The wind picked up by forty miles per hour as the still-flaming Shiloh started sounding her emergency warning horns. Jack saw the crew of Shiloh start to abandon their fire hoses and start belowdecks. There were still over a hundred men aboard her.
“Jenks, where do we stand?” he asked into the radio.
“This thing is ramping up, and there is nothing I can do to stop it. It’s like it has a mind of its own. I’ve pulled every coil I could, but that didn’t buy us any time. She’s powering up, and there’s not a damn thing I can do to stop it short of sinking this relic.”
Another deep rumble and the sky above them burst forth with the greatest electrical display anyone had ever seen. The seas became choppy, and the violet-colored water started coming over the side of Simbirsk in waves. The sky was swirling in that sickening pattern they had all seen before. It looked as if they could see the mist of ocean rising into the sky as if reinforcing the storm high above. Men above decks were getting shocked as they grasped railings and other steel parts of the exposed ship.
“Get below!” Everett screamed at the men who had assisted the last of Peter the Great’s crew aboard.
Henri was pushing and screaming in Russian for the men to protect themselves.
Jack figured they had two hundred survivors aboard Simbirsk and over three hundred on the heavily damaged Shiloh. Thorne had picked up another hundred and secured them below. They were flat out of time.
“We got to go, Jack!” Everett said as he held the hatchway open. Henri got the last of the Russian personnel below and then turned with Everett and waited for the colonel.
“That’s it, Colonel,” Ryan said. “We’ve done all we can!” he said, trying to raise his voice over the power of the rapidly developing storm.
Collins looked up as the heavy rain began, and it was déjà vu all over again. Water was rising into the sky, and electrical discharge raced through the black clouds that expanded into an even wider pattern. He could feel the Simbirsk pulsing under his feet. He looked toward Houston and saw that Thorne was still up top and was easing Houston closer to Simbirsk. He pushed Ryan toward the stern of the Russian ship.
“Come on—we have to tie off Houston to Simbirsk; otherwise, the phase shift forces will rip her apart.”
Jack and Ryan fought with the heavy ropes as the deck crew of Houston tossed the ropes that would secure her to Simbirsk. They were soon joined by several marines and sailors as they disobeyed orders and the team braved the killing elements of the storm as they fought with the heavy lines. Everett was there with Henri, and they finally managed to secure Houston for their ride home—hopefully.
With a last look at Shiloh and Captain Johnson as he vanished into the bridge section of the still-flaming Shiloh, Jack realized that they were as ready as they would ever be. How many more men would they lose with the unstable phase shift? He couldn’t calculate the odds that they would all make it back. He raised the radio once last time.
“Houston, check in.”
“Houston is ready,” Thorne said as he vanished below the conning tower and into the deepest sections of the submarine.
He looked toward the burning Shiloh. “Captain Johnson, are you secure?”
“I’ll never be secure again, but for now, we’re as secure as we can get. I hope you don’t mind if I place a complaint on your methods of transportation?”
“You’ll have to stand in line for that, Captain. Good luck. Jenks?”
“Jenks here,” came the hurried reply.
“Abandon the engine spaces and get as far belowdecks as the rest.”
“What about this Ruskie?”
Jack nodded at Henri. “I have someone coming down to take charge of that.”
“Roger, I am so outta here!” Jenks said as the radio went dead. Jack shook it, but there was nothing. The electromagnetic pulse was flaring to life.
The skies overhead circled at a speed that was terrifying. Collins took Henri by the arm.
“If it looks like we might not make it, follow your orders. That bastard doesn’t deserve the same fate as these men. Put a bullet where it belongs.”
Henri only nodded as he, Everett, Ryan, and Jack turned and made for the open hatchway.
Simbirsk, Shiloh, and Houston started to move in a wide circle as the storm magnified the power of the phase shift.
For twenty miles around the tethered ships, the sea shot straight into the air and then settled once more as the buildup to the shift became unstoppable. The engine was so powerful that it changed the very fabric of the atmosphere.
Jack and the others, with the exception of Farbeaux, went to the battle bridge and made sure to stay away from the solid steel bulkheads. Henri went below with the intention of finishing what it was they were here for.
Once again all three vessels started getting pliable and warped beneath the onslaught of the shift.
The sky exploded overhead, and then the two elements met in an explosion of the magnitude of a detonating nuclear warhead.
Phase shift occurred less than four seconds after.
* * *
Jack saw the ship turn almost transparent. This time, his senses had not been caught off guard as they had been on the initial phase shift. He felt the deck beneath his feet grow soft and pliant, but he didn’t fight the strange sensation and allowed his feet to remain planted. Everett made the mistake of touching the old helmsman’s station, and his hand went completely through it. He lost his balance, but Ryan stopped his fall. Both men felt the nausea running through them. It hit Jack next. He felt his gorge rise, and his brain felt like it had exploded with a massive headache. All around him, the world spun.
Belowdecks, Jenks and Charlie were with the six orphaned children of Compton’s Reef as they huddled with the rest of the Russian and British crew of Simbirsk. Just before the phase shift started, Jenks had herded everyone he could into the solid steel armory. It was a tight squeeze, but everyone had made it in. Even Second Captain Dishlakov, with pistol out, was standing over a sitting Salkukoff and his remaining three men. Two of the Russian marines from Peter the Great also had him covered. As far as Dishlakov was concerned, Salkukoff was going to pay one way or the other for his treachery.
Jenks was watching Henri Farbeaux just as the transition of the phase shift started. The master chief didn’t really care for the look in the Frenchman’s eyes. He stood, unlike the others, as if he were a burglar waiting for the lights to go out. With his suspicions on Henri’s intent, he pulled the children closer to him. Charlie Ellenshaw had the inspiration to place a large rubber mat absconded from the mess facilities of the Simbirsk on the steel deck in the hopes it would provide the children with some comfort for the short but miserable ride back.
Then the effects hit with a shock to everyone’s senses. The children froze as first the wave of nausea hit them and then the sick feeling of electricity coursed through their small bodies. Jenks was proud as the children hugged him and held on, not making a sound. Then the bulkheads seemed to vanish, and it was like they were sitting on the ocean’s surface. It was still violet in color. The illusion was so real, it seemed Jenks could just reach out and place a hand on its cold surface.
“Oh, God,” Charlie said as he felt his backside slowly sink into the steel hull.
It was Dishlakov who saved Charlie from becoming a permanent fixture of Simbirsk. He reached out, grabbing Charlie’s hand and losing his Makarov pistol at the same time. He pulled for all he was worth and caught the professor just as the hull resolidified. Then the armory was filled with all the colors of the rainbow, and every man inside the battle cruiser felt the falling rain from the storm outside the confines of the phase shift. None of them knew it but would later guess that at that very moment they had begun to transition from one world to the next.
When the thunderous sound of static electricity filing the armory, Henri felt his vision go into a tunnel effect as he again lost his balance and fell forward. The pistol he had hidden behind his back flew from
his hand as a fast-thinking Russian sailor reached for Farbeaux just after he came into contact with the deck. The young man pulled Henri in and held on for dear life and with a silent prayer to a God that might not even inhabit this bizarre world.
Dishlakov still had his back turned when Salkukoff saw Henri lose his weapon. Thinking quickly and with a murderer’s eye for survival, he reached out and with a booted foot slid the pistol toward him. One of his last remaining men saw what he was attempting and assisted by kicking the nine millimeter behind Salkukoff far enough to where he could grasp it with his manacled hand. Before he could congratulate himself, a large hand circled around his wrist, and he felt the bone snap.
A large Russian sailor with a machinist rank embroidered on his sleeve stood above Salkukoff and shook his head as the smaller man held back his scream of anger and pain. Salkukoff looked away when he saw that his fellow countryman would have no qualms of crushing the life right out of him.
Before the large Russian could seat himself again, the world around them flared to white light, and then they and the battle cruiser Simbirsk disappeared.
* * *
In the battle bridge, Jack felt his legs grow weak as he tried to focus his attention on Ryan and Everett. The bridge suddenly flared to brilliant life and sound. Collins felt his ears pop several times in rapid succession. Multicolored bands of light filled the bridge like an expanding fan, and then the world just vanished.
OPERATION REFORGER IV
NORTH ATLANTIC
Will Mendenhall stood with Dutch Admiral Andersson and Captain McAvoy on the bridge wing of Nimitz. The search for the missing ships had found nothing. They discovered wreckage from the destroyer De Zeven, but thus far that had been it. F-18 Hornets crisscrossed the skies as the search continued.
Will felt his patience at the slow progress of the search growing thin. He had been aboard for only one full day and thus far had not one good thing to pass on to the Group about their chances of finding their missing ships and their friends. He wiped his face in frustration. His angered disposition was interrupted by a messenger who passed along a message flimsy to Admiral Andersson. He read it and then gave it over to Captain McAvoy.
“How far out are they?” McAvoy asked the messenger.
“Radar places them three hundred miles from our battle group. We also have the Russians asking permission to join the search.”
Admiral Andersson turned his attention to the four Russian cruisers and the five helicopters that had joined them the previous day. Needless to say, feelings were running high and tensions even higher.
“Another group?” he asked.
“Yes, sir, this group consists of Russian high brass.”
“That’s all we need,” Andersson said as he looked at Will Mendenhall. “You don’t have anything to do with this first group, do you?”
“Look, Admiral, you got a copy of my orders. I’m here to observe, and that’s all I know.”
The admiral looked at the army officer with skepticism. “And this second group of Russians? Nothing there either?”
“No, sir, I have no idea.”
Another runner popped his head into the bridge wing.
“Captain, CIC is reporting a rise in sea temperature, and winds are increasing. They recommend bringing in our CAP and search aircraft.”
“Do so, will you, Captain? This is starting to have a familiar ring to it.”
Will didn’t know exactly what it was they were speaking of. Then lightning lit up the already bright afternoon sky. He ducked as the bolts hit in several locations simultaneously.
Suddenly, Nimitz rocked on her keel. Waves began to hit the large warship with punishing blows. Men hurried to secure exposed aircraft, as the weather had turned so suddenly that Andersson and McAvoy became aware that whatever was happening was a familiar scenario as when they had lost ships from both the Russian side and their own.
“Admiral, we have massive activity thirty miles to the north,” the announcement came. The admiral looked through his field glasses and saw the large swell of sea and the circling clouds above it. Before he knew what to say or order, the world came crashing inward. The black clouds to the north burst down into the sea.
Will Mendenhall saw what was happening, and his tension ratcheted up with the other officers on board.
Then it happened. They saw the wall of water as it came in from the north. It swelled and then dropped. It rose and then fell. The actions made the Nimitz rise and fall with the seas. Mendenhall hung on for everything he was worth. Then the sound of ten thousand exploding bombs erupted around them. The sun was blotted out, and even the Russian ships that had joined them in their search one day ago had to turn their ships into the wind and swells. The sea once more settled, and just when they thought the event was over, the giant carrier rode high on a wave and then came crashing down with steel-wrenching power. Then all was silent.
Andersson was helped to his feet by Mendenhall, who was more confused by what just happened than anyone aboard.
“What in the hell just happened?” Will asked as McAvoy also rose back to his feet. He only shook his head.
“Captain, CIC, we have three new contacts on radar, thirty-five miles out, bearing three-one-seven degrees.”
McAvoy picked up the bridge phone. “Speed and course?”
“Zero speed, zero course; they’re just sitting there.”
“How is my air cover?”
“Shaken but still in the air.”
“Get me some eyes on target.”
“Vectoring search aircraft now.”
“Also order cruisers Sheffield and Saratoga forward toward the contact. Patch the CAP communications directly to us.”
“Aye, patching through communications.”
As they waited, Will couldn’t help but shake his head. Three contacts for six missing vessels was not a good sign. All he could do was pray for his missing friends. The wait was agonizing.
“Rough Rider One, this is Ghost Lead, over.”
“Ghost Lead, this is Rough Rider, over.”
The three officers waited as the radio played out their hopeful song.
“Rough Rider, we have three ships in bad shape. One of them is the Houston, one is Shiloh, and the third is not identifiable.”
McAvoy picked up the bridge phone once more. “All rescue elements head to target area, all ahead flank. Bring Nimitz into the wind. I want alert one fighters in the air in five. Rescue choppers launch immediately. All medical teams stand by for immediate transport. I want five damage control teams ready to board the damaged ships. All stations, general quarters. Communications, inform the Russian search elements of the situation, but warn them to stay clear, as we have air operations close aboard. Get off a secure communiqué to NATO command; inform them of the situation and ask for instructions in dealing with our Russian friends.”
McAvoy relayed the request from Andersson.
“Rough Rider, this is Ghost Lead, over.”
“Go, Ghost Lead, over,” answered the CIC.
“We see survivors taking to the open decks, over.”
Will Mendenhall closed his eyes, hoping that Jack, Carl, Jenks, Charlie, and even Farbeaux were among those survivors.
“Go ahead, son, and grab some flight gear and catch one of the medical choppers. Army officers give me hay fever anyway.”
Will smiled and then saluted the Dutch admiral and left the bridge just as the general quarters alarm started flaring to life.
The USS Nimitz turned into the wind, and F-18 fighters and Seahawk helicopters started lifting free of her expansive deck.
The search had suddenly turned into rescue operations, and every man aboard was grateful for that.
Over twenty miles away to the south, fifteen Russian warships turned toward the rescue site as well.
The real confrontation was about to start.
* * *
Mendenhall was amazed at the scene. Circling helicopters from Nimitz and the missile cruiser US
S Ticonderoga were busy dropping men and firefighting equipment onto the decks of both Houston and Shiloh. Will saw that none of the assets were headed for the old Russian cruiser, which was currently listing at least ten degrees to her port side.
As the Seahawk circled, he examined the damage to Shiloh and figured that she would never face the open sea again. Her stern was completely gone up to the aft missile battery. She was aflame, and before a search for any survivors could begin, they had to take control of her fires.
Finally, they saw the first of Shiloh’s seamen emerge from belowdecks. Will stopped counting when he reached a hundred. He whistled and then heard the copilot exclaim that they had movement on Houston. Mendenhall saw who he assumed to be Houston’s Captain Thorne in the high conning tower gesturing that their damage control efforts should be concentrated on Shiloh’s condition.
Mendenhall spoke into the mic on his helmet. “No radio communication?”
The copilot turned in his seat and just shook his head.
“The Simbirsk, set me down there.”
“No can do, sir—no place to land this thing. We would have to winch you down. Besides, we have orders to stay clear of the Russian vessel by NATO command.”
“Damn it, I need to get down there!” Will said as he came close to losing his patience with cautionary orders from NATO brass. He knew if his friends survived, they would have been right in the thick of it. “Look, get me closer for a look-see.”
Mendenhall couldn’t believe what it was he was contemplating.
The Seahawk swung low over the water and approached Simbirsk from the stern. It hovered momentarily as the pilot examined the fantail for a safe landing zone for later. Will saw his opportunity. He unsnapped his harness, and then, tossing the helmet aside, he pushed his way past the naval crew chief.
“Captain, what in the hell are you—”
That was as far as the crew chief got as Will went through the open doorway and fell feetfirst into the choppy sea. With the weather clearing, he knew he stood at least a fifty-fifty chance of surviving.
Beyond the Sea--An Event Group Thriller Page 37