the Russian sub?”
Jeff thought about that, something in the back of his groggy mind told him h
e had.
“No. Tell me.” Jeff tried to concentrate.
“Remember that Russian submarine that had the accident a few years ago in the Sea of Japan? Twenty sailors killed because the fire-suppression system went off and stole their oxygen?”
“Vaguely.” Concentrate Jeff. “Wasn’t it the K-152 Nerpa?”
“Exactly. You got a great memory for an old fart. Well, a K-155 Nerpa class was leased to the Indian Navy.”
“Didn’t know that had already happened.” Jeff was waking up, his head beginning to clear.
“Well it did, and today it simply disappeared somewhere in the Marianas Trench. No Mayday. No survivors.”
“That doesn’t smell right. That fish has all kind of redundancy and safety escape systems.” Jeff was well aware of the Nerpa’s capabilities.
“Exactly again. The Admiral sent me a secure email saying the Navy was suspicious. That ship would have to have a really bad day to just disappear. No seismic activity has been reported, so I doubt there was an explosion. At 8100 tons and 365 feet, it’d be pretty hard to hide.
“However, a Russian plane reported spotting a large oil slick and clothing, as well as some bodies.”
Anyone who ever served in a Navy, anyone’s Navy, was well aware of the Marianas Trench. At seven miles deep, sixteen hundred miles long and forty-three miles wide, it was the deepest place on the surface of the Earth. Finding a sunken sub in the trench would be difficult, if not impossible.
Only one manned vehicle had been to the bottom of the Marinas Trench, the U.S. Navy bathysphere, the Trieste. Swiss designed and built by the Italians for the United States, the Trieste made its descent in 1960 and still remains the only manned expedition to reach the Marianas surface, seven miles beneath the waves of the Pacific.
The K-155 Nerpa nuclear sub continued its way westward, the latest Russian technology maintaining a silence that was nearly undetectable.
CHAPTER TWENTY-EIGHT
The K-155 Nerpa was Russia’s quietest submarine, and the United States and Britain were still trying to figure out how it could be so quiet. Construction of the Nerpa-class subs began in 1991 but was delayed for 10 years because of funding.
During test trials for the Indian Navy in the Sea of Japan, November, 2008, the fire suppression system of the K-152 Russian submarine suffered a sensor malfunction and detected a fire in one of the sub’s sleeping quarters, though there was no fire.
As the system responded with fire suppressant, all the oxygen was sucked from the sleeping quarters. Three sailors and seventeen shipyard workers were killed. Military strategists in the United States were surprised to learn that 280 people were aboard the sub, considering its maximum design criteria of less than one hundred people. They found the ability to sustain such a load, troublesome.
A newer sub, leased by the Indian Navy in 2010, the Nerpa-155 attack sub reportedly had twenty torpedo tubes but carried no nuclear weapons, at least none known by the various international intelligence agencies. Of course India would never have made the lease arrangements had the sub not had nuclear missile capability, and it did, two silos for nuclear tipped cruise missiles. The missiles could only be launched when the submarine surfaced, unlike a ballistic missile that could be fired from under the sea.
The most mind-blowing feature of the sub, known by very few in the Russian military, was the thermonuclear weapons pods. The pods could exit the submarines via the pressurized escape hatch that was designed for small mini-subs. Straight out of the movie Transformers, a pod would emerge from the belly of the attack sub and robotically come to life, the pod metamorphosizing into the launch platform with a 5-megaton ballistic missile, preprogrammed and aimed at the selected target, anything within 750 miles. The Nerpa submarine’s missile systems did not have the range of an intercontinental ballistic missile, as did those of the Nerpa’s big brothers in the Russian Navy.
Once the pod was ejected and activated, the submarine would continue its journey. The sub would be nowhere around when the military satellites detected the launch and would be protected from the submarine hunters who would rush to the area of launch.
The sub continued quietly to its destination, 500 miles off the coast of Diego Garcia, an isolated atoll within the Indian Ocean. The Nerpa would be halfway between India and Diego Garcia, home of the U.S. B-52 Stratofortress bomber fleet and the Stealth B1-B bomber, both aircraft nuclear capable.
The Nerpa sub’s Chechnyan commander thought the fireworks would be grand, but the sub would be long gone before they began.
***
Thanksgiving had come and gone and time edged ever closer to Christmas Day. By the time Ricky, a.k.a. Vinny, had delivery plans prepared for his Christmas surprise, Jeff and Melissa Ross would be planning their trip to Grand Cayman, where they would wait out the potential impact of the heavenly body hurling toward Earth, a gift from Allah, Ricky was sure.
Searching the internet, Ricky easily retrieved the schematics and piloting instructions for the Discovery 1000 luxury sub from one of the many clandestine jihadist sites available on the web. He had cleverly arranged for one of his Sunni friends, a warrior who had been in the States long enough to learn the unique Southern accent, to apply as pilot of Bubba Haskins’ Labor Day launch extravaganza.
The launch was a success, with a fireworks show and all the Hebrew National hot dogs that the kiddies and their parents could eat. The venture took off, and Leon was thrilled. Even he could not believe so many would ante up $ 250 for a ride into the depths of darkness to see catfish, old houses and the tops of pine trees in Lake Lanier, the trees no longer green, their photosynthesizing capabilities long erased. He remembered all the Jews who had won Nobel prizes and had been blessed with financial security, and he really did believe that Jews were chosen by God. It seemed like tough duty, being chosen, at least for Leon’s ancestors who had suffered the Holocaust.
As the new submarine pilot, Nimrod and Bubba became good friends, hit it off from the start. The jihadists were well schooled in how to blend in, to be one of the boys. They were good at it, as good as Hollywood’s best. Leon’s venture was not licensed for night excursions, the Army Corps of Engineers still cautious about the underwater tour business; but he was working his contacts to make it happen. Nimrod would surely have no problem piloting the sub at night, when the given night arrived.
At the J. Blanton concrete plant in Arizona, Ricky packed the two briefcase nukes into the hidden container that had been welded into the gas tank of the Dodge pickup truck. With a Confederate flag in the back window, he began his journey eastward to meet Nimrod. Ricky at first hesitated to confide the mission to the submarine pilot; but upon delivery of the briefcase nukes, wrapped and hidden in the waterproof enclosures, Ricky decided to confide in his friend. He knew it would make his day. Lake Lanier was the home of Buford Dam, soon to be an ex-dam.
***
Melissa cleaned up, placing the Mikasa dinnerware gently into the dishwasher. Since Jeff’s accident at Park Place, even after his recovery, she visited more often than in the past four years. They enjoyed conversations and reminisced about forgotten times, times that had not been forgotten after all. They had always been able to converse about almost anything, except religion; but Jeff tried not to read between the lines. He didn’t want to put too much hope in reconciliation; because he still did not believe in God and Divine Intervention, though he was beginning to question his beliefs, or lack of. Melissa had once told him in a fit of anger that it would take Divine Intervention for her to ever come back.
“I talked to Jenni and Jami, you know, about the asteroid or whatever it is. They didn’t seem that upset. I guess they’re too young to know the gravity of the situation.” Melissa was surprised that they were still more interested in partying than surviving a cataclysmic collision; but in her own mind, she knew the collision wouldn’t happen. Revelation described a large mountain falling into the sea, but other things had to happen first.
“No one seems to be upset
about it, at least according to the news. I’m not sure if everyone has succumbed to the reality and knows they can do nothing about it, or if they really believe that a bombardment of nuclear missiles could abort the object’s course, or modify it enough to miss Earth.”
Jeff and Chad had discussed the ballistic missile plan to divert the unknown space object, and something going on between the new Italian ruler and the U.S. President.
The President and the new leader of Italy had become good friends over the last six months since Gianni Altobelli was freely elected. Though Europe was suffering through its worst economic crisis in history, Altobelli had turned Italy around in six months. His measures were tiresome, and sometimes felt futile to the Italian citizenry; but the new Prime Minister had done what he said he would. He had also quarantined Italy for the past three months, successfully stopping the smallpox invasion in its tracks, at least in Italy. All of Europe was amazed; and some of Europe’s leaders were envious, but also inspired. Just a year before, no one outside Italy had even heard of Gianni Altobelli.
The United States-Italian plan to bring the world’s powers together would be fraught with i’s to dot and t’s to cross; but the leaders knew that it would take all the ICBMs of the world, and then some, to stop this thing.