Confused, the Event Group watched as Alexandria hit another switch, making the ambient light in the forward compartment turn green and blue. When they turned to face the front, the glass was illuminated with a holographic image a hundred years ahead of any nation’s technology. The hologram, of immense proportions, lined the shields. It was as if they were looking at an electronic image of the sea directly in front of them—in essence, the image replaced the glass and magnified the outside world. Embedded inside the composite glass plates were billions of microthin fiberoptic lines, set at different depths, allowing a 3-D image to appear. As they watched, the glowing image was magnified until eight objects, some deeper than others, came into view.
“Oh my God,” Niles said as he stepped closer to the hologram, which was broadcast as if it were on a seventy-millimeter movie screen.
Heirthall was staring at the images, and Sarah watched as her jaw muscles clenched.
“Bastards!” she said as she turned away and stormed out of the compartment. Alice saw that her eyes were the deepest blue, and that they were no longer dilated.
Sarah stepped up to Niles’s side and studied the image.
“I clearly count eight of them,” Niles said.
On the hologram before them, standing forty feet high and eighty feet long, was the terrifying image of seven Russian-built Akula class attack submarines sitting motionless, waiting for their prey to appear.
“She’s going to kill them all,” Lee said as he slammed the tip of his cane on the floor.
“Jesus,” Sarah said. “Is that one of ours?”
Sitting in the direct center of the line was the most advanced submarine in the American fleet, and therefore, the world.
“Yes, I believe it’s your USS Missouri, a Virginia class vessel if my memory serves,” Farbeaux said, setting his glass down for the first time that evening.
“They’re not moving—they don’t know Leviathan is here,” Niles said.
“She’s going to destroy them,” Lee said again.
Niles turned and ran for the compartment hatch, but as he neared, Sergeant Tyler stepped through. He slowly closed and dogged the hatch, then raised an automatic pistol up and pointed it at Niles. Disturbingly, the man was wearing a grin.
“The captain has given orders that you bear witness to the treachery of nations.”
On the giant hologram, Leviathan drifted closer to the eight menacing attack submarines.
Niles watched as Sergeant Tyler gestured for him to back away from the hatch, moving the gun back and forth menacingly, looking determined to keep the Group in check.
“I take it our freedom of movement aboard Leviathan has been revoked?” Compton asked, not backing away from the door.
“I suspect, Niles my boy, that it’s only revoked when the captain is about to commit murder,” Garrison Lee said as he stepped toward the sergeant.
“As much as my captain admires you, I will have no trouble disabling you further, Senator Lee, if you continue to advance,” Tyler said, shifting the position of his aim. “Now, please turn and observe the hologram.”
“Can’t you see Captain Heirthall doesn’t need to do this?” Sarah asked, stepping in front of Lee. “She’s capable of running right past that trap.”
On the giant image screen, the three-dimensional view of the eight attack submarines hadn’t changed as Leviathan had come to a complete stop before them.
“All hands, prepare for subsurface action. All nonessential personnel to off-duty quarters. Seal the boat and move to action stations. The attack profile will be achieved through stealth,” said the voice they recognized as Heirthall’s.
Niles Compton closed his eyes and balled his fists at his sides, feeling helpless. He only wished there was some way of warning those subs that it wasn’t they who were doing the stalking, that the fierce animal they sought was watching them even now—and it was getting ready to spring. He turned away and leaned on the table, trying desperately to think of what to do.
“Mr. Samuels, report Leviathan‘s status, please.”
Niles looked up at the sound of the captain’s voice.
“Isn’t she conducting the attack from the control center?” he asked Tyler.
“No, she never interferes with the crew during an attack. She will give her orders from another location.”
“Where is she?” Lee asked.
“Where she always goes when she has to do something this distasteful—to the conning tower, her sanctuary, where no one is allowed.”
Niles knew he had to get to her to stop this horrible action. Leviathan could easily slip by the cordon of submarines without their ever knowing she was there. He had to convince her to allow those seamen to live, but as he looked into the eyes of Tyler, he knew the man would have no trouble shooting him if he tried to exit the forward observation lounge. It was as if he was anticipating the death of so many sailors.
12
Alexandria Heirthall was looking out of the giant acrylic port window on the lowest level of the tall conning tower, a totally soundproof compartment built just for the captain, which allowed her to operate the boat without being in the presence of her crew. Although the underwater lighting system of Leviathan was as bright as the sun, she couldn’t see the line of submarines in front of her with ten miles of distance between the vessels.
Once more, she placed a hand on the bubbled glass and watched her own reflection, leaning in to feel its coolness. Then she reached into her dress jacket, brought out three pills, and placed them in her mouth. The powerful Demerol dissolved with a sickening rush of bitterness. She then turned and went to the large command chair, climbed the four steps, and sat down.
The captain eased her hands down to the chair’s twin consoles embedded in the thick arms. She knew what she was doing was wrong, but she seemed powerless to stop it. She jerked her hands away from the control handles and rubbed them together. Then the pain hit inside of her head in earnest. Her eyes opened and she focused.
She programmed in a request from the ship’s computer and then closed her eyes once more. The lighting inside the lowest section of the conning tower dimmed to almost nothing, leaving only the illumination from outside of Leviathan. A deep green hue radiated from the view ports, relaxing the captain, just as music emerged from the speaker system hidden in the bulkheads. “House of the Rising Sun,” a song she knew from her childhood, started playing from the hidden speakers. The doctor had recommended the music as a means to allow her mind to ease up during tense situations. It allowed her muscles to relax and let her access her thoughts for the coming attack. The music would bring that rush of adrenalin needed for her harsh actions, as it went against everything she thought she was.
Alexandria opened her eyes and clenched the armrests with her hands so hard the blood drained from them. Then, as the deep lyrics of the song started to coincide with the movement of Leviathan, the giant submarine started moving forward, and the captain started to become one with the deadliness of her vessel.
Tyler tensed as Farbeaux strode to the center of the room with a fresh bottle of wine. The gun moved from Niles to the Frenchman just as the hatch wheel started turning. He allowed his eyes to move in that direction as the large double hatch opened and Virginia came through, followed by Alice.
“Do not allow the hatch to slam closed, ladies. Leviathan is at quiet stations,” Tyler said as he moved his head in their direction.
Farbeaux moved like a cat. The bottle of three-hundred-year-old wine was in the air before anyone realized it. The makeshift projectile struck the big Irishman on the side of his head, dropping him immediately. Virginia reacted first as she stooped to retrieve the weapon from the sergeant’s hand.
Tyler recovered faster than anyone would have believed. From his knees he backhanded Virginia, knocking her away until she fell next to the hatch. Alice, startled, reached down to help Virginia. Tyler placed his hand upon the gun as Farbeaux dived to stop him—all the while wondering why he was doing it.
Niles moved to help the Frenchman.
Tyler again reacted faster than anyone. He quickly raised the weapon and fired. The round grazed Farbeaux in middive. He rolled and was struck with a sudden, flaring pain in his side above the hip. Tyler quickly adjusted his aim toward Niles and brought the director to a complete stop. The sergeant wiped the blood from his temple and then stood on shaky feet. He sluggishly stepped toward the prone Farbeaux and stood over him, the weapon aimed at his head.
“Don’t … we’ll not give you any more problems,” Alice said, taking a step away from Virginia by the hatchway.
Sergeant Tyler smirked and then aimed once more.
VIRGINIA CLASS ATTACK
SUBMARINE USS MISSOURI (SSN-780)
The newest Virginia class fast-attack submarine in the world was honored with a very proud moniker—the USS Missouri. In fact, she was so new that she was not even scheduled to see the water until the year 2011. After the recent run of terrorism in the world, the navy had stepped up her construction, since it was clear they needed the technology at sea, not sitting in the dry docks of Groton, Connecticut. She was silent, more silent than any vessel ever built, and made to penetrate the defenses of any port city in the world.
Captain James Jefferson, a man specifically chosen for the duty as Missouri‘s first commander, had fitted her out for sea with weapons delivered by supply ship from Pearl Harbor when they had rendezvoused at Midway Island. She had just finished the last leg of her sea trials, and was supposed to be headed home to Pearl, where she would officially be commissioned in three months.
Jefferson was destined to become the first black submarine commander-in-chief of the Pacific fleet (COMSUBPAC). Now however, he had his doubts if he would ever make it to that lofty position. The duty given to him at the last minute could very well be his boat’s first war mission, and its last. The rumors had spread very quickly throughout the U.S. Navy, had infected the boat while in transit from Pearl, and had gotten worse with their six-hour layover at Midway. They knew they were being attached to an international line of defense, and also that they were going up against the biggest unknown in the history of the navy—a submarine with unbelievable capabilities had killed up to ten warships, and had yet to be spotted.
Jefferson stood looking at his navigation console and shook his head.
“That goddamn Chinese Akula is drifting on us again. Can’t those bastards maintain their station? Hell, we won’t need a supersub to take shots at us, we’ll sink ourselves.”
Missouri‘s first officer turned away from the feed he was receiving from the sonar suite.
“He’s not the only one, Captain. Now we have the Russian on our starboard drifting toward us. The Leonid had reported problems with her navigation suite earlier.”
“Damn,” Jefferson said as he rubbed his chin and looked closer at the line of battle. “Izzy, I want to pull out of the line and take up station to the far starboard side of this mess. The way these two Akulas are acting, the hole we leave in the line will be filled soon anyway. I’m not risking my damn boat because two captains can’t keep station for a few hours.”
“Good idea, Captain. Do we report to the lead boat?”
“No, I’m afraid it will only confuse Captain Nevelov if we did that. Besides, he’ll never hear Missouri change places.”
“Hell, we can’t even hear ourselves, Captain,” the first officer said as the men on watch chuckled in their agreement.
“Izzy, back us out of line, dead slow and silent as a field mouse, before we have an accident out here. Bring us to a far-right position of the battle line.”
Alexandria Heirthall watched on the smaller holographic screen in front of her as the Missouri started to back away from the battle line. The computer-enhanced image from nine miles away was crystal clear, and just as confusing.
“Captain, we have aspect change on the American boat,” Samuels called from the control center.
Heirthall was wondering if the Virginia class boat had possibly heard something that dictated it move out of line. She studied the picture provided by the lasers that struck each boat in the line, and enhanced it into the shape of the actual submarines. The Russian and Chinese Akulas were keeping their stations—it was only Missouri moving away. Then she smiled as her blazing blue eyes caught the reason why. The Chinese boat to her left and the Russian to her right were drifting in the swift current of the opening to the Bering Strait. She struck her intercom.
“We’ll keep the attack profile. Give me a weapons status report, Commander.”
“Forward tubes one through twenty are loaded with standard Mark seventy conventional warheads, Captain. Vertical tubes are empty. We are ready to fire at your command. Captain, can you pick up the phone line please?” Samuels asked.
Heirthall didn’t respond. She only watched the simulation before her as the first drops of sweat appeared on her forehead and her temples. The tone in Commander Samuels’s voice told her the first officer was in disagreement with her actions. As she felt the first pain-relieving effects of the Demerol she had taken, her pupils started to expand. She shook her head, confused by the doubt about her actions that had started to creep into her thought process. She closed her eyes, then reached for the phone at the side of the large command chair.
“Yes, Commander?”
“Captain, may I recommend two courses of action? We can speed by the attacking force before they even know we are here, or we can simply use our stealth and drift by.”
As if to counter the medication, a sudden pain shot from the base of her neck and deep into her brain. She winced and then slowly recovered.
She lowered her chin as she examined the submarines on the screen. She imagined them to be nothing more than steel and machinery. There were no men on their decks, only computers and weapons. She closed her eyes and shut out the imaginary beat of more than nine hundred hearts. There were no eyes that watched the waterfall displays of their sonar stations, and there weren’t men and boys planning Leviathan’s death—only machines.
“James, have the crew stand by for extreme maneuvering, and order damage-control parties standing by in all departments.” Alexandria once more sat in her chair. “Keep feeding the torpedo tubes coordinates on the enemy vessels, but for now, we don’t need them.” The pain was fighting off the attack of the medication.
“Captain, this is not necessary. Leviathan can slip by without those subs knowing we were ever here! We can run rings around them, even outrun their torpedoes—”
“James, do I have to relieve you?”
“Aye, Captain. Attack stations—collision.”
With that, the captain of Leviathan started the great ship forward and went to full ramming speed.
As the thermal-dynamic drive on Leviathan went to flank speed, the music inside the captain’s observation suite grew to a crescendo. Her eyes were wide and bright as she leaned forward in her chair, her knuckles once more growing white on the armrest controls. What she was doing was fundamentally wrong, and somewhere in her conscious mind, she was fully aware of it. This was not her—but then again, just under the surface of her wakeful mind, she knew it was.
As she focused on the first submarine in line, her doubts faded and her determination became solid.
Alexandria didn’t know that because of the pain and medication working against one another, and her haste to attack, she had made one critical error.
USS MISSOURI (SSN-780)
“All stop, chief of the boat. Watch her drift, use the momentum, and let’s get her bow angled for a hundred-meter drop in depth, and—”
“Conn—sonar. We have a disturbance eight miles to the north and—it’s gone now, Captain, but it was there. It sounded like an electrostatic crackling.”
Jefferson was about to respond to the sonar room when he thought of what his brief on this mission had said: “Any unusual oceanic disturbance could mean the unseen enemy is close aboard.”
“Sonar, is there any reaction from our Russian or
Chinese friends?”
“Nothing, Captain, they are still at station keeping.”
“Izzy, bring us to general quarters. Spool up tubes one through four—standard war shot.”
“Aye, chief of the boat, sound general quarters. Weapons—report on tubes one through four.”
“Take Missouri to six hundred feet and take us out of the line. All-ahead flank; get us down, Izzy,” Jefferson said as he held on to the navigation stanchion.
“Captain, at flank speed they’ll hear us all the way to Pearl,” Sonar called out over the com.
“That’s what I want—let everyone know something isn’t right.”
Outside the hull, Missouri allowed her scimitar propeller to bite at the cold sea surrounding her, creating a water cone that echoed loudly into the earphones of every submarine in the battle line. The more experienced sub commanders on the Russian side knew immediately that the American did what he did for a reason. Three of the Russian Akulas broke line and started for deep water.
“Sonar, I need something—anything—off our bow reported. I don’t care if it’s two whales screwing the hell out of each other!”
“Aye.”
Leviathan was at seventy knots and closing fast. The captain had jammed her throttles too far, too fast, and created a burp in her propulsion system, a hole in the water as her jets created a cave, which was read on the Missouri’s sonar. On the hologram in front of Heirthall, the submarines rushed at them so fast that she had to reach out and take the viewer off the magnification setting.
“Now,” she whispered. Her eyes closed halfway as the music blared on. She threw the control sticks for both of the massive rudders to the right and forward, automatically taking on ballast and changing the angles of the dive planes at the bow and the conning tower. The deadly plane protector, made of laser-hardened titanium, sliced the water like deadly, knifelike wings.
Leviathan: An Event Group Thriller Page 25