The communications liaison with Titan teams was nicknamed Touchdown, who could monitor the whereabouts and vital signs of all team members. He could also trigger their BioMEMS nanobots from his central station. DJ, a former German special ops soldier and occasional team member on Titan missions, sat between Touchdown and Dr. Joshua Ambergris, a senior Titan Global scientist.
A voice with a slight Greek accent emanated from one of the many speakers above the stations.
“The ship has been struck by a torpedo,” said the Captain.
Catherine Caine frowned. “We’re not under attack, Captain. Explain.”
“All I can tell you is that we’re taking on water below-decks. The good news is that the torpedo didn’t explode. The bad news is that it still appears to be live.”
“So you’re telling me that we’re riding out a typhoon while taking on water from a torpedo lodged in our hull,” said Caine. “A torpedo that could explode at any minute.”
“Yes, ma’am. Pyro’s lending a hand, and I have an explosives team examining the torpedo as we speak. As for the leak, our pumps are handling the situation so far.”
Caine sighed and paced around the Ops Center. “Keep me updated, Captain. We have a team in the field.”
“Yes, Mrs. Caine.”
“Rotten timing,” said Touchdown.
“As bad as it gets,” said Caine. “As bad as it gets.”
Titan Six
Cargo Bay of Titan C-17 Globemaster III
“Okay, people,” said Grace Nguyen. “Step into your designated Plexiglas compartments. My technicians and I will get you feeling nice and relaxed.”
“I really don’t want to get drowsy before a mission,” protested Tank. “I need to get myself psyched.”
Grace put her hands on her hips and smiled. “Have I ever let you down before? Let’s have a little faith.”
Hawkeye leaned back against a cushioned bed while a male technician in a white jumpsuit attached a tube to his forearm.
“Close your eyes, Titan Six,” said Nguyen. “Just relax.”
A pneumatic whirring sound filled Hawkeye’s ear as the bed tilted back to a forty-five degree angle. A footrest at the bottom kept him from sliding off.
“As the saying goes,” said Hawkeye, “you’re the doctor. But I think you’re going to roll snake eyes on this little experiment.”
Hawkeye closed his eyes. He had to admit that he felt extremely calm, but the experience didn’t have the feel of a Titan Six mission.
He decided he wasn’t going to go along with the ridiculous TRM experiment. Enough with playing guinea pig. He was a soldier. He opened his eyes and looked directly at the Doctor.
“Good morning,” said Nguyen. “You’ve been in a state of deep relaxation for almost forty-five minutes. How do you feel?”
Nguyen pushed a button on the side of Hawkeye’s module, causing the Plexiglas to slide up and the bed to tilt forward.
“What are you talking about?” asked the team leader. “I just closed my eyes.”
Grace shook her head and tapped her wristwatch.
“I feel terrific,” said Gator.
“Uh . . . well . . . I have to admit that I feel extremely alert,” said Hawkeye.
“It’s like eight hours of sleep without the morning cobwebs,” commented Shooter.
“I feel pumped,” said Tank. “Like I could go ten rounds for the Heavyweight Championship. Kudos, Grace.”
“Get into your combat suits and grab your gear,” said Nguyen. “You’re jumping in ten minutes.”
Hawkeye bowed from the waist. “My apologies, Grace. Titan Global has done it again.”
“Damn straight,” Nguyen said, winking at the Titan commander.
Ops Center
Aboard the Alamiranta
“I have some troubling news,” said Captain Papagantis.
“Shoot,” said Caine.
“The torpedo is Chinese.”
Caine raised her eyebrows. “How could a sub possibly hit us in rough seas?”
“Torpedoes can acquire targets from just about any angle or depth,” the Captain explained.
“Do you read any underwater targets, Touchdown?” asked Caine.
“Negative — probably a stealth sub with internal propellers — but I think that Titan Global isn’t the only world power to have a dog in this fight. I’m guessing that the Chinese have some interest in the abiogenic theories of U.S. Petroleum.”
“Something doesn’t add up,” said Caine. “I don’t see how the Chinese could possibly have intel on a drilling site in Nevada. U.S. Petroleum takes extraordinary measures against industrial sabotage.”
“Nevertheless,” said Touchdown, “we have company.”
“My men below have the casing off the torpedo,” said the Captain.
“And,” said Caine?
“It would be a lot easier to disarm it if the Alamiranta wasn’t heaving up and down in a typhoon.”
“We play the hand we’re dealt,” said Caine. “Right now, we’re holding a pair of deuces. Let’s hope we can bluff Beatrice.”
Titan Six
Altitude: 25,000 Feet
It was a standard HALO jump: High Altitude, Low Opening. Titan Six dove towards the ground, air rushing by their sleek bodies, arms tucked at their sides. The morning sky was clear, but the earth directly below wasn’t visible.
“It’s like diving into a bowl of soup,” Tank said in his COM set.
“It’s a miasma of dust, gas, and smoke,” said Touchdown from the Ops Center. “We actually dropped you a few miles to the northeast of the crater, but prevailing winds have pushed this mess in your direction. You’re going to have to rely on your helmet altimeters when it comes time to open your chutes.”
The inside of Titan’s helmet visors could display numerous kinds of data: atmospheric, biometric, and tactical, plus anything that the Ops Center wanted to relay to the members of its team.
Titan Six plummeted head first through the dawn until they entered the haze wafting up from the crater below.
“Temperature just jumped thirty degrees,” Hawkeye reported. “Altitude is ten thousand feet.”
“I’m tumbling out of control,” Quiz said.
“Visibility is very limited,” said Tank. “How the hell are we gonna land?”
Shooter angled her body, causing her to veer sharply to the right. “I think I see him,” she said. “He’s spinning like a son of a bitch. Quiz, can you hear me?”
Silence.
“Quiz!” said Shooter.
“Yeah, I’m here — wherever here is,” said a shaky voice.
“Quiz, we only have a couple of minutes,” said Shooter. “Do exactly what I say. Spread your arms and legs as widely as you can. Don’t worry about your orientation towards the earth.”
A strange voice entered Quiz’s consciousness.
* I suggest you follow the lady’s instructions to the
letter. I haven’t stuck around all these centuries for nothing. *
I’m trying, thought Quiz.
Quiz spread his limbs and began tumbling more slowly. His body resembled a four-pointed star doing cartwheels.
“Brace yourself,” said Shooter. “I’m coming in.”
Shooter reached out and grabbed Quiz’s left leg directly below the knee, stabilizing his body. He was no longer tumbling, but now upside down.
“What now?” asked Quiz.
“I’m going to flip you right-side up. When I do, pull your ripcord.”
Shooter oriented Quiz’s body and then released her grip on the novice jumper. “Now!” she said. “Open your chute!”
Shooter fell rapidly as Quiz disappeared from view. He was far above her, his parachute deployed.
“I still can’t see a damn thing!” repeated Tank.
“Open your chutes!” ordered Hawkeye. “Everybody! Now! We’re one thousand feet above the ground. Contact alarms will sound in your helmets when you’re twenty feet from the surface.”
&nbs
p; Moments elapsed without communications from Titan Six.
“Did they make it?” asked Caine.
More silence.
“Beatrice is causing some interference,” Touchdown said. “That should resolve if we make it into the storm’s eye.”
Agonizing seconds passed without contact from Titan Six. Such missions were not without peril. Although fully recovered, Touchdown had been paralyzed during a raid on a Somali pirate ship.
“I’m down,” Hawkeye said at last.
One by one, the members of Titan Six checked in. All had landed on the desert floor safely.
“Home in on my beacon, everyone,” said Hawkeye. “When we rendezvous, we’ll look for the EFV.”
Like ghosts, team members appeared from the dust and smoke as they gathered around Hawkeye.
The ground shook ominously as a fissure opened up thirty feet away. Flames thirty feet high erupted from the crack in the desert.
“Run!” Hawkeye yelled.
Titan Six ran blindly away from the fire rising from the earth.
Ops Center
Aboard the Alamiranta
“This is Ops, Titan Six,” said Touchdown. “Your Expeditionary Fighting Vehicle is three hundred yards straight ahead.”
“We’re on our way,” said Hawkeye. “I don’t know what the hell happened here, but it looks like one of the post-World War Two sites where the government tested some kick-ass weapons.”
“Nevada used to be a testing ground back in the fifties, but at least there’s no radiation showing up on my scans,” said Touchdown. “By the way, I’m showing one other life form in the area. South end of the crater. Seems stationary for right now.”
“Any theories on who it might be?” asked Hawkeye.
“Probably an old prospector who had the misfortune to be in the wrong place at the wrong time.”
“We’ll check it out if time permits,” said Hawkeye. “Do you have any telemetry on what the terrain in the crater is like?”
“Telemetry is cutting in and out because of Beatrice. I’ve picked up some strange readings, but until we’re in the eye of the storm, the satellite feed is going to be erratic.”
Titan Six started slogging through the sand, searching for their EFV.
* * *
With his parents having been killed in a car accident, Quiz had been raised by his grandparents, Charles and Mary Whittington, in Whittington Manor on Long Island. He spent many long, lonely hours reading every tome in the family library. To say he was well-versed in the classics would be an understatement. To say that he had an ongoing relationship with Dante Alighieri would not.
As he read and reread the Divine Comedy in his youth, the voice of the poet seemed to come alive in the boy’s mind. The conversation between the Italian poet and Quiz had taken on a life of its own, one that he dared not share with any adult lest people think he was mad.
Now in his early adulthood, Quiz regarded Dante as his closest confidante. The dead poet had no hesitation in weighing in on matters that touched Quiz’s life, personal or otherwise.
* We’re about to descend into hell. Not that we haven’t already been there, of course. *
What’s in the crater?
* Intelligence. *
That’s pretty vague.
* That’s all I can sense at the moment. What’s more interesting is what Mrs. Caine put in the EFV. *
I’m under orders to tell no one about it unless it’s absolutely necessary.
* Let’s hope that it won’t. *
Amen to that.
Aft Cargo Hold 6
Aboard the Alamiranta
Pyro was a muscular, Japanese-born Titan operative who had been a member of the elite Narashino Airborne Brigade earlier in his military career. He was an explosives and ordnance specialist. Captain Papagantis had therefore asked him to supervise the disarming of the Chinese torpedo.
Pyro knelt next to the weapon that had partially breached the hull of the Alamiranta. The leaks around the torpedo had been plugged, and the seawater in the cargo bay had been pumped out. Lieutenant Bender watched as Pyro and three bomb squad members examined the torpedo.
Pyro sighed as he surveyed the electronics beneath the torpedo casing that had been removed behind the nose of the sleek gray weapon. Modern-day torpedoes had sophisticated guidance systems, and detonation was controlled by complex circuitry that was comprised of a maze of computer chips, batteries, and color-coded wires. A dozen small green lights blinked in sequence, indicating that the torpedo was still armed.
“What should I tell the Captain?” asked Bender.
Pyro stood up and faced the Lieutenant. “That a random radio signal or electronic pulse could trigger this damn thing at any moment.”
Pyro stumbled backwards several paces as the ship heaved up.
“But there’s radio noise everywhere on the Alamiranta,” Bender said, worry claiming his features. “We have a million pieces of equipment on board that send out electronic pulses, from bow to stern. We can’t function without them.”
“I know,” said Pyro. “That’s what worries me.”
Titan Six,
The Great Basin Desert
“We’ve moved three hundred yards,” said Hawkeye, “but I don’t see any assault vehicle.”
“My mistake,” said Touchdown. “It’s twenty feet away. I forgot to turn off the stealth shielding.”
Hawkeye turned in every direction, but he only saw the dry and forbidding sagebrush desert. To his right, heat rose in ghostly shimmers, distorting his view of the mountain range in the distance.
And then the shimmers began to dissolve as the EFV simultaneously began to materialize. At first, it resembled nothing more than a transparent troop carrier. Second by second, however, it became solid and three-dimensional.
“Damn,” said Gator. “We almost walked straight into it.”
“The EFV absorbs certain wavelengths of the visible spectrum,” explained Touchdown, “but reflects others. It’s currently set for desert mode. It reflects an entire continuum of desert colors, such as tans, browns, rust — you name it. All other colors are absorbed by its armored plates.”
Hawkeye looked at the Expeditionary Fighting Vehicle. It was a modified AAVP7A1, which was both a land-based troop carrier and amphibious tank twelve yards long. Its wide metal treads were more than adequate to handle any kind of hostile terrain.
Gator walked slowly around the vehicle, his eyes wide with admiration for the EFV.
“The long barrel is a 120 millimeter M256 smoothbore gun,” Gator said. “It has two M240 machine guns, an MK19 grenade launcher, and a YAG log laser range finder. This gem can do it all.”
“Sunken marble tub inside?” asked Tank.
Gator laughed as he wiped sweat from his almost bald scalp. “No, but it can carry fifteen soldiers and has sophisticated communications, radar detection systems, a three-station tactical display, and a six-point camera array for seeing what’s on the outside. It also has storage capacity for ammo, food, and medical supplies that you wouldn’t believe. Even a mini-lab.”
“Let’s drive it off the lot, ladies and gentlemen,” said Hawkeye. “Time to punch the clock.”
Titan Six climbed into the EFV. Hawkeye took the driver’s seat, Gator manned the large M256 smoothbore, and Shooter and Tank sat behind the two machine guns. All firing stations were internal. No one would be exposed to the noxious gases near the crater.
Quiz and Christian Madison buckled themselves into two seats midway back.
Slowly, the EFV advanced towards the crater.
* Are you sure that our special cargo can handle the rough ride? *
It’s not armed. Don’t worry.
* * *
“We’re fifteen yards away from the crater rim,” Hawkeye said. “Maybe Tank and I should repel down into the crater. The air is very hazy, and I’m not sure I can see where I’m going without a little recon.”
“Proceed at your discretion,” said Mrs. Caine from
the Ops Center.”
Temple of Fire Page 3