“Wait one, please,” the officer responded neutrally.
“I don’t have all day, hurry it up!”
Seconds later, Keefer replied, “6,500 tons, 110 meters, nuclear fast attack, latest boat, latest gear, very dangerous…”
“Get underway as fast as you can, dammit!” Spencer barked.
“Following your latest orders, sir, we’re sitting here with a cold reactor. We can be underway in four hours, if our luck holds.”
“Four hours! No one told me anything about four hours! Get it done! I want you and your crew underway in fifteen minutes!” Spencer blared. “We don’t have four hours!”
“Aye, sir,” Keefer responded with cold indifference.
“If he doesn’t get that ship underway in fifteen minutes, convene a general courts martial!” Spencer spewed at Armstrong who sat at his console with a neck brace and his left arm in a sling.
“Contact slowing,” said the console operator. “Message coming in. UQC.”
Seven’s eyebrows raised. “The sub is contacting us by underwater telephone,” he whispered to Serea who was biting her lip and staring at her father.
“It’s in Chinese, sir. But I’m recording it.”
“What’s he saying? Don’t record it! For heaven’s sake man, just tell me what he’s saying!”
“I don’t speak Chinese, sir.”
“Give me that handset,” Spencer snapped, jerking the mic out of the operator’s hand. “Approaching Chinese submarine, what is your business here? State your business immediately and prepare to be escorted by force from our territorial waters!”
There was a long pause.
“I hear cavitating propellers, sir. The contact is apparently going to slow to a stop in front of our windows.”
All eyes turned to the broad windows before them just as Sean Conlin walked quietly into the center.
Soon, an indistinct shadow appeared in the windows at a distance. In short minutes the stubby nose of a huge underwater beast took shape facing them. As the craft slowed to a complete stop and hovered in front of them, they could make out the details on the huge submarine’s bulbous shaped bow, and there, before them, they were staring down the bore of six torpedo tubes. As they watched, the two side torpedo tube doors began to open.
“Torpedo tube doors opening,” the sonar expert announced.
“I can see that, you moron!” Spencer responded, and, like everyone else, his eyes were glued to the giant steel monster that hovered in the crystal water facing them.
“I believe I’m receiving a reply to your transmission, sir. It’s in English.”
“What does it say?” Spencer asked through gritted teeth.
“The message says, quote, ‘I will not speak English to anyone. It is a guttural and filthy language spoken by uncultured people. You will communicate to me in Chinese or you will all die incommunicado’.”
Spencer looked momentarily stunned, then he replied, “You tell that SOB that I will not, I will never….”
“I speak Chinese,” Edgar Allen interrupted without a smile.
“Then get up here and make yourself useful, for once.”
Edgar approached the console as Spencer focused his rage on her. “Translate this into Chinese. Tell him that I will never, ever, speak to him in Chinese, period. And as far as guttural languages, tell him…”
Edgar interrupted him. “And shall I tell him that you will never speak to him in Chinese in Chinese?”
Spencer looked supremely annoyed. “No, you stupid little tart. Use English!”
To everyone’s total astonishment, small, unassuming Edgar Allen flipped Spencer her middle finger and turned to walk away.
“Arrest her immediately!” he bellowed to Armstrong. “Take her into custody.”
“Frank,” Serea interrupted scathingly, with undisguised contempt. “Let her do her job and lay off the verbal abuse. You happen to need her now, unless you’d like to try communicating with the Chinese submarine using hand signals out the window.” Then Serea turned to face Edgar who was brushing a tear away from her eyes in anger. “Edgar, do it for me, please.”
Edgar stopped, looked back at Serea with fire in her eyes, then turned to face Spencer. “You get one more chance, that’s all.”
Spencer sighed deeply, then snapped, “Get over here, now! Ask him what he wants.”
Edgar relayed the message in perfect Chinese. A long moment passed, then a forceful voice speaking Chinese echoed throughout the control room. Edgar translated, “He says his name is Xiao Luan, Captain of the Jiang Zemin, SSGN 421. He wants our immediate, unconditional surrender.”
Seven could feel the hairs stand up on the back of his neck as he and everyone else stared down the bore of the submarine’s open torpedo tubes. Seven knew that the smallest of the Jiang Zemin’s torpedoes would destroy Pacifica and kill them all in less than half a second.
Spencer turned pale. “Ask the Leviathan when they’ll be able to get underway,” he whispered.
Ten seconds later the Leviathan answered, “Commander Keefer, here. Sir, I’ve spoken to my crew and asked them for a miracle. They say we can do it in three hours, if everything goes just right.”
“Keefer, I need you underway right at this moment!” Spencer hissed.
“Impossible, sir. Not even if we got out and pushed.”
Spencer’s face was now painted with panic. He clearly had, ‘what do I do now?’ written all over it.
“Aaron, help him out,” Serea whispered.
But just as Seven started to speak, Spencer said to Edgar, “Ask him what his terms are.”
“No!” Professor Desmond said in a loud, startling voice as he slammed his fist onto the table, stood slowly and faced Spencer, steadying himself with his hands.
Serea quickly rushed to his side, followed by Seven. As she touched his arm to help support him, her father did not resist.
“We will never surrender to them,” Desmond said strongly to Spencer.
“In case you haven’t been keeping track, Raylond,” Spencer said in anger, his right hand pointing to the windows beside him, “we’re about to be killed. We’re staring down the bore of death here and there’s no way out! Sit down, old man, before I have you arrested like the rest of the dung your trashy daughter brought onboard here. I’m sick of groveling to you. You’re a broken, useless parasite and I’ll no longer submit to your rambling nonsense.”
Then he looked at Edgar, “I said, ask him what his terms are. That’s a direct order!”
Edgar stood in silence and looked to Serea.
Spencer took a single step over to Edgar and grabbed her arm tightly with his fingers. “Do it now!” he raged.
“Unhand her immediately!” Desmond commanded.
Unexpectedly, Spencer backhanded Desmond and sent him sprawling across the console top. Simultaneously, Seven, followed closely by the Commander, lunged at Spencer as Serea leapt toward the body of her father lying on the deck. But as they made their first motions, Armstrong stepped between Seven and Spencer, brandishing a huge, black handgun pointed directly at Seven’s chest.
“I don’t actually need much of an excuse to drop you right here!” Armstrong hissed.
“Arrest him!” Spencer shouted. “Arrest them all. Hell, go ahead and shoot him! It looks like self defense to me!”
“Frank, you’re out of control,” Sean Conlin said decisively from the rear of the Command Center . “For God’s sake man, get a grip!”
“Shut up, Conlin. As far as I’m concerned, you’re just another member of the cabal. You’re going down with the rest of them.”
“New message coming in,” the console operator intoned urgently as if to seize their attention with more pressing matters. Silence filled the room as the crisp Chinese voice strained through the overhead speakers.
Edgar nodded as she heard the voice, then she spoke, “You have five minutes to acknowledge unconditional surrender or you will be destroyed.”
“See what you’ve man
aged to do here?” Spencer raged at the prone Desmond who raised his head off the deck, stunned, his lip bleeding.
Desmond moved his head slowly and managed to find the Commander’s face in the crowd. “Joseph, I would appreciate it if you would subdue this unlawful assembly,” he said then looked into the face of Serea who held his head in her hands. “I am sorry, Serea, I have been such an old fool. I have never loved or respected anyone more than I do you. Please continue Pacifica’s government as you originally designed. And as for you,” he said, looking toward Seven, “you are back in command. We must not ever surrender. Find a way.”
As he was speaking, the Commander boldly walked up to Armstrong and without hesitation, twisted the firearm out of his fingers, then knocked him unconscious with a single backhanded blow across his face. He then walked over to Spencer and gripped his shoulder so tightly, Spencer screamed in agony.
“Sit,” the Commander ordered as Spencer collapsed in the nearest seat. Then he withdrew a small roll of duct tape from his rear pocket and placed it across Spencer’s mouth. “I’ve been carrying this roll around with me just for this very moment. One whimper and you’ll be sleeping beside golden boy here. Now, I need two volunteers to take this man out of here and tie him to the nearest post outside.”
Simultaneously, six crewmembers jumped up and waved their hands. “You two, do it now!” the Commander said pointing to a pair of the largest men nearby.
Seven stepped slowly toward the center of the Command Center as the room hushed, waiting for his move.
“This is Aaron Seven, I have the con,” Seven said in the Command Center ’s duty parlance with an unmistakable sense of power. As he did, the entire room burst into wild applause and everyone stood cheering and slapping one another on their backs.
Serea looked up from her crouched position to him and managed a smile and a wink.
“Go ahead and tell the little Chicom puke that we’ll unconditionally surrender,” Seven said, clearly winking to Serea and Desmond. “Then tell him that we’ll need at least five hours to brief an envoy and carry our terms across to him personally.”
Edgar immediately began to speak. Long moments passed in silence as Spencer and Armstrong were carried outside the control center. Then, the reply came.
“Do not be preposterous,” Edgar translated. “There are no terms to unconditional surrender. You will open your doors and allow us immediate dockage, or we will destroy you. We will accept no more delays.”
“You tell that little cockroach that he can kiss my all-American ass,” Seven responded with no hesitation to the unrestrained cheers of everyone in the command center. Desmond just covered his face with his hand and groaned.
“Belay that!” Seven said with a grin as Desmond laid his head back in Serea’s arms. “Tell him that the submarine pen can only dock one submarine at a time, so we’ll have to move the Leviathan out, and it can’t get underway for at least six hours.
“He’s not going to shoot us,” Seven then added.
Edgar began her translation to the Chinese.
“Why not?” Conlin asked loudly, pacing nervously in the back of the Command Center .
“Because he wants our sanctuary. If he destroys us, he dies too. He needs to be able to walk in here carrying guns. He won’t risk shooting anything at us.”
“Backwash on his props. He’s backing down,” the sonar operator said sharply and unexpectedly. They could all clearly see the huge nose of the submarine drawing away. In but a few moments, it had nearly backed out of sight.
“They’re leaving!” someone said, voicing all of their innermost hopes.
“No, I suggest they’re backing off so that the blast from the torpedoes won’t affect them,” Conlin noted fatalistically.
“All stop,” the sonar operator said, then followed with, “Screws ahead slow, sound bearing to our right…”
“He’s turning away from us,” Seven said, the submarine’s shadow now drifting to the right of their windows. But as he looked out the wide windows before him, he could make out yet another dark shape looming just behind the submarine and above it, descending slowly.
“Another contact, just ahead!” Seven said to the sonar operator.
“Negative second contact. The approach-way is clear.”
Seven looked outside the window again. Clearly, a huge shape was approaching slowly and dropping down nearly on top of them. As he squinted through the depth induced fog, his brain suddenly made out a familiar shape. The huge bulky monstrosity of the object suddenly became distinct as it slowed and hovered just before the windows.
“It’s the Phoenix !” Seven cried. “She’s dropping in for the save!”
The entire complement of the Command Center burst into applause and cheers.
But the Jiang Zemin had disappeared into the waters to the north of Pacifica .
63
After only three nighttime excursions, Warren and Wattenbarger had wired the deep underground cables of the Leonard Mountain Geophysical Observatory for the rudimentary extremely low frequency (ELF) transmitter they had built on the fly. As they prepared to depart the cave for the final expedition to the observatory, they were stuffing their packs with the equipment they would need to wire the receiver atop the observatory’s seismic telemetry tower. As they were discussing the details, Mel walked up and sat in the sand beside them.
“I’d like to come along this trip,” she said bluntly, laying her chin on her folded hands atop her knees.
Wattenbarger said nothing as he just looked at her, obviously taken again by her smile.
Warren was not such an easy mark, so he bluntly replied, “No.”
She looked momentarily surprised, then looked to Wattenbarger. “Why not?” she asked, obviously struggling not to appear edgy about it. “You said this was going to be a short and easy trip. Lew, you just said an hour ago that it was going to be a walk in the park.”
“Because it’s too dangerous,” Warren responded. “Because you have to stay here and look after your son. Because you have to stay and look after Lance. And because you have to stay behind and look after the place here.”
“Listen,” she said evenly, controlling her emotions, “I’m not your domestic cave-keeper. Lance can take care of Alex. All he does while you’re gone is listen to that infernal rap music on his player. So I don’t think he’s too preoccupied to watch Alex who will probably watch movies or nap the whole time. And I really, really need to get out of this cave. Come on, Lew, I beg you, please let me take this last trip with you. I really need to get out of here and stretch my legs and see something other than these walls. You guys get out so you don’t know what’s it’s like – it’s a real dungeon in here if you never get out.”
“She does have a point,” Wattenbarger offered Warren almost sheepishly.
Warren shot him a hard look, then replied, “This is man’s work, Mel. Hard, rugged hiking over tough ground in the dark. Then we’ve got to scale the tower and hang these wires and double-time it back before sunrise. You won’t like it and probably can’t keep up. It’s scary. It’s too dangerous. I’m sorry.”
“Even if all that were true, why would my being along change anything? I can hike faster than you can; I’m lighter and younger. And if you don’t give me any of your man’s work, then how does that affect me? You were both going to go and do it without me anyway.”
“She does have a point,” Wattenbarger repeated.
“Oh, will you just stop it!” Warren snapped at Wattenbarger. “I must be nuts; this is not going to work out, I just know it. Okay, get packed up,” he said to Mel. “But ask Lance first, he may not want to baby-sit.”
“I already have; he doesn’t mind,” Mel replied. “And my pack’s ready to go.”
Warren shook his head and lifted his eyes to Wattenbarger. “Were you in on this, too?”
Wattenbarger just shrugged innocently.
“Figures,” Warren lamented, ramming his last piece of gear into his bag.
>
In less than an hour, the trio stood at the inner opening of the cave. Charles stood beside the opening holding Alex’s hand. Mel kissed her son on the forehead, then said, “Good by, baby. Mommy has to help our friends do some work but I’ll be back soon. You mind Uncle Lance here and take your nap when he says.”
“Yes, mommy,” the little boy said with a pout. “Hurry back, please.”
Charles stood looking around the cave with his ever present headphones draped over his ears. Warren could hear the rap music clearly leaking out and looked away. He had told Charles more than once that his brain had been incurably infected by the cacophonous noise and that he could not, would not, tolerate it around him, period. He even despised the trickle of noise that leaked by the headphones and into his space.
The trio turned to leave and as they did, Warren stole a glance back at Charles who met his eyes. For the first time in a long while, Warren could detect a hint of actual engagement and perhaps, he thought, he even sensed worry.
The moon had waned to a thin crescent and would not rise until just hours before dawn. As the sun’s light dimmed into deep blue, they rounded the crest as the last of the its rays glowed against the western horizon.
“The plane’s located right over there,” Wattenbarger told her, looking to the western skyline.
“No it’s not!” Warren nearly shouted. “It’s gone! The plane’s not there!”
“That’s not possible,” Wattenbarger whispered.
But as they looked, the sky no longer held the bizarre sight of the aircraft’s tail rising more than a hundred feet above the mountain’s top like some kind of a gaudy lawn sculpture of the mountain gods.
“Oh…” Mel whined, her eyes straining toward the horizon. “I really wanted to see it!”
“Well, my dear, I don’t think it’s actually gone-gone,” Warren harrumphed. “It obviously finally fell over sometime during the daylight hours.
They walked briskly through the trees lining the eastern summit’s edge toward the ash covered plain that made up most of Concharty’s denuded top. As soon as they reached its edge, they could clearly see the aircraft’s rear vertical stabilizer fin rising into the sky.
Quantum Storms - Aaron Seven Page 58