by JE Gurley
Larger explosions breached the surface—the secret weapon Lieutenant Cobb had mentioned. The dark depths became fulgurous with streaks of light. Several gray dorsal fins rose from the depths and broke the surface, followed by a gigantic fin, much larger than any of the other creatures were, twice as long as the one he had witnessed at the sinking of the Kulik. The enormous megalodon’s broad back and tail joined it, cutting the water like the wake of a ship. Using the edge of the drillship as a handy ruler, he estimated the megalodon to be well over a hundred-eighty-feet long, twice as large as some of the other creatures fleeing before it. He recognized it as the granddaddy megalodon that had spared him. The sight broke through the emotionless shell that had enveloped him. His legs trembled and his palms began to sweat. An intense fear gripped him like two frozen hands. He looked into the white eyes of the pale gray monster and saw death. The creature had come to finish the job it had started.
He took several steps backwards away from the edge of the platform, gasping for breath.
“Is that it?” Simon asked. “Is that the one you saw?” The chef’s voice was a mixture of excitement and fury.
Asa shook his head. “I don’t know,” he lied. “No. This one is bigger. It’s a monster.” He didn’t know why he refused to acknowledge it as the same shark. It was unlikely there would be two that large. He thought if he ignored it, it might go away, like a bad dream. But those had not gone away either.
Around them, the ASROC launchers began firing their modified Mark 46 torpedoes almost at the base of the drillship. The long graceful arcs had become straight lines as they struck the water two hundred yards from the drillship. Minutes later, a series of explosions illuminated the depths. The water churned and roiled above the explosions. He urged the torpedoes onward, as if by his will alone he could guide them to their marks. Dead sharks floated to the surface, becoming a free meal for their cannibalistic kin. He almost let out a whoop of joy at seeing the creatures suffer the same fate as so many of his friends on the Kulik.
They watched the carnage for two hours, paying little heed to the wind and the rain, entranced by the epic conflict. Most of the battle was invisible beneath the waves, requiring imagination to see the torpedoes lancing toward the sharks and the mines exploding, blowing sharks to bits. Occasionally, a megalodon surfaced, giving them a ringside seat to the ancient creatures. He winced inside at the memory of the Kulik, but could not tear his gaze away from the creatures. Especially, he liked the way the creatures ripped into their own dead and injured in a feeding frenzy. He considered it justice.
The Navy had erected a tent on the deck near one of the ASROC launchers. Curious, Asa wandered over to it and peeked inside. He recognized a bank of sonar screens with two technicians monitoring them. He assumed the screens displayed data from sonar buoys moored somewhere beyond the minefield. All of the screens showed activity—the megalodon. His heart sank at the number of blips. As he watched, one of the screens went blank.
“We lost the Number Five buoy,” one of the technicians reported.
Less than a minute later, a second screen died. Asa had a bad feeling about the coincidence.
“Number Two is gone.” The technician looked at his superior. “You don’t think they know, do you?”
His superior looked incredulous. “They’re dumb fish, for God’s sake. It’s the torpedoes. They must be taking them out.”
“They’re homing in on the sonar signal,” Asa said.
Both men glanced up at him. “Who the hell are you?”
Asa shook his head. “It doesn’t matter. They can detect the sonar signals.”
Two more screens went blank. “No,” the technician said, but doubt filled his voice. He looked at his superior. “Two more buoys and the ASROCs will be firing blind.”
Asa didn’t wait to see what they did. He raced back outside and saw Simon still staring out to sea.
“The shit’s going to hit the fan.” He quickly explained what he had overheard.
Simon shook his head. “Damned Navy. I knew they would screw this up.”
Asa stumbled when the drillship rocked from a solid hit. He turned to Simon. “One of the torpedoes?”
Simon shook his head. “That was no explosion. The megs are ramming the pontoons.”
He had not considered that. “Can they sink us?”
“Probably,” Simon replied, “given enough time.”
Not again! “Crap! What do we do?”
Simon grinned. “We can use the ROV as we planned.”
Simon’s suggestion floored Asa. “Are you freakin’ kidding me? It’s a war zone out there.”
“Do you propose we just stand here watching the battle? We might be in the water soon if the Vanguard sinks no matter what happens. I’d rather die striking a blow now while we have the chance than drowning meekly doing nothing.”
The sound of motors below drew their attention. Asa looked down and saw the patrol boat speeding past the drillship with her captain, Lieutenant Cobb standing on the foredeck shouting orders. The machineguns mounted fore and aft began firing into the water at the sharks. Two large explosions split the water behind the boat, lifting twin plumes of water into the air. The drillship vibrated from the concussions.
“They’re dropping depth charges,” he yelled to Simon.
Although he was still angry with her captain for reporting them, the timely appearance of the patrol boat energized him. If it could keep the megalodon away from the drillship, it lessened the need for them to retrieve the ROV and join in the fight. He had much rather watch the battle from the safety of the deck than to participate.
The ASROC launchers fell silent as the last sonar buoys failed. A few minutes later, the first of the mines began exploding. It seemed to Asa that too much time passed between explosions. He wondered if the mines were a bust, too. The patrol boat continued making passes around the drillship, running a zigzagging course through the sharks, dropping depth charges, and peppering any shark that surfaced with machinegun fire. Three missiles flew from her deck and lanced into the water, adding their firepower to the depth charges and smaller weapons fire, but Asa saw that it was not enough.
To his dismay, more fins broke the surface, fewer than before, but more than enough to cause serious damage to the drillship. When he saw the monster megalodon again almost two-thirds the length of a football field cut a swatch through the water at the pontoon directly below them, Asa braced for the inevitable crash. Moments later, the entire ship shuddered and tilted to port. Chains and drums rolled off the decks.
“That had to do some damage,” he said. “Come on. I want to check the underwater structural integrity.” Forgotten was his fear of the megalodon. His fear of sinking outweighed that grim fate.
For a few moments, Simon did not reply, his gaze still steadfastly fixed on the megalodon. Then, he nodded. “All right. The water’s too cold for a swim.”
“Help me carry the portable welding rig down. I think we’ll need it.”
The Vanguard continued to take hits from megalodon, as the pair picked up a portable TIG welder from the mechanic’s shack and descended the stairs inside the column. Though portable, the TIG welder still weighed almost fifty pounds. Manhandling it down the stairs was no simple task. Simon stopped several times to catch his breath. The overweight chef, at home in his kitchen, was out of shape for rapid stair climbing. The drillship now had an obvious list to the deck as it rapidly took on water. He only hoped he could repair the leak before they sank.
When he opened the bulkhead hatch into the pontoon, the sound of rushing water echoed in the dark depths of the steel tank. He played the flashlight around, and the sight that greeted him was disheartening. Swirling water stood two feet deep in the bilge and rose higher as he watched, indicating a dangerously large rupture. He despaired that it might be too big to seal. His only hope lay in doing the best job he could to reduce the amount of water coming in. If he could slow the leak, it would give them more time, perhaps enough tim
e for a more permanent repair.
He plugged the welder into a power outlet inside the base of the column and waded through the icy water, clenching his teeth at the sudden numbing shock to his feet and legs. Simon followed carrying the power cord, cursing under his breath. Still winded by the stairs, his ragged breath reverberated in the hollow space. Asa hoped the overweight chef didn’t have a heart attack. He would never get him back up the stairs.
When he saw the leak, Asa’s hope diminished. Two jets of water sprayed across the pontoon and cascaded down the opposite wall. He examined the source and cursed.
“Damn! It’s ruptured between two braces. I can’t get to it.”
“Can we pack it with something?”
“Too much pressure. Besides, we still have the same problem. We can’t get to the crack.” He stood back to think about the problem. There had to be a way to stem the leak.
“So what do we do?”
Asa’s mind raced for an answer, but the only solution he came up with brought them back to the ROV, a subject he did not wish to broach with Simon. Finally, faced with the likelihood of drowning, he said, “We could change out the ROV’s tool arm I jury-rigged for a welder. Maybe I can seal the crack from the outside,” he paused, rubbing his chin in thought, “but that would mean winching it back aboard, replacing the arm, and lowering it back into the water. I estimate it would take us an hour.” He glanced at the leak and the speed at which the water entered the space. “We don’t have that much time.”
“What about the crane?” Simon suggested.
“Yes!” Asa burst out. “Quick thinking. We can move the ROV to the dock; then, you lower the welder kit, the control cases, and me by basket. I’ll attach the welder kit down here. It won’t take ten minutes.”
“I’ve never operated a crane,” Simon protested.
“It’s your suggestion. You just need to worry about one control that raises and lowers the basket. The crane is already in position at the edge of the platform.” He smiled at Simon’s sour look. “No problem.”
Simon wasn’t convinced. “Yeah, so you say.”
“We don’t have much time, Simon.”
“Okay, okay, I’ll do it, but I’d advise you not to stand under it.”
“Fair enough.”
He followed Simon back into the column. Simon had more difficulty climbing the steps than he had going down them. Asa wanted to hurry him, shove him up the steps, but felt compelled to keep Simon’s slower pace. By the time they reached the deck, the drillship had canted another six degrees. As Simon leaned on the railing catching his breath, Asa surveyed the bedlam on the deck. It appeared all bets were off. Sailors and technicians paid them no attention as they scrambled to the emergency lifeboat stations. Like Asa, their biggest concern was the sinking drillship. Asa demurred from that route. He had rather take his chances in the open sea than in the lifeboats. They made good targets for megalodon.
While Simon familiarized himself with the crane controls, Asa operated the ROV’s remote control and quickly moved it to the dock. In the rough sea, keeping it in position was difficult. He finally hit upon the idea of clamping the manipulator arm to the dock to moor it. He grabbed the welder arm kit, carried it to the crane, and placed it in the basket. Then, he returned for the two cases containing the ROV controls and the camera monitor. They were all he would need for the job.
He stepped into the basket, nodded to Simon, and held on. He almost lost his grip when Simon jerked the basket ten feet off the deck. With the slope to the deck affecting the crane, the basket swung wildly for a moment, banging against the railing. He saw Simon mouth an apology as he fought the controls. More gently the second time, he swung the basket over the side and lowered it. As the churning sea grew closer to the bottom of the basket, Asa wondered if he was about to get wet, but at the last moment, the basket jerked to a halt and bounced for a moment before Simon set it onto the dock with barely a bump.
Relieved he had survived the harrowing descent, Asa quickly laid the control cases and the welder arm on the dock. Reaching the bobbing ROV was more difficult. It remained in place because of the manipulator arm, which he had to remove. He tossed a loop of line around the top of the ROV and tied it off on a cleat. Then, timing it carefully to avoid the dock crushing him, he leaped onto the ROV’s small platform with the welder arm kit held under one arm. The cumbersome package threw him off balance, and he almost fell off. He grabbed on with his free hand, avoiding the lethal tip of the homemade injector arm and its deadly load of saxitoxin. Bleeding the hydraulic line loosened the arm’s grip. He quickly disconnected the injector mechanism and tossed it across the gap onto the dock. He mounted the welder arm in position, holding his breath as he tightened the connections while the waves crashed over him. His task completed, he waited until the ROV rose above the dock on a high wave and stepped down onto it.
Just inside the open door of the column, out of the wind and spray, he set up the control cases on the deck. Sitting cross-legged on the deck before the controls, he turned on the spotlights and camera. The image on the monitor of the dock bobbing up and down and rolling side to side tightened the knot in his stomach. Submerging the ROV beneath the waves stabilized the dizzying camera image. He used the thrusters to propel the ROV well away from the drillship to prevent the waves from slamming it into the hull. Moving it along the pontoon, scanning for the rupture with the camera, he located the leak in a large indentation. To his dismay, several other dents and large parallel gashes marked spots where the megalodon had attacked the pontoon, anyone of which could cause a leak. The power of the creatures amazed him. Their primitive instinct for survival was matched only by their natural impulse to strike out at anything unknown.
From the outside, the leak was more accessible, a six-inch long gap between two plates. He fired up the welder. Only after the bright actinic flash half-blinded him did he remember to use the filter on the monitor screen. He had no time to weld a plate over the gash. He started at one end, and using flexible welding rod fed from a spool, slowly built up a lip along the edge of the gash, adding more metal until the edges almost touched; then, drew them together with a final bead. Operating the welder by remote control was more difficult than doing it by hand. He had a hard time getting the feel of the welder. Satisfied with his progress so far, he began on the other end. The wider middle gap was more complicated. He had to build a bridge almost two inches wide between the two sections of hull plating. Several times, the lip he was adding broke away, forcing him to begin afresh.
His weld job was temporary at best. The uneven bead would have drawn a hard glare of contempt from George Gibson, his welding instructor in trade school, but it was doing the job. The leak was almost sealed.
A silvery gray body moved by the ROV just at the edge of the camera range. He risked panning the camera and saw several indistinct shapes milling around the pontoon. The glare of the lights and the welder had drawn the megalodons’ attention. He cursed and worked faster. Suddenly, the ROV seemed to leap skyward, as one of the sharks slammed it from beneath. He fought the controls to stabilize it, but the sharks were knocking it about like a soccer ball, each one seeking it as a prize. The lights extinguished, leaving him in darkness. He switched to IR but saw only indistinct hazy shapes. Then, the camera too failed. He had lost the ROV.
Not satisfied with destroying the ROV, the megalodon began crashing into the pontoon near the weld with renewed vigor, drawn, he supposed, by the warmth of the fresh weld. Their frantic attacks became more violent. The column vibrated like a plucked violin string. The deck tilted, sliding him across the floor. He glanced into the pontoon and saw water gushing in from fresh leaks. He had done all he could, but in spite of his valiant attempt, the drillship was doomed.
He glanced up to see Simon clambering down the steps.
“Did it work?” he yelled.
“No,” Asa replied. “I just drew more sharks. We’re sinking.”
“One of the men on the deck said a he
licopter was on the way to pick them up. We need to get back up there and go with them.”
Asa sighed. It looked as if all their plans had amounted to nothing. They were still evacuating the drillship on a helicopter. “Okay.”
He climbed the stairs and joined Simon. The megalodon continued battering the drillship as if determined to send it to the bottom. Several times, they were forced to stop climbing and hold on as the drillship rolled. Just as they reached the deck, in the pale early light of dawn, they saw the Navy M1-60 Seahawk taking off from the helicopter pad.
“No!” Simon yelled, waving his arms as he stumbled across the deck.
Asa knew it was too late. The pilot did not look back as he flew the chopper around the derrick and quickly disappeared into the storm.
“Come back,” Simon whined.
“It’s no use,” Asa told him. “They forgot us. We’re stuck here.” He glanced at the row of bright red lifeboats. It looked as if his worst fear was soon to be realized—floating around like a snack on a tray among the hungry megalodon.
An amplified voice boomed out from below. “Ahoy up there!”
Asa looked down over the side of the drillship and saw the patrol boat alongside.
“Need a lift?” Cobb called to them.
“Hell yeah,” he yelled down. He turned to Simon and grinned. “Looks like we ain’t quite dead yet.”