Unfathomed (The Locus Series Book 1)

by Ralph Kern

  “Don’t move a muscle.” Grayson felt something hard jabbing into his back.

  “Urbano, it’s me,” Grayson said as he raised his hands.

  “Karl, good to see you.” Bautista moved the gun away from Grayson. The two men were little more than silhouettes in the low light of the moon.

  “Please say you’ve come to take me home, Urbano. These assholes have me farming now.”

  “Not quite yet.” The other man’s wry smile at the thought of Grayson working in a field was fortunately invisible. “We need that ship, and you are going to help us take it.”

  “Last time didn’t go so well for you.”

  “No, no it didn’t,” Bautista replied. “But this time it’s going to be different.”

  Grayson listened to Bautista’s plan, first in incredulity, then disbelief, and finally with a sense of acceptance. If Grayson wanted to protect and provide for his family, the risks he would have to take would go up. Exponentially.

  Chapter 30 – Day 13

  “So, will it work or won’t it?” Slater asked, turning the small module in her hands, looking at it from every angle. It looked clean and well manufactured; in fact, slightly more impressive than the competent it was designed to replace. It was a white foot-long cylinder with a clear screw-on lid. Within she could see the lens of the camera. From the opposite end a cable emerged, waiting to be connected to the LEAP.

  “We’ve tested a duplicate as much as we can,” Donovan said. “So far it’s survived everything we’ve thrown at it, including a dry test on a duplicate using a RIM-162. But we still have to add the huge caveat that it is just a jury-rigged device we are putting in a spacecraft.”

  “Will it work or won’t it?” Slater repeated as she placed the module down on the desk and looked Donovan straight in the eyes.

  “Yes, ma’am. It will work.”

  Slater turned to Kendricks who nodded, and then to Reynolds.

  “It’s the best shot at finding land, Heather. Do it,” Reynolds said.

  Slater took a long moment to make her final decision. She was the custodian of the Ignatius and her inventory. Captains had always had to account for what they used and why, sometimes in painstaking detail. The Pentagon wouldn’t take kindly to her blowing an eleven-million-dollar missile for no reason. The launch of a RIM 161 could be career ending for her at best, possibly criminal in negligence at worst in anything other than the most extreme of circumstances. But she was also the steward of her crew and now the guardian of thousands of people. Why have all this capability and not use it?

  “Very well, begin the modifications to the missile. We’ll launch on the first cloud-free day we have after that.”

  “Thank you, ma’am.”

  “Well, now you’ve sold me on the idea, there’s no point in waiting around,” Slater said with a resigned sigh.

  ***

  The vertical launch system was two banks of cells containing Ignatius’s weapons mix. Due to its powerful first-stage booster, the RIM 161s were situated in the front cells, as far away from the superstructure of the ship itself as the missile could be.

  With a whine, the heavily armored hatch of the cell containing the missile they had chosen to modify flipped open, revealing the tip of a white cone in the dark hole.

  Giving orders over his radio, Donovan had the missile raised out of the cell, exposing the head of the missile fully.

  “Easy fellows,” Donovan said redundantly to the two technicians who approached the nose cone with electric screwdrivers. They rolled their eyes and knelt down next to it, laying a manual down by their knees already turned to the disassembly procedure.

  “This is getting real now,” Kendricks said as he watched them working carefully on the huge missile. One after another, the screws were removed and placed in careful order on a plastic sheet.

  “Yeah, don’t I know it? If this messes up, it will be the definition of a career-limiting move,” Donovan said nervously.

  “Let’s just hope you have a career to limit.” Kendricks grinned.

  Within thirty minutes, the cone housing was being winched off the missile, exposing the Light Exo Atmospheric Projectile within. It was disconcertingly small. Barely forty centimeters across and a meter long. If anyone had the will and means to launch a ballistic missile at America, that tiny object might be all that could prevent the death of thousands, if not millions of people.

  And now it was going to be used to save them.

  After another hour of working around the LEAP, the technicians finally had it dismounted and loaded onto a dolly, ready to be taken inside the Ignatius for its modifications.

  Chapter 31 – Day 13

  “It’s not exactly an arsenal if those pirates come for us again, but we have enough to equip a decent-sized team.” Jack gestured with a sweep of his hand over the table. On it was the assortment of weapons, including those they had seized from the pirates. “The Ignatius has her own armory, but unfortunately she had no marine detachment embarked at the time of her... arrival.”

  The captain was inspecting the security room and by extension, Jack.

  “Very well,” Solberg said as he reached for a handgun and hefted its weight before sighting along it one-handed. Jack gently placed his hand over the top, forcing the barrel down toward the deck.

  “My next job.” Jack gently prized the gun out of Solberg’s hand and placed it back on the table. “Is going to be ascertaining areas of vulnerability and drilling the regenerated security teams in counter-boarding tactics.”

  “How many volunteers have you got?”

  “Between the remainder of the ship’s own security complement, and a few volunteers who are military or police, twenty all told. They will be divided up into two teams, squads if you will—”

  “Are they any good?” Solberg interrupted him.

  “None of them signed up intending to face a concerted enemy on their vacation, Captain,” Jack said pointedly. “They’re as good as we can expect from this situation.”

  “And what about the Ignatius, can we have some of their weapons and soldiers?”

  “I doubt it. As I said, they had no marines on board. Ship security and boarding operations were a secondary duty for the crewmembers they do have. In other words, they have their own shit to get on with.”

  “So be it,” Solberg said wearily. “I must tell you, I don’t like the thought of having people wandering around with guns on board.”

  “I get that, Captain. But if a situation develops fast, the security teams would have to come down here, kit up, then deploy to their positions. It would take too long.”

  “The passengers are nervous enough as it is,” Solberg frowned, pondering for a moment. “No, no weapons on show.”

  Giving an exasperated sigh, Jack mulled it over. “How about a compromise?”

  “Young man, I’m the captain of this ship, I’m not overly given to compromising.” The irritability on Solberg’s face was fully evident.

  Asshole, Jack thought, and not for the first time. “What I mean, Captain, is the security teams will be equipped with side arms. They will be relatively easy to conceal. For the other weapons, the shotguns and these rifles we recovered, we can stow them in caches just off the promenade. That will make them easily accessible.”

  “That seems a little more reasonable,” Solberg nodded sagely. “Very well, identify suitable storage facilities. They are to be under lock and key. Only the leaders of the security teams and senior officers are to have access. Fingers crossed Kendricks’s little project will mean this situation doesn’t last much longer, anyway.”

  “How’s that going?” Jack asked.

  “Damned if I know, but I had a look down at Ignatius from the deck a few hours ago and they were dicking around with one of their missiles.” Solberg shrugged. The captain started to turn, before pausing and looking back. “Oh, have you found Grissom yet?”

  “No, Captain. The leads have dried up.”

  Solberg shook his hea
d in frustration. “Just keep trying. It’s been well over a week now. I’m beginning to doubt he’s made a gin palace for himself down in the bilge.”

  “Yeah, Captain. I very much doubt that, too.”

  Chapter 32 – Day 13

  With a subdued grunt, Grayson managed to gain purchase on the edge of one of the two deck overflow pipes, which were low on the stern behind Ignatius’s flight deck.

  Caging covered the hole, preventing anyone from crawling up inside, as was designed, but his fingers could just work their way into the mesh. Slowly, silently, he hauled himself up.

  Frowning, Grayson looked up. Above were three pipes mounted horizontally, one above the other. It looked to be a hell of a security risk for the ship, but it did provide him with a fair facsimile of a ladder to make the rest of the way up to the deck.

  Finally gripping the edge of the deck he slowly pulled himself up until just his head was over the side. Glancing left and right, he looked for the sentries he knew must be patrolling the area. He couldn’t spot them, and that worried him.

  It was the dark before dawn, and the majority of the lights were subdued. Ignatius may have been getting power from the Atlantica now, but that didn’t mean she could waste it. In the middle of the gently swaying flight deck sat the Seahawk helicopter, powered down and vulnerable.

  Grayson squinted at it, wondering if he should somehow sabotage the helicopter which had been such a bane to them. But could he do so silently and still complete his mission? No. He needed to stay on task.

  Hauling over onto the deck, Grayson ran silently on bare feet, shrugging his rucksack off his back as he did so, and ducked under the helicopter fuselage, lying flat beneath.

  He went stock still as he finally realized where the sentry was, He could see four legs of a chair and two of person just on the other side of the helicopter fuselage. Grayson cocked his head, and he could just hear the sound of heavy breathing over the sound of the sea.

  Pulling a small hand towel out his rucksack, he silently dried himself, keeping one eye on the legs, watching for any movement. He doubted his wet footprints would be visible on the low lighting of the flight deck but when he had to go inside, it would be a different matter.

  Sliding himself back out from under the helicopter, Grayson glanced up. The hull of Atlantica rose in a sheer white and blue cliff face to the starboard of the Ignatius. It would be awkward for anyone to look down on his position, and he hoped most would be inside, tucked up in their cabins anyway. No, he was not too concerned about people on board the Atlantica, but he was concerned about the Ignatius’s night watch, even if it did look like they were using the opportunity to catch up on sleep.

  There were two hanger bay doors forward of the flight deck and both were open, subdued lighting shining out of the cramped, pipe and conduit-strewn space. Grayson knew they were a dead-end; the only access out of the hangers was by the huge roller shutter doors

  So, that’s why we’ve only seen one helicopter. Another Seahawk, with rotor blades folded back so it could fit within, nestled in the starboard hanger. The helicopter’s fuselage access panels were open and it looked to be in a state of partial disassembly. They must be cannibalizing one of the Seahawks to keep the other flying.

  Darting a look back to where he knew the guard was snoozing, Grayson made his way to one side of the hanger door where there was a hatch leading into the interior of the ship. Looking through the tiny porthole, he could see the access corridor beyond was clear and, with one more look back at the sleeping guard, he quietly un-latched the hatch and slipped inside.

  Grayson padded down the corridor, every sense stretching out to detect any crew, but other than the hum of electronics, the ship was silent. He slipped through another bulkhead door and found himself in a corridor with messes off either side.

  A hatch opened and a figure stepped out of one of the messes and looked though bleary eyes at Grayson. Grayson stopped dead in his tracks, tensing. The man muttered something inaudible and rubbed his eyes.

  “Me first,” the crewmember repeated.

  The man sleepily crossed the corridor, opened up a hatch with “head” stencilled on it, and entered.

  Grayson let out a long exhalation. Fuck me, he thought, the adrenaline coursing through his body reaching new heights pushing him into fight or flight mode. Shaking his head, he set off again, walking past the head.

  Finally, he reached the hatch and exited into the night. He found himself behind the towering bridge superstructure upon which radar domes, and communications masts speared high into the sky.

  This bit would be a little easier. He had a nice convenient ladder to climb, and was in an area of the ship that even with the bustle of regular daytime business would be deserted.

  Climbing to the top of the superstructure, he found himself at the base of the cluster of antennas and radar at the top, the eyes and ears of the deadly warship.

  Once again, he reached into his rucksack and pulled out a small package and unwrapped it. Glancing around, he found a dark, secluded area to place it, and wedged it as far out of sight as he could.

  Giving a grimly satisfied nod, he climbed back down the ladder and headed toward the side of the ship. There’s no goddamn way I’m going back through there. Grayson thought as he climbed over the railing and let himself drop into the black sea below.

  Chapter 33 – Day 14

  “It’s a fine day, Captain.” Slater smiled at her counterpart from the Atlantica.

  “That it is,” Solberg said, glancing up at the clear blue skies, not a single cloud evident above them.

  The RIM 161 was ready, and today was the day they would finally get some answers. Or that was the plan, at least.

  “Ladies and gentlemen, if you’d be so kind as to join me in the CIC.” Slater waved her hand toward the hatch leading into the superstructure.

  “May I stay on deck?” Laurie asked. “I would love to see the missile launch.”

  “Unfortunately not. The reason we have moved so far clear of the Atlantica is because of the engine wash of the missile. There would be nothing left but ash if we put you anywhere where you would actually be able to watch from, and the bridge is going to have the blinds down,” Slater replied. “If you wanted to watch the actual launch, Atlantica or the island were the places to do it, I’m afraid.”

  Slater opened the hatch and led Solberg, Kendricks, Reynolds and his disappointed daughter within, and down to the now-bustling CIC. The screens were covered with schematics of Earth and CCTV images of the launch cells.

  “Perry,” Slater walked to her executive officer’s seat. “Are we good to go?”

  “Yes, ma’am,” Donovan said as he looked at his console. The screen was filled with complicated diagrams and indecipherable-looking acronyms. “All systems are checking out.”

  “And, Mack, are you ready to cast your keen eyes over the images?”

  “Yes, ma’am. Ready and eager.” Mack grinned.

  “Good stuff. Let’s be about it then shall we?” Slater replied.

  With a grin, Donovan tapped his console. On one of the screens a graphical representation of the fore launch cells appeared and one of them began blinking red.

  “On your go, Perry.”

  “Aye ma’am. I’m ready. We’ll be launching in 10, 9, 8...”

  ***

  Along with as many of the passengers and crew who could fit on Atlantica’s deck, Jack watched the distant Ignatius, which appeared as little more than a toy.

  Leaning forward onto the railings, he checked his watch. Any time now.

  ***

  “Guys, if you want to watch, now is the time to do it,” The foreman called.

  Turning, Grayson leaned on his hoe and looked down the incline of the field to the beach and sea beyond.

  From the distant warship, a piercingly bright flash of light appeared, followed by a rumble like distant thunder. The whole ship became occluded by a cloud of smoke.

  If Grayson hadn’t known
better, he would have been surprised that the ship was still there when the cloud cleared, such was the apparent fury of the launch.

  Frowning, Grayson’s thoughts turned to the package he had deposited.

  ***

  At first, a geyser of fire erupted from the vents on the side of the launch cell with a ferocity that seemed like it would destroy the Ignatius. It appeared a volcano was erupting through the bow of the ship. A second later, the white missile itself raced out.

  There was none of the gentle, majestic rise of a space shuttle launch. The RIM 161 was designed to launch without consideration to human comforts; its job to get into space as quickly as possible.

  On a column of fire and with a deafening roar, the missile streaked skywards. The bulky Mark 72 booster on the base of the weapon burned hard to fight against the gravitational shackles of the Earth.

  Within sixty seconds, the booster burned out. The explosive bolts attaching the booster to the missile detonated and it was jettisoned. Already high above the surface, the booster began falling back toward the sea.

  ***

  “We have stage one separation, ma’am,” Donovan called excitedly. “The Mark 72 has been released cleanly. Stage two ignition is... looking good. Altitude twelve km, down range two km. She’s going pretty much straight up like she should.”

  ***

  The cloud of smoke slowly cleared, revealing the unharmed Ignatius. Grayson gave a sigh of relief. The launch didn’t look like it had caused any... unforeseen events.

  Holding his hand up to block the blazing sun, Grayson looked up at the slowly dissipating column of smoke stretching straight up into the sky.

  ***

  The stage two rocket was firing just as savagely as the stage one had, but now, without the weight of the heavy booster, the missile could actually control herself properly.

  The flight control computer checked and rechecked the path that had been programmed in for her, fighting to keep to it, even as the atmosphere started to thin out and the control surfaces at the base of the missile had less air to bite into.