Ahh! Halfway up a rock sliced open his shirt and chest. A slash the other way would have put an “X” on his chest. He bled on the regolith the rest of the way up. He saw several tired people pulling the rope far faster than he could scramble his arms and legs. His neck hurt more now than before the climb. He prayed they wouldn’t kill him, now of all times.
When he reached the surface, Jackson saw his beautiful heloplane caked with dirt, and what looked like another planet. Wow! Arizona looked more Martian than Mars. Even the blood red sky looked extraterrestrial. In the distance, sonic booms overlapped like several thunder storms converging. Although not yet morning, there was enough light to read.
Although people associate Arizona with hot desert, it actually had a lot of mountains, and those mountains had a lot of forests. Which burned now like smoldering giants. The result looked like millions of chimneys doing their best to offend Al Gore. Millions of trails of smoke floated up while millions of trails of smoke shot down. The sky had no sky in it. Just billowing clouds, streaks of paint, and an opaque gray that Jackson assumed was water vapor teasing the stratosphere.
Art! That’s what the sky looked like. That impressionist shit where you threw colors on canvas then sold it for millions. A 3D video version of shitty art! Finally art that he could appreciate.
Then he saw a curtain of smoke and dust that blocked the entire northwest. It looked like the place where the hobbit ventured in that last Lord of the Rings movie. With even better special effects. He tried to take it all in, but it was just too much. It dominated the landscape like nothing he ever experienced. And he knew that he needed to see it. Now.
41
“The Lorena is at full speed and running a parallel path a nautical mile behind us,” the radar operator informed him.
“Wish them luck,” Wili instructed the communications operator, then brought up his binoculars. “What the hell is that idiot Bush doing?”
Not that anyone could answer. The Lina was speeding past the USS Enterprise, a 51 year old carrier scheduled for decommissioning in 2013, itself going at maximum speed. The $6.2 billion USS George Bush, the newest supercarrier, was officially delivered to the Navy in 2009. The Enterprise was the first Nimitz class carrier, and Bush the tenth and last. The redesigned Ford-class carrier was suppose to begin replacing the Nimitz-class ones in 2015, but President McCain canceled it in favor of smaller, amorphous metal versions.
The Lorena, Jackson’s first 200-meter cargo ship, blew President-elect McCain away. Standing at the bow of a ship doing 60 knots was like driving a convertible going 200 MPH. Jackson’s designers showed McCain and Pentagon experts how the design could be optimized for 1) a stealth mini-carrier carrying vertical liftoff F-35s; 2) a stealth heloplane carrier; 3) a destroyer that carried two F-35s and two heloplanes; and 4) cargo ships that doubled as an amphibious assault mothership that accommodated hundreds of small, fast, amphibious assault hovercraft. All armed with a speed-of-light laser, a railgun firing target-optimized gamma-ray shells, gamma-ray missiles, and armed drones.
In a media blitz, Jackson used animation to show small heloplanes providing close air support to thousands of small armed hovercraft, jumbos airlifting battalions of amorphous metal “tanks” behind enemy lines, as ships fired lasers and railguns while F-35s cleared the skies of enemy aircraft.
Jackson’s 100 and 50 meter long versions could be optimized as icebreakers, minesweepers, hospital ships, tugboats, bulk or container cargo, heavy transport, Coast Guard duty, as well as a laser railgun version without aircraft. All with just three hulls several times harder to penetrate, fireproof, corrosion proof, faster, stealthier, more seaworthy, and which would last over a century.
Jackson offered to make ten amorphous metal submarines (with pop-up railguns), twenty 200-meter ships, thirty 100-meter ships, and forty 50-meter long ships for just $100 billion if McCain would pre-pay 10% to cover factory setup costs and produce three prototypes. Which President McCain did. After all, the first Ford-class carrier cost $9 billion, and the Zumwalt destroyers and the latest subs cost $3 billion each. And Jackson’s ships would save billions every year on fuel, labor, and maintenance. So McCain figured he was saving taxpayers money, multiplying America’s naval power, and would get credit for a next-generation Navy. Not a bad legacy for the son and grandson of admirals.
In return, Jackson would classify the stealth mini-carriers as “McCain-class” (since McCain served aboard carriers) and the Navy could recoup their investment by selling their oldest ships to allies as Jackson delivered the newest ones. Just adding a heloplane and drones multiplied each ship’s usefulness.
Over the next several years, Jackson planned on making 300, 400, and 500-meter long bulk and container mega-ships that the government could contract out as needed. Since super oil tankers, the largest ships afloat, max out at 450 meters, Jackson’s plans rocked the shipbuilding industry.
Then McCain died and President Palin tried to renege on the deal. Jackson only qualified for the rest of the contract if he produced three good prototypes, so Palin counter-sued to get the $10 billion back, which forced Jackson to spend the $10 billion as quickly as possible. Then, right when they were ready to begin their first ships, asteroid fragments threatened to swamp coastlines, prompting Jackson to dismantle and relocate the factories, at great expense.
Wili therefore captained one of the best ships in the world. In fact, except for the yet-to-be-made laser railgun version, the only ship in the world he would rather captain was Jackson’s billion dollar, 100-meter yacht.
Most motorized cabin cruisers or luxury boats max out around 17 knots, but his double-M design skimmed over the ocean at over 60 knots. Because it split seawater to run on hydrogen gas, it was a true deep water craft capable of circling the globe. The yacht had two helicopter pads, 100 guest cabins, 1000 square meters of living space on five decks, three swimming pools (a large one, a lap pool, and a kiddie pool), a hot tub, sauna, steam room, three recreational rooms, a 3D movie theater, two gyms, a disco, three launch boats, a mini-submarine, a master suit larger than most homes, and a large array of non-lethal weapons to repel pursuers and paparazzi. Joggers could even do laps around the deck.
All for just $1 billion USD. Not including the heloplane.
Jackson was the first to ever offer a billion dollar luxury yacht. Sure, the 165 meter long yacht Eclipse reportedly cost $1.2 billion, but that was over twice its initial cost estimate. No, by deliberately marketing a yacht that cost a billion, Jackson was making a statement. Because the super-rich who buy the most expensive yachts want to make a statement with their purchases. And nothing states “I’m richer than you” than a billion dollar boat. The more exclusive the club, the more people wanted to get in. And what could be more exclusive than owning one of the world’s billion dollar yachts? Demand for his competitors dried up.
What blew Wili away is that Jackson had sold over one hundred of them in just a few years, and he reportedly even had a year-long waiting list. Every big company, Internet millionaire, third-world dictatorship, Wall Street trader, Hollywood celebrity, and oil sheik wanted one. And they paid a billion, even though the hull and superstructure cost a small fraction of what conventional ones cost since he churned them out in a mass-production factory. Un-fucking-believable.
The super-rich paid so much because the hull would last virtually forever; it was extremely fast; its free fuel gave it unlimited range; it was not just really long at 328 feet, but four times wider than conventional hulls; its low draft made it possible to go up more rivers and dock at more piers; and its greater width made it safer, more stable, and more seaworthy. The wider the ship, the harder it was to capsize and the less it made guests seasick.
A billion dollar state-of-the-art ship made Wili think of the Bush. The carrier was brand new. The crew had three years to break her in. So what the fuck was the captain doing?
They all had been circling at high speed while waiting for the mega-tsunami. Wili’s heloplane informed a
ll the few dozen ships in the area when and where it found the wave, its size and speed. Both carriers then launched their helicopters rigged for rescuing people out of the water. Maybe the Bush had the bad luck to have its back completely to the swell and turning around to face it was taking too long. Or maybe the Bush was not listening to their emergency channel. Maybe Bush attracted catastrophe.
“Keep the starboard camera on the Enterprise and track the Bush with forward cameras. Engineering, give me all you’ve got!”
Wili blasted his horn in greeting as they passed the Enterprise like a sprinter out-pacing an old marathon runner. The USS Bush was a few nautical miles ahead of them and heroically trying to turn around in time. But Wili knew immediately that they would not make it. He ordered the helmsman to steer well away from the looming disaster.
“Lorena, Lorena,” Wili called to his sister ship. “The USS Bush is going to capsize in front of us. We are turning to starboard, but we will soon turn back to face the swell head on. Recommend you do the same.” He knew the captain of the Lorena was trying to make sense of his radar screen. With that heads-up and with more room to maneuver, the Lorena should be fine. He, however, had to avoid a fucking aircraft carrier like an overturned tracker-trailer on the freeway.
“Lorena, the Bush is turning into the swell, but is getting hit at a 45 degree angle. Ay, Dios mio, instead of turning more into the wave, the wave is pushing away its bow. Oh mierda, the wave is lifting the whole ship up. It’s now getting hit broadside. It’s tilting. The ship is now a hundred meters higher than we are.”
Which gave the 2D ocean a weird third dimension.
“Turn to port! Lorena, we’re heading into the swell.”
Then Wili saw movement out of the corner of his left eye. What crazy idiot would be out on deck at a time like this? Incredulous, Wili turned his head just enough to see that fucking baby raptor. He stared through his window, suddenly oblivious of the swell and the carrier, his total attention dangerously captured by the non-extinct dinosaur on his weather deck.
Wili never was much of a mind reader, but he could tell the raptor was scared shitless and thinking, “What the fuck is going on?” His body language screamed anxiety as he chicken-walked past the bridge to the bow. Wili assumed it was a he. He really had no idea and certainly wasn’t about to radio the vet to ask how to tell the difference between male and female raptors. Not with the fucking Navy listening in. It had balls, whatever sex it was.
“Five seconds to the swell, captain.”
Those were the longest five seconds of his life. Even longer than losing his virginity. It seemed to stretch out as the baby hurried forward, curiosity winning over terror. Wili had to admire its courage. Not even a day old and already brave enough to watch a tsunami capsize a fucking aircraft carrier. It may run like a chicken, but it was no coward.
It looked more like a turkey than a chicken. With arms. With a much bigger tail. The vet told him that some fully grown dinosaurs were no bigger than chickens, but he could tell it was a baby. The tentative way it moved, the way it looked at everything around it, the innocent vib the monster gave off.
The baby reached the bow and looked up at the giant swell. Tiny figures were flying across the deck of the carrier and some of them, as they were thrown towards in the air, obviously saw the raptor before plummeting to their deaths in the freezing water. Through his binoculars, Wili watched the reactions of several of them as they recognized the dinosaur having a Titanic moment.
“3. 2. 1.”
“Brace yourself,” Wili yelled into the ship intercom while strapping himself into his chair.
The nose of the ship dipped into the swell and for a moment Wili feared the rest of the ship would disappear as well. Tons of water washed over the deck before the nose turned up and their momentum carried them forward. The rush of water swatted the tiny raptor, sending it airborne a hundred feet until it smacked hard against the bridge’s Plexiglas window, cracking it. As the ship righted itself and began to climb, gravity must have pinned the dinosaur there, just a few meters in front of Wili, obviously in agony and begging for help.
Past the dinosaur plastered to his window, Wili noticed several helicopters hovering above in the orange-yellow sky.
Violating his own safety rules, Wili unbuckled and approached the window. Only a centimeter separated them as they shared eye contact, a day-old baby raptor and a hairy Honduran in a wetsuit and pirate hat. Over the pounding waves Wili could hear the baby squeak through the cracked glass, very un-chicken-like, pleading with Wili to do something, anything. Wili put his hands where the dinosaur had his claws, trying vainly to comfort him. And Wili instinctively knew the raptor was a him. They communicated volumes in that brief moment of eye contact. The raptor understood his sympathy and stopped crying. The noise he made next sounded more like a duckling calling for his mother.
Holy crap, Wili thought. I’ve just been adopted by a dinosaur! I’m the proud mommy of a vicious raptor who snacks on Guatemalans. He suddenly tasted salt water that leaked through the growing crack. Feeling the rest of the bridge staring at his back, the captain searched for something soothing to say that wasn’t total fucking bullshit. He racked his brain, but all he could think of was, “I’m sorry.” Why he should be sorry didn’t occur to him. After all, Wili spent hours hunting him down with a shotgun.
Then something else caught his eye. Which, at 1092 feet in length, was understandable. The swell was hitting the USS Bush broadside even as it lifted the entire ship up. Because the heavy carrier sat so low in the ocean, the water level rose on one side and fell on the other. The imbalance quickly grew acute. The more the water rose on its port side, the more it pushed the ship over. First a 30 degree angle, then 60, then 90. The core of the tsunami then hit and flipped the aircraft carrier over onto its back. Even the raptor sensed something big as it shifted his head to look to his right.
One part of Wili felt horror at the thought of five thousand sailors being thrown into the freezing Southern Ocean with 100,000 tons of steel on top of them. Another part, however, realized that the carrier was going to miss the Lina. His last minute maneuver saved their sorry asses.
Hoo-rah!
The Lina passed the Bush right as it landed on its back, less than 100 meters away. However, the water displaced by this crash fell behind them. They were clear! As the carrier disappeared from view and as the raptor slipped back onto the empty deck, Wili looked around and saw that he was on top of a hill of water in the middle of the ocean. For a guy who spent his entire adult life at sea, this was really weird. But this was a day full of weird.
Even over the roar of the ocean, Wili could hear the groan of steel under stress. He looked at a monitor and saw the carrier floating upside down. For a moment it looked like the tsunami was going to turn it right side up again. But the strength of the wave ebbed and, like the Treasury, it remained under water.
Wili looked at the raptor which appeared pleasantly surprised he was still alive. The baby got up like he fell off a ladder and did what looked like a fucking dance, shaking off the water like a dog. He shrieked in joy at being not extinct.
Then the ship started going down the hill. Aww, fuck.
“Reverse engines! Full power. Keep us straight on! Prepare for submersion.”
The back of the wave was fortunately not nearly as steep as the front. Wili guessed it was twice as long and half as steep, which saved them. Speed was the last thing they wanted now. You want speed when driving up a long, steep hill, but driving down you need to keep a foot on the brake to avoid losing control. And you certainly don’t want to make a radical turn because that could flip you over.
Their hill of water was collapsing even as the ship descended the tsunami’s back going way too fast. Instead of a propeller, they had maneuverable water jets which gave them tremendous flexibility. They could turn far tighter than ships half their size. And now their water jets were in full reverse. Their momentum was still too great and the hill collapsing too
fast. Still, it helped, and possibly saved them.
The baby dinosaur saw what was coming and understood what it meant . After staring down past the bow, he turned to Wili one last time. The damn thing looked sad! His face was far more expressive than any bird he ever saw. And more intelligent. He clutched his left arm next to his body, as if it was broken, but with his right arm it looked like he waved to Wili, saying “bye” and “thanks” and “sorry about the Guatemalan” all at the same time. At least so it seemed to Wili, who had an emotional roller coaster of a day. In any case, Wili tearfully waved back.
Then the bow dived into the ocean, the front deck was instantly underwater, and the poor baby dinosaur was washed away in the blink of the eye. He didn’t even look at what was coming, instead preferring to share his last moment alive saying goodbye to his mommy, a hairy Honduran cargo ship captain ridiculously dressed in a wetsuit and pirate’s hat.
“All engines stop! Initiate station-keeping.”
The natural buoyancy of the ship slowly lifted it out of the water, like a dog shaking off the rain. In vain Wili searched for his baby dinosaur. It startled Wili to sympathize with these vicious beasts like that crazy sexy vet. He better get a hold of himself or he may start empathizing with his neglected wife.
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