Omega Deep
By
Christopher Cartwright
Copyright 2018 by Christopher Cartwright
This book is protected under the copyright laws of the United States of America. Any reproduction or other unauthorized use of the material or artwork herein is prohibited. This book is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, brands, media and incidents either are the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. All rights reserved.
Table of Contents
Prologue
Chapter One
Chapter Two
Chapter Three
Chapter Four
Chapter Five
Chapter Six
Chapter Seven
Chapter Eight
Chapter Nine
Chapter Ten
Chapter Eleven
Chapter Twelve
Chapter Thirteen
Chapter Fourteen
Chapter Fifteen
Chapter Sixteen
Chapter Seventeen
Chapter Eighteen
Chapter Nineteen
Chapter Twenty
Chapter Twenty-One
Chapter Twenty-Two
Chapter Twenty-Three
Chapter Twenty-Four
Chapter Twenty-Five
Chapter Twenty-Six
Chapter Twenty-Seven
Chapter Twenty-Eight
Chapter Twenty-Nine
Chapter Thirty
Chapter Thirty-One
Chapter Thirty-Two
Chapter Thirty-Three
Chapter Thirty-Four
Chapter Thirty-Five
Chapter Thirty-Six
Chapter Thirty-Seven
Chapter Thirty-Eight
Chapter Thirty-Nine
Chapter Forty
Chapter Forty-One
Chapter Forty-Two
Chapter Forty-Three
Chapter Forty-Four
Chapter Forty-Five
Chapter Forty-Six
Chapter Forty-Seven
Chapter Forty-Eight
Chapter Forty-Nine
Chapter Fifty
Chapter Fifty-One
Chapter Fifty-Two
Chapter Fifty-Three
Chapter Fifty-Four
Chapter Fifty-Five
Chapter Fifty-Six
Chapter Fifty-Seven
Chapter Fifty-Eight
Chapter Fifty-Nine
Chapter Sixty
Chapter Sixty-One
Chapter Sixty-Two
Chapter Sixty-Three
Prologue
Norwegian Sea – Six Weeks Ago
It was 10:15 p.m. exactly when the cold, rigid plane of the submarine’s sail deck broke the icy surface of the Norwegian Sea. The rounded belly of the steel predator – a heavily modified and experimental Virginia class block VII nuclear-powered fast attack submarine – slowly rose until she was resting on the almost glassy surface. In the calm and moonless night, the sea looked like a series of fragmented shards of jet-black shale being slowly jolted together.
The darkened sail deck made a silhouette barely the length and breadth of a small whale, but even that would be visible to the prying eyes of enemy satellites. A test like this would likely draw the attention of any number of enemy and friendly nations. In fact, they had made sure of it. Not letting the enemy know one’s capabilities was as absurd as trying to maintain a nuclear deterrent without acknowledging one has nuclear weapons.
Inside, the command center was abuzz with action.
Commander Dwight Bower planted his feet in a wide stance, closed his eyes, and breathed deeply. The air smelled vaguely of warm electronics, black coffee, and amine – the chemical used to scrub carbon dioxide from the air on board. It was the smell that had enveloped him for most of his adult life, the familiar scent of home.
Beneath his feet he could sense the life in her, the activity of the men, the nuclear propulsion unit easing the 7,900-ton vessel silently along the surface of the sea.
As the weight of expectation grew, conversations took place in subdued tones between crew members at their stations.
The commander’s mind was sharp and focused. Eyes from around the world would be on his submarine now, and if all went well, they would be provided with one of the most impressive feats of modern engineering since Thomas Edison publicly demonstrated the power of electricity in Menlo Park, in December 1879.
He pictured his behemoth craft, longer than a football field and seven stories high, her sail and bow carving the surface waves. She was dark and formidable – an embodiment of intimidation and strength. She was unmatched for firepower, technology, and maneuverability by any other ship on Earth. At his word, she could effortlessly shirk the crushing weight of the Atlantic, diving to a cruising depth unfathomable in days gone by, disappearing into the deep waters below.
A silent, deadly predator.
Commander Bower was still as trim as he was in his early twenties. A lifetime of discipline and calisthenics had given him the physique of a much younger man. The only sign of his sixty-three years of age was slight accents of gray in his dark hair.
He raised the Universal Modular Mast to its maximum height and brought its view piece up to his eyes. Unlike a traditional periscope, it incorporated eight separate components – two photonic masts, two tactical communication masts, one super-high-frequency SATCOMs, one snorkel, one AN/BPS-16 surface search and navigation radar mast, and one AN/BLQ-10 Electronic Support Measures warfare mast used to detect, analyze, and identify both radar and communication signals from ships, aircraft, submarines, and land-based transmitters.
Bower examined the view piece for the photonic mast. At the mast’s core, it was a very powerful digital camera, which fed back to the Command Center via a fiber optic cable. Although he was already on the surface of what appeared to be an empty sea, he wanted to get a better view of the area immediately surrounding him. The device rotated 360 degrees, and at its maximum height out of the water, could provide a range of three miles on a clear night.
He made a slow arc in a counter-clockwise direction. The sea was calm and clear of any visible vessel. His thick eyebrows drew together. It was impossible to think that no one had taken notice of his new command. Changing the view feed to radar, he grinned.
Yes. He found two surface contacts.
One at eight miles to the north and another at six miles to the southeast.
He fixed in on the contact eight miles to the north. It had the outward appearance of a large offshore fishing trawler. Its nameplate was Russian, almost undoubtedly a spy-vessel. The sight relieved him.
What was the point of possessing the Omega technology if one couldn’t terrify one’s opponents with a demonstration of power? He made a note of the vessel’s name, Vostok, and rotated to the southeast.
The second vessel looked like an old ice-breaker, with a helicopter on its aft deck. Due to its large array of radar instruments, it was more likely another spy vessel. It was angled straight on, making it impossible to read the ship’s name. Commander Bower rotated the digital camera upwards, stared at the starlit sky above, and wondered who was staring down upon his submarine.
Let them watch.
It was for them that he’d brought the submarine to the surface.
The Omega Deep project had been his brainchild and his baby for as long as he could remember. It had taken him twenty years in the Navy to convince anyone that the leap from such difficult and obscure science could be made into this game-changing technology. Then it had been another twenty years before the technology caught up with his goals. In the end, it was luck that had delivered to him the material
s required to achieve his aspirations.
Something not even from this world.
Nearly thirteen thousand years ago a large meteorite struck the earth. Upon impact, millions of tons of rock and soil were sent into the atmosphere, triggering the last mini-ice age, known as the Younger Dryas. Nobody knows from which region of the seemingly infinite universe, or from what solar system the asteroid once originated. Subsequent darkness decimated the Earth’s flora and fauna.
The human race was hit hard, and the event stalled the fledgling process of domestication, in what would soon become the Agricultural Revolution that transported mankind from its humble hunter-gatherer existence into the permanence of modern agriculture.
Ancient technology and skills derived over the eons were nearly lost in its entirety.
The world’s knowledge was not forgotten by all. A small group of ancient scholars and astronomers, known as the Master Builders, set about building a series of stones in a temple which appeared set to record the movements of the stars. The temple was called Göbekli Tepe, and its remains were discovered in the 1990s within Turkey’s Southeastern Anatolia Region.
But it didn’t just record an ancient event - it predicted the future return of that same asteroid on its eccentric orbit. The same celestial body from which the earlier meteorite fell.
Twelve months ago, the asteroid returned, threatening to achieve what it had failed to do some thirteen thousand years earlier, wiping out the remains of the human race by causing cataclysmic and widespread changes to the weather globally. Thankfully, the ancient scholars of that era had kept a small amount of the original meteorite’s strange material for the purpose of stabilizing the magnetic poles.
What few people knew was that 13,000 years ago, there wasn’t just one meteorite, but two. A secret team from the U.S. Defense Advanced Research Projects Agency, located the second meteorite. After doing so, it harvested the rare material found inside, known as blackbody.
Once only theoretical, the material absorbed all energy.
Omega Deep’s hull was a unique combination of advanced metallurgy, biomimicry, and advanced projection technology. The hull was coated with blackbody. In addition to its unusual appearance and long list of rare qualities, the unearthly element absorbed electrons and flattened soundwaves. The result was to make an entirely silent chameleon out of a four-hundred-foot hull, making her the deadliest nuclear predator to ever stalk the seven seas.
Eyes wide and glittering with satisfaction, Commander Bower’s lips curled into a proud grin. He took a deep breath in through his nostrils, as though, despite not yet opening the hatch, he could already smell the fresh air.
It was the first time the Omega Deep had surfaced in three weeks. It would be a short stay, an hour at most, in order to upload information regarding their testing so far, and also to receive any incoming communications. Particularly, whether or not the President was to give the final approval for Omega Deep to complete its final phase of sea trials.
Six miles away, a salvage ship sent out a constant barrage of sonar pings. The commander glanced at the radar operator’s notes. “Do we know whose vessel that is? If it’s a spy ship, it’s the worst one in history because it’s making a hell of a lot of noise.”
“It’s a private salvage vessel, allegedly owned by an American. The name on the AIS transponder is the Maria Helena.”
“The Maria Helena?” A wry smile twitched the commander's lips. “What’s she doing this far north?”
“I believe she’s searching for something on the seabed.”
“Here? Now?” The commander asked. “That seems like one hell of a coincidence.”
The sonar operator – a sharp, twenty-five-year-old brunette he’d hand-picked after she achieved the highest marks to ever come out of Fleet Sonar School– shrugged. “It might be.”
“What the hell are they supposed to be looking for?”
“Do you recall that sound we identified forty-eight hours ago?”
Dwight cocked an eyebrow. “The possible explosion? You finally found a report on that?”
“Yes, sir. It wasn’t an explosion, but it was close to it. More like a ship being dropped from a height. Whatever it was, the vessel eventually struck the seabed – we picked up two sounds. The original impact with the surface of the ocean, and the subsequent impact on the seabed nearly twenty minutes later.”
“What are you thinking?”
“My guess is it was caused by a large aircraft slamming into the sea. At least a 737, but maybe even bigger – possibly even a 747 or A380, God help them.”
“A commercial jet?”
“Possibly, although there is no report of any aircraft going off the radar from Air Traffic Control.”
“If you’re right, why did it take so long?”
The operator asked, “Take so long for what, sir?”
“You said there were two distinct impact sounds. One when the aircraft or whatever it was struck the surface of the sea, and a second one when it hit the seabed.”
“Yes.”
“So, why did it take twenty minutes? I mean, if an aircraft struck the ocean this far north – where even on a good day, the seas were ten feet high and rough – it would almost certainly break apart on impact, wouldn’t it?”
The operator took a deep breath, briefly closed her eyes. “There’s a chance it got lucky.”
“Can’t be too lucky, it still ended up on the seabed.”
“True, and if anyone got out alive, they’d probably freeze to death. But I don’t think anyone survived.”
“Why?”
“Because, according to our surface buoy, no one made any radio transmissions after the aircraft was on the water.”
Commander Bower nodded and closed his eyes. He knew what that meant. Everyone on board was already dead.
“All right. When we receive our orders, we’ll find out if there’s anything to it. They won’t let us test the Omega Cloak if there’s an international search underway in the region. It would be far too dangerous.”
He opened his eyes and took in the scene.
Turning on his heel, the commander surveyed his ship and his crew.
Banks of colored monitors were fixed desktop-to-ceiling above control modules. Sailors surrounded him in oversized ergonomic office chairs at their stations. The operations center of the Virginia class block VII experimental nuclear attack submarine looked more like something from the stock exchange than the bridge of the submarines he commanded as a younger man.
Instead of outboard watch-standers in jumpsuits manning the helm, dive, and ballast controls, there sat a pilot and copilot at computer touchscreens. Sonar, combat control, navigation, and command all worked together in the open-plan war room of the modern attack sub. With 34 feet of beam, there was plenty of space.
They had come a long way with this project. His project. And now, after so many years, he was pleased to have lived to see it reach fruition.
The world would soon see what the Omega Deep was capable of.
James Halifax, the submarine’s Executive Officer, approached. At five-foot-two, he was a short, wiry, and a somewhat unhappy fellow. The XO had a permanent chip on his shoulder, something he unsuccessfully attempted to conceal from his CO. He’d been overlooked for the past three command positions that had come up. It wasn’t his fault. The U.S. Navy had plenty of good men and women who were keen to do the job. Just not enough submarines to go around.
Dwight Bower didn’t like the man. Nothing personal, except for a personality clash. But Bower respected him plenty and was glad he was on board the Omega Deep.
Halifax was intelligent, if a little too wily. He was arrogant, but his ability justified that. Dwight and his XO had clashed a number of times over the years. Bower had very nearly been the cause of the man’s discharge three years ago after an incident, resulting in a court-martial, at which Bower had been called upon to give his expert opinion. In the end, the court-martial had been overturned. Halifax had be
en reinstated as an XO on the USS Alaska until Bower had personally requested him on board the USS Omega Deep.
Despite their personal differences, Halifax’s intelligence and steadfast determination – edging toward belligerence – made him a prime choice for the role of XO. Bower didn’t need a sycophant - he needed a competent ally to help command the world’s most advanced nuclear attack submarine.
Traditionally, the U.S. Navy’s fleet of nuclear attack submarines was armed with conventional weapons, but the Omega Deep was the first of the American attack submarines modified to be equipped with nuclear-armed cruise missiles – 42 of them to be exact.
It was a lot of responsibility. Bower was happy to share this honor and this burden with someone like Halifax. It was for this reason Bower singled the man out for the position.
Halifax met his eye and handed him a small piece of paper. “Communications have received a coded message from the Pentagon, sir.”
“Thank you, Mr. Halifax.” He took a breath. “Any news regarding that explosion?”
Halifax’s lips thinned to a hardened smile. “Yes. It was a Boeing 747 Dreamlifter cargo aircraft, en route to Quonset Point, Rhode Island.”
General Dynamics Electric Boat – one of the companies used by the U.S. Navy to build submarines – was based at Quonset Point. “The cargo aircraft was one of ours?”
“No. British owned. I’m not sure what sort of cargo it was carrying.”
“Okay.” Bower sighed. “Any survivors?”
“No. Three crew. None found. All presumed dead.”
“Does the Pentagon want us to assist in the search?”
“No. Apparently, the Maria Helena’s located the wreckage and the British Air Accidents Investigation Branch have requested the Maria Helena begin the retrieval of the flight data recorders.”
“Understood,” Commander Bower said, as he took the note and unfolded it onto the navigation table.
His eyes swept over the note.
The words were little more than gibberish. In addition to its array of digitally secure communication systems, Bower had insisted the Omega Deep retain a unique unbreakable code to be used for open communication. This one relied on a secret key cryptography to obscure its meaning. This type of code was a variation of the one-time pad – the only truly unbreakable code in theory. To decode the message, a listener had to have both the book and the key.
Omega Deep (Sam Reilly Book 12) Page 1
