“The damage to the wing has damaged the mechanism.”
Maria gasped, and Kyle stared straight at his father. He could tell his mind was in full military mode. Landon reached up and pulled on a dark-red strap that was the secondary release. Nothing happened. Landon exhaled and shut his eyes as if to pray. A moment later he unbuckled and unlocked the door back to the ship.
“What are you doing, Pop?”
“There’s a tertiary way to eject, but I have to activate the explosive device from inside the ship.
“No!” Kyle yelled, starting to unbuckle.
Landon pushed his son back into the pod with a strength that impressed Kyle. “Focus, son. Your wife and my grandson.” He stepped into the galley kitchen, and before he closed the door he said, “Never forget how much I love you, Kyle.”
The closing of the thick metal door cut off Kyle’s scream. Through a small glass window, Kyle watched as Landon reached above the door, opened a panel, and pulled hard on a red lever.
Chapter Thirty-Two
Gulf of Mexico 2043
Josiah stood, arms behind his back, staring at the large control room vid screen the same way he’d done dozens of times prior. This time the screen showed destroyer-class ships a few miles out forming a circle around the Atoll. Jets flew overhead so low that the control room shook. Clarke, Rick, Jane, and Agape stood in back, along with a myriad of other technicians running computers.
“Activate the shields,” Josiah said.
There was a hum as a blue-tinted shield appeared around the oil rig. Two jets veered off just before running into the visible shield. Behind Josiah, people clapped, but he stayed focused on the readouts appearing on different screens. Everything was operating within normal ranges.
A moment later a red alert sounded. Ships had launched rockets at the complex. Josiah stared up at the tall metal ceiling. Not saying a specific prayer but more of emotion. A feeling of trust.
A voice cried out, “Incoming in five, four, three, two.”
There was a loud thump and the entire rig shook. The main screen showed an area of the blue shield covered with a fiery explosion. Long seconds passed before the flame and smoke dissipated, leaving the shield glowing like a cobalt beacon. There was loud applause.
More rockets fired, and time after time the shields held. Josiah checked readouts, screens, and programs to confirm everything was at optimal condition. The shielding power dropped to eighty-seven percent at one point but rebounded within twenty seconds back to full capacity.
Josiah nodded across the com center to Clarke. “It’s time.”
Clarke went over to an empty control panel and used both hands to lower a forearm-sized metal lever down. A reverberating siren started to honk, along with flashing red lights.
“What’s happening?” someone shouted.
Rick stood up on a desk so everyone could see him and shouted over the sound, “Our shielding works, but we can’t stay in a stationary spot for people to use as target practice. Our shielding can’t withstand that amount of firepower forever.” As confused expressions started to turn to fear, Rick held up his hands. “We’re going mobile.” He added, “We’re built on a fixed platform, and Atoll’s going to break from its foundations, so hold on to something.”
Everyone did as they were instructed. Muffled explosions resounded. On the vid screen, underwater cameras showed the oil rig’s pylons crumpling in a controlled demolition. Gasps from the crowd made Josiah more stoic. It had to work. God would not have given him these secrets only to let it fail. The attacks stopped, and the destroyers floated like small toys in a bathtub compared to the giant city in front of them.
“Let’s move out.”
Rick nodded and proceeded to punch a few keys at a terminal. There was a shudder and then people gasped as it started to move.
Clarke came up to shake Josiah’s hand. “Well done.”
Josiah pointed up. “Don’t look at me. This technology is a century ahead of the rest of the world.”
Clarke reallocated the congratulations. “Praise God.”
Josiah picked up a wired microphone off the desk and clicked on the toggle switch. “Attention.” His voice resounded throughout the complex. “This is Josiah Saunders. What you feel is the complex moving. I had not mentioned this earlier as I was unsure the technology was ready, but as they say, necessity is the mother of invention. Please find a place to be comfortable. And please rest. There is no need for concern. We are now mobile.”
For the next week, the Atoll was periodically attacked by US and UN naval ships, along with air assaults probing to see if they could find weaknesses. There would be a cluster of missiles, then nothing. A torpedo from a sub an hour later, then nothing. Each time the shielding held.
Throughout this time, construction on the crystal buildings continued. The permanent desalination plant was finished as well as the main medical facility. Josiah continued to live in the command center, monitoring shielding and propulsion. Rick found him late one night working on formulas at a terminal. Next to him was an open Bible with handwritten notes scribbled in the white space. On the floor was a sleeping bag and a pillow, along with a water bottle and an empty bag of beef jerky.
“Talk to me, boss?”
“We need to shake the ships trailing us.”
Rick turned the Bible to see what was circled. He read out loud, “'In the six hundredth year of Noah's life, in the second month, the seventeenth day of the month, the same day were all the fountains of the great deep broken up, and the windows of heaven were opened.'“ He paused before asking, “Why that passage?”
“In my opinion, that was the worst part of the flood. The nuclear bomb, if you will, that killed off most life. I need to find some destructive natural force like that to help us.”
“What are you thinking?”
“I’m going to take us south of Cape Horn into an area called the Drake Passage. It has some of the worst weather and ocean conditions on the planet. Our force field will block the rough seas and weather, but the ships tailing us won’t like it.”
“Don’t you think some of those larger destroyers might be able to stay with us?”
“There’s a cyclone forming which will make the area impossible to pass. It’s the closest conditions I can find to the fountains of the deep breaking open.”
“Are you sure our shields can handle it?”
“According to my calculations, I think so.” He paused, then changed his statement. “I hope so.”
For two days, the UN and US warships trailed the shielded Atoll as it traveled south, periodically firing rounds and flying by the citadels. As they rounded Cape Horn and headed into the Drake Passage, most of the ships tailing them turned back, but three of the larger ones followed them into the stormy seas.
Days blurred into around-the-clock shifts for Josiah and Rick, who ran most of the Atoll’s computer systems. Clarke helped bring all the new engineers and scientists up to speed. Many of them were top intellects in their fields, and yet none of them could understand how Josiah had come up with the Atoll and it’s shielding. Because of this ethereal aura, Josiah had become a de facto religious leader to the residents of the Atoll. Ironically, he knew the Bible less than most Christians, but he would match his childlike faith against anyone’s.
Alone he would sometimes shake his head at the mathematical miracles that kept him alive and led to his salvation. He should be dead multiple times over. Instead, his wretched life was spared to show the world that miracles still existed. Each day he grasped the paradox that was God’s Grace a little more.
Of the three battleships that followed the Atoll into the Drake Passage, one paid for its folly. The other two were made impotent, using all their resources just to stay afloat. Between the weather conditions and bombs dropped from the safety of high-altitude aircraft, the Atoll's shields struggled to keep up with the assault. One evening, Josiah was forced to test the shielding in a way that had only been done in simulations.
<
br /> Technicians and computer programmers filled the control room. Clarke, Faith, Agape, Rick, and all the people he had grown to love were there. He was so proud of them and thankful to have them in his life. Josiah started to say something, but tears replaced the words. He wiped his face with his shirtsleeve. He whispered the line from Genesis that haunted him long ago. “Let there be a firmament in the midst of the waters, and let it divide the waters from the waters.”
Rick said, “Ready when you are boss.”
Josiah took a breath before he said, “Let’s dive.”
Chapter Thirty-Three
Off the West Coast of New America 2077
There was a muffled explosion, then a lurch to the port as the pod ejected out of the ship. Landon’s heart was lightened the same way as the ship’s payload. Kyle was going to live. God was good.
Instinct took over and he sprinted toward the cockpit.
Nova called out from various speakers along the way.
“What is the plan?”
“I thought I told you to port your AI over to the pod.”
“There was a malfunction.”
She was stubborn, just like the woman who had programmed her. “ETA on incoming bogey?”
“Twenty seconds.”
He reached the cockpit, jumped into the open exoskeleton, and unfurled his hood. The armor wrapped around him like a glove. He clipped on the utility belt and activated the personal shielding the suit offered. A moment later the rocket hit the aft end of the ship. The explosion and crunch of metal were louder than anything he had ever heard. Flames and smoke engulfed him as the ship flipped end over end. Landon was tossed about like laundry in a washing machine. The suit protected him from physical harm, but he fought against confusion and nausea. Nova’s filters started to evacuate the cockpit of smoke, and fire suppression systems attacked the flames.
Landon slammed into the science center before being thrown into the ceiling, then the far wall. Each hit would have killed him were he not in the exoskeleton with the shielding active. The momentum carrying the ship failed, and the spinning piece of metal started to drop. Equipment tore off from the walls and chased him around the cockpit.
“Nova!”
No control lights were on to signify she had power. The ship continued to tumble straight down, picking up speed.
“Nova, I need the emergency chute deployed.”
Nova didn’t respond. The ship continued to flip but in slower circles. There was no way he could make it over to the dash to deploy the safety parachute. He would hit the ocean at terminal velocity and would splatter inside the exoskeleton like an egg. It would be painful but quick.
The captain’s chair flew into the science center, and the entire bank of computers and gear fell on top of his leg. Landon felt the exoskeleton’s shields give way. The actual exoskeleton now took the brunt of the weight. The ship no longer flipped, and he was trapped under the equipment.
The lights in the cockpit fluttered. “Landon,” was all Nova said, but this time it sounded like Lara’s voice. He reached out toward the cockpit dash, tears blurring his vision.
Was his wife there to take him to eternity?
He was ready.
A few seconds passed and there was a muffled explosion, then a loud pop and the ship seemed to stop in midair as the chute deployed.
Somehow, Nova did it.
The ship slowed, and the violent tempest of fire, smoke, and chaos was replaced with the lull of a cradle-like rocking from the emergency chute. The exoskeleton had little power left in it from damage to its components, but it owed him nothing. He activated the suit's shutdown mode, and the metal pieces rolled back over his head and the suit loosened up. Without power the suit was pushed aside like slack medieval chain mail armor. The problem was his cybernetic leg was still pinned under the gear. The weight of the equipment had bent the exoskeleton and the cybernetic leg. Had it been his other leg, the bone would have been crushed beyond recognition. He extended his battle staff and tried to pry it under the small space between the equipment and the cockpit floor, using the metal leg as a fulcrum, but it didn’t move. Dark blue filled the cockpit windshield as a reminder that the ship was over the Pacific Ocean.
Nova splashed down on the surface of the sea. Water poured in through holes in the cockpit. Within seconds there was a few inches inside the space. Landon made sure to activate a homing beacon on the data pad still attached to the exoskeleton. A popping noise indicated the ship’s circuits had shorted out from coming in contact with seawater. The door at the back of the cockpit fell away, revealing the tail two-thirds of the ship had been blown clean off. Had the rocket taken any more of the ship, it would have taken the safety chute with it.
Cool water now poured in, and the ship started to sink. Landon took out his rebreather from the utility belt and stuck it in his mouth. He tried to detach the cybernetic leg from its magnetic link in his shinbone, but it was fried. The magnetized portion in his shinbone that connected to the leg was warm, indicated that it had grafted onto the appendage. The fake leg was anchoring him to the ship as it sunk.
A glint of metal showed the fixed-blade knife still attached to the outside of his boot. He pulled it out and jammed it into the space where his shinbone met his cybernetic leg. He cut through material and some flesh as he tried to dig into the implant. The water reached his neck. The knife bent, then snapped in half, unable to separate the cybernetic leg.
The cockpit lurched to the right and went vertical due to an air bubble in the compartment. The equipment pinning Landon down shifted with the ship and tore the cybernetic leg off, pulling with it the metallic implant in Landon’s shinbone. The pain felt like his leg was on fire. He bit down on the rebreather and screamed. Using his one good leg and his arms, Landon swam down toward the door at the back of the cockpit. The small air pocket near the windshield kept the cockpit buoyant. Beneath him was the darkness of the abyss.
Landon used the broken part of the knife to pry open a drive next to the doorway and pull out a small disk, which he put into his breast pocket. Nova was a machine, but she was more than that to him. This disk had captured her AI. The rebreather chirped it was running low on air. Landon’s heavy breathing drained the piece of equipment. He took one last look at the shattered cockpit before he swam down and out the door. Once free of the ship, he inflated the two floatation packs built into the shoulders of his military shirt. The small airbags deployed, and he rose up as the broken ship passed him in a slow descent into the abyss.
The surface of the ocean was rough. The air packs just kept Landon afloat. He had no safety raft, and his data pad and utility belt had gone down in the ship. He had no way to know if his signal got out. The military uniform helped maintain body temperature for a period of time in water, but within a couple of hours hypothermia would set in. He tied off the dangling pant leg under his shinbone to help seal up the uniform, keeping warmth in and blood from his leg from spilling out into the sea. Sharks could smell a drop of blood a mile away.
He had faced so much danger and death lately. It was ironic that he would die alone at sea, but in some way he had peace. The mission was complete, Kyle was safe. The adrenaline he’d been running on for so long had gone and in its place was exhaustion like he had never felt before. The waves picked up and tossed him back and forth like they were playing catch. Every once in a while he’d have to kick with his good foot to supplement the small airbags keeping him afloat.
He took the rebreather out. “Lord, I don’t deserve any more blessings or miracles.” He paused to spit out water. “But I’m here if you want to toss one my way.”
For an hour he fought to stay conscious and afloat. It was cold and it took energy to just keep his eyes open. His training pushed him to stay awake, and willpower would give him more time, but he let his eyes close. He was tired and wanted to go home. He wanted to see Lara.
His final prayer was a simple thank you. Kyle was safe. God was good.
Above, static
filled the air. There was pressure and a buzzing, almost humming noise overhead. Before it de-cloaked, he knew it was a Halo. The small transport looked like a hybrid jet and helicopter but with no rotor. Unlike Nova who could go under water, fly in the air and into space, the Halo could only go underwater and in the air.
He stared at the aircraft, but his gaze went beyond the man-made machine. “More than I deserve,” he whispered.
A mechanical arm lowered, and Landon went limp knowing it would make the pickup easier for the computer to grab him. The thick, dull metal claws closed around him like an adult would pick up an infant. The three tendrils clicked together and the arm rose up toward the Halo. His exhaustion was now sprinkled with hope, and with it returned his human survival needs. He was hungry and thirsty. Within moments he lay sprawled out in the small cargo bay. Jump seats lined both sides. He saw a couple of soldiers, Maria, the boy, and Jane, but no Kyle.
“My son?” Landon pleaded.
“I’m here, Pop,” came his voice.
Kyle approached from the direction of the cockpit. Landon grasped his son’s hand and kissed it. Kyle tried to pull away but Landon held tight. “Pop, I need my hand to work on you.”
“I’m fine. Just let me hold you a bit longer to know you’re real.” He was crying now.
Jane came over and pried Landon’s hand from Kyle, replacing it with her own. “It’s okay, we’re all here.”
Landon’s tears turned to wails as the horrors he went through to rescue his son replayed in his mind. From escaping the Atoll prison and breaking through the shields, to fighting the serpent in the sewer system, to finding Kyle just before the city of New Sacramento burned to the ground. It was mathematically impossible that he accomplished this. No, it wasn’t. Nothing was impossible for God. He had not spared His only son, but made a point to spare Landon’s. It was as if Landon fully understood the cross of Christ for the first time.
Mission Trip_Genesis and Exodus Page 20
