The policeman looks at Hayato, glances at the vans behind him, then the power station. He seems quite undecided, but finally makes a decision. “Not this power station, move along please.”
Damn, for a second he thought he was going to get past. He tries to act confused as he looks at his papers for a second. “I will have to go back and check with my boss then. I am sure he said to come here. He said it was urgent.” Hayato shrugs his shoulders as he moves back toward the vans.
A confrontation with the Chinese police is not something he wants at all. Getting back to the vans, he can see the police have other people to keep back, and are quite busy with the growing crowd of onlookers.
Akira takes quite a few pictures of the strange metallic building. At sixty feet tall and wide with a length of about one hundred fifty feet, the building has no visible doors or windows. He nods at Hayato as he flashes him the small, but powerful camera.
Daitaro leans casually back against the van whilst paying careful attention to all the goings on. “Any idea what that building is for?” He nods in the direction of the police, as they set up a restricted area with caution tape.
Hayato looks back as two more police cars arrive. “No idea at all. Get all you can, but we need to move on before we attract too much unwanted attention.”
People dressed in lab coats come out of the power station and head toward this newly delivered building. These plant operators walk up to the side of this strange building and, as if they know what they are doing, open some panels in its side.
The policeman that had earlier intercepted Hayato is now pointing at the vans as he talks with another policeman. They both look at the vans for a moment before being distracted by the ever growing mob.
“We are being noticed.” Says Akira quietly, as he dips the camera below the lip of the van’s window.
“OK, let's head back and see what we have.” Hayato is quite disappointed at the lack of information.
Getting into the two vans, Hayato and his team heads back to their Beijing safe house. As they leave, the police in the area pay them little attention, they are quite busy.
Location:
North American Aerospace Defense Command (NORAD)
Cheyenne Mountain, Colorado Springs, Colorado
The President of the United States of America sits down to read the brief before him. The Gamin have sent specifications for a new power plant. He had not actually expected these aliens to honor the offer. His excitement is short lived however, as he reads on. With many of the components required being beyond current technology, it will take years, not to mention billions of dollars, to create the infrastructure needed just for the lesser parts. In addition, the core to the power plant involves the reaction of particles yet undiscovered by humanity. The Gamin in their wisdom, have also handed over information on mining and conversion systems, but again the President reads that these endeavors will also take years to complete, and cost many billions more. He throws down the documents with a sour taste in his mouth.
As he digests this information, an aide interrupts his thoughts by walking to the room’s large television. “My President, please excuse the interruption, but you are going to want to see this.” The aide presses some controls and starts to play a recording.
As the screen comes to life, the President finds himself looking at the Chinese President. Behind him is a large metallic building with wires snaking between it, and another nearby building.
“The People’s Republic of China graciously thanks Regent Voknor, of the Gamin for his wonderful gift of this power plant. With this gift, the Chinese citizens will find they have more electricity than is needed, eliminating the brown outs that have plagued many areas. We will burn less coal, allowing China to meet the world’s greenhouse gasses emissions standards. Once we build three more of these power plants, our entire country’s energy needs will be met.” The news clip ends, the Chinese President not withholding a beaming smile.
The President is so stunned by the news he stands up and starts pacing about the room in annoyance. He has many questions, and very few answers. What did the Chinese do to get a functioning power plant? What did they have to do with the Korean war, if anything? Where is the North Korean leadership? How exactly does China plan to build three more power plants? Too many questions and too few answers.
The President stops his pacing as he considers his options. As with the long gone days of the space race with Russia, the President of the United States of America sometimes gets to make some costly decisions. His can’t let the Chinese beat America in making these power plants. He considers the Russians and their position on this. Are they with China or alone? More questions, thinks the President. He rubs his forehead as a headache develops. Billions, even trillions of dollars, it does not matter the cost. He can ill afford to allow China to be the only country with this functioning alien technology.
While he sits down and ponders his ultimate decision, another fateful decision will soon catch up with him.
Location:
Outback
Western Australia
The walled off area, with its parked spaceship and construction dock, would from a distance look a lot smaller than it is. The construction dock reaches up into the sky as it encases its charge. At almost one mile wide and just over two miles long, this dock looks like a collection of old dinosaur bones. A main section runs along the ground down the length of the construction area. Wide arms that look like a ribcage extend out, and around the spacecraft that is under construction. These arms can move independently of each other, and end in a claw-like appendage.
The Prime responsible for this task is most pleased. Not having to deal with hostile locals has been a great blessing. With an abundance of resources coming in from all avenues, the industrious Gamin work with great speed and efficiency.
Superstructure, hull, and armor continue to arrive from New York and St Petersburg at a steady pace. Combined with the resources of the fleet in space and the local mining, it takes mere days for the spacecraft to take shape as it springs up from the ground.
A week sees the massive spacecraft almost fully enclosed. The power grid that runs throughout the spaceship is installed, along with pipe work for various liquids and gasses. Life support systems are added prior to the internal hull being set in place. Gravity plates are then installed inside and out. Internal plates get tied to the various systems required to maintain gravity during space travel. External plates are the spacecraft’s primary landing and takeoff system, and are fitted accordingly. Sublight and hyperdrive engines are more complex and being connected directly to the spaceship’s superstructure, also require an early installation.
Once the spacecraft is sealed from the outside elements, crews are able to work with even greater efficiency, allowing the installation of more sensitive internal components and systems. Additional internal decks are added one after another, with gravity plates being added as they arrive. The bridge area of the ship is completed relatively early so that systems may be tested as they are installed and integrated.
Thrusters are then fitted into the outer hull, and tied to the internal power grid. The testing of the thrusters sends plumes of dust in all directions. This adds to the excitement of all concerned. Soon, the spacecraft will be ready for takeoff.
The next few days will see internal power systems being installed, thus, allowing this new ship to cut its umbilical from the dock. Once this new ship is on internal power, various power grid tests take place as its systems are retested one by one.
Even before the individual sleeping quarters or the kitchen area is built, a large construction crew is assigned to assist those already there. Weapon ports are in place for the offensive systems of this mighty spacecraft, however they will be installed in the relative safety of space.
With so few days having gone by, the speed of the construction is as amazing as is the size of this vessel. With suited Gamin working on the outside of the spacecraft, and hundreds now w
orking unhindered inside, the speed ramps up even more. Internal decks are added, separate quarters and specialized facilities are defined with each passing day.
Location:
North Pole
Beneath the Arctic Ice
“This is your Captain speaking, we are now under the Arctic ice pack and will commence silent operations effective immediately.”
Having taken a few days to get into position, Captain Dylan knows that much of the ballistic submarine fleet has been ordered to make for the icepack, and await orders.
“Con, make your depth five hundred feet. Sonar, go passive and watch for contacts, this area may get very busy soon.”
As the nuclear powered USS Louisiana slowly descends, her crew of one hundred forty make preparations for silent running. Being a relatively new submarine, she is well equipped to comply with these orders. Crew members talk in whispers, and the kitchen shuts down forcing all crew members to resort to ration packs.
“Approaching five hundred feet, captain.” The con operator states matter-of-factly.
The hours pass by with Louisiana hovering as silently as is possible for this submarine. The crew is getting edgy, as are the officers with the nonstop silent running order from the captain.
“Sonar contact, bearing 055, range two thousand five hundred yards, heading,” He pauses for a second “It's coming right at us sir, speed eight knots.” The sonar operator's voice is very edgy as he listens intently to his headphones.
“Con, quietly as you can set depth to one hundred feet.” Replies Captain Dylan calmly.
The Louisiana, ever so slowly, pulls her eighteen thousand tons up from the depths as quietly as the con operator can manage. Every little sound adds to the sweat gathering on his forehead and in his armpits. Glancing at the Captain, he can see him talking in whispers with the XO.
“Sir, contact seems to be a Russian Akula class, passing about three hundred feet below us.”
“Con put her to the ice, very slow and quiet, not through, just find us a hole and hide in it.”
Hmm, Akula class, Typhoons to us, thinks the Captain. It seems the Russians have a few surprises after all. These submarines are not supposed to be operational anymore.
“New sonar contact, bearing 055, range five hundred yards, speed ten knots and accelerating. The new contact will pass beneath us sir. It’s following the Akula, but I can't get a read on what it is.”
The sonar operator suddenly works his equipment feverishly. The Captain and XO look across at the sonar operator. Tensions are building on the bridge. The Typhoon class are Russia's nuclear powered ballistic missile submarines. With two of these submarines docked, rusting and disarmed, another a training submarine, this fully operational Typhoon is quite a surprise.
“Sir, lost the new contact, it just vanished about one thousand yards astern of the Akula and still accelerating, last known bearing was 240, speed was thirty-five knots.”
The XO steps over to the sonar operator and quietly says. “Tell us what you know mister.”
“Well sir, I had nothing on the new contact until we got a reading like a pressurized hatch opening, a huge hatch, then nothing, no propulsion... nothing... I can't even tell you what is down there sir. I can tell you it's not one of ours.”
Subconsciously, the sonar operator looks down at his feet as though some fearsome sea monster were looming below.
“Sir, just lost contact with the Akula, she just vanished, bearing 240, distance one thousand five hundred yards.” He continues to work his station feverishly, trying to glean as much information as is possible.
“Steady Con, Sonar passive sweeps only, XO with me.” Captain Dylan ponders this development. He motions to XO. They leave the bridge quietly, to return only moments later. Both are rather agitated.
“Sir, contact, bearing 245, distance one thousand eight hundred yards, heading 240. I am pretty sure it’s another Akula Class. She is opening torpedo doors. Sir, she has fired, six torpedoes in the water, acquiring. We are not the target, she seems to have fired wild sir, there is no other contact.”
The sonar operator suddenly removes his head pieces, and clutches his head, cupping his ears.
“Detonation.” He says, clearly in pain. “About one thousand five hundred yards, sir.” The sonar operator’s ears are ringing badly.
“Son, you are relieved, go see the doctor.”
As the injured sailor leaves the sonar station, he is replaced immediately. The newcomer looks at the headphones with a little trepidation. Donning them, he cautiously starts the process of passively scanning the waters around them.
“Sir, no contacts. Scope is clear.” He looks back at the Captain and XO, and is not comforted by either of their expressions.
The minutes turn into hours as the Louisiana rests, parked up against the ice pack overhead. The Captain and XO continue to peruse charts, and listen to the recordings of earlier events. Finally, the crew receives the orders they have been hoping for.
“Con, quietly as you can, get us out of here, hug the ice with passive scans only, speed, one knot over the ocean current only. I don’t care how long it takes us to get out of here, just do it quietly.”
The order blanches the Con operator, it's impossible, he thinks. He gets to business and focuses on the task at hand. Even though they are near the edge of the ice pack it will still take them at least three days to leave at such a slow speed.
The sonar operator suddenly goes rigid.
“Sonar contact, bearing 180, range two thousand five yards, heading 120, speed thirty-two knots, depth nine hundred feet and accelerating, it’s an Akula and she is making a lot of noise sir.”
“Sonar, you sure that’s an Akula? They can't do better than twenty-seven knots and that’s on a good day.” Dylan has trouble believing the Con operator’s report.
“Sir, it's definitely an Akula, her sonar just went active, she is now at thirty-four knots, heading 130, she has just passed one thousand two hundred feet sir, and diving hard. Sir, she is acting as though she is trying to shake off pursuit but I can’t detect anything else.”
A long series of pings hit the hull of the Louisiana. Even veteran crewmen blanch at this sound.
“Con keep us as close to the ice pack as possible. Sonar, report.”
“Sir, the Akula is at thirty-five knots and making a lot of noise. She has passed one thousand four hundred feet, and still descending.”
Captain Dylan gives a little show of surprise. “Son, did you say one thousand four hundred feet? She is maneuvering and not sinking?”
“Confirmed Sir, Oh my God, the Akula just performed an emergency blow at about one thousand four hundred fifty feet. She is rising fast, distance two thousand eight hundred yards, bearing 178, heading 135, speed thirty-seven knots.”
The bridge crew is in shock at the capabilities of what used to be their cold war opponent. The Captain gives the XO a knowing look, he is very grateful to have never wrangled with the Russians.
“Sir, sonar contact is lost. She just vanished, one minute she was there, the next she was gone, there was no explosion or implosion.” He looks at the Captain and XO in disbelief.
The bridge of the USS Louisiana is a very tense place as the con and sonar operators do their very best at their respective tasks.
“Sir, we have a warhead detonation, possibly nuclear, bearing 177, distance three thousand yards.” The sonar operator slips his headphones off as he looks at the Captain and XO, concern showing on his face.
“Con, make depth two hundred feet, flank speed.” Pressing a nearby intercom button the Captain continues with earnest. “All crew brace for impact, shock wave imminent.”
Seconds later, a powerful shock wave slams the descending submarine, driving her up and into the ice pack above. She hits the ice so hard, she is driven right into the ice shelf itself. Crew men are thrown about the ship like rag dolls. The bridge crew fares better than most, as they pick themselves up off the deck. The Louisiana's upper workings
above her sail are completely smashed to pieces. The con operator regains his composure and, fighting with his controls gets the submarine away from the ice just in time for a secondary shockwave. Once again, the Louisiana is slammed into the overhead ice shelf. Once again, the sail is smashed into the ice, crew members again, are tossed about the submarine. Ice cold water suddenly pours into the submarine from the damaged sail.
“Captain, she is not answering the helm, propulsion is offline, we are going down.”
The Louisiana starts to free fall into the depths. Without propulsion and beneath the ice, they are as good as dead. The submarine, now bow down about five degrees, starts to list to port. The con operator can do nothing with his non-responsive controls.
The XO slams his palm on an intercom bottom, his voice much steadier than even he expects.
“Damage control parties to the bridge, damage reports to the bridge.”
The damage reports come in, too slowly as many crew members are now either mildly, or seriously, injured after their rough collisions with bulkheads, walls, and floors.
Two damage control personnel head into the leaking sail area, while one more looks into the issue with the helm controls. In short order, the leaks in the sail are plugged and the con has his controls back again.
“Sir, she is answering the helm, but sluggish. Depth two hundred fifty feet, speed fifteen knots, bow angle now seven degrees.”
Tensions diminish a little as the submarine looks good to make it through the aftermath of the explosion.
“Sir, we are still descending, three hundred feet, speed fifteen knots. “
“Reactor Scram, Reactor Scram.” The report comes through to the bridge, sending renewed chills through all that hear it. Captain Dylan has stress lines firmly etched into his face at those words. Lights flicker throughout the submarine, some stay out.
First Contact (Terran Chronicles) Page 17