the volatile liquid propellant through an injector into the rocket
engine's four combustion chambers. Inside each chamber, an igniter is
activated, detonating the propellant in what amounts to a controlled
explosion. The exhaust from the fiery detonation, seeking the path of
least resistance, comes blasting out of each chamber through a
constricted nozzle at the base of the rocket. The power of thrust is
generated by the purged exhaust, enabling the Zenit rocket to defy the
force of gravity and lift itself off the launchpad.
But the final three seconds of countdown are all critical. In those
brief few seconds, onboard computer systems quickly monitor the engine
start-up, checking propellant mixture, flow rates, ignition
temperature, and a host of other mechanical readings affecting engine
burn. If a significant deviation is discovered in any of the engine
parameters, the automated control system takes over, shutting down the
engine and scrubbing the launch. A reinitialization of the entire
launch process is then required, which may take upward of five days
before another launch can be attempted.
Ling ignored the video screen of the Zenit at the launch tower and
instead stared at a computer display of critical measurements as the
final seconds of the launch countdown ticked toward zero. At T-1
second, a row of green lights burst onto the screen and Ling allowed
himself a slight breath of relief.
"We have main engine thrust up!" he shouted aloud as the display told
him the computers were ramping up the rocket's RD-171 engine to maximum
launch thrust. Every eye in the room turned to the video screen as the
propellant floodgates were opened and the fuel burst
through the rocket's engine in a torrent. For a long second, the
rocket sat still on the pad as the fiery exhaust burst from its
nozzles, the flames licking the water deluge and spraying a thick cloud
of white smoke beneath the platform. Then, with a burgeoning burst of
power, the Zenit surged up off the pad. The launch tower clamps fell
away as the white rocket, erupting with 1.8 million pounds of thrust,
climbed up past the tower and into the sky with a blinding glare and
deafening roar.
A cheer rang through the launch control center as the engineers watched
the Zenit rise successfully off the platform. Ling broke into a broad
smile as the rocket climbed higher, grinning good-naturedly at Tongju.
Kang's henchman simply nodded back in satisfaction.
At the far side of the bay, the bespectacled engineer who monitored the
platform continued to stare mesmerized at the video image of the rocket
as it climbed into the crisp blue sky. Oblivious to him was the
computation on his computer monitor, which showed that the platform
stabilization deviation had continued to rise, creeping past fifteen
degrees in the last seconds prior to launch.
Fifteen feet beneath the water's surface, Pitt's ears were bleeding
from the acoustical barrage. What started with the sound of a distant
freight train had rumbled into the bombardment of a thousand erupting
volcanoes as the Zenit's engine reached full thrust. The deafening
sound, Pitt knew, was only a warning of the real savagery to come. The
building force of the rocket's exhaust was deflected into the flame
trench, where thousands of gallons of water dampened the inferno. The
blasting force of the exhaust was little repressed, however, gathering
into a steaming cloud of fury that proceeded past the deflectors to the
open sea below the platform, where it pounded the water like a
sledgehammer.
Positioned almost directly beneath the launchpad, the Badger was
pummeled like a small toy, surging twenty feet down in a blast of
bubbles and vapor. Pitt felt as if he were trapped in a washing
machine as the submersible was tossed violently about. The seams of
the vessel twisted and groaned from the force of the surge and the
interior lights flickered from the shaking. A loose battery pack
bounced off Pitt's head, gashing his temple as the submersible nearly
turned turtle in the bellowing turbulence. Shaking off the blow, he
discovered a new worry when he braced a hand against the bulkhead
during a side roll. To his surprise, the bulkhead was searing hot. He
quickly pulled his hand away, cursing as he shook it in the air to
cool. A sickening thought drew over him as he felt a heavy mist of
sweat dripping down his forehead and realized the water sloshing at his
feet was rapidly warming. The rocket's exhaust was creating a boiling
tempest around him, which might poach him alive before the rocket
cleared the platform.
A second, more powerful surge stuck the submersible as the rocket's
full thrust came to bear. The force of the current pushed the Badger
charging through the water in a contorted angle, nearly on its side.
Pitt clung to the controls for balance, unable to see ahead through the
turbulent water, which offered no visibility. Had he an inkling where
the submersible was headed, he might have braced himself for the
impact. But the collision came without warning.
Ripping with the surge like a raft down the Colorado River, the
submersible tore head-on into the side of the Odyssey's flooded port
pontoon. A metallic clap thundered through the water as the
submersible smacked against the immovable hull. Pitt was jerked from
the pilot's seat and flung against the forward bulkhead amid a rain of
loosened electronic debris as the interior lights fell black and a
series of hissing sounds erupted throughout the compartment. A
grinding noise told Pitt that the Badger was sliding along the pontoon
until another clang erupted and the submersible tilted over to one side
and jerked to a sudden stop. As Pitt collected his senses, he realized
that the submersible was wedged against the platform hull from the
force of the rushing water, perhaps entangled in one of the pontoon's
drive propellers. Turned on its side against the huge pontoon, there was no way
that Pitt could open the entry hatch, dare he try to flood the interior
and escape to the surface. With a sickening awe, he realized that if
he wasn't soon baked alive he would face a swift death by drowning
trapped inside the leaking submersible.
Six thousand miles away, Kang smiled weakly as he watched a satellite
feed of the rocket bursting off the deck of the Odyssey.
"We have opened the genie's bottle," he said quietly to Kwan, sitting
across his desk. "Let us hope he follows his master's wishes."
Tongju watched intently as the Zenit climbed up past the launch tower
with a thundering reverberation that could be felt even inside the
bowels of the Koguryo's control center. A lingering applause still
rang through the control center as the jubilant launch crew cheered the
rocket's ascent. Ling afforded himself a wide smile as the computer
display told him that the Zenit's engine was operating at full thrust.
He peered at Tongju, who returned the glance by nodding tight-lipped in
approval.
"The mission is
still far from over," Ling said, visibly relieved that
the rocket was finally under way. But the riskiest phase of the
mission was behind them now, he knew. Once the rocket was ignited, he
had little control, if any, over the outcome of the mission. With a
quiet uneasiness, he settled in as a spectator to monitor the balance
of the flight.
From the cockpit of the Icarus, Al, Dirk, and Jack watched with dread
as the blast of the rocket shook across the open sea. Just seconds
before, Giordino had eased the struggling airship down onto a flat
clearing atop Santa Barbara Island, where the relieved Sea Launch crew
quickly jumped out of the overcrowded gondola. Captain Chris-tiano
hesitated at the cockpit doorway, stopping to shake hands.
"Thank you for saving my crew," Christiano said through a grim face
pained with disgrace for losing command of the Odyssey.
"Now that we can get airborne again, we'll make sure they don't get
away," Dirk replied with shared anger. He then pointed out the cockpit
windshield toward an approaching blue dot on the horizon.
"The Deep Endeavor's on her way. Get your men down to the shoreline
and prepare to transfer aboard."
Christiano nodded then stepped off the gondola, leaving it empty save
for Jack.
"All ashore," he uttered into the cockpit.
"Then let's get this gasbag back into the sky," Giordino grunted,
turning the propeller ducts upward and advancing the throttles. With
roughly eight thousand pounds of human cargo suddenly off-loaded, the
blimp rose easily into the air. As Giordino aimed the airship back
toward the Odyssey, their eyes collectively caught the first billows of
smoke that indicated the launch was initiated.
The fuming exhaust of the burning liquid oxygen and kerosene propellant
bursting against the platform's water dampener system created a massive
white cloud of vapor that quickly enveloped the entire platform and
surrounding sea. For what seemed like minutes, the Zenit stood still
at the launch tower. To the men in the airship, there was a hopeful
moment where it appeared that the rocket was not going to leave the
pad, but finally the tall white rocket began to rise, its blinding
exhaust glaring like a fireball. Even a half-dozen miles across the
water, they could hear the sharp crackling sound of the combusting fuel
as the hot explosive thrust met the cool surrounding air, creating the
echo of an ax ripping through a pine log.
Though it was a powerful, almost beautiful sight, Dirk felt a sickening
knot in his stomach as he watched the rocket ascend. The glistening
white missile would host the most savage terrorist attack the world had
ever seen, resulting in a horrifying death for millions. And he had
failed to stop it. As if that was not punishment enough, he knew that
Sarah was somewhere in the target area of Los Angeles and might very
well be one of the strike's first victims. And then there was the fate
of his father. Glancing forlornly at Giordino, he saw a grimace on the
old Italian's face the likes of which he had never seen before. It was
not a look of anger with the terrorists but an expression of concern
for the loss of a lifelong friend. As much as Dirk did not want to
face it, he knew that amid the noxious inferno of the rocket's blastoff
his father was somewhere on the platform fighting for his survival, or
worse.
Aboard the Deep Endeavor, Summer felt the same pangs of dread swell
through her body. Dirk had radioed the ship with news that the Sea
Launch crew had been rescued, but also that their father was somewhere
aboard the platform. When Delgado was the first to observe the rocket
igniting, she thought her legs had turned to rubber.
Grasping the captain's chair for support, she stared stoically toward
the platform as tears welled in her eyes. All fell silent on the
bridge around her as they watched in disbelief at the rocket as it
surged off the launchpad. As one, their thoughts were on the fate of
the NUMA leader, lost somewhere in the rocket's white plume of smoke.
"It can't be," Burch muttered in shock. "It just can't be."
Inside the Badger, the temperature was unbearable. The superheated
metal skin created a sauna effect with the water that was rising
inside. Pitt could feel himself on the verge of passing out from the
heat as he clawed his way back to the tilted pilot's seat. A handful
of lights still blinked on the control panel, indicating that the
emergency life-support system still had power, but the propulsion
systems were long expired. Though his body was numb from the heat, his
mind quickly calculated that he had one chance to break free from the
grip of the pontoon. Through sweat-laden eyes, he reached forward and
mashed a control button market ballast pump. Then, grasping the
control yoke, he flung himself backward into the rising water, using
his full weight and remaining strength to yank the sub's rudder against
the burgeoning current. The rudder blade protested at first, then
swung slowly against the rushing water, fighting against Pitt's every
movement. With muscles aching and spots appearing before his eyes,
Pitt clung desperately to the yoke, fighting not to pass out. For a
second, nothing happened. All Pitt could hear was the
churning torrent of the water rushing against the sub, while the
temperature inside continued to rise. Then, almost imperceptibly, a
grinding noise struck his ears. Gradually, the noise grew louder,
matching the sound he had heard before. A faint smile crossed Pitt's
lips as he fought to maintain consciousness. Hang on, he told himself,
gripping the yoke tightly. Just hang on.
An eagle-eyed flight engineer, standing on a rocky hilltop of Santa
Barbara Island amid his stunned Sea Launch colleagues, was the first to
detect it. A subtle, almost invisible waggle at the base of the rocket
as it cleared the launch tower.
"She's oscillating," he said aloud.
His surrounding crewmates, exhausted and stunned by the entire ordeal,
ignored his words and watched in angry disbelief as somebody else
launched their rocket from their platform. But as the rocket climbed
higher and higher into the sky, more of the experienced launch veterans
detected something amiss with the flight trajectory. At first, just a
murmur rippled through the assembled crew; then, an excited buzz jolted
the men like an electric shock. One man started to yell, cursing at
the rocket to burst, and then another followed suit. Before long, the
entire crew was jumping up and down while shouting at the soaring
rocket, cajoling the mechanical beast like some last-dollar bettors
urging a long-shot nag to the wire at Pimlico.
On board the Koguryo, the excitement of the launch had yet to wane when
a seated flight engineer turned to Ling and said, "Sir, the Stage One
engine indicates an active gimbaling beyond nominal flight plan
parameters."
The Zenit-3SL, like most modern rockets, was steered in flight by
adjusting, or gimbaling, the launch vehicle's engine, redi
recting its
thrust to govern the rocket's heading. As Ling was aware, the initial
launch sequence called for no gimbaling until the rocket was in a
stabilized climb, then the navigation system would initiate slight
steering adjustments to guide the rocket toward the target. Only an
undetected imbalance would create an immediate steering correction from
launch.
Ling walked over to the engineer's station and peered at the man's
computer monitor. His mouth fell open as he saw that the rocket's
engine was gimbaled to its maximum degree. He watched in silence as, a
second later, the engine adjusted back to its neutral position, then
gimbaled to the full extent in the opposite direction. Almost
immediately, the whole cycle started over again. Ling immediately
surmised the cause.
"Choi, what was the launchpad horizontal deviation at T-0?" he shouted
to the platform engineer.
The engineer looked back sheepishly at Ling and uttered in a barely
audible voice, "Sixteen degrees."
"No!" Ling gasped in a raspy voice as his eyes scrunched closed in a
panic of disbelief. The color rushed from Ling's face and he felt
himself grasping the computer monitor to steady his suddenly weakening
knees. With dire foresight, he slowly opened his eyes and stared at
the video screen of the charging rocket, waiting for the inevitable.
Pitt had no way of knowing the impact from his frenetic hole drilling.
But the dozens of gouges poked into the side of the support columns had
opened up a flood of incoming seawater that quickly overpowered the
Odyssey's ballast pumps. With the automated controls set to maintain
the prescribed launch depth, the incoming water collected in the rear
support columns and tugged the platform down by its aft side. Firing
off the platform, the Zenit rocket was over fifteen degrees off
vertical center as it left the launchpad and immediately tried to
Dirk Pitt18-Black Wind Page 52