COMPTON’S REEF
For the third time, Jenks sent an angry Charlie back into the deeper part of the mine with the children. After Ellenshaw had passed on the information from Carl to Jenks, he was then placed in charge of getting the children to safety if this plan didn’t work. The ten marines and Jenks lined the mine’s opening, preparing to fight for the time Everett needed to make whatever happen, happen.
“Twenty grenades and a thousand rounds of ammunition. Four flash bangs, two claymores, which we already laid two hundred yards downhill. One LAWs rocket. That’s all we have between us and the fish boys.”
Jenks nodded at the marine lance corporal, who delivered the bad news as gracefully and as bravely as any marine could. The master chief managed a look up and over the large rocks they had placed for defense. He saw the Wasakoo as they hesitated only a thousand yards from their position. They were confused as to what these strangers were up to. Many of them threatened to break free of their group, and every time one of them would stand to possibly charge, one of the youngest marines, a private who grew up shooting squirrels in Virginia, took it down with a cleanly placed and long-distance shot. This action, three thus far, had kept the Wasakoo hesitant about charging. But Jenks knew that the situation would soon change as soon as the enemy found out their true numbers.
“Well, that may not be enough firepower to win, but it’s enough to make those bastard barracuda-faced pirate fuckers wish they had picked another area for a stroll.”
The lance corporal smiled as he went into a prone position next to the master chief.
Jenks felt a tug at his pant leg, and he looked back. It was the same little girl who had hiccupped for thirty minutes through her fear. Jenks grimaced and then snatched the child up. He stuck out his tongue and then winked. She was cautious, but she returned a smile that warmed the gruff old master chief’s heart. He thought about losing what was left of the villagers, and he stood with the girl in his arms and then returned her to Charlie, who had been frantically looking for her. Ellenshaw expected a tongue-lashing from Jenks but was relieved when he just handed the girl over. The master chief pulled out a pen that had been given to him by a navy puke a few months before and was one of his possessions he had bragged and showed off to everyone who would listen and admire it. He held it up and then leaned into the girl as he showed her the cheap ink pen he had been given. He turned it up and then down in front of her eyes, and she smiled and clapped her hands, amazed at the magic.
“I don’t believe it. They still make those?” Charlie asked as the girl relaxed as she watched the magic before her eyes.
The pen was one of those you might have purchased years ago at a liquor store checkout counter that depicted a slender, beautiful woman on the pen itself, and every time you turned it over, the black dress she wore would slowly vanish. Turn it back and the dress reappeared. The children watched and laughed at the magic coming from the world of the master chief.
“Yeah, well, just don’t look too closely at the face of the woman in the pen, Doc, or you’ll find me on the short end of the stick that kicks your ass.”
Charlie watched him move back to his defensive position. Then he looked closely at the face of the woman, and then his brows rose. The woman’s face was the exact twin of Assistant Director Virginia Pollock. A mere coincidence, but it was her all right. Jenks, Charlie knew, had it bad.
Ellenshaw smiled for the first time in days. He soon lost the grin when the noise from the front of the mine froze his blood.
“Here they come!”
KIROV-CLASS BATTLE CRUISER SIMBIRSK
Once inside the number-three gun turret, Jason stood momentarily confused as to just how he was going to do this without blowing them and the Simbirsk to pieces. Then his eyes fell on the elevator control switches that would allow the silk powder bags to be delivered from the powder stores eight decks beneath him. On the opposite side, he saw the same control system to raise the thousand-pound, fifteen-inch projectile to the turret. Ryan also saw the communications console that would connect him to the projectile and powder bunkers. He hit the switch.
“Hey, is anyone down there?” he asked, hoping beyond hope that the system didn’t send his voice out all over the battle cruiser.
“We’re here, Commander,” said the cockney-tinged voice of the Royal Marine sergeant. “I don’t know what it is we’re supposed to do, but we’re here.”
Jason knew his education at the academy had barely touched on surface warfare to the point where he knew how to fire the main guns that were designed right around the turn of the last century, but he quipped to himself that he had seen plenty of movies on the subject. He just hoped they were accurate. He closed his eyes as he tried to remember his instructions.
“Okay, there is an automatic lift near the powder stores on the starboard side of the armory.”
“Yes, we see it.”
“Now, very carefully go into the vault and, using the elevator, load three bags onto the slide. The switch to raise it up is right next to the aft bulkhead. For God’s sake, be careful—we don’t know how this powder has been treated the past seventy years.”
It seemed like a lifetime until Ryan heard the elevator engage. The noise was tremendous as the automatic doors sprang open, waiting for the delivery.
“Three shells and six bags of black powder, Commander. I don’t know about your end, but we are bloody making a lot of noise down here.”
In the turret, Ryan heard the motors engage, and he flinched again as the machinery made a tremendous amount of noise as the elevator transferred its heavy load. As he watched, the steel-reinforced door slid up, and before he realized what was happening, the large fifteen-inch shell fell forward, and he closed his eyes as he waited for the detonation that would end them all. Instead, the large thousand-pound shell eased into the steel slide just below it. Jason took a deep breath as a pushrod hydraulically pushed the shell into the breach. He repeated the same motions on the number-two and -three guns. The shells were in. Now if he could only get the most dangerous part over with and see if he could send these shells outward in the right direction.
“Bag elevator has stopped and has delivered your load. We’re out of here. We’ll take up station in the aft area and wait for orders. I’m sending two men up to you.”
Jason didn’t answer as he saw the first white-colored powder bag arrive and the auto-loader come into play. He hurriedly moved to the number-one gun of turret three and turned the large stainless steel handle, and he opened the breach. Then he bit his lower lip as he thought about what he had to do next. Then he remembered. He saw another stainless-steel slide and moved it into place. The slide went right to the breach’s opening and stopped. The powder bag was now right in front of the breach. Jason kicked at the steel next to the breach in frustration. Then before he could move and think on it, a large piston came free of the bulkhead and then pushed the first silk bag into the breach. Jason was amazed at the sophistication of the Russian design. He knew they were freaks of nature when it came to fully automated systems, and any time the old Soviets could take it out of the soldiers’ hands in favor of assurance from automation, they did.
Finally, the last bag was pushed into the gun, and Jason closed the breach. He took a deep breath as the hatch came suddenly open. He quickly pulled his nine millimeter from its holster but stopped when he saw the two hands raised in deference to his threat.
“Scared the hell out of me,” Jason said as he shoved the gun back into his shoulder holster.
The two marines came inside and dogged the hatch.
“Now look, even if we pull this off, we’re bound to have company.”
“The sergeant has that aspect covered, Commander. His four men will lie in wait for any visitors.”
Again, Jason took a deep breath and then raised his radio to his lips.
“Ryan to Everett.”
There was no answer to his call. He immediately started thinking the worst. Was he caught going up to the directory tower?
“Ryan to Everett,” he said once more, looking at the Royal Marines.
“Everett,” came the soft return. “Ready down there?”
“Yeah, but where in the hell are we going to point these cap pistols?”
“We’ll have to wait until our friends pop smoke for a more detailed sighting, but the preliminary coordinates are as follows.”
Ryan punched in the numbers on the directory system. It had taken him three full minutes to decipher the Cyrillic language, but he finally saw the small diagram that explained it all.
“Preliminary coordinates entered.”
“Okay, now we wait.”
Ryan looked at the two marines.
“If we lose our landing party, I think it only fair to warn you gentlemen that I intend to use those shells against the submarine out there.”
“Look, Commander,” the oldest of the two marines said, “we were shown film once of the old Missouri shooting those big bloody guns of hers—they are quite devastating. I don’t see why we don’t do things the old way.”
“What’s that?” Ryan asked curiously as he saw the smile on the face of the marine take shape.
“Two of these monstrous things will kill every fish man in that area. The concussion alone would kill them. If that is the case, why don’t we save the third shell for our unwanted guest?”
The smile became infectious as Ryan raised the radio to his lips and called Everett and informed him of their new plan.
Someone was going to get shot.
* * *
The two men faced each other, and not a word was said between them. Even as Salkukoff’s men gathered up the remaining weapons of the ship’s defenders, men from both forces became silent and hateful. Jack had been worried that the Russian had seen Carl and the others vanish, but thus far, Salkukoff gave no indication that he had. Thus far, the commandos had rounded up seventy-five men in varying states of injuries and anger. The Russian sailors were particularly having a hard time facing the very countrymen who had stabbed them in the back. One of these came close to being executed as he refused to raise his hands to be searched.
“I may assume your Master Chief Jenks and Professor Ellenshaw are in the phase shift engine spaces?” Salkukoff said as he stepped closer to Jack. “Ask them to secure the space and join us, please.”
Jack raised his eyebrows as if he didn’t know what Salkukoff was speaking of.
The Russian nodded toward one of his men. The Russian sailor he grabbed could not have been more than nineteen years of age. Collins and Farbeaux knew what was coming, and they also knew they had to talk as the hammer of the Makarov clicked back as the boy was sent to his knees.
“One more time, ask Dr. Ellenshaw and the master chief to join us, please.”
Collins allowed his eyes to move from the frightened boy to those of Salkukoff.
“Both men are dead. The engine spaces are empty. We had everyone above decks fighting your creatures.”
Salkukoff studied the American for the untruth that would surely be there. He seemed satisfied as he nodded for his men to secure the phase shift engine. The Russian sailor was released.
“Is that what you do now, Colonel—kill all of those in the path of your plans?” Jack asked as he heard sounds coming from the number-three turret and tried his best to cover the noise with his own words.
“The sacrifice of some for the greater good is always acceptable. You know the old tale, Colonel Collins. Or are you that twisted inside that you cannot recognize your own shortcomings?”
“I recognize them and have come to embrace them. But one thing I don’t do is turn on my allies—or my own people, for that matter. You, sir, do. A traitor to his country and fellow soldiers is the lowest form of life and always has been.”
“Noble speak, that is what I like to call it, and that is the particular reason your nations have always been vulnerable: the illusion that you are the force of good in our world. There is no such force, Colonel. And today it will be explained to you in no uncertain terms.” Salkukoff moved away and faced Farbeaux. “Treason, as the old saying goes, is a matter of dates, am I right, Colonel Farbeaux?”
Henri, to his benefit, remained silent.
“Why did you attack our ships?” Jack asked as he again heard more noises coming from the turret and from below, where the carousel and elevator to the armory began to move, transporting powder bags and shells to the turret itself. He knew he needed more time.
“Colonel, it is obvious to those who know how to rule with an iron fist. We cannot have witnesses to our dealings here. Blue diamonds are only a rumor, at least according to you Americans. No one can know how many we have collected. But alas, our mission here has come to an end, and now we have accounts to settle. Even our own people will be forever expendable in the constant endeavor to overcome the failings of our shared Russian history. Yes, they did their duty but will go down as merely missing at sea.” He smiled. “Just as yourselves and your brave Shiloh. An unfortunate way of doing business, I’m afraid, but a necessary one. My associates are now ready to make our move into the world, and you, sir, stand in the way of that. You and all these men. It was a fluke of science that brought us here, but that is why I will attribute that luck to destiny. It is our destiny to move now against the West.”
Jack watched over the Russian’s shoulder as both Peter the Great and Shiloh continued to fight for their lives. Salkukoff saw this, and again he smiled.
“As soon as we conclude our business here, we will sink both ships. A shame, but again, very necessary.”
“Why didn’t you attack Simbirsk?” Farbeaux spoke up for the first time.
Salkukoff laughed as he watched several of the dead defenders of Simbirsk unceremoniously jettisoned over the side.
“I think if given the time, your amazing master chief and your small portable computer, of which I must get a copy, would have figured it out. Our Captain Kreshenko was quickly becoming wise to our only vulnerability.”
“You can’t lock onto this world. You need the constant appearance and disappearance of Simbirsk to lock on to. You can’t duplicate your own science, just like we Americans couldn’t do it in the Philadelphia navy yard in ’43. If you tried to go it alone without Simbirsk, you would randomly come out wherever the phase shift sent you. You can’t duplicate the frequency. USS Eldridge had the same frequency, and when you stole the design, you inadvertently dialed the phase shift to the same frequency.”
“Your Jenks was getting close when he realized that the frequency of any phase shift engine is completely random. It all has to be precise to be useful; otherwise, you end up in even far more hostile worlds than this one. But since we could only come here with any hope of return, thanks to Simbirsk, we had no choice. The blue diamonds were found, and we used the constant phase shifting of Simbirsk to hitch a ride, if you will. Why she never powers down is still a mystery, but she’s become erratic, just as you saw in the North Atlantic, and that was the reason we are pulling the plug, as you Americans say. We didn’t expect her to produce the hurricane the way she did. Something is starting to fail in the phase shift engine. It’s deteriorating at an alarming speed. Her power is shifting our very atmospheric conditions. This is why we were caught off guard when she appeared in the North Atlantic. She has now outlived her usefulness. When she is powered up and we hitch our last ride home with her, she will immediately be scuttled in the deepest part of the Atlantic. And then, because of our missions to this world, we will be on an equal footing where blue diamonds are concerned.”
“And how many innocent sailors were wasted in your attempts to find other frequencies?” Henri asked.
“Too many to count. Thirteen ships of our navy sacrificed all for the future of their nation. So, we cozied up to Simbirsk on one of her magical appearances, and as I said, we followed. We needed a stabler platform because of the dangers of riding the old girl to this world, so we sent in our newest, strongest asset—”
“The Rostov-on-Don,” Jack answered for him.
“Yes, very good, Colonel. She is strong and very capable as you just learned, and she can submerge to escape the worst of the phase shift forces.”
“Why not just use a phase shift engine inside your submarine and copy the frequency of the transfer when Simbirsk moved?” Jack asked.
“For the simple reason their sciences couldn’t miniaturize the engine—it’s too big,” Henri said with a small chuckle. “They have no choice but to follow Simbirsk wherever she goes. Now that’s a plan, a stupid one, but it is a plan. You people will never cease to amaze me with your reach of power, even though that reach will cost lives.”
Salkukoff didn’t appreciate the Frenchman’s humor or point of view. His face was a mask of anger as he nodded at Farbeaux over their failures of science. He gestured, and several of the commandos approached and placed Jack’s and Henri’s hands behind their backs.
“There, you have successfully exposed our evil plans, Colonel, but there will be no salvation for you or any of the forces you have arrayed against us. You will remain here with these shipwrecked sailors, fighting the Wasakoo for the remainder of your lives, and live a life free of deciding who is evil and who is good in the world. Here, you can be good all you want. With the Simbirsk being immediately destroyed upon my return, there will be no going home for you, Colonel.”
Salkukoff turned and started toward the hatchway leading down into the phase shift engine spaces.
“Maybe, maybe not,” Jack said with a smile, and his voice made Salkukoff stop and turn to face the American and the Frenchman. He tilted his head, not understanding.
Jack moved his hands from behind his back before they could be tied. The Russian commandos seemed amused. Collins tore away part of his shirt, and then that piece was torn into four small strips. Two of these he handed to Henri, who accepted them with a nod. Both men stuffed the torn shirt into their ears and then went to their knees, making the Russians standing around them laugh and smile. Salkukoff was not among them as he realized too late what the American’s plan was.
Every man on the upper deck froze as the large number-three gun turret of the Russian battle cruiser started to rotate and the three barrels rose into the air.
The ancient warship had one last surprise in store for her passengers.
LOS ANGELES–CLASS ATTACK SUBMARINE USS HOUSTON
The crew strapped themselves down, men ran to their battle stations, and all were armed to the teeth with weapons as Houston was prepared to give her all to survive. With the detonations that had sounded through their loudspeakers from the surface of the sea, they knew even if they surfaced alive, there was going to be a possible fight.
“Okay, Rodriguez, warm up those pumps!” Thorne turned and looked at his young crew. They were as ready as he could ever hope; the men at their stations didn’t bow their heads in prayer, and there was no panic. They just turned to their duties and prepared for the worst. “All hands, prepare to surface.”
The chief of the boat hit the surface alarm, and the beluga call burst from the loudspeakers.
“Chief, blow all tanks, full rise on the planes, stand by for all-ahead flank, surface the boat!”
Every man aboard winced as the announcement was made. They saw the ballast control officer close his eyes as he blindly hit the aft and stern pumps that would activate the forcing of water from her bulk. Just as the ballast control officer turned the switch, they all heard the expansive explosion of water being forced from Houston’s open vents. The entire complement all closed their eyes when they heard Houston break away from the ledge. But also in accompaniment with the sound of releasing air came the sound they all dreaded. Houston started sliding before her tanks emptied enough to get them up and moving. The scraping and outside noise from her crushing bulk ceased almost as suddenly as it started.
USS Houston slid off the mountain ledge, and her bow dome dipped. The Gray Lady started a spiraling plummet to her death almost three miles down.
COMPTON’S REEF
At three hundred yards, the defenders inside the mine opened fire. They caught the Wasakoo off guard. The front line of skirmishers was so busy trying to cool themselves with water they never knew what hit them. Thirty-five of the green-tinted creatures went down in the initial volley.
Jenks raised his head and looked. He saw the Wasakoo behind the first line of attackers scramble. However, it didn’t take them long to recover. This time, they didn’t come on slowly; it was as if they knew they were short of time. They charged. A thousand of the hideous-looking species came on while screaming and shaking long, lethal-looking spears at them.
Three grenades were launched down the mountainside, and they rolled right into the center of the Wasakoo advancing line. They exploded. The bodies flew in all directions, but the grenades didn’t have the desired effect of making them think differently about their assault.
Barrels were red hot as the marines kept up their constant fire. But everyone inside the mine’s opening knew they would run out of bullets long before the Wasakoo ran out of spears.
“Well, that does it. Cover me!” Jenks burst from the opening, and then with all the strength he could muster, he threw the smoke canister as far downhill as he could.
On the mountainside, the green smoke popped, and the Wasakoo flinched from the strange attack. They avoided even walking into the billowing cloud.
“I hope Toad shoots straight!” Jenks yelled as he burst back into the opening.
Down below them, the Wasakoo made their last charge.
KIROV-CLASS BATTLE CRUISER SIMBIRSK
Everett placed his eye to the powerful scope in the fire directory station two hundred feet above the main deck. At first, he couldn’t even see the mountain, much less the opening of the mine’s entrance. He adjusted the scope, and with one eye closed, he finally saw the green smoke rising from the midway point of the mountain. He made the quick calculation and then entered it into the fire control computer. Computer? He laughed as he thought about it. It was that in name only, as most of the calculations were already made by the operator. He looked down at the wind velocity and saw that it was near zero. The distant target was cross-sectioned, and then the distance was put in.
“God, I hope my math still holds up.” Carl went over to the starboard bulkhead and chanced a look down onto the deck where Jack was attempting to buy him the time they needed. It didn’t look as if the conversation was going well. He also noticed the crew of the Simbirsk was being lined up on their knees. He didn’t like the look of that at all. He noticed one other thing also. The bulk of the remaining Royal Marines were nowhere to be seen. That was the little bit of hope he was waiting for. With luck, those marines knew when to attack. He picked up his radio.
“Commander, are you ready?”
“No, I’m never that anxious to blow myself up. Other than that, the tubes are loaded … I think.”
“Okay, here we go.”
On the main deck, the aft number-three turret started to rotate. As it did, the three sixty-foot-long barrels rose into the air. Carl chanced another look as his commands were now automated. It would be up to Ryan to trigger off the first explosive rounds at an enemy by a heavy cruiser since the Korean War.
“Gun number one, fire!”
* * *
Jack, Henry, and the Russian commandos were thrown from their feet as gun number one in turret three let loose. The concussion killed two of Salkukoff’s men who were directly under the powerful warhead when the two silk-lined powder bags ignited and then in turn pushed the thousand-pound warhead through the tube and out into the blue sky. The recoil on the ship was fantastic. Simbirsk groaned against the power of the exploding fifteen-inch weaponry. Her bulk slid ten feet to the port side as the barrel flashed a fifty-foot-long trail of fire from her muzzle. Before anyone could react, another shell exploded from gun mount number two. This time, four of Salkukoff’s men were blown over the side, and Salkukoff himself was wrenched from the ladder he had been climbing and was thrown to the hard deck. Henri recovered fast as he tried to get to the downed Russian colonel, but he was hit hard in the back of the head and stilled momentarily.
Jack took a split second to recover. Even with the makeshift earplugs, he was almost knocked senseless. As he raised his head, he saw the Russian commandos were down and the regular crew was fighting with them. It seemed the Russian seamen, no matter how badly bruised they were by the blast of the big guns, were angry enough to shed off that pain and attack the men they blamed for their situation. He then saw a wondrous sight as the third and final gun was turning to the port side and the barrel was lowering. Collins quickly roused a hurt Farbeaux, and they both rolled underneath one of the lifeboats for protection.
“Jesus, Ryan is going for the sub!” Jack said as even in the directory Everett was amazed when the barrel and the turret started transiting on their own with no input from him. He hit the deck as the barrel went to its lowest attitude and the gun exploded outward. Everett quickly stood and saw the submarine. He saw the crew scrambling away in panic as the fifteen-inch shell struck just aft of the conning tower, missing the boat by only eighty feet. The submarine was inundated in violet seawater.
“Damn, Ryan, you missed!” Carl hissed.
Then he saw what no man ever wanted to see: the sub came to life and moved closer to get into position.
None of the Americans thought they would fire on their only way home, but they also knew the submarine captain had been fired on and was reacting instead of thinking. This whole operation may have just gone tits up.
COMPTON’S REEF
The first ranks of the Wasakoo had burst up and over the rock-strewn protection the marines had thrown up. They crashed into men, and the fighting became hand to hand. They knew their time in this life was done when the rest of the thousand enemies burst through.
Jenks emptied his close-in weapon, his nine millimeter, and then grabbed the skin of one of the sickly Wasakoo as it dove into the mine. Jenks started pummeling the creature on the head and neck, but he felt the weight of the large Wasakoo as it drove him into the ground. As the master chief looked into the grinning face of the Wasakoo, it hissed at him as its strong and webbed fingers started to choke the life from him. Then the pressure eased as Charlie appeared in his vision. The white-haired professor held one of the discarded spears in his hand as he brought it down once more into the back of Jenks’s attacker.
Suddenly, a freight train sound rent the skies above them. It sounded as if the massive fifteen-inch shell was reaching right out for them and not the advancing Wasakoo. The first explosion blew the marines, Charlie, and Jenks backward as it detonated not fifty feet from the mine’s opening. Fire and smoke covered everything. None of the men could even begin to hear the second round as it came crashing down from the almost mile-high arc. Another brutal earth-shattering explosion shook the very rock strata they hid behind. More fire, rock, pieces of Wasakoo, and foliage covered them all.
There was an eerie silence that filled the world. With the exception of men coughing and their painful attempts to rise, the world was gone for them. Dust filled the cave like dense smoke as Jenks shook his head. He saw Charlie move next to him. His spear was broken into two pieces, but he was still tenaciously hanging on to it.
“Come on, Doc, you’re all right,” Jenks said as he battled to his feet, and in the blinding dust cloud, he assisted Ellenshaw to his feet. Then they started helping the marines who had been closer to the opening than they. Three of them were hard to rouse awake, but they finally opened their eyes and coughed. All was still silent.
Jenks and the lance corporal made it to the opening, and that was when they saw the devastation the ancient Russian weaponry had caused. It looked as if the world had been plowed over. There was not a tree standing within fifty yards of the mine. Wasakoo were lying dead in all directions.
“Look,” the lance corporal said, pointing.
Jenks rubbed his eyes, coughed out a mouthful of dirt, and then saw what the marine saw. Out of over a thousand Wasakoo, only fifty or so were heading for the hills. They sprinted downhill at a pace that said they wanted nothing more to do with the intruders to their world.
“Thank God! I didn’t want to buy it here,” the lance corporal said as he wiped as much of the dirt from his face as he could.
“Hate to tell you this, Lance Corporal Jarhead, but we still have to travel through time and space to get back home.”
The marine looked at Jenks as the others, including the six children they had just saved, joined them.
“As long as no one shoots them big damn guns at us, I can live with that danger. That was freakin’ brutal!”
The battle for Compton’s Reef had ended.
KIROV-CLASS BATTLE CRUISER SIMBIRSK
Jack and Henri had lost all sense of time and predicament. The recoil of the large-bore guns had sent everyone to the deck. The gunfire itself had killed at least six men of Salkukoff’s command. Still, they held the upper hand. The Russian sailors they had rounded up and disarmed were as helpless as Collins and Farbeaux. They were just rising from the deck, and the commandos, to their credit, recovered far faster than their captives. Henri assisted Jack to his feet. Farbeaux removed the makeshift earplugs and saw that his left eardrum may have been perforated as blood-covered cloth attested to.
“You’re bleeding,” Jack said as he nodded his thanks at the Frenchman.
Before they realized what was happening, they were both pushed back down onto the deck by three of Salkukoff’s men. The man himself was wiping blood from his nose and forehead as he staggered toward them. He angrily kicked out at Jack and caught the colonel in the stomach. When Henri reacted, he was slammed in the back of the head by the foldable stock of an AK-47 and sent to the steel deck next to Collins.
“What did that little display prove?” He kicked at Jack again before he could recover from the first blow. “Two worthless misses at a now uninhabited island, and one toward my boat? Very poor plan, Colonel.” He angrily and ruthlessly took an AK-47 from one of his men and aimed it down toward the two men. “Now, here’s the rest of my plan,” he said as he aimed at the back of Jack’s head. Farbeaux looked up in time to realize that this time around they would not escape that inevitable bullet Collins and men like himself always expected.
In the fire control directory high above, Everett saw what was about to happen but was powerless to stop it.
LOS ANGELES–CLASS ATTACK SUBMARINE USS HOUSTON
As Houston blew all air from her ballast tanks, it looked as if it would be too late. The submarine flew off the shelf of the mountain and went straight down. The weakened ballast control system was not powerful enough to provide lift to her planes until more water was ejected from her bowels. Every man aboard was thrown into their stations as Houston began a descent they would never recover from.
“All back full!” Thorne yelled over the whine of the turbines.
“Answering all back!” the chief of the boat answered. “Reactors at 115 percent!”
Thorne closed his eyes as he hung on in the almost vertical environment. His lips moved as if in prayer, but he was counting internally. He ticked off the depth in his head, knowing where their crush depth was, and his calculations told him they had another hundred feet before Houston imploded like an eggshell.
The control room was calm for the circumstances they found themselves in. They hung on, and most of the seamen prayed.
“She’s slowing!” XO Devers called out. “Bow’s coming up!”
The words yelled over the din of the reversing turbines was God’s answer to their prayers.
Thorne looked over at his control board and saw the depth numbers slowing. He again closed his eyes as Houston was still nearing her breaking point. The sound of her sail being punched in like a car in an auto accident reverberated throughout the boat. Loud popping started, and each pop of her hull sent fear through the crew. Still, Thorne hoped.
“She’s coming back up!” the chief shouted and yipped.
Houston was two hundred feet beyond her crush depth as they felt the forces shift more to the horizontal.
“That’s it! We are coming up!” Devers said, agreeing with the chief of the boat.
Houston started to rise at an incredible rate. Hull-popping noises sounded as she started to come to shallower waters. Soon she was heading in the opposite direction, straight up. Every man felt the speed as it increased. Thorne, against his better judgment, fought his way back toward the NAV table. He was hanging on for dear life when an announcement came over the loudspeakers that froze his blood.
“Conn, sonar, we’ve been hit with a sonar ping!”
Devers looked over at his captain with shock registering on his face.
“Sonar, conn, what are you talking about?”
“Conn, sonar, we have a surface vessel painting us. Torpedo doors opening. Suspected submarine right over our heads!”
“Damn, we’re going to be fired on!” Devers finally said.
“Sonar, conn, best guess as to ambient noise?”
“Conn, computer says the profile fits that new Russian sub we were warned about. Her screws are starting to turn. She’s Russian, all right!”
Thorne angrily threw the 1 MC mic at Devers, who caught it. “Weapons, open outer doors on aft tubes seven, eight, and nine. Vertical tubes one and two. Are the Harpoons warmed?”
“Weapons, aye, tubes are loaded with war shot, and doors are open. Doors open on vertical tubes one and two.”
“Conn, sonar, we have two torpedoes in the water!”
“Ballast control, slow our ascent!”
“Control boards have shorted out, Captain; we have no control.”
Thorne knew he would never have the time to get an accurate fix on their target. The firing solution was being scrambled by their faster-than-normal climb toward the sky. He came to a quick decision.
“Vertical tubes one and two, do we have a firing solution?” he asked his weapons station only eight feet away. He knew his torpedoes would be worthless at this high rate of ascent. It would now be up to his vertical launch system to send their Harpoon missile outward to avenge the death they would soon suffer from the hands of the Russian torpedoes. He had decided that Houston would kill the sub that killed it.
“Fire solution is constant, Skipper!”
“Torpedoes close aboard!”
Houston was traveling straight up, a position the designers at General Dynamics Electric Boat Division had never intended. Thorne didn’t know if the speed of the vertical climb would tear the Harpoons to pieces even before they were fully ejected from their tubes.
“Fire vertical tubes one and two!” Thorne ordered as he waited for the Russian weapons to impact his boat.
“Firing vertical tubes one and two!” Came the answer. “Harpoons have left the tubes, running hot, straight, and normal.”
Thorne knew that at least Houston would get in her death blow to the enemy just as they were sent to a watery grave themselves.
“Conn, sonar, torpedoes have locked onto us, impact in five, four, three, two, one!”
Thorne braced himself for the imminent death coming their way.
Impact. There was a loud bang. Every man flinched, and even a few screamed out. Another hollow-sounding thung sounded throughout the boat. Houston shook and rattled as she was still speeding full bore toward the surface.
“Conn, sonar, no warhead detonation,” came the call in a voice filled with excitement.
Thorne realized what had happened. Houston was breaking a speed record in her uncontrolled nose-up ascent. As he looked at the speed on the readout, he saw they were at fifty-five knots and speeding up. They had risen so fast and closed the distance to their enemy at a speed so unheard of that the enemy weapons had not the time to arm themselves. The Russian torpedoes had slammed into Houston but disintegrated upon impact. No doubt they would find at least one big hole in her skin when and if they surfaced.
“Oh, shit!” Thorne said as he studied the plot. Thorne looked also.
“Hard right rudder, all back full!”
Houston was heading directly at the enemy sub that had fired upon her, and Captain Thorne and XO Devers saw that their evasive orders would never be input before they surfaced right into their enemy.
Houston was doomed. Her speed and nose-up attitude would send them directly into the bottom hull of the enemy.
KIROV-CLASS BATTLE CRUISER SIMBIRSK
Carl took a chance and opened fire from the fire directory two hundred feet up. He missed Salkukoff and cursed his hurried aim.
Suddenly, gunfire erupted from several locations as Her Majesty’s Royal Marines came out of hiding.
It was amazing how military men the world over knew exactly when to act. Upon seeing Collins and Farbeaux about to be executed along with the remaining Russian sailors, everyone in hiding broke cover to assist. Bullets were heading in all directions.
Jack reacted without thinking as he leg-whipped the Russian colonel, sending him to the deck. Collins quickly elbowed the colonel and then reached for his fallen weapon. Henri also brought down another of the confused commandos as he ran by. He fell on the man’s back and then slammed his head face-first into the deck, successfully relieving him of his AK-47. The small battle was over in less than thirty seconds.
Jack stood and then started kicking Salkukoff until the man rose to his feet. He smiled at Jack as he moved his right hand toward the radio and hit the transmit switch three times in quick succession. Collins quickly reached out and took the radio and tossed it overboard.
“Too late, Colonel—we will all be dead in less than thirty seconds.”
“What did you do, you maniac?” Henri asked angrily as he unceremoniously popped the Russian in the belly, making him bow from the pain. The Russian started to laugh.
“Thirty seconds is all it takes for a torpedo to cover the short distance to Simbirsk.” He laughed even harder as he straightened up from Henri’s blow to his belly. “If we don’t go back home, none of us will.”
Jack pulled the laughing Salkukoff toward the railing and shook him. Everett joined them after his hurried climb back to the main deck. The Royal Marines were shepherding the remaining commandos into a small group. They only had six of them left, as the rest had been dispatched nicely by Her Majesty’s forces.
“Say good-bye to your friends and the Simbirsk, Colonel Collins, as I prepare to greet my own in that other place we all dream about.”
Jack cursed their luck as he faced the enemy submarine as it readied to end their lives.
Before anyone realized what was happening, a giant water slug broke the surface of the violet seas. The two Harpoon missiles rose three hundred feet into the darkening skies, and then the large weapons rolled over and dove straight down after shedding their outer protective casings. The impact struck the Rostov-on-Don dead center just aft of her sloped conning tower. The large 215-pound warheads of the two UGM-84 Harpoon missiles broke through the heavy steel plate of the submarine and detonated close by the vertical launch tubes with their missiles still inside. Ten other warheads along with the American missiles blew the Rostov-on-Don into two pieces. Water, steel, and other debris shot skyward.
Jack and the others were again thrown from their feet as the amazing rescue of their lives decimated the enemy sub. Salkukoff was shocked to see the Rostov-on-Don disintegrate right before his eyes. Jack hurriedly stood as the wave created by the two halves of the Russian sub struck them. The Simbirsk rolled over, knocking everyone again from their feet. The destruction of Salkukoff’s main asset tossed the seas to the extreme.
* * *
In the lower spaces of Simbirsk, something else was reacting to the roll of the giant ship. Europa Jr. was monitoring the phase shift engine to keep it from ramping back up, but as the giant wave of destruction hit Simbirsk, the laptop was thrown from the table and smashed onto the deck. Her lights went out just as the phase shift capacitors began to ramp up. The phase shift engine was once more breathing.
* * *
As every man crowded around the railing to see what had just happened, another sight caught their attention. In the middle of the debris-filled spot where the Russian sub had vanished, the ocean shot straight into the air as the seas erupted. The sonar dome of the USS Houston broke the surface and rose into the sky. The black-hulled submarine looked as if it had been shot out of a cannon. She shot up until her weight and gravity brought her back. Houston’s bow slammed back into the sea, and another large wake slammed into the battle cruiser. The attack boat quickly settled into the remains of the Rostov-on-Don. All the world became silent until the eruption of cheers from the Russian sailors and British Marines drowned out the noise of the encroaching storm. Jack looked at Henri and Carl and shook his head.
“I guess we have confirmation on Houston’s whereabouts. It looks like she came along for our little excursion.”
Cheers erupted again as men saw the crew of Houston come into view as they took their stations on the upper conning tower.
Jack smiled as he turned and faced Salkukoff and his look of utter bewilderment.
“Looks like you weren’t the only ones to have a navy out here, huh?”
“I … I … don’t understand.”
“Welcome to the club, asshole; we never understand our luck either, but there you have it,” Carl said as he intentionally slapped Salkukoff on the back as hard as he could, sending the Russian colonel into the top rung of the railing. Then Carl leaned into Jack. “I’ll never, ever curse the submarine service again.”
“I hear that, brother.”