Ghosts of Ophidian

by McElhaney, Scott

  “Depending on the number of potential buyers and how educated they are on the history of these diamonds, I wouldn’t be surprised if the trio sold for several million. These were cut specifically for the great grandmother of King George,” he said, pondering the jewels before him, “They’re well over a hundred years old and most recently spent a few decades in a lockbox of a submarine beneath three hundred feet of water. Well, not ‘most recently’. We’ll keep my intestines out of this little history if I have anything to say about it.”

  She chuckled, presenting him with a smile that lit up the room.

  “What will become of them?” she asked, “I mean, do you get to retire now as a millionaire?”

  He shook his head.

  “Believe it or not, I’m going to walk away from this little escapade with about ten thousand dollars for my typical fees plus a finder’s fee of twenty-two thousand dollars. I was going to be paid the ten thousand whether I accomplished my mission or not, but that would have only paid for me, my hired hands, and our fuel and equipment. The finder’s fee was quoted almost two decades ago by the United Kingdom and hasn’t increased in the years since.”

  “Well that’s not fair,” she said.

  “No, it’s really not. Granted, I never got into this line of work to become a millionaire, but considering the value of these gems plus the fact that both of my fellow workers were killed, I think I should be getting paid a lot more. But what’s the value of human life?”

  “I… well…”

  “Don’t worry, it was rhetorical,” he replied with a reassuring smile, “There’s no amount of money that would satisfy the loss of their lives.”

  “Why did they die? I mean, I hope you don’t mind me asking. I was just wondering how you survived and they didn’t,” she said, sitting down on the chair in front of him, “I heard you were a SEAL before.”

  He shook his head, then lifted one of the gemstones from the bed. The light above reflected off a dozen surfaces inside the perfect stone.

  “Being a SEAL isn’t what saved my life. It was pure coincidence. My partners rose to the surface ahead of me while I secured the sunken sub. I’m not sure what you know of diving, but at depths like that, you have to rise to the surface slowly in order to prevent a painful effect we divers call ‘the bends’. I was about twenty feet below them as we took our time rising to the surface.

  “We could see the bottom of another boat up there as we rose, but I didn’t think we had anything to worry about. I was wrong. I saw both of my associates cut down by automatic weapons just as they reached the surface,” he said, shaking his head, “I had no idea who these people were, but I could only assume that they were pirates. I stayed beneath my boat, slithering across the bottom until I reached the bow. I figured that anyone looking for divers would be watching the stern. I was correct.

  “My next goal was to get onto my boat somehow because I had a shotgun and two pistols aboard. The only weapon I currently had in my possession at the time was a six-inch diver’s knife. I wasn’t ready to put much faith in my skills with that, so I watched and waited from my spot in the water near the bow. When I finally thought I had a chance, I swam to the stern ladder and climbed aboard my boat. The enemy, whom I now identified as the People’s Republic of Korea, was busy trying to tie my boat to theirs. I took this opportunity to slip below decks and gather up the shotgun I had in my berthing. I wasn’t going to forfeit my boat without a fight, especially now that I knew they were a bunch of murderers.”

  “Did you kill any of them?” she asked, appearing as anxious as he was for vengeance against those people.

  “No, this isn’t one of those awesome hero stories we love to see on television. As a matter of fact, I never even retrieved my shotgun. I can only assume that one of them came up behind me and knocked me on the head with something heavy. The next time I awoke, I was gagged and tied to a gurney in a basement somewhere.”

  “I wish you could have killed them,” she said, covering her mouth suddenly, “Sorry, I don’t mean to sound bloodthirsty.”

  “I was just grateful when one of my rescuers told me they killed Jungjwa,” he replied, “That was the man I wanted to kill above all.”

  “The commander,” she said.

  “Well, I don’t know what his rank was in their government.”

  “It was commander, Mr. Steele,” she replied, matter of fact, “Jungjwa means commander in Korean.”

  “Really? I thought it was his name,” he replied, “What about Sangjwa?”

  “That’s Captain – one rank higher than Jungjwa,” she said, “Don’t worry, I’m not a traitor. My father is Korean – South Korean.”

  He noticed in that moment that there was a slight Asian shape to her eyes that he hadn’t noticed before, but nevertheless, it was her mother’s features that must have been predominant.

  “He threatened a visit from Sangjwa all the time. That must have been his boss,” he said, “Look, I’m kind of doped up on Vicodin right now and I’m not sure what I might have said against Koreans. Please don’t take anything I said in the wrong way.”

  “My father was a refugee from the Korean War, Mr. Steele. The North Koreans killed his grandfather,” she said, rising from her chair, “He hated the North Koreans probably more than you do. So no, I take no offense to anything.”

  “Thank you,” he replied, tucking the diamonds into his fist and resting his head down on the bed.

  “You look tired. How about if I turn off the light and wake you when dinner is served?” she asked.

  “I’d love that,” he replied.

  Three

  Conner woke to a gentle pat on his shoulder. He groaned when he opened his eyes and saw Commander Schultz standing there.

  “You’re one ugly sight to wake up to, Commander,” Conner muttered.

  “Why don’t you get your sorry backside out of bed and join me for dinner,” the Commander replied, “Besides, you need to get moving again before your muscles atrophy.”

  Conner groaned as he turned onto his side and executed his slow attempt to sit up. Every muscle and joint in his body ached and combined with the painful rash; he had to fight with clenched teeth not to burst forth in tears.

  “They already atrophied back there in Korea,” he said, “And my skin is on fire.”

  “Ah, bed sores and rashes – the unmentionable wounds of a POW,” the Commander said, handing him a set of Navy sweats, “Put these on and let’s get moving. I’ll drag you if I have to.”

  Conner shook his head and chuckled. He knew the Commander wasn’t joking. He had no pity for those who refused to make a full-hearted attempt to overcome an obstacle.

  He eased his hospital gown off and managed to slip into the dark blue T-shirt. He noted that it was only a size large where only a month ago, he could have never worn anything less than XL.

  “So, tell me about this NASA crap, sir,” Conner groaned.

  He gasped suddenly when he drew his leg up. The Commander turned away and feigned interest in one of the motivational posters on the wall. That was another thing he remembered about his old boss – he gave you your space when you needed it. He managed to tuck that leg into the sweat pants, then he drew up his other leg, withholding that particular gasp of pain.

  “Not much to know, Steele. Over the past couple weeks, we’ve been on high alert. All of our military is poised, armed, ready, and watching the skies non-stop,” he said, “What else can we do? It’s not like we trained for interstellar war.”

  “No, I mean why are they asking about me?” he asked, tugging the pants up, then slowly easing off the side of the bed.

  Conner was hunched over for a moment, but quickly found the strength needed to stand up. He attempted a step in the direction of the Commander and realized that he indeed could still walk.

  “Well, that’s all guesswork on my end, but I’d say that they intend to put you on the boarding party,” he replied.

  Conner laughed, “We’re boarding that s
hip up there? Have we tried any communications?”

  “We’ve sent every possible communiqué on every possible frequency, but we get no reply whatsoever,” the Commander said, turning to Conner, “Virgin Galactic even sent up one of their high orbital jets within twenty miles of the thing and still the ship doesn’t respond in any way.”

  “Virgin Galactic?”

  The Commander opened the door and motioned for Conner to lead the way out into the passageway.

  “They’re that private space organization out somewhere near New Mexico I believe,” he replied, closing the door and leading Conner down the corridor.

  “Are there any rational theories out there? I mean, it can’t be alien, can it? It’s just not… I mean, it’s got to be a joke.”

  “No joke, Steele,” he replied, ducking through a hatch, “We entered a whole new world while you were busy crapping out diamonds in North Korea.”

  Conner tried to keep up with the Commander, but now it seemed he was purposely trying to make it hard on him. He’d already scraped his shins on the base of two hatches so far just because his legs seemed to weigh more now.

  “And this new world contains aliens, I take it,” Conner said.

  “Would you like to propose another explanation for a three-mile ship orbiting our planet?” he asked.

  “Time travel,” Conner said, “One of our future ships got sucked into a black hole and dropped them off here.”

  The Commander laughed, then paused by the hatch leading into the mess hall. He gestured for Conner to lead the way and patted him on the back.

  “You refuse to believe in aliens, yet you’re willing to accept that a black hole is just a time warp drain in outer space,” the Commander chuckled, “You need to read up on your physics if you intend to be an astronaut, Steele.”

  “Uh, I don’t intend to be an astronaut, Commander,” he replied, inhaling the wonderful scent of Navy chow.

  The Navy was always rumored to have the best food in all the military and Conner wasn’t one to argue that point. Some of the best meals he’d ever had were consumed in Navy mess halls.

  “So, what do you intend to say to NASA when they approach you in Pearl Harbor?” the Commander asked.

  “First of all, they’re meeting me in Hawaii?” Conner asked, taking a tray from the stack, “And second of all, I highly doubt they would come for a washed up ex-SEAL with the intention of making him into an astronaut. There are plenty of your active duty guys who are in better shape and besides, I’m not government owned and operated anymore.”

  The Commander took a tray and followed Conner through the chow line. Conner accepted everything they had to offer. He then filled a cup with some orange “bug juice” and located a table near the corner.

  “Yes, you will be met by Air Force Colonel Aaron Abernathy and I believe two of his underlings. And no, you’re not government property anymore, but I heard you have some special skills when it comes to… uh, shall we call it ‘breaking and entering’?”

  “Breaking and entering? I’m an underwater salvage expert, Commander,” he said, sitting down and taking a drink of the strong imitation Kool-Aid, “My skills at getting into sunken ships is no different than the skills of any Navy trained diver.”

  “Sure, but I don’t know any divers who would blow a safe door underwater instead of bringing it to the surface first,” he replied with a smirk.

  Conner caught his eye. He mentally sifted through the dives he’d been on searching for a way Schultz could know about them.

  “The RMS Holbert and the U-32,” the Commander said, “I heard a rumor that there were two safes blown on the Holbert and as far as the U-32… well, that sub was believed to be carrying a half-ton of German gold in a 300-pound vault. You were shadowed on that one by two other dive teams who wanted to beat you to the discovery. I heard that all they found was an empty vault sans door.”

  “Hmm… I wonder how that happened,” Conner smiled, taking a bite of his beef-aroni, “And who else could have shadowed me on the Holbert? That was almost four hundred feet down in arctic waters.”

  “None of it matters now, Steele, and obviously no one really cares enough to pursue it in court. The point is, you’re known to be able to access anything anywhere and in any environment. Common sense says that they are coming to ask you to nicely blow a little door into that ship and get them inside,” he replied.

  “Why not just hit the ship with a missile?” Conner said, “They don’t need me.”

  “What, and risk blowing a three-mile steel meteor out of orbit and onto the Earth? Come on, Conner! Stop with the silliness and be rational,” he said, “Besides, I want to be able to brag that one of my men became an astronaut. You want me to beg?”

  “So, you’ve already got this all figured out,” Conner said.

  “Yep,” he replied, “So you’d better not make me regret saving you from the hands of the North Koreans.”

  Four

  Conner departed the ship twenty-six hours later when it pulled into port at Pearl Harbor. The sun was already setting and several thousand sailors were anxious to head out for some much deserved shore leave. He wormed his way through the crowded pier and quickly slipped past the gate to the parking lot. There, amidst a slew of yellow cabs, he caught sight of an Air Force Colonel waiting by a government issued Chevy Impala.

  “Based on the bruises and those stitches, I’m going to assume you’re Conner Steele,” the Colonel said.

  “That’s me, sir,” Conner said, shaking the Colonel’s hand, “I hate to break the bad news, sir, but if you wanted to hire Steele Salvaging, I sort of lost my boat.”

  The Colonel was an older man with silver hair peeking out from beneath the edges his hat. He maintained a serious expression, probably to hide his insecurities that rose when faced with a Navy SEAL.

  “I’m Colonel Stewart with NASA. You won’t need a boat for this job, Sailor,” he said, opening the passenger door for him.

  “So I figured,” Conner replied, accepting the offer of a ride.

  The Colonel walked around and quickly entered the vehicle. He started the car and spun the radio dial to silence the country station he’d been listening to.

  “I’m leaving for Florida in the morning, Mr. Steele,” the Colonel stated, pulling away from the pier and passing the line of waiting cabs, “Did you eat yet?”

  “Yes, sir,” Conner said, “But if you want to go somewhere, I don’t mind.”

  The Colonel smiled and nodded as he pulled out into traffic.

  “Heard you had a little run-in with the People’s Republic of Korea,” he said, “How are you faring?”

  “I’m doing fine, sir,” Conner replied, watching the Colonel, “You said that you’re leaving tomorrow morning. I’m going to assume that this is where I learn that I only have until then to either accept or refuse the job you’re going to offer me.”

  “You can’t refuse,” he said, giving him a serious glance, “NASA might be the means of transit, but the financier is the United Nations. You aren’t being called upon by only the United States, son.”

  “You haven’t even told me what the job is,” he replied, “How is it that you believe I can’t refuse?”

  “Don’t get me wrong, Steele. I’m not saying we are going to force you to do this. What I’m saying is that you have no choice. If that ship up there represents what our best minds have speculated it to be, then it could signify the end of the human race,” he said, “As I said, you have no choice.”

  “But I was told that the ship is doing nothing up there,” Conner said, “Where’s the threat?”

  The Colonel pulled the car over to the gravel on the side of the road. He pointed to Conner’s door, then opened his own and got out of the car.

  “Let me show you something, Steele,” he said, leaning on the roof of the car.

  Conner got out of the car and looked over top of the roof at the Colonel. He pointed at an angle toward the eastern portion of the sky.

 
; “Look at it, Conner Steele,” he said, “It’s barely eight hundred miles above our planet and even at such a distance, you can see it with the naked eye.”

  “All I see is… wait a minute,” Conner began.

  “I thought it was a dim star the first time I saw it, but then you study it for a while before you realize it’s not even round.”

  “Yeah, it looks like a tiny rectangle,” he replied.

  “But that’s just it - it’s not tiny at all. That mammoth right there could probably easily transport five million people.”

  “That’s not good at all!”

  “So now you see why you don’t have a choice,” he replied, “Well that and the fact that you’d be collecting a check of five hundred thousand dollars for every month you are in our employ. That’s not to mention the hundred thousand dollar retainer which you can have the moment you say ‘I’m in’.”

  Conner shook his head and looked down at the hands he had folded on the roof of the car.

  “Is that a ‘no’?” the Colonel asked.

  “I’d call it more of a sigh of resignation, sir. I’ll do whatever it is you guys need me to do.”

  . . . .

  Conner stared out the window at the pillow-like clouds beneath the airliner. If he had to guess, he’d say they were somewhere over the Gulf of Mexico right now. He slid the folded packet of paper out of the backpack in the seat beside him and opened it up again. Knowing the military as he had, it didn’t surprise him to learn that they were able to print out his orders at a moments notice. Nothing on the paper in front of him suggested that he was a civilian anymore.

  He was to report to Cape Canaveral Air Force Station where he would join the already formed unit BP1. BP obviously stood for “boarding party” which currently consisted of the people listed on his orders. He read the names again.

  Experienced Astronauts:

  Dr. Austin McKenzie – Physicist – Berkley

  Dr. Dean Lentz – Engineer – MIT

  Inexperienced:

  Conner Steele – Salvage & Entry – DEVGRU SEAL