“Getting kind of skinny through here, XO,” the chief said.
Sara looked at him. He was sweating. “Maintain course and speed,” she said.
The Sojourner Truth seemed to have been swallowed alive by the encompassing walls of land. The sky looked very narrow above, and the throb of the engines echoed back at them. Sara saw a group of sea lions hauled out on a rock dive back as the cutter passed by. In the next moment the cutter’s wake rolled over their rock in a cold green wave.
She knew what the chief was feeling. She was feeling it herself. The channel was three hundred yards wide from land to land and only two hundred of that was navigable due to shoals and rocks and reefs protruding from the shore on either side. They were an hour away from low tide, and the Sojourner Truth was making the better part of eighteen and a half knots.
Sara was glad the chief was scared. It would keep him sharp.
Everyone on the bridge seemed to hold their breath as the cutter flashed between spit and headland, and then they were through.
Sara let out the breath she didn’t know she’d been holding. “Well done, Chief, helm.”
Mark pulled off his cap and wiped his forehead on his forearm. His hair was soaked. He saw Sara watching and resettled the cap on his head. “Helm, steer three-zero-zero.”
“Steering three-zero-zero, aye.”
The bow of the Sojourner Truth swung to port and the northern point of Fox Island.
ON BOARD THE KENAI FJORDS
“HOW HERE’S SOMETHING Y0U don’t see everyday, ladies and gentlemen.” The fifty-foot cruise ship slowed down until it was almost dead in the water as the passengers lined up on the port rail. “We’ve got two pods of orcas, also known as killer whales, in sight. The one closest to us is a resident pod. The one farther off is a transient pod.”
“Mom, look!”
“I see, honey.” Lilah blew her nose and tucked her hands back into her pockets, leaning against the rail to steady herself against the roll of the boat.
The captain’s mellow voice continued over the loudspeaker. “The residents reside right here in Resurrection Bay. The transients, the ones farther off, they travel all over Prince William Sound. The resident orcas eat fish. The transient orcas eat everything, including sea mammals like sea otters and sea lions. The two pods speak different languages, and they don’t interbreed.”
Eli tugged at her hand. “Mom! Boat! Big boat!”
Lilah looked up and saw a freighter pass them en route to the dock in Seward. Men were at work in one of the containers stacked on deck. She squinted at the name on the bow. The Star of Bali. Such a pretty name for such an ugly ship.
“If you’ll look up on the cliff above us, you’ll see a couple of bald eagles-”
ON BOARD THE STAR OF BALI
“IT’S VERY SIMPLE, REALLY,” Ja said, watching the nose of the missile point toward the sky. “My nation is in serious need of an invasion. Your government used the bombings in New York and your capital to launch a war in the Middle East. If I detonate this weapon”-he patted the undercarriage of the Scud-“in an area with a military presence responsible for protecting most of the North Pacific Ocean, your nation will take this as an act of war. Especially when they learn that North Korea is behind the attack. Which they will, as your people discover the evidence I have left behind.”
Ja smiled at Hugh. “And you have thirty-seven thousand very conveniently placed soldiers just over the border, ready to lead the charge. I imagine it won’t take long.”
“Why do this?” Hugh said. “Why not take it into the heart of Kim Jong Il’s palace in Pyongyang and blow him to bits? He’s your problem, not us.”
“We will need help in rebuilding,” Ja said.
“You certainly will,” Hugh said, “and we’re just the folks to do it. Look how well we’re doing in Iraq.”
Ja continued to regard him with a tranquil expression. “When did you find me out?”
Hugh saw no reason not to tell him. The longer they spent talking, the longer Hugh stayed alive. “Last October I got word of your meeting with Fang and Noortman. I’ve been tracking you since then.”
Ja gave him an approving smile. One of the men said something to him. “Fire when ready,” he said almost casually.
“No!” Hugh said, and stumbled forward to do something, anything.
“Help me,” Ja said to one of the men, and they took Hugh by the hands and feet and tossed him out of the container. Hugh landed hard and awkwardly. He heard something crack, and he didn’t think it was anything he’d landed on.
Over the wind and the waves he could hear men shouting. Over the shouting he could hear the engine of the missile ignite. “No!” he shouted, and grabbed something to haul himself to his feet.
He was on the starboard side of the Star of Bali and was the first on board the freighter to see the Sojourner Truth bearing down at flank speed, cutting through the green swells like a juggernaut.
He couldn’t be sure, but he thought he heard screaming over the ship’s loudspeaker in what he thought was Mandarin. “We surrender! U.S. Coast Guard, U.S. Coast Guard, we surrender! I am a citizen of Hong Kong! I demand asylum! Take me with you!”
Now there was screaming and swearing from the container. A man appeared in front of him with a very large weapon he didn’t recognize, but then he’d never been much of a one for firearms. The man raised the weapon to his shoulder.
“No,” Hugh said, this time to more purpose, and threw himself at the man. This yo-yo was not going to get any free shots at Sara. They crashed to the deck in a horrible tangle.
But Sara had provided for that, too, as he heard the distant chatter of an automatic weapon and heavy thuds began sounding in the containers all around him. The man beneath him tried to club him with the stock of his weapon but it was too long to maneuver between them. Hugh, trying to pull away before the two ships hit, was helped when whoever was at the wheel-Fang? It would explain the Mandarin-yanked at the rudder in an attempt to get out of the cutter’s way. The deck listed to starboard and Hugh let gravity do the rest, breaking into a stumbling run between the containers toward the port side of the ship.
He was knocked off his feet when three thousand tons of Coast Guard cutter crashed into the Star of Bali. It was louder than any 747 he’d ever heard on takeoff. It shook like the biggest earthquake he’d ever been in.
Time seemed to proceed in slow motion. The ship shuddered. Metal tore and screeched and groaned. A man fell from above, and then another. The man with the weapon had chased Hugh to the port rail. He lost his balance and his back hit the railing. Momentum flipped him over the side.
He let go of the weapon in a frantic attempt to grab something to halt his fall. What he grabbed was the front of Hugh’s Mustang suit, pulling Hugh halfway over the railing.
Hugh tried to fight free but the various beatings he’d taken in the last hour were catching up with him. He was overcome by a wave of dizziness and followed the man over the side.
JANUARY
ON BOARD THE KENAI FJORDS
MOM!“ GLORIA POINTED. NEXT to her Eli watched, his eyes wide, his hand clutching hers. ”I saw, honey,“ Lilah said, pale. They’d all seen, an almost front-row seat, a U.S. Coast Guard cutter, apparently deliberately, ram a freighter in the middle of Resurrection Bay. The boat was listing to port as everyone on board leaned against the port rail and stared, most of them with their mouths open.
“There are people going into the water,” Lilah said, and turned to wave frantically at the bridge where the skipper stood with his mouth open. “There are people going into the water! We have to pick them up!”
ON BOARD THE SOJOURNER TRUTH
“BULL’S-EYE, CAPTAIN,” OPS CALLED out, “dead amidships.”
There was no cheering on board the bridge of the Sojourner Truth.
They could clearly see the nose of the missile pointing skyward from the container. They could also see the smoke from the fuel pouring out of the opposite end of the con
tainer.
“We weren’t in time!” Mark Edelen shouted.
There was a groan. “No,” someone said. “This isn’t happening.”
All they could do now was watch.
The momentum of the freighter continued forward, dragging the cutter down the freighter’s starboard hull. The skin of the other ship punctured and peeled back.
“There goes another compartment,” someone said.
“And another.”
The force of the strike had pushed the freighter’s starboard side down. “She’s shipping water,” the chief said.
“That missile is launching!” Ops shouted.
Sara, hands clenched on the arms of her chair, watched with dread.
And then the weight of all the water that had been pouring into the gaping wound in the freighter’s side began to move. The Star of Bali began to roll to the left, slowly at first, through vertical and then heavily to port. The containers on deck began to break loose and fall off. The one with the missile in it clung stubbornly to its fastenings.
“Helm amidships, emergency full astern!” Sara shouted.
“Helm amidships, emergency full astern, aye,” Cornell said imperturbably. The engines of the Sojourner Truth paused for a moment and then started again, grumbling at first, then opening into a full-throttle roar.
Sara leaped from her chair and ran out onto the starboard wing. The freighter’s natural stability was trying to regain the vertical. The weight of the water she had shipped through the holes torn in her side wouldn’t allow it, pushing her over on her starboard side again. The weight of the steel in her hold increased the speed and violence of the roll.
The missile launched, with the Star of Bali starboard side down, the momentum of the roll giving impetus to the launch, like a kid throwing a rock with a sling.
“Come on,” the chief muttered behind her. “Come on.”
“Oh my God,” Tommy said steadily and clearly, “I am heartily sorry for having offended Thee, and I detest all my sins-”
Sara rounded on Ops with such a ferocious expression that he backed up a step. “It’s got an internal gyroscope, right? It can correct its own course?”
Ops was pale. “If it gains enough height-”
The contrail of the exhaust seemed to twist and turn on itself.
“-because I dread the loss of heaven-”
Sara raised the binoculars she had thought to snatch on her way outside. The mountains behind the missile loomed large. Were they large enough? “Thumb Cove,” she said. “Thumb Cove, how high are the mountains in back of it?” Too late to go check, too late-
For agonizing seconds the missile looked as if it would clear the land-mass. Sara tried to think what it could hit, and how she could warn them. Valdez, and the oil terminal? Cordova? Would it go inland? Or could it still self-correct its course in midair? If it did, did it have enough fuel to still make Elmendorf and Anchorage? Would it fall short? If it did, where would it fall?
“-and the pains of hell-”
Then it hit, the very tip of the tallest mountain in its way. The jagged corner of the peak crumbled like a too-dry Christmas cookie. A huge fireball flared and vanished, followed by an even huger cloud of snow. Avalanche, Sara thought, and then realized she’d said the word out loud.
“Glacier,” Ops said, and backed up to lean against the bulkhead next to the hatch. “There’s a bunch of glaciers in back of Thumb Cove.”
“But most of all,” Tommy said, “because I thought you weren’t watching. I was wrong. Thanks, God.”
The sound of the impact reached them then, a thunderbolt that echoed across Resurrection Bay. Lilah and Gloria and Eli heard it on board the Kenai Fjords. A crew of fishermen heard it on board the Moira P., trolling for white kings off the Iron Door. The prisoners at Spring Creek Correctional Facility heard it, and in Seward it brought people out of their homes and offices to look south and wonder. The deafening blast rolled up Resurrection Bay in a mighty wave that crashed against the bowl of mountains and triggered massive avalanches of snow. Birds launched themselves into the air, crying in alarm, and every otter, seal, and sea lion sought shelter beneath the surface of the water.
“Captain!” Ops shouted, pointing. “The freighter!”
The bridge crew turned as one to look.
The thrust of the missile’s propulsion system had put the Star of Bali down by the stern, her taffrail awash.
“What’s happening, captain?” Tommy said, coming out on the wing to watch.
“She’s got two million gallons of water sloshing around inside her, pushing her back and forth,” Sara said quietly.
The chief looked almost sorrowful. “She’s got all that steel in her hold, too. And with all the boxes broken off she doesn’t have any weight left on deck, so no help there.”
Some of the containers that had broken off were floating away, some were crashing against the sides of the freighter. The Sojourner Truth was pulling away at her maximum speed in reverse, a lofty four knots.
Not quick enough not to watch the Star of Bali slide backward into the sea, though, her engine pushing the hull around in a semicircle. The bow slipped beneath the water with a resigned sigh.
They watched, mesmerized, as air bubbled up. The remaining containers broke off and bobbed up to the surface one and two and three at a time. Life rafts self-inflated and exploded twenty feet in the air, smacking down again.
“There are people in the water, XO,” Ops said, looking through binoculars.
“They’re alive?” Sara said. “How could they still be alive after this long in the water?”
The lieutenant looked at her. “It’s only been ninety seconds, Captain.”
Sara looked at the clock. He was right.
“Damage control, report,” she said into the handheld.
“Damage control reporting, Captain!” Chief Moran yelled over the handheld with the sound of rushing water in the background. “The bow’s all torn up! The portside bow is buckled all the way back to the collision bulkhead! We’ll shore it up, slow down the flooding, but she won’t last long, especially in heavy seas!”
“Understood,” Sara said. “Carry on.”
“Aye aye, Captain!”
She went back into the bridge and got on the pipe. “All hands, all hands, this is the XO. Brace for collision, I say again, brace for collision. We have sustained serious damage to the bow and we’re going to put her ashore so we can keep our feet dry. This is the last time, folks, I promise. Grab hold and hang on, it won’t be long.”
She went back out on the starboard bridge wing. They were proceeding in reverse back down Resurrection Bay and into the cove formed by the middle and northern peaks on Fox Island. There was a good beach there, made of nice, solid gravel with a steep incline that Sara hoped would serve to adequately ground the Sojourner Truth and keep her from sinking altogether.
The cutter was shuddering, as if with disbelief at this outrage perpetrated against her. Sara rested her hands lightly on the railing. It was folly to anthropomorphize wood and steel, but she heard herself whispering anyway, “I’m sorry. I’m so sorry.”
She was facing aft, in the direction the ship was traveling. The northeastern point of the island began to curve around the ship in a granite embrace. The beach was rapidly approaching. “Tommy?”
Tommy’s voice came over the loudspeaker. “All hands, brace for impact, I say again, brace for-”
Sara grabbed the railing, braced her feet, and held on.
The propellers hit first. Sara was knocked off her feet by the vibration. The keel hit next in a grinding, shrieking protest of steel over rock.
In her mind’s eye Sara followed the action in the engine room as the EO pulled all the stops and ordered his crew out in case of fire or flood or both. She pulled herself upright. “Tommy, let go the anchors!”
There was no corresponding reply. “Tommy! Let go the anchors!”
Tommy’s head poked out of the hatch. “Uh, we can try, Ca
ptain. But…”
Sara met Tommy’s apologetic expression and realized that when she ordered the Sojourner Truth to ram the Star of Bali the anchors had probably been pushed into the emergency bulkhead along with the bow. She staggered forward and looked out over the bow to see the deck crew clinging to cleats and stanchions. The Sojourner Truth’s hull settled.
And then there was silence.
The chief picked himself up off the deck, looking white and shaken. “I don’t ever want to have to do that again, Captain.”
“Me, either,” Sara said, trying to smile, and then turned away quickly, before he could see the tears in her eyes.
MUSTANG SUIT OR NOT, Hugh was already numb with cold when the life raft exploded out of the water not a foot from his head. Floating on his back, he watched it shoot into the sky, where it seemed to hover for a moment or two. It fell back into the water with a mighty smack.
It took a moment to realize that salvation was at hand. When that moment came, he paddled clumsily over to the raft and began a laborious ascent over its side. Every muscle screamed as he hoisted himself up with the aid of the rope threaded around the raft’s gunnel. As he was somersaulting inside he saw with mild surprise that another man was climbing over the opposite side of the raft.
They tumbled in together and lay on their backs, staring at the sky and gasping like stranded fish. Hugh raised his head and looked at the other man. He looked familiar. It took a while-everything seemed to be moving in slow motion-but eventually he figured out why. “Why, hello there, Mr. Fang,” he said, and then had to repeat it in Mandarin.
Fang’s face twisted. Hugh tensed instinctively. If Fang had had a weapon, he would have killed Hugh on the spot. Instead, he doubled over and began coughing up seawater.
Hugh relaxed again and lay where he was, wondering somewhat dreamily if perhaps he should search the raft for some way to restrain the pirate. He didn’t want to move, though. He was just starting to warm up.
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