by Greig Beck
Hammerson knew the location well – Area 24 – a labyrinth of caves leading down to a primordial world. It was his office that had recommended designating it an international forbidden zone. He knew there was absolutely nothing else down there that could send a signal of any shape or form. Hammerson had sent a team there five years ago. Of the twenty men and women that went in, only three walked out. The reports from the survivors told of a place that was alien to a human being, as if they had set foot on Mars … except perhaps a thousand times more hostile. Humans didn’t belong down in those cave systems.
Hammerson had no idea how an American submarine had found its way in there. But he was damned sure that the question about the crew’s likelihood of survival should be answered with a conclusive deceased. Whether command realized it or not, he knew his job was not rescue, but location, confirmation, and probably destruction of the American asset – nothing more, nothing less.
Chilton needed to thread a team in there. Enter the Chinese Antarctic base, locate their tunnel system, and then use it to find the submarine. If at all possible, they were to minimize lethal action against the Chinese nationals. Hammerson snorted – like the PLA were going to let them just walk in there. He knew they’d be fighting the Chinese all the way to hell, and given their recent attack on Aimee Weir’s house, that might be just how he’d like it to be.
Hammerson sighed, dropping the folder. The other complication was that by the time they got there, managed to work their way in, and down the shaft, the Chinese would be days in front – way too much ground given. He needed another option. Something a lot faster and more direct.
Hammerson opened another folder, covering other nations’ work on the frozen continent. He stopped at the British section – Project Ellsworth. It was one of theirs. The funding company, GBR, was a US military research arm.
Jack Hammerson refamiliarized himself with the project and personnel, and then sat back. Looks like we’ve got an elevator, he thought, and smiled as he lifted his phone.
CHAPTER 9
Southern Ocean, northern coast of the Antarctic
“What’ve we got, seaman?” Alan Hensen was Chief of Boat, known as the COB, and second in command of the USS Texas. He stood behind the communications officer with his hands resting on his hips.
“They’re hailing us, sir. COB to COB.” The comms officer, Schwab, turned briefly to Hensen first, and then swung to Commander Eric Carmack. “Commander Chen Leong.”
Erik Carmack folded his arms and planted his legs, looking at the banks of screens, focusing in at one in particular. It showed a satellite image of the Kunming, and approximately 1.3 miles to its south was a computer representation of the outline of the USS Texas below the water. The destroyer was dwarfed by the huge deep-sea fish, both in physical size and firepower.
“They’re turning front on, sir.” Schwab’s voice carried a hint of strain.
Carmack nodded. It didn’t matter if they tried to present a smaller target, the Texas had eight 660-mm torpedo tubes, and an armament of Tomahawk cruise and Harpoon anti-ship missiles, Mark 48 ADCAP torpedoes, as well as a full kit of mines. The Kunming was a powerful destroyer, and on the water it would be a formidable adversary. But down in the deep, it was the Texas that was the real killer fish … and the Kunming knew it.
“Take the helm, Chief.” Carmack let his COB take over, knowing the man would be a commander himself soon, so experience in real confrontations was invaluable. His job was to be a mentor, and that was why he was here.
“Aye, sir.” Hensen turned to his comms officer. “Open a frequency. Invite them to tell us what they’re doing down here, Officer Schwab.”
Schwab opened a hailing frequency and sent the message in dual languages – English and Mandarin. “Responding now.” The Chinese verbal response was captured, recorded, translated, and then fed onto a screen before the comms officer. Schwab read it and raised his eyebrows.
“They … demand we surface.”
“Do they now?” Hensen asked, with a flat smile. He turned to Carmack. The commander nodded, knowing what the COB had in mind.
“Light ’em up.”
Lighting them up meant that the weapons system would be brought online and electronic targeting would commence. The Kunming’s counter measures would immediately see the scan net being thrown over them.
Hensen straightened. “Go to BS1.” They’d war gamed against the Chinese, and every time they did, the quantitative gaming programs found them unpredictable, either overconfident of their own abilities, or prepared to use bluff belligerence, that nearly always went bad. BS1, or “Battle Stations One”, was the Seawolf submarine’s lowest level of combat readiness, but still meant closing off waterproof bulkhead doors, weapons checks, and being in a state of dive readiness.
“The Kunming is demanding we cease our aggression,” Schwab said.
Hensen grunted. “Ask them again what they are doing in international waters. Their presence here is itself an act of aggression.”
“They’ve lit us up, sir.” Schwab’s voice had an edge this time.
The Kunming had plenty of rocket-propelled depth charges, which were dumb weapons and only useful in a straight-line pursuit. But they also had smart missiles that calculated a submarine’s position, then simply dropped into the water, to propel down at speed. They were fast, bullet-fast, accurate, and deadly.
Hensen radiated calm. “We expected that. Keep an eye on their batteries. Get the flying fish ready, just in case.” The Texas had the latest anti-missile defenses, such as A3SM Mica Sams – a torpedo-like capsule containing a medium-range Mica missile that was tube-launchable at any depth. If the Kunming launched, the Micas would burst from the water, hunt ’em down in the sky, and take ’em out.
“They couldn’t be that stupid,” Hensen said evenly.
“There’s obviously something they really want.” Carmack raised heavy brows.
“Let’s tighten up.” Hensen eased back. “Got to BS2.” Horns blared and the lights went red in the command room. The faces of the men were radiating the green glow from their screens and all radar, sonar, and targeting equipment was focused on the Chinese destroyer.
“New message, sir.” Schwab watched the screen for a moment. “They say they are awaiting instructions, and ask us to be patient with them. It may take some time.”
“That’s not what they really want. They want us to pause and think about it, put us in a holding pattern.” Commander Carmack’s eyes narrowed. “Check with HQ on vessel activity around Hainan.”
Hensen spun back to Schwab. “Get NAVCOM on the line. Find out what fleet movements are occurring in the South China Sea.”
Schwab opened a coded frequency and sent the information packet. In a few seconds, he turned and lifted one ear cup from his ear.
“They’ve got two signatures at the Yulin Base – big fish – both possible 096, Tang class, plus a whole lot of other traffic from the surrounding areas.”
Alan Hensen straightened. “So, now we know why they want us to burn up time while they stretch us. In forty-eight hours the odds will have moved against us.” Hensen turned to Commander Carmack.
The commander’s brows were knitted. “Speak to Chilton, Alan; we need instructions, and the clock is ticking. I think we’ll need a few extra friends down here.”
*
Colonel Jack Hammerson stood behind his desk, waiting.
Alex Hunter entered the room, saluted, and then sank into the chair.
“Sir.”
“Good work in Russia.” Hammerson allowed a small smile. “Our Intel obviously missed the motion sensitive mines in the Moskva, huh?”
“Yeah.” Alex snorted. “That detail might have helped.” He grinned at Hammerson. “Head’s still ringing.”
Hammerson laughed and then shrugged. “Anyway, glad you’re back in one piece.” He sighed and sat back. “The world is turning, son, and there’s much to do.”
Alex angled his head, frowning as though dis
tracted. Hammerson watched carefully as Alex got slowly to his feet, his brow creased. He waited, observing his soldier. Alex Hunter, the Arcadian, was the first man, the only man, to ever survive the experimental Arcadian treatment. He was an elite Special Forces soldier brought down by a catastrophic battlefield wound that was described as terminal. Hammerson himself had approved the treatment, as Alex’s chances of survival were minimal at best, and the odds of a recovery were zero.
But Alex did survive – more than survive. When he woke from his coma, he was something vastly different. The treatment was designed to give severely wounded soldiers their physical and cognitive abilities back and improve wound healing – get them back in the field. But something unidentifiable in Alex’s system caused an unexpected amplification of the side effects – he didn’t just get better, he became something far more … formidable.
There was always a price, and Alex continued to pay it – his mind had been ripped in two. Alex Hunter, the original Alex Hunter, was still there. But deep inside there lurked another. The Jekyll to the Hyde. This “other”, was a personality far more ruthless, brutal, and unpredictable. Alex kept him chained up, but any bond can be broken. This was the beast Hammerson always watched for.
Alex continued to stare off into the distance as Hammerson examined him. The young soldier was like a son to him, but one who he had burdened with great gifts or a great handicap. Now Hammerson was going to ask him to head back down below the ice, where five years ago the man had lost an entire team. It was also a place that still haunted Alex’s nightmares, with the things that lived down in those starless depths always with him.
“Alex … Captain Hunter …” Hammerson said, and Alex’s eyes flickered. “What do you know about the Sea Shadow?”
Trance-like, Alex continued to stare. “I’ve heard of it.” The frown was still creasing his brow. “Experimental sub that went missing in the Southern Ocean, years ago.”
“That’s right. Missing since 2008, up until a day ago.” Hammerson watched Alex closely. After a moment, Alex turned his cold, gray-green lasers back on him, the gaze penetrating to his core, assessing him.
“You’ve spoken to Aimee.”
Hammerson knew it wasn’t a question. And also knew it would be a waste of time trying to poker face the guy. Hammerson nodded. “Yeah, it’s all okay.”
“Something happened to her.” Alex suddenly leaned forward. “Joshua …?”
Hammerson held up a hand. “There was a minor altercation at their home. They’re all fine. We took care of it.”
“I need to see them.” Alex stood.
“Not yet.” Hammerson lowered his brow. “I said they’re fine.”
Alex started to pace. “Need to see them.” He was like a caged beast. “Need to see them now …”
“Sit down!” Hammerson’s voice boomed in the small room, and he got to his feet. “This is not a fucking democracy, son. You want to do your own thing, then go back to wandering the streets at night, dismantling muggers, and living off the land.” He stepped closer. “But if you want to help, want to help Aimee, Joshua, all of us? Then shut up and listen.”
Alex gripped the seat armrests, but didn’t sit. His face contorted and his fists clenched. The air in the room felt like it crackled with tension, and Hammerson tried to remain as still and calm as he could manage. He could see there was a battle taking place inside the man; it raged and tore at itself, warring between logic and insane fury.
Hammerson didn’t blink. “I said Aimee and Joshua are fine. Do you trust me?” He waited for several seconds, and then banged a fist on the desk, making everything jump. “Do – you – trust me!”
Alex crushed his eyes shut, and the muscles in his neck strained like cords on wood. His hands on the armrests gripped until the wood started to make a splintering sound. Finally, he nodded and eased back into the seat. His eyes stayed shut, but the tension in his jaw began to relax and after another moment he exhaled long and slow, opening his eyes to focus on Hammerson.
“Yes.”
“Good.” Hammerson sat down slowly, feeling the perspiration run down under his arms. “Aimee is fine. And you know you can’t see her … yet.”
Alex nodded again. “She still thinks I’m dead.” He looked up. “When?”
“Soon.” Hammerson smiled, keeping his face expressionless. “Listen up; we don’t have much time, and this is critical.”
Alex exhaled and nodded again. Hammerson continued, “The Sea Shadow’s automated distress beacon just triggered, or was finally detected. The kicker is, it’s coming from under the Antarctic ice.”
Alex looked up slowly. “Beneath the ice?”
Hammerson nodded. “We found the signal, and so did the Chinese. They sent a destroyer, the Kunming, down there, and we think they’re going to make a run at it.” He shook his head. “Can’t let them do that.” He clasped his hands in front of himself. “We have the USS Texas onsite, keeping an eye on the Kunming. But in a day or two, there’ll be a lot more military assets down there. One false move, and we’ll be at war with China.” He shrugged. “We’d win, but …” He got up, and went around his desk, picking up a computer tablet and sitting down. He flicked through some screens, stopping on one.
“What we’d end up winning might be a field of ashes.” He handed the device to Alex. “We have a range of imperfect options. Any one of them could work, and any one could blow up in our faces with catastrophic consequences. One thing is for sure, we’ll end up with a bloody nose.”
Alex watched the war game analysis on the small tablet’s screen. It showed the two major continents: the USA and China. Lines emanated from each – red lines from China and blue from America. More lines also emanated from the ocean at differing strategic positions. Most of the red lines stopped halfway.
“If diplomacy fails, and there is a launch, we estimate over a thousand nukes would be in the air within the first hundred seconds,” Hammerson said. “We’d take down eighty percent of their missiles, but the ones that got through would target major infrastructure, military facilities, and significant civilian populations.”
Alex turned to him, and Hammerson went on.
“It’d kill or maim fifty million Americans. On the Chinese side, the losses would be in the hundreds of millions, and push ’em back to the stone age.” He exhaled slowly. “Like I said, we’d win, but we’d be hurt bad. Country would be in turmoil for decades.” He leaned forward onto the desk. “And once the lion goes down onto its knees, then the hyena close in. What then would Russia do, or Iran or even North Korea? Maybe use the chaos to launch their own attack?” Hammerson said.
“One after the other, or all at once.” Alex exhaled slowly. “And that does not have a happy ending,”
Hammerson stood behind his desk. “So, we need to deescalate the situation – fast. We need to remove the original rationale for them being down in the Antarctic. We need to find the Sea Shadow before they do. Recovery or destruction, nothing else.” He looked into Alex’s unblinking eyes. “We also need to defang the dragon that’s already down there.”
“You want me to go?” Alex asked.
Hammerson nodded.
Alex sat stone-still for a few moments. “You said they were already on their way. By the time I get there, they’ll be days ahead.”
Hammerson smiled grimly. “We might have a shortcut. You can call it an express elevator.”
“One-way trip, huh?” Alex’s eyes looked ancient, weary.
“No, we’ll absolutely get you home,” Hammerson replied. “It’ll all be in the full briefing.”
Alex nodded. “You want me to secure the site, and if the Sea Shadow can’t be retrieved, obliterate it.” He looked up. “What happens if the Chinese refuse to leave?”
Hammerson grunted. “The Chinese have disavowed all knowledge of the team – they don’t exist. Send them home, and if they won’t go …” His eyes were lidded.
Alex nodded wearily. “Kill them all.”
Ham
merson lifted another report from his desk. “Before you get there, I have one more job …”
He knew this last task was far more delicate – high impact, low mortality. He also knew he made the right call not telling Alex about the Chinese intrusion into Aimee’s house to target Joshua. The last thing he needed was the Arcadian extracting bloody payback where he was about to send him. He handed the report to Alex. “Like I said, first we need to defang that dragon.”
CHAPTER 10
Xuě Lóng Base – Antarctic ice surface
Curious, Shenjung Xing thought. Even from where he stood just outside the door, he smelled the odd odor escape. In the Antarctic, like most frozen climates, the sense of smell was near useless as the cold locked up odors. But the base’s escaping air was warm, and carried with it scents redolent of saltwater, copper, and something like ammonia.
Shenjung Xing, the head scientist, and leader on the team, was the chief mineralogist, and an engineer by trade. His second in command was a small, wiry woman, nearly overwhelmed by all her padded gear. Dr. Soong Chin Ling was a rare earth minerals specialist, and had worked with Shenjung for over a decade. Many times they had shared a bed, and many times he had thought of marriage, to have the idea whipped away by the next project. He turned to her now and raised his eyebrows. She shrugged in return.
In a few minutes, one of the soldiers came to the door, and waved them in. But as Shenjung went to step forward, the other soldiers pushed past. Shenjung bristled, but knew that he was in charge on paper only. Until they determined what happened to Zhang Li, and the other workers and security force, he was to follow Captain Wu Yang’s instructions like everyone else. The man’s face alone didn’t invite disagreement. And he tried hard to ignore that ogre, Mungoi, he had with him.