Dirk Pitt18-Black Wind

by Cussler, Clive

  correct the deviation from its prescribed flight plan by shifting the

  engine thrust. But at the low speed of takeoff, the initial command

  was diluted so the engine position was tweaked again to its maximum

  adjustment. As the launch vehicle gained speed, the adjustment quickly

  became an over correction and the rocket's computers gimbaled the

  engine in the opposite direction to counterbalance the movement. Under

  normal conditions, the rocket might have been able to stabilize itself

  with a few minor adjustments. But on this flight, the Zenit's fuel

  tanks were only half full. The partially empty fuel tanks allowed the

  liquid propellant to slosh back and forth during the thrust

  inclinations, creating a whole new set of balancing dynamics. The

  overtaxed stabilization control system tried vainly to smooth the

  flight but, ultimately, exacerbated the situation and the rocket began

  to waffle.

  On video screens and satellite feeds, out an airship cockpit window,

  and from a barren rocky island in the Pacific Ocean, a thousand eyes

  stared transfixed at the streaming white rocket as it began a slow and

  morbid gyration across the sky. What started as a slight wobble at

  liftoff grew into a continuous waggle during ascent until the entire

  rocket was shaking uncontrollably toward the clouds like an anorexic

  belly dancer. Had Sea Launch been managing the flight, an automated

  safety control would have detonated the rocket as it veered out of

  parameter. But the abort command had been deleted from the flight

  software by Kang's crew and the Zenit was left to struggle upward in a

  tortuous dance of death.

  To the unbelieving sight of those who watched, the huge rocket swung

  wildly in the sky before tearing itself apart from the inside out and

  literally snapping in two. The lower Stage immediately disintegrated

  in a massive fireball as the fuel tanks were simultaneously ignited,

  swallowing everything in its radius with a cauldron of flame. Chunks

  and pieces of rocket machinery not dissolved by the explosion rained

  down over a swath of empty sea, while the high-altitude

  mushroom cloud from the explosion hung in the blue sky as if painted

  there.

  The nose cone and upper stage of the Zenit oddly sailed free of the

  carnage and continued speeding across the sky like a streaking bullet,

  fueled only by momentum. In a graceful parabolic arc, the

  smoke-trailed payload gradually lost energy and nosed down toward the

  Pacific, smacking the surface with a watery geyser of debris miles

  downrange from the initial explosion. As the sudden sound of silence

  drifted over the water, the stunned observers stared miraculously at

  the white rainbow of smoke that trailed the death flight and arched

  quietly from horizon to horizon.

  ON A rocky beach of Santa Barbara Island, an elephant seal awoke from a

  leisurely nap and cocked an ear toward the inland. The odd sound of

  cheering wafted down the hillside from thirty or so men congregated on

  a small bluff. The seal looked quizzically up at the disheveled group

  of men, then stretched back out and resumed his nap.

  For the first time in their lives, the Sea Launch platform crew of

  technicians and engineers were happy to witness a launch failure. Men

  cheered and whistled while others poked their fists in the air in

  celebratory victory. As the launch vehicle blew up above their heads,

  even Christiano grinned a sigh of relief as Platform Launch Manager

  Ohlrogge slapped him on the back.

  "Somebody was smiling down on us for once," Ohlrogge said.

  "Thank God. Whatever those bastards were trying to launch could not

  have been good."

  "One of my flight engineers noted a roll oscillation right from launch.

  Must have been a nozzle adjustment malfunction, or a stabilization

  issue with the platform."

  Christiano thought of Pitt and his comment before departing the

  Odyssey. "Maybe that fellow from NUMA worked some magic."

  "If so, we owe him big."

  "Yes, and somebody owes me, too," Christiano replied.

  Ohlrogge looked at the captain quizzically.

  "That was a ninety-million-dollar launch vehicle that just went up in

  flames. There will be hell to pay when we pass that bill to the

  insurer," the captain said, finally letting loose a laugh.

  Kang flinched as he watched the satellite feed of the Zenit

  disintegrate before his eyes. As the camera caught pieces of falling

  debris, he silently reached for the remote control and turned off the

  monitor.

  "Though the strike has failed, the specter of the attack will still

  represent a serious provocation to the American public," Kwan assured

  his boss. "Anger will be high and the fallout against Japan

  significant."

  "Yes, our staged media security leaks should ensure that," Kang said,

  suppressing his anger at the failure. "But the disappearance of the

  Koguryo and launch team remains at hand. Their capture would corrupt

  much of our hard work to date."

  "Tongju will fulfill his duties. He always has," Kwan replied.

  Kang stared at the darkened television monitor for a moment, then

  slowly nodded.

  The mood in the Koguryo launch control center quickly turned from joy

  to shock to sullen disappointment. In an instant, the mission

  requirements of the launch team fell away and the assembled technicians

  and engineers sat silently at their computer stations, staring at the

  displays that no longer provided any launch data. No one seemed to

  know what to do next and whispered quietly with one another.

  Tongju threw a long, frigid glare toward Ling, then left the control

  center without saying a word. As he made his way toward the bridge, he

  called Kim on a portable radio and spoke briefly in a low voice. On

  the bridge, he found Captain Lee staring out the starboard bridge

  window at the smoke-trailed rain of debris that scarred the blue sky

  with white strips of vapor.

  "She shook herself apart," he said with wonder, then looked into the

  blank eyes of Tongju.

  "A problem with the platform," Tongju replied. "We must evacuate the

  area immediately. Can we get moving at once?"

  "We are standing by for departure. We just need to hoist in the

  tender, then we can be under way."

  "There is no time," he hissed suddenly. "The American Coast Guard and

  Navy may already be looking for us. Proceed under full power at once,

  and I will personally cut the tender loose."

  Lee looked at Tongju warily, then nodded.

  "As you wish. Our course is already laid in. We shall make for

  Mexican waters, then divert under cover of darkness for the rendezvous

  position."

  Tongju took a step to exit the bridge, then stopped suddenly. Out of

  the forward window, he gazed at the smoke-enshrouded Sea Launch

  platform. Approaching the platform from the northwest was the silver

  blimp, now cruising several hundred feet above the water. Tongju waved

  an arm in the direction of the Icarus.

  "Alert your surface-to-air missile team. Take out that airship

  im
mediately," he spat, then vanished out the door.

  As the Roguryo's twin four-bladed propellers began churning the water

  beneath the ship's hull, Tongju hustled his way back to the

  portable stairwell that ran down the vessel's port flank. At the base

  of the stairwell bobbed the white tender, a mooring line tied across to

  the railing. He noted bubbles of smoke rising from the boat's stern,

  alerting him that the engine was running at idle. Quickly untying the

  line, he coiled it in his hand and waited until the next passing wave

  pushed the tender up against the side of the ship. With barely a step,

  he hopped aboard the bow of the boat and shuffled toward the cabin,

  tossing the coiled line into an empty bucket on deck. Inside the

  cabin, he found Kim and two of his commandos standing beside the wheel.

  "Everything aboard?" Tongju asked.

  Kim nodded. "During the excitement of the launch, we moved our arms

  and provisions on board, and even hoisted extra fuel aboard, without

  any interference." Kim tilted his head toward the rear open deck where

  four fifty-five-gallon drums of gasoline were tied off against the

  gunwale.

  "Let us drift off the stern for a moment, then we shall make our run to

  Ensenada. When will the charges detonate?" Kim glanced at his watch.

  "In twenty-five minutes." "Plenty of time for the missile crew to

  destroy the airship." The Koguryo quickly churned away from the small

  boat as the tender continued to idle in the low swells. When the

  former cable ship had cleared a quarter mile of open water, Kim moved

  the throttles to slow and crept forward with the bow pointed southeast.

  In no time, he figured, they would look like another ordinary fishing

  charter heading home to San Diego.

  Long after the Zenit had climbed into the sky and detonated, a thick

  cloud of white smoke still hung over the Odyssey like a fog bank Ever

  so gently, the light sea breeze began poking holes through the exhaust,

  revealing sporadic patches of the launch platform through the haze.

  "Looks like a bowl of clam chowder down there," Giordino said as he

  banked the Icarus over the platform. While Giordino and Dahlgren

  visually surveyed the platform for any signs of Pitt, Dirk activated

  the LASH system and scanned for optical anomalies that might signify a

  human being.

  "Don't quote me but I think that baby is sinking," Dahlgren said as

  they glided around the aft end of the platform and could make out an

  exposed section down to the water. The men in the gondola could

  clearly see that the aft support columns appeared shorter than the bow

  columns.

  a "She's definitely taking on water in the stern," Dirk replied...

  "Wonder if that's the handiwork of your old man? He may have just

  cost somebody a new rocket," Giordino said. "And maybe a new

  launchpad," Dahlgren added.

  "But where is he?" Dirk asked aloud. They could all detect that there

  was no apparent sign of life on the platform.

  "The smoke is starting to clear. Once the helipad opens up, I'll take

  us in for a closer look," Giordino replied.

  As they drifted back toward the bow of the platform, Dahlgren looked

  down and grimaced.

  "Damn. The Badger's gone, too. Must have sank during the launch."

  The threesome fell quiet, reflecting that the disappearance of the

  submersible was the least of their losses.

  Three miles to the south, a gunnery crewman on the Koguryo was

  transferring the radar-derived coordinates of the blimp into a Chinese

  CSA-4 surface-to-air missile guidance system. The slow-moving airship

  was as easy an objective as the gunnery crew could ever hope to target.

  With such a large object at close range, the odds of failing to strike

  the blimp were nearly zero.

  In an enclosed room adjacent to the dual missile canister, a weapons

  control expert stood at a console transferring the firing guidance

  through a missile command link. A row of green lights flashed at him

  as the engagement radar embedded in the missile acknowledged a tar-get

  lock. The man immediately picked up a telephone receiver that ran

  directly to the bridge.

  "Target acquired and missile armed," he said in monotone to Captain

  Lee. "Awaiting orders to fire."

  Lee looked out a bridge side window toward the blimp hovering over the

  platform in the distance. The high-powered missile exploding into the

  airship would make for a spectacular display, he thought childishly.

  Perhaps they should also destroy the distant turquoise vessel that

  lingered on the edge of their radar screen and then make a clean

  escape. But, first things first. He moved the receiver to his mouth

  to issue the command to fire when suddenly his lips froze. His eyes

  had detected a small pair of dark objects emerging from behind the

  airship. He stood frozen and watched as the objects quickly

  materialized into a pair of low-flying aircraft.

  The F-16D Falcon fighter jets had been scrambled from an Air National

  Guard base in Fresno minutes after a NORAD satellite had detected the

  launch of the Zenit rocket. While flying toward the launch site, the

  pilots were directed to the Koguryo with the help of the Coast Guard

  distress call that had originated from the Deep Endeavor. The sleek

  gray jets flew low above the water and burst over the Koguryo just a

  few hundred feet above her fore bridge The crackling roar of the jets'

  engines struck a second after their shadows had whisked by overhead,

  rattling the windows of the bridge where Lee stood with a sickened look

  on his face.

  "Stand down! Stand down and secure the battery!" he barked over the

  phone. As the SAM was stowed away, Lee watched as the two fighter jets

  gained altitude and began crisply circling the fast-moving ship.

  "You!" he cursed at a crewman standing nearby. "Find Tongju and bring

  him to the bridge ... at once."

  The men in the blimp beamed in relief at the sight of the Air National

  Guard jets circling above the Koguryo, having no idea how close they

  were to being blasted out of the sky by the ship's SAM battery. They

  knew that a horde of Navy ships was on the way and that there was

  little chance the ship would escape apprehension now. They again

  turned their attention to the smoke-covered platform below.

  "The haze is lifting off the helipad," Giordino observed. "I'll set

  her down if you boys want to jump off and take a look around."

  "Absolutely," Dirk replied. "Jack, we can start with the bridge, then

  move down to the hangar if the air is breathable."

  "I'd start with the ship's lounge," Giordino said, trying to cut the

  somber mood. "If he's okay, my money says he's mixing a martini and

  eating up the ship's store of pretzels."

  Giordino swung the blimp wide of the platform, bringing the airship

  around with its nose into the wind. As he lined upon the helipad and

  began dropping altitude, Dahlgren stuck his head back into the cockpit

  and pointed out the side window.

  "Take a look over there," he said.

  Several hundred feet off the side of the platform, a sudden surge of


  bubbles erupted from beneath the surface. A few seconds later, a

  mottled gray metallic object broke the surface.

  "Launch debris?" Dahlgren asked.

  "No, it's the Badger^" Giordino exclaimed.

  Guiding the airship toward the object, the three men could see that it

  was in fact the NUMA submersible bobbing low in the water. The

  underwater vehicle's bright metallic paintwork had been cooked off in

  the launch blast, leaving its skin a dappled mix of primer and bare

  metal. The bow section was bent and mangled, as if it had been

  involved in a head-on traffic accident. How the thing still managed to

  float was anybody's guess, but there was no denying it was

  the experimental submersible Dirk and Dahlgren had sailed to the

  platform.

  As Giordino brought the blimp down for a closer look, the three men

  were stunned to see the top hatch suddenly twist and pop open. A cloud

  of steaming vapor streamed from the open hatch as they looked on

  incredulously. For several agonizing seconds, their eyes hung glued to

  the hatch, hoping against hope. Finally, they saw the odd apparition

  of a pair of stockinged feet rise up and out of the hatch. A patch of

  dark hair then appeared and they realized that the feet they observed

  were actually hands covered in a pair of socks. The stocking-wrapped

  hands, protected from the hot metal, quickly hoisted up the lean,

  racked body of their owner from the enclosed oven.

  "It's Dad! He's okay!" Dirk exclaimed with glaring relief.