News coverage of the destruction in Panama and Acapulco triggered panic up the entire Pacific Coast of North America and mounting horror around the world. The waves had clearly not weakened appreciatively in their journey across the open ocean. Time was running out for millions of people inhabiting the West Coast. In Washington, DC, the White House announced that the president would make one more address to the nation before the waves struck California. The majority of the country held their breath, while those on the West Coast screamed and ran for their lives.
Although earthquakes had disrupted evacuation plans in California, there were glimmers of hope amidst the despair. The US Navy had dispatched all of its active vessels from the port of San Diego. News footage showed two nuclear aircraft carriers steaming out of San Diego Bay at close to full speed, followed by more than a dozen other warships and an armada of yachts and commercial vessels. Amphibious warfare ships paused at docks on Coronado and the Embarcadero to embark tens of thousands of panicked civilians and military families before following the rest of the fleet out to sea. It was hoped that the ships would get far enough offshore to ride out the waves, then return to render aid to survivors ashore. The Marines from Camp Pendleton were also in evacuation mode. An endless convoy traveled up Ammunition Road towards the Fallbrook Air Park, a small public airport which was deemed to be in a safe zone at an elevation of more than 700 feet, and over ten miles from the coastline, with sizable hills in between. Additional Marine convoys moved through Oceanside and San Marcus, assisting civilians in clearing earthquake damaged roads and moving inland. Naval and Marine aircraft were evacuated far inland to bases in Nevada and Arizona, except for the helicopters that attempted to evacuate as many people as possible from doomed coastal communities.
Further south, when the tsunamis hit Cabo San Lucas the event was recorded by a US Coast Guard C-130 that would follow the waves’ progress up both coasts of the Baja Peninsula for the next few hours. The footage was not broadcast to the media, but many military and government officials were glued to the satellite feed. Deep water beyond the tip of Baja prevented the tsunami from growing to the monstrous heights witnessed in bays and gulfs. The tsunami was only a few hundred feet high when it hit Land’s End, breaking around the mansions perched atop Pedregal and wiping out the tourist town and resorts below. However, the wave heights grew larger at the mouth of the Gulf of California and continued to build within the confines of the Sea of Cortez. Los Cabos was decimated and the wave grew even larger before hitting La Paz.
The C-130, flying at 25,000 feet, was able to observe the waves sweep north on both sides of the Baja Peninsula. The difference was dramatic. On the Pacific side of Baja the massive line of tsunami waves moved at hundreds of miles per hour, building swiftly to nearly a thousand feet high along the coastline. In the shallower Sea of Cortez, however, the waves slowed down, piled up on top of each other, and rose to truly amazing heights. They swept over large islands in the gulf, and even grew big enough to wash across low lying sections of the peninsula to pour back into the Pacific, whose coastline had already been hit by the faster moving waves on that side of Baja.
The difference in speed and size of the waves on the east and west sides of Baja was clear proof of the theory that tsunamis moved faster in deep water, slowing and growing taller in the shallows. The Coast Guard airplane kept pace with the faster wave, flying at close to 300 knots, but the aircrew kept a camera trained behind them on the bigger, slower wave too.
The copilot of the C-130 turned to the pilot and said, “Hey, Marcus, you ever been to Rocky Point?”
“You mean Puerto Penasco?”
“Yeah,” the copilot nodded. “The tourist town at the top of the Sea of Cortez. Want to make bets on how high that wave is by the time it gets there?”
“Hell no!” the pilot shuddered. “That’s sick, man. Let’s just fly the airplane.”
The aircrew took scant consolation from the fact that most of Baja was uninhabited. They knew full well that these waves were only a couple of hours away from the densely populated coastline of California.
*****
Commander Joshua Anders stared out into the rain and darkness from the bridge of the HMAS Bounder. The Australian frigate was slicing through mounting swells at over 30 knots, making a beeline for the asteroid impact zone. Although the weather forecast yesterday for this part of the Central Pacific had been for calm seas and clear skies, the asteroid strike had changed everything. Within hours of impact a solid curtain of cloud cover had swept over the ship, bringing rain and reduced visibility. Soon thereafter a strong wind had built from astern, rushing towards the impact site. The unusual wind, blowing in the opposite direction of the clouds streaming by overhead, had soon begun to build swells that traveled along with the ship, rushing headlong towards the source of global calamity.
The sleek warship had survived the impact-generated tsunamis by following the same tactic employed by the Sedulity, turning into the waves and riding over them. Thankfully the waves had been considerably smaller at a distance of 500 nautical miles in the open sea, but they had still posed a deadly threat to the Bounder. Commander Anders had reacted correctly by turning into the waves. It was a lesson he remembered well from his training as a young ensign: Turn towards the threat, whatever it might be. In fact, he had almost failed his first verbal exam to become a certified bridge officer as an ensign when his commander threw him a slight curve ball.
He had been asked, “If a collision with another ship is unavoidable, what should you do?” Young Ensign Anders had tried to talk his way around the question by describing why he would never let the ship get into the predicament of an unavoidable collision, but his commander would have none of it. “Assume the collision is unavoidable. What do you do?” Anders was stumped and could only say that he would sound the collision alarm.
His commander nodded, but added, “Turn into the other ship.” Ander’s jaw had dropped, so the captain explained, “It’s counterintuitive, but the bow is the strongest part of the ship and built to run into things. You might think it’s cruel to ram the other vessel, but your primary responsibility is to ensure the survival of your own ship and crew.”
It was a lesson that Anders had never forgotten. And, while the tsunamis he faced were quite different than a collision with another ship, the principle was the same. Ships always fared better in high seas when they turned into the waves and cut through them. The asteroid-generated waves had simply been several orders of magnitude larger than any he ever faced before. The frigate had ridden up the face of the first juggernaut, plowed into the following trough, and miraculously ridden out the subsequent monster waves in one piece.
Since encountering those tsunamis the Bounder had pressed on at full speed towards the impact zone. Anders and his crew had been shocked by news of catastrophic destruction that trickled in from island nations across the Pacific. Their shock turned to dismay when the monster waves reached Australia and the frigate began losing contact with most of the rest of the Australian Navy. They still had communications with national command in Canberra, as well as bases in Melbourne, Perth, and Darwin, but all contact with ships and bases along the north and east coasts of the continent had been lost when the tsunamis struck. In the past few hours they had heard evacuation orders announced in Melbourne too.
Commander Anders marveled at how quickly the weather had changed following the asteroid strike. Dense clouds and pouring rain had arrived within hours of the asteroid impact. Towering clouds had raced from horizon to horizon, blotting out the stars and delivering a deluge of unnaturally hot and salty rain. The weather only contributed to the dismal atmosphere aboard the HMAS Bounder, as horrific news continued to pour in from around the Pacific Rim. One of the few bits of good news came when they established contact with the Sedulity. Anders was amazed that a cruise ship had survived the blast wave and tsunamis at a range of only a hundred miles from the point of impact. Upon learning that the ship had collected considerable amoun
ts of ejecta, and possibly even fragments of the asteroid, Commander Anders had immediately altered course to rendezvous with the stricken liner. The material that fell onto the Sedulity might be valuable in evaluating the composition and source of the asteroid. He wasn’t sure how much good such information could do now, but his orders from Canberra made it clear that someone in authority thought it was important enough to send the Bounder charging full speed ahead towards the source of the cataclysm.
“Status report, Mr. Michaels?” Anders called across the bridge.
“Speed steady at 33 knots, Captain. Gale force winds at 40 knots from astern, gusting to 60 knots. Sea state rising with two meter swells. Ship remains at general quarters, Sir.”
“Thank you, Mr. Michaels. I’m going down to CIC for a few minutes. Steady as she goes and set a watch for rogue waves. So far it looks like we’re outrunning the swells, but keep a sharp eye out. This is not a normal storm, so stay alert. All we need now is to get broadsided by a rogue wave.” The watch officer nodded and returned his attention to the mounting seas. Commander Anders left the bridge to check on communication updates and news in the Combat Information Center. Neither of them could quite comprehend that the whole world had been broadsided by a true Rogue, nor could they fully fathom the consequences.
*****
Lydia Krystos felt battered and beaten when she woke up in the captain’s cabin of the Sedulity on that dark and fateful morning. It was no wonder she felt that way, having been tossed about violently and nearly drowned twice the previous night. The pain was proof that her nightmarish memory of being sucked into the bowels of the ship by flooding had not been a dream. Lydia offered a silent prayer for the poor souls who had not been fortunate enough to live through the night, shuddering at the memory of fighting her way up a flooded stairwell choked with dead bodies. Her depression deepened when she pondered the fate of the rest of the world. The news had been anything but good when she and her husband, Captain Krystos, crawled into bed a few hours previously.
Lydia wasn’t surprised that the bed next to her was empty now. She knew that her husband would have gotten up as soon as he awoke, if he had even been able to get any sleep at all. Although the situation aboard ship seemed to have stabilized late last night, there were a million things in need of prompt attention. The captain had a heavy burden to shoulder in the wake of this disaster, not the least of which was the continued safety of the ship and all aboard her. Lydia knew that her husband also harbored guilt for the hundreds of lives already lost. She had struggled to convince him that none of it was his fault, that he had saved many more lives by guiding the ship through the blast wave and tsunamis in one piece, but she knew him too well to believe that he could accept logical arguments over his grief and misplaced guilt. He would be driven to prove himself worthy of command by shepherding the survivors through this crisis. She was thankful that he had taken a short nap before meeting the challenges that would face him today.
Today? Lydia glanced at the clock and confirmed that it was indeed morning. Well, it should be. Where she expected to see the glow of sunrise beyond the balcony was only a dark and heavy downpour. Rain fell incessantly as the ship rocked and shuddered to the beat of pounding swells. Lydia pulled her sore body out of bed and took a few steps to the balcony window. The view was not encouraging. Lights from the ship’s Resort Deck flooded down towards the sea, but failed to do much more than illuminate the deluge of rain descending in solid sheets from the sky. What little illumination reached sea level only revealed the crests of waves streaming by faster than the ship was moving. It was a major change of weather from the day before, totally unlike the forecast she had seen prior to the asteroid strike, but nowhere near as disturbing as the total absence of sunlight this morning. Lydia shivered as the word apocalypse crept through her mind.
Was this the end of the world? If so, she didn’t want to face it in her nightgown, let alone in bed. She moved stiffly to her wardrobe and donned her foul weather gear. She knew that even the interior of the ship would be wet today, considering how many windows had been broken and the extent of the flooding. She had been dressed in her goddess of the sea costume and slathered in makeup when disaster struck last night. Today she would prepare for the worst, hope for the best, and try to help her husband display an image of confidence and control. She knew how easily the passengers and even the crew could lose hope in a situation like this. In fact, it was only her determination to provide hope to others that kept Lydia from approaching the abyss of despair herself.
Before leaving the captain’s quarters she walked back to the balcony and opened the sliding glass door. Hot rain drops and spray pelted her yellow slicker and flew past her into the lavish stateroom. Ignoring the wind and rain, Lydia stepped out onto the balcony. The strong wind was blowing from the stern, instead of the bow. The rain was hotter than a shower where it splashed on her exposed hands, which she raised to shield her eyes and stare back down the length of the ship. What she saw was disturbing, to say the least. The beautiful white hull and superstructure of the Sedulity was scorched black and even distorted in places. Half the lifeboats were missing or hanging askew. And the other balcony windows that she could see were dark, gaping holes of jagged glass.
Turning towards the bow, Lydia realized that the bridge wing had shielded the captain’s quarters, meaning that she and her husband had one of the few intact balcony staterooms on the ship. Feelings of guilt crept into her mind when she thought of all the passengers and crew whose cabins and staterooms were no longer habitable. She knew it was not her fault, and that she had even played a role in saving many of their lives, but couldn’t help feeling sorry for those less fortunate. She made a silent vow to dedicate her efforts in this and coming days to improving living conditions for all the survivors on this cruise. Then she almost laughed aloud at herself for still thinking of this voyage as a pleasure cruise. It was no such thing. This cruise had turned into a disastrous odyssey into the unknown, where even the sun could no longer be counted upon to rise in the morning. Nevertheless, and regardless of what happened to the rest of the world, Lydia decided that she must act as hostess to every survivor aboard the Sedulity and strive to improve their lot in whatever ways possible. Her conviction firmed as she stepped back inside the plush captain’s quarters and slid the balcony door closed to shut out the rest of a world she no longer understood.
*****
“Mr. Crawford? Do you have a headcount on surviving passengers and crew yet?” Captain Krystos asked.
“We can’t be sure if this is a complete list yet, Sir. I sure hope it isn’t,” the First Officer replied with a frown as he picked up several sheets of paper. “We’ve accounted for nineteen hundred and fifty-three surviving passengers. Twelve hundred and twenty-three of them are in the theater. Four hundred and thirteen are in, or near, the medical center with serious injuries and burns. One hundred and sixty have been located by cabin stewards in their staterooms, mostly in the inside cabins. The remainder have been found sitting or wandering around the rest of the ship, many of them injured or in shock.”
“Less than two thousand?” the captain asked with a heavy voice. “So we’ve lost more than a thousand.”
“Yes, Sir,” Crawford said, “but we might have missed some in the headcount. Things are still quite hectic. Some people might be sheltering, trapped, or injured in compartments we haven’t had time to reach yet. The cabin stewards are conducting a more systematic search of the whole ship now.”
“How many of the crew survived? And how many of those are able-bodied?”
“Out of the fourteen hundred and eighty-eight crew, we have accounted for nine hundred and twenty-five survivors, including those of us here on the bridge. Three hundred and ninety of them have been relieved of duty due to injuries, mostly burns and broken bones.”
“Dear God,” the captain murmured. “So we’ve lost a third of our passengers and close to two-thirds of the crew are either dead, missing, or badly injured. I
s that about right, Mr. Crawford?”
“Yes, Sir. Those numbers may improve as we continue searching, and more of the crew will be fit for duty again soon, but we will also lose more of the injured. We don’t have the medical facilities, staff, or supplies needed to treat this many casualties effectively. Fifty-six of the injured have already been triaged as terminal and won’t make it through the day.”
“I understand,” Captain Krystos said with a heavy heart. “Do you have any firm numbers on the dead and missing?”
“We have a preliminary body count, Sir. Seven hundred and forty-four confirmed fatalities have been reported. We can’t give an exact breakdown between passengers and crew because some of the bodies are too badly burned to be identified. That leaves about a thousand people missing. I suspect we’ll discover more bodies as we clear away wreckage and search the flooded areas below-decks, hopefully more survivors too. The rest were probably swept overboard and can be presumed lost at sea.”
“What’s being done with the bodies?” the captain asked.
“The crew have been covering them with sheets and tarps, mostly,” Crawford replied. “I’m told that the worst concentrations of bodies are down by the muster stations.” He didn’t notice the captain wince at that statement, and continued, “They’ve started to move bodies out of the main corridors so the passengers won’t see them when they leave the theater eventually.”
“Good idea,” the captain nodded. “We’ll have to think about conducting burials at sea soon. We don’t have enough refrigerated space to store that many bodies, and we can’t run the risk of disease if we let them decompose.” He paused to consider the problem, then said, “Have the crew move as many bodies as possible to rooms on the Promenade Deck, near the muster stations. Screen off portions of the public areas, if necessary. That way the bodies will be close to exits onto the boat decks when we get a chance to conduct burials.”
Sedulity 2: Aftershock (Sedulity Saga) Page 5