by Razi Imam
Adora was sitting in the back and pulled her cell phone from the sleeve of her bag. She decided to test if it was deactivated. The phone turned on, and she was even able to connect to a cell tower. Maybe Zeke meant only Sebastian and his team’s phones had been deactivated.
She received a message in English and Vietnamese regarding roaming charges. After accepting, she typed out a text message to her mother in Guam and one to Franc at the coffee shop: Charles and I have the opportunity to join an expedition. We’re in Vietnam for the next couple of days and will be back soon. Cell coverage will be spotty, so please don’t expect updates. I’ll ping you whenever I can. All good! Love you guys.
She waited for the icon that indicated the texts were sent and placed it back in her bag.
The drive to the cove was dark and quiet. The team was thinking about the enormity of the task that lay in front of them. Dawn started to break as Zeke slowed his Suburban and turned down a winding dirt road. Gradually, the terrain changed from low-lying farms to rugged coastal cliffs. They heard the low rumble of the waves far below them, and Zeke came to a stop near a natural canal formed by seawater rushing inland during high tide. “We’re here. We’ll have to carry our gear on foot.”
The team picked up their bags and scuba equipment, climbed down to the edge of the canal and walked in single file. Zeke handed out a couple flashlights, and after about fifteen minutes of walking in the pre-dawn gloom, the canal opened up into a cavern with high, rocky ceilings. There was a stale, rotting smell. Sebastian pointed his flashlight up and found the source. A colony of demon bats swarmed the cavern roof. The team entered, and continued along a rocky ledge, finding that the water in the canal got deeper the farther in they went. It was a natural tunnel that opened into a semicircular cove—the perfect spot to anchor a boat. Sebastian stood on the ledge and could see the open sea ahead of him.
“Good morning!” Hamza’s voice echoed through the cove.
Flashlights swung around to the voice, and the team discovered the marvel hiding close to them. Several yards down the canal, the towering bulk of the Norwegian attack patrol boat floated in the water.
“Please stand where you are,” Hamza’s booming voice requested from the ship’s loudspeakers. “I’m moving closer so you can climb aboard.”
He fired the lateral navigation jets, and they could hear bubbles surfacing as the boat glided closer. Sebastian jumped on the deck first and opened the main door, climbing a set of stairs to the bridge, where six chairs occupied the ship’s various control stations.
After the team had loaded their gear onto the ship, some of them made their way to the bridge, where Sebastian and Zeke stood admiring the sophistication of the vessel. Nidal and Michelangelo identified the weapons stations and started to acquaint themselves with the controls. Shiloh took over navigation, and Charles and Maria took over the mapping station. Fabienne and Adora were still going through the rest of the boat—there were sleeping cabins, showers, a galley, a mess area, laundry, and a medical bay. The boat was also stocked with rations, which included several bars of Toblerone chocolate, a favorite of Fabienne’s. They estimated the boat could sustain a three-month open-ocean mission for their small team of six.
Zeke shook Sebastian’s hand and wished them luck before making his way back to his SUV to call Cebrián with an update.
Hamza helped Shiloh figure out all the navigational controls, and then handed him full control of the boat with a couple of taps on his keyboard. Three thousand miles away from where he started, his time as a pirate had come to an end.
Poseidon’s familiar voice came through speakers on the bridge. It had already downloaded the last known coordinates of Pham Kai’s boat onto the mapping station, along with all of Maria’s and Charles’s research and bathymetry maps of the Paracel Islands.
Sebastian stood on the bridge, admiring the smooth ride of the ship—an air-cushioned catamaran hull capable of high-speed rapid maneuverability and a water jet propulsion system. It was the perfect vessel for their mission, with a shallow draught of about a meter that gave them the ability to navigate the rocky reefs of the Parcel Islands. He walked over to Nidal and Michelangelo at the controls of the weapons station. It was a modern two-touch screen interface. The first screen was dedicated to weapons selection. The second was for targeting and guidance systems. The two soldier scientists briefed him on the ship’s arsenal.
Maria and Charles were immersed in deep discussion at the mapping station, which was a flat touch screen table. There were icons on the side that allowed them to pull up maps, satellite images, and bathymetry layouts of the seabed. The whole table was a working screen. Charles brought up satellite images and superimposed them on the bathymetry layouts downloaded off the GOES-16. They were trying to get within a one-mile radius of the deep-water cavern.
After several minutes, Maria said to Shiloh, “I think we’ve got it. I’m transferring the coordinates to your station.” With a touch of a few icons on the screen, Shiloh’s navigation station received a popup indicating new coordinates. He confirmed, and they were locked in.
“Okay,” Maria continued, “now I’m sending you the last known coordinates of Pham Kai’s boat. Looks like it isn’t too far from the first set of coordinates.”
They all knew the plan. First, they were going to try to find Pham Kai, and then they’d head to the general location of the deep-water cavern. Shiloh informed them that their ETA was approximately two hours.
Sebastian left the bridge, curious to see the rest of the ship, and soon ran into Adora and Fabienne in the medical bay. They were amazed at how well equipped it was, capable of handling two patients at any given time.
Sebastian then made his way to the cabins, avoiding the captain’s quarters. He found a small cabin at the stern of the ship and sat at the small desk attached to the wall. He pulled out his phone and made a call. There was a pause, followed by a series of tones, as if it were going through an intense network of satellites and servers.
“Hi, Sebastian,” Cebrián answered.
“Hey, Cebrián,” Sebastian replied. “I figured we’d catch up. We’re on our way to the possible source of the specimen, but first we’re going to try to find a friend who we think may come under threat from the Chinese Navy.”
“Ah, yes,” Cebrián said. “Pham Kai.”
Sebastian paused for a moment, then asked a question that had been on his mind all day. “Cebrián, what’s your plan to deal with the secret faction in the U.S. government that’s trying to take our work?”
“Sebastian, I’ve initiated several countermeasures to neutralize the impending threats,” Cebrián assured him. “I can’t get into details, but you’re already aware of the Honeycomb. We’re also meeting in Sweden with their navy to develop a strategy that gets you guys safely out of the South China Sea. I’m working on a multi-national plan involving several government leaders. Above all, our goal is to find, protect, and preserve the sanctity of the specimen.”
“Sounds good,” Sebastian said, relieved. “I’ll keep you posted as we make our way to the source.”
***
ON PHAM KAI’S boat, still on her knees, Minh crawled over to Vu. He was listless, but alive. His eyes were fixated, staring at something in the distance. She whispered his name, but he didn’t respond, not even a blink. It was as if he wasn’t there anymore. It was a painful thing to watch—he made grunting noises, like his body was trying hard to breathe. He still lay flat on his back, his hands and feet spread out, his neck turned on its side. Some of his shirt buttons around his belly had popped open. She felt sad for him—just hours ago, he had been a man of dignity and presence. She squeezed his hand while whispering his name, hoping to get some sort of response. The documents he was so proud of stuck out tauntingly from his shirt pocket. Tears flowed down her face.
The captains of the patrol boats were on the radio, arguing about why Wang Li didn’t sink Pham Kai’s boat with machine gun fire. “Why all the drama of the fisher
man ramming his boat into the reef, and then sinking it?” one of them shouted.
“Shut up! I have my reasons,” Wang Li snapped back. “I want to see him take their lives through his own actions.” The other captains fell silent. They knew they were dealing with an illogical, deranged sadist, but they were also certain it was his superstitious nature that drove his decision.
Pham Kai stepped out of the cabin and walked over to the stern, bypassing the spread-eagle form of Dr. Vu, his head resting in Minh’s lap. He called out to Wang Li, shouting that in order to sink his boat, he would need to gain speed. He asked if they would all move back three-quarters of a mile. He would then speed up to ten knots, steer through the channel to this same spot, and ram his boat into the reef—that would guarantee the damage needed to sink the boat. Wang Li ordered the boats to pull back. It took them almost half an hour to navigate back near the center of the channel. The three boats regrouped in a V formation and the crews came out on deck. They had folding chairs and binoculars set up, as if they were going to watch a live entertainment show.
Having reversed his own boat closer to the center of the channel, Pham Kai pointed it toward the reef. He took in his surroundings, noticing it had turned into a beautiful day—the sun was out, and the mist had lifted too. Wang Li shouted out to get going. “We don’t have all day to watch you die!” he yelled through a bullhorn. The crew was excited to witness a real live suicide.
Pham Kai walked back into the cabin and Minh followed. He increased his speed to ten knots—a dangerously fast speed for the channel. The patrol boat captains and crews watched his boat grow smaller. Commenting on his steering skills—it had taken them a long time to catch up to him, and now they noticed he was zigzagging through the channel at much higher speeds. His boat would crash into the reef any moment now. They all smiled, waiting for the spectacular end.
Pham Kai had been planning their escape since the moment they boarded. He hoped the captains were unaware of the southern opening to the channel. But if he slowed the boat down, the captains would know something was amiss and fire their machine guns. He needed to keep his speed at ten knots with no signs of slowing.
He shared his plan with Minh. She offered to stand at the bow and guide him, helping him avoid the rock walls on either side. He nodded.
Minh went to the bow and leaned over the edge, her hand on her forehead to shield her eyes, looking ahead for the beginning of the treacherous rock walls. To Pham Kai, her graceful form became a sixteenth-century ship’s figurehead that had come alive to guide and protect her vessel.
With the rhythmic rocking of the boat and the seawater splashing in her face, it was hard to make out where they were. She wiped water from her eyes, knowing that one wrong direction from her would mean a fatal crash. Pham Kai shouted through the front cabin slats, asking if she could see the rocks yet. She shouted back, “No!”
Pham Kai was about to slow the boat down and risk raising suspicion when he saw Minh gesturing with her left arm—he heard her calling out to steer to port. A wave of nervous relief came over him. He was so glad she had insisted on coming with him. He turned the boat to port. Minh then pointed with her right arm, shouting, “Starboard! Starboard!” Pham Kai responded, turning the wheel to the right.
A creaky scraping sound erupted from the starboard side of the boat as it ground into the rock wall, just as Minh gestured again to the port side, calling for him to adjust course. The noise stopped as the boat escaped the starboard wall.
Almost halfway through the southern opening, a mere three feet on either side, they careened through the rocky corridor at ten knots. Minh began gesturing and shouting, “Port! Port! Starboard! Port!” Pham Kai followed her instructions blindly, doing his best to keep up.
The patrol boat captains watched with eager anticipation, as Pham Kai’s boat headed nearer the reef. One captain spoke up. “Why hasn’t he hit the reef yet? He’s right on top of it!”
“Wait, it’s about to happen,” Wang Li replied. Another minute passed and still no explosion. He then got up from his chair, his eyes fixated on the boat. Even with binoculars, they couldn’t see the rapid left and right movements from Minh’s instructions—the boat just appeared to be heading away from them at a strong, steady speed.
He looked to the other captains for their opinion. They too stood up, peering through their binoculars. They exchanged looks with each other. Could it be? Had this pathetic Vietnamese fisherman found a second opening out of the channel? If so, how was he navigating it at such speed? That was impossible.
Just then, the two lower captains started laughing. Pham Kai’s boat appeared to gain more speed, having crossed the reef boundary into open sea. “It appears your Vietnamese fisherman has made a fool of you again.”
Rage overtook Wang Li. He unstrapped his sidearm, and screaming at the top of his lungs, started shooting the metal cabin door of his own boat. The bullets did little harm to the tempered metal, but the crew dove for cover to avoid ricochets.
On the open sea, Minh came into the cabin, her face, hair, and clothes soaking wet. Pham Kai grabbed a towel and started helping her wipe off the water. They both started laughing and crying—they had pulled off a miracle.
Still, the chase was on. It took the three patrol boats over an hour to navigate through the channel and reach open sea. They knew that even though Pham Kai’s boat was old, he would have covered over ten miles in that time. This was now a matter of great pride for all three captains.
Minh went back to check on Vu. He was still limp and lifeless. Pham Kai asked how he was doing. She shook her head. He then asked her to see if the patrol boats were visible—if they were, then they had crossed the horizon line and were within five nautical miles.
The three captains pushed the very limits of their engines, pursuing the fishing boat at full speed—fifty knots to Pham Kai’s 25-30. Given enough time, they would catch him. They also spread out a mile from each other laterally. This would help ensure they caught him if he tried anything tricky.
Almost two hours later, the far-right patrol boat spotted Pham Kai’s schooner about five miles away, forty-five degrees east of its location—deep within Vietnamese waters. The captain radioed the other boats, and they all adjusted course. Minh ran back in to inform Pham Kai that patrol boats were now visible. He wasn’t surprised, but all he needed to do was get close to an international tanker, and that should deter them. They’d think twice before firing on him if he were in the shadows of commercial traffic. The problem was there wasn’t any such traffic. All he could do was keep gunning toward Vietnam.
It took the patrol boats another forty-five minutes to get within firing range, but precision was impossible. They had to barrage him with rounds. The firing cadets for each boat sat behind their respective controls, using visual cues and radar measurements to align their shots.
Pham Kai’s heart skipped when he heard the crack of the machine guns, and several huge holes ripped through the patched-up starboard wall of his cabin. He and Minh dove to the floorboards, narrowly surviving the first volley. Pham Kai used one hand from his position on the floor to yank the wheel port and starboard, creating a rapid zigzag motion. They heard the distinct whine of rounds flying overhead and pattering into the water all around them.
The second volley, however, ripped through the stern of the boat, creating a gaping hole in the transom. The satisfied captains ordered the cadets to fire along the pitch, hoping to cut the boat in half vertically.
The couple covered their heads as the roof of the boat was torn to splinters. Grabbing each other’s hand, they jumped behind the trunk in the back of the cabin. The rounds tore into the engine room, killing the boat’s momentum. Dead in the water, Pham Kai knew that the next volley would be their end.
CHAPTER SIXTEEN
Fire
“A rabbit nestles down with its eyes closed
in the arms of a lion.”
~Rumi
SEBASTIAN AND THE team were racing to the l
ast known coordinates of Pham Kai, when the Skjold’s proximity system Senit 2000 sounded an alarm. “There’s a small vessel on the starboard horizon, heading our way,” Nidal called out. “And three more vessels behind it in a flanking formation, following at high speed.”
Sebastian shot up from his chair—the entire team heard a repetitive cracking sound in the distance.
“What was that?” Fabienne asked, joining them on the bridge.
“Machine gun fire,” Maria replied.
“Shiloh, slow down,” Sebastian ordered. Shiloh tapped his navigation screen, and the ship slowed to a crawl.
“Nidal, does the Senit have telescopic camera capability?” Maria asked.
Nidal’s fingers flew over the icons on his screen and the team saw an old, deep-blue fishing schooner bobbing in the waves with black smoke coming out of an old pipe on top of its cabin. Nidal changed the focus of the cameras past it, to the three patrol boats with their Chinese flags snapping in the wind.
Converging on the small vessel, the patrol boats were formidable in comparison. The team saw fiery sparks spewing from their machine guns, followed by the sound of a second volley. The tiny boat was struck several times, sending splinters of wood and metal flying everywhere. The black smoke sputtering out of the exhaust pipe stopped. The boat bobbed in the water.
Poseidon’s voice came through the speakers, “Sebastian, image recognition confirms that is indeed Pham Kai’s boat.”
Sebastian’s decision was swift and clear. “Can we neutralize those machine guns?” He asked, turning to Nidal and Michelangelo.
Their fingers danced across the icons of their screens, as the laser-guided grenade launchers were brought online. At approximately two miles, the weapons system was made for just such a situation.