The relieved men in the passenger compartment let out a cheer as
Giordino gingerly coaxed the blimp up to an altitude of one hundred
feet, the big airship slowly stabilizing under his steady hand.
"I guess you showed us who's master of the airship," Dirk laudedl
"Yeah, and almost commander of a submarine," Giordino replied as he eased
the nose of the blimp to the east and away from the platform.
"Uprange and away from shore isn't exactly the direction I'd like to be
going at this altitude," he added, eyeing the Koguryo warily out the
window to port. "I radioed Deep Endeavor to get out of the way of the
rocket's flight path, so they should be cutting a wide swath around to
the north. We ought to keep them in sight in case we have to
ditch."
Dirk scanned the horizon, keeping one eye locked on the launch
platform. Far to the southwest, he spotted the distant mass of San
Nicolas Island. Peering to the northeast, he saw a tiny blue dot,
which he knew to be the Deep Endeavor. Then, just to the north of the
NUMA ship, he noticed a small brown mass rising from the sea.
"That landmass up ahead. I recall from the navigation charts that it's
a small channel island called "Santa Barbara." Why don't we head that
way? We can drop the crew there and have Deep Endeavor pick them up
before we get into any more trouble."
"And get back to find your dad," Giordino said, finishing Dirk's
thought. Dirk looked back at the platform with hesitation.
"Can't be much time left," he muttered.
"About ten minutes," Giordino replied, wondering like Dirk what Pitt
could possibly pull off in such little time.
Physically surviving A launch on board the Odyssey was not impossible.
When a rocket was fired, the main thrust was directed beneath the
platform at ignition. The Odyssey had been constructed as a reusable
launch platform, and, in fact, had already withstood more than a dozen
launches. The deck, hangar, crew compartment, and pilothouse were all
built to withstand the fiery heat and exhaust generated from a powerful
rocket launch. What a human inhabitant was not likely to survive,
however, was the noxious fumes that engulfed the platform at blastoff.
A massive billow of exhaust from the spent kerosene and liquid oxygen
fuel all but buried the Odyssey in a thick cloud of smoke for several
minutes after liftoff, smothering the breathable air in the vicinity of
the platform.
But that was of little concern to Pitt as he jumped off the elevator
and raced out a back door of the hangar. He had no interest in hanging
around the platform when the Zenit was lit off. Instead, he was
hell-bent on making it to the bright red submersible he saw bobbing
in the water from the pilothouse window. Like a contestant running a
timed obstacle course, Pitt ran, jumped, and hurdled his way across the
platform to the corner column support and sprinted down the steps to
the water's edge. In their haste to evacuate the platform, Tongju and
his men had not thought it necessary to let adrift the NUMA sub. Pitt
was thankful to find her still tied to the column steps as he
exhaustedly reached the water's edge.
Untying the line, he jumped aboard and scrambled down the Badger's top
hatch, sealing it closed behind him. In seconds, he had activated the
submersible's power systems and opened the ballast tank for submersion.
Engaging the throttles, he quickly maneuvered away from the Odyssey's
forward column and proceeded down the interior length of the platform
before positioning the submersible for the task at hand. Holding the
submersible steady, Pitt activated the controls to the bow-mounted
coring device and, with just minutes to spare, prayed that his
cockamamie plan would work.
The Korean launch team aboard the Koguryo watched the video screen with
curiosity as the silver blimp touched down on the Odyssey's helipad and
the crew of the platform jammed into the gondola. Kim grimaced with
anger but noted that Tongju remained calm.
"We should have killed the crew and destroyed that airship when we had
the opportunity," Kim hissed as they watched the Icarus lurch off the
platform. An alternate camera was turned toward the blimp, showing the
airship fight for altitude before turning out to sea. Tongju nodded
toward the video image with assurance.
"She is overloaded and unable to make speed. We shall easily catch and
destroy her after the launch," he said quietly to Kim.
His eyes returned to the launch countdown and the noisy jabber of the
engineers within the control center. The room was a flurry of activity
and pressure as the final minutes drew to a close. Ling stood
nearby, reviewing the output from a series of launch vehicle
assessments. Beads of sweat rolled from his forehead in tense
anticipation despite the cool temperature of the air-conditioned bay.
For Ling, there was every reason to be nervous. In the world of space
vehicle delivery, there was an astounding rate of mortality. He knew
all too well that roughly one in ten satellite launches ended in
failure, and that the fault could come from a thousand and one sources.
Failure of the rocket at launch was still not an uncommon occurrence,
though most satellite losses were due to deploying the payload in an
incorrect orbit. The short, suborbital flight of the mission at hand
eliminated a great deal of the problematic issues associated with most
rocket flights, but the risk of a catastrophic launch failure never
went away.
Ling breathed easier as he digested the latest status updates. All
critical systems appeared operational. There was nothing to indicate
that the trustworthy Zenit rocket would not fire off in its usual
dependable manner. With less than five minutes to go, he turned to
Tongju and spoke with a glimmer of confidence.
"There will be no launch holds. The countdown will proceed
unimpeded."
Their attention turned to the image of the rocket on the video screen
in its last minutes before takeoff. Despite the multitude of studious
eyes converged on the image of the rocket and platform, no one in the
room noticed the tiny movement at the periphery of the picture. Only
the camera saw as a dark-haired man ran to the edge of the platform and
scrambled out of sight down the corner column stairwell.
Pitt had wasted no time in engaging the full set of thrusters that
powered the Badger. Though he knew it was the worst possible place to
be, he quickly guided the submersible down the underbelly length
of the platform and maneuvered the vehicle to a stop alongside the rear
starboard support column. Directly above him was the recessed
launchpad flame deflector, which would route the titanic blast of the
Zenit's thrust toward the sea at liftoff.
Pitt turned the nose of the submersible until it was aimed at the
column, then backed away from the rotund support leg as he submerged
the vessel to a depth of fifteen feet. Using a set of manipulator
controls, he lowered the huge coring probe until it stretched perfe
ctly
horizontal in front of the submarine's prow, protruding like a medieval
jousting lance. Pitt braced his feet against the metal deck plate and
muttered, "Okay, Badger, let's see your bite," as he jammed the
throttles to full forward.
The shiny red submersible clawed its way through the water, quickly
gaining speed over the short distance to the column. Pushed by the
full weight and force of the submersible, the coring probe slammed into
the side of the massive steel column with a bang. Pitt held his breath
as he was jolted forward and continued to slide ahead until the nose of
the submersible slapped against the column. Rammed to a halt, he
quickly threw the thrusters in reverse and peered through the surging
bubbles as the submersible backed away from the column. A metallic
grating sound echoed back at him as the probe was drawn roughly off the
column. Through the murky and turbulent water, he caught a glimpse of
the coring probe jutting intact off the bow and he exhaled in relief.
As Pitt had hoped, the momentum of the speedy submersible had driven
the tip of the coring probe cleanly through the side of the support
column, opening an eight-inch-diameter hole.
Pitt felt a little like Ezra Lee on the Turtle. The Revolutionary War
volunteer had attempted to sink a British warship in David Bushnell's
small wooden submarine by drilling a hole in the side and attaching a
mine. Though the attempt failed, the Turtle would be remembered in
history as the first submarine ever used in combat. With the benefit
of propulsion, Pitt backed the Badger away twenty feet and adjusted his
depth slightly, then reversed the thrusters and charged into the
column
again. Once more, the probe tore through the outer wall of the column,
leaving a neat round hole for the seawater to pour into.
Though abjectly crude, Pitt's mad ploy had an element of simple genius
to it. He calculated that if there was no way to stop the rocket from
lifting off, then, perhaps, there was a way to change its intended
destination. By creating an imbalance in the platform, he might at
least angle the rocket off its intended flight path. On such a short
flight, the rocket's guidance system would not have sufficient time to
fully correct the deviation and could miss its intended target by
miles. And there was no doubt that the Achilles' heel of the platform
at launch were the rear support columns. With the rocket standing
vertically at the extreme rear edge of the platform, the Odyssey had to
maintain a careful balance to handle the uneven weight distribution
across the entire platform. An active trim-and-heel system utilized
ballast tanks in the columns and pontoons to maintain stability,
managed by six large ballast pumps. By flooding the rear support
columns, there was a chance of destabilizing the launch deck. For
Pitt, it would be a desperate race against the ballast pumps to create
a material imbalance.
Like a passenger on a carnival ride gone amok, Pitt was violently
thrown about the submersible as he rammed into the column time and time
again. Electronic equipment was jarred from its mounts, crashing and
flying about his feet with each impact. The nose section of the
submersible soon became battered after repeated collisions with the
column wall and small rivulets of salt water began streaming into the
interior through the damaged seams. But none of this mattered to Pitt.
The risk to himself and the submersible was the last concern on his
mind as the seconds to launch ticked down. One more time, he flung the
force of the submersible against the support column, poking a hole in
its surface like a rampant mosquito, the jab not drawing blood but
letting in a flood of water.
After more than a dozen strikes at the starboard column, Pitt spun the
leaking Badger around and raced toward the rear port support. Glancing
at his Doxa watch, he calculated there was less than two minutes before
liftoff. With a towering crash, he slammed into the other support
column, driving the probe to its base and further crumbling the nose of
the submersible. More water began leaking into the interior but Pitt
ignored it. With salt water sloshing around his feet, he calmly
reversed thrust and backed away for another stab at the column. As he
lined up for another assault, he wondered if his actions were the
futile gesture of an underwater Don Quixote charging at an errant
windmill.
Unknown to Pitt, his very first blow on the starboard support column
had activated one of the ballast pumps. As the number of holes and the
amount of inrushing water increased, additional pumps were activated,
until all six pumps were engaged. The pumps operated at the base of
the columns, which were already submerged some forty feet under the
water. While the automated ballast system easily kept each pontoon
level with one another side by side, there was only limited means of
maintaining balance fore and aft. With the water level rising rapidly
in the stern support columns, it didn't take long before Pitt's
drilling overwhelmed the rear ballast pumps. The sinking stern of the
platform created a programming dilemma for the automated stabilization
system. Under normal conditions, the trim-and-heel system would
compensate the aft list by flooding the forward compartments and
lowering the overall platform depth. But the platform was in launch
position and had already been flooded to launching depth. Ballasting
the platform lower, the computer knew, risked damaging the low-hanging
thrust deflectors. In a handful of nanoseconds, the computer program
reviewed its software logic for priority actions. The results came
back unambiguous. During a designated launch countdown, the
stabilization system was to maintain launch depth as its first
priority. The sinking aft columns would be ignored.
Aboard the Koguryo, a red warning light began blinking id the launch
control room with less than two minutes to go. A bespectacled
engineer studied the platform stabilization warning for moment, then
jotted down some notations and briskly stepped over to Ling.
"Mr. Ling, we have a platform stabilization warning," he reportec
"What is the deviation?" Ling asked hurriedly.
"An aft list of three degrees."
"That is inconsequential," he replied, brushing off the engineer.
Turning to Tongju, who stood at his side, he said, "A list of five
degrees or less is no cause for concern."
Tongju could almost taste the results of the launch now. There could
be no turning back now.
"Do not halt the launch for any reason," he hissed at Ling in a tense voice.
The chief engineer gritted his teeth and nodded, then stared nervously
at the waiting rocket that stood shimmering on the video screen.
The interior of the Badger was a jumbled mess of tools, computer parts,
and interior pieces that sloshed back and forth across the floor with
each jerk of the sub. Pitt remained oblivious to the carnage as he
rammed the submersible against the platform colum
n for the umpteenth
time. Seawater slapped at his calves as he braced himself for yet
another collision, listening for the warning barn of the core probe as
it punched into the column side. Thrown harshly forward at impact, he
detected the smell of burned wiring as yet another electrical component
shorted out from saltwater immersion. Pitt's hammering had turned the
submersible into a shattered hulk of its former self. The rounded
exterior bow had been pounded nearly flat, its coating of glittery red
paint roughly scraped away from the repeated blows. The coring probe
was bent and twisted like a piece of- licorice and barely clung to the
Badger by a pair of mangled brace supports. Inside, the lights
flickered, the water level rose, and the propulsion motors began dying
one by one. Pitt could feel the life ebbing from the submersible as he
listened to the groans and gurgles of the flailing machine. As he
tried to reverse the thrusters and back away from the column, a new
sound struck his ears. It was a deep rushing noise emanating far above
his head.
To the casual observer, the first sign of an imminent rocket blast off
the Sea Launch platform is the roaring rush of fresh water as it is
pumped into the deluge system. At T-5 seconds, a veritable flood of
dampening water is released into the flame trench positioned beneath
the launchpad. The effect of the massive water dousing is to lessen
the thrust exhaust effects to the platform, and, more important,
minimize potential acoustic damage to the payload from the maelstrom at
launch.
At T-3 seconds, the Zenit rocket begins groaning and stirring as its
internal mechanisms are activated and the massive rocket comes to life.
Inside its metal skin, a high-speed turbine pump begins force-feeding
Dirk Pitt18-Black Wind Page 51