by Bob Mayer
SS SAROV, STRAIT OF JUAN DE FUCA
“We can use Poseidon to help mankind,” the Captain told Volkov and Vladimir. “The aliens have their own doomsday device in the ocean not far from here. It is much more powerful and dangerous than ours. It really will be the end of the world. We must destroy it.”
“You’re lying!” Vladimir waved the gun about. “It is an American trick to save their submarine base.”
The Captain noted that Volkov’s hand was no longer hovering over the detonator.
“Why would I lie about this?” the Captain said. “Between the aliens and a virus, almost everyone in the world is dead. The American naval base is of no significance. What is important is we save the planet for the survivors.”
“Who is telling you this?” Vladimir demanded.
PUGET SOUND
Nosferatu was flying the helicopter and relaying messages and information between Asha and the Russian Captain. He had the aircraft low over Puget Sound, flying north, with Seattle to the right and Bainbridge Island to the left.
During a break in his translating, Nekhbet spoke over the intercom as she realized where they were headed. “Why are we going back to that place?”
STRAIT OF JUAN DE FUCA
Turcotte spotted the Russian submarine on the surface as he flew through the Strait. He stopped the Fynbar. Checked to make sure the Tesla cannon was charged.
Sofia?
Yes?
Will the Russians do what is needed?
SS SAROV
“It is an American trick,” Vladimir insisted.
“I am done with you,” the Captain said. He looked at the sailors in the control center. “Men?” He noted a person in the very rear. “And woman?”
Surprisingly, Tasha came forward, pushing through her comrades. She was small, always a good thing on a sub, just over five feet tall, and slender. She walked toward Volkov. The rest of the crew massed behind her in support.
“Stop!” Vladimir pointed the gun at her head.
Tasha didn’t stop nor did she reply. She reached Volkov, the control center crew at her back, and took the detonator from his hand.
She turned to face the Captain. “Sir?” She held the detonator out.
“Lock them up,” the Captain ordered.
Vladimir lowered the gun as sailors grabbed him and Volkov and dragged them from the control center. “Thank you,” he added as he took the remote from her. “Well done, sailor.”
He assumed his position in the middle of the room. “We have a target for Poseidon. It is not far from here. It is our duty to the human race.” He went to the helm. “All possible speed, head toward open ocean. Once we clear the Strait, I will give you the coordinates.”
FYNBAR
The Russians will do their part Sofia whispered to Turcotte.
He noted that the submarine was underway, steaming toward the open ocean, the bow throwing up a large wave.
A few seconds later Asha confirmed that via the flexpad as it came alive. “The Russian Captain has agreed to fire his doomsday device against the Swarm warship.”
“Whoa!” Turcotte said. “What is his doomsday device?”
An image appeared on the flexpad labeled POSEIDON. At first Turcotte thought it was a missile, but then he realized it was a torpedo. A large one.
“A one hundred megaton nuclear warhead salted with Cobalt-60,” Asha said.
“What will that do on the fault line?”
“Vaporize the hadesarchaea,” Asha said. “There might be some secondary effects along the fault line, but its better than allowing the entire planet to become unstable. The Cobalt is a good addition to kill the hadesarchaea. It will cause ecological fallout in the Pacific, but better than the alternative. The fallout should be limited at that depth.”
“How far are the Russians from the target?” Turcotte asked. “When will they launch?” He noted that the submarine was diving, the bow plowing underwater.
“From what I understand, they plan on launching Poseidon as soon as they clear the Strait of Juan de Fuca.” There was a pause, then Asha was back. “The situation is a little confusing on the submarine. The Russian Captain has a favor to ask of you.”
SS SAROV, STRAIT OF JUAN DE FUCA
“Tasha,” the Captain said. “Come with me.”
The submarine was thrumming with the engines at max speed. The control center was subdued as the inevitability of their fate settled in to each man.
The Captain went forward to the next compartment, closing the hatch behind Tasha.
“Thank you for your bravery,” the Captain said.
“I was doing my duty, sir.”
“I told high command that adding women to a crew was a good idea,” the Captain said. “You have justified that belief. Who is your boyfriend?”
Tasha hesitated.
“Quickly,” the Captain said. “Time is of the essence.”
She told him.
The Captain pressed the intercom and called for that man to come to this chamber. When the sailor arrived, the Captain indicated the hatch in the ceiling. “Both of you. In there. Now.”
Tasha was confused. “But, sir, that is the escape pod.”
“Exactly,” the Captain said. “Get in. That is an order.”
The two Russian sailors climbed the ladder into the pod.
Tasha leaned over, looking down. “But, sir, this—“
She was cut off by the hatch closing via the Captain pressing a button. He then vented the chamber around the pod, equalizing pressure. When the light went green, he hit the release.
On the upper deck of the Sarov a hatch blew off and the escape pod popped out.
The Sarov went deeper and faster.
*****
Turcotte realized the pain in his head was significantly less. Not gone, but less intrusive. He checked the look up display. The Swarm Battle Core was to the east. Stationery.
He spotted the pod as it broke the surface. He was getting used to attaching things to the Fynbar and this one didn’t require putting on the TASC-suit and depressurizing the spaceship. He hovered over the pod, then opened the top hatch. He had a couple of spare lines from when they’d towed the ruby sphere back from Mars.
He tossed one over the side and looked down. The hatch on top of the escape pod was open and, surprisingly, a young woman was looking up. Turcotte gestured for her to hook the line to a lift point on the pod.
She was a quick study as she attached it.
Turcotte then gestured for her to get back inside and to secure the hatch.
She did so. He climbed back in the Fynbar.
Paused as the pain in his head skipped a beat.
The Core. He looked at the up display. The Swarm Battle Core was breaking orbit.
PAINE FIELD, EVERETT WASHINGTON
“Did you save the world?” Nekhbet asked.
“I assisted,” Nosferatu said, “although the world is not yet saved. Finishing that task has been handed off to others. But some things are inevitable.”
“Don’t you think everything’s rather futile given that?” Nekhbet asked, pointing up at the Swarm Battle Core. The two of them were at Paine Field, where they’d followed the virologist who’d stolen the Danse. It was from here the planes were launched that spread the Danse around the world.
“Did I ever tell you about the time I met H.G. Wells?”
“Oh, not a story.”
“He was quite the ladies man,” Nosferatu said. “His wife allowed him to freely partake of a number of women who entered his orbit.”
“Do you have a point?” Nekhbet asked. “Maybe his wife preferred not to do the chore herself.”
They were standing in the open hangar door in the massive Assembly Building at the Boeing Plant, the largest building in the world. The space behind them was empty, all the planes having been sent around the world to spread the Danse, part of Mrs. Parrish’s Strategy.
“Do you know why I allowed the planes to leave here?” Nosferatu asked
.
“I asked you that before we went into that damned tube,” Nekhbet said. “You were most vague, as you tend to be at times.”
“That brings me back to H.G. Wells,” Nosferatu said. “Some consider him the father of the science fiction novel with his classic tales such The Time Machine, The Invisible Man and others, although I believe that honor belongs to Jules Verne who predated him.”
“The point?”
“Mister Wells wrote a story just after I happened upon his acquaintance in England,” Nosferatu said. “War of the Worlds. I like to think I might have contributed in some small manner because I described to him some of my experiences during the Black Death.”
Nekhbet was surprised. “You told him your real nature?”
“Of course not,” Nosferatu said. “Well, not H.G. Wells. Bram Stoker is another matter and another story.”
They both noted the Fynbar approaching, a pod dangling below it.
“The point of your story?” Nekhbet was exasperated.
Nosferatu stared at her, raising an eyebrow, challenging.
“’War of the Worlds’?” Nekhbet mused as Turcotte brought the pod to a gentle landing in front of them. There was Cyrillic writing on the exterior.
“Ah!” Nekhbet said. “Sometimes your stories add up. What you told me of Vampyr when he was Vlad the Impaler and the brutal decision he made in order to save his kingdom. And H.G. Wells. That explains your decision with the Danse.” She looked up at the Core. “It appears to be departing.”
Nosferatu nodded. “It does, doesn’t it?”
STRAIT OF JUAN DE FUCA
Turcotte detached the escape pod and landed the Fynbar. However he didn’t open the hatch. He picked up the flexpad and signaled Nosferatu and Asha.
“What is the status of the virus?” Turcotte asked.
“It’s burned through,” Nosferatu responded. He was walking forward, dark cloak wrapped around him, hood up, wrap around sunglasses hiding his eyes. “It’s safe out here.
“How do you know?” Turcotte asked.
“Before I killed him, I interrogated the virologist who packaged it.” He repeated what he’d told Nekhbet.
“You’re sure?” Turcotte said when he was done.
“Yes.”
Turcotte put the flexpad aside and opened the hatch. He stepped out and greeted Nosferatu. “I never expected to see you again.”
Nosferatu smiled, revealing perfectly white teeth. “Such a cheery salutation. It is good to see you too.”
They both turned as the hatch clanged open on the Sarov’s escape pod. A small woman and a young man in Russian naval attire exited, looking extremely confused.
Turcotte abruptly looked up. “I’ve got to go.”
Nosferatu followed his gaze. “Is it leaving?”
Turcotte frowned. “I don’t know. Something strange is happening. I’ve got to see.”
“What can you do?” Nosferatu asked, but he noticed Nekhbet sidling toward the two young Russians and that didn’t forebode well.
“I don’t know,” Turcotte repeated. He put his hand out. “Until we meet again.” Then he ran to the Fynbar and was airborne.
SS SAROV
“Time to target?” the Captain asked. The Sarov was clear of the Strait and in the Pacific Ocean. Heading due west.
“Fourteen minutes,” the XO responded.
“Is that device Volkov rigged real?” the Captain inquired, pointing at the box with the button resting on the chart table.
“Yes, sir,” the XO said.
“Any delay once the button is hit?”
“No, sir,” the XO replied. “Detonation will be instantaneous.”
“At least he did us that favor,” the Captain said.
SOLAR SYSTEM
The undocked scouts and warships received their instructions. They headed for interstellar space.
*****
On the Core, the ghost of Darlene’s mind, a tenuous, tiny, human consciousness riding in an alien consciousness, understood what had been decided.
She welcomed it.
PAINE FIELD, PUGET SOUND
Nosferatu stepped between Nekhbet and the two Russians. “Welcome, my friends,” he said in their language. “I am Nosferatu and this lovely lady is my companion, Nekhbet.”
“I’m hungry,” Nekhbet hissed to him.
“You’re always hungry,” Nosferatu reminded her.
THE FACILITY
Asha stared at the screen of her flexpad. Both Turcotte and Nosferatu were off line. Ethos was still down, but the subroutine was active. However, that had limited reach, essentially just the Facility and the surrounding area.
The rest of the world appeared to be electronically dead.
She was startled when Sofia spoke from behind her. “Turcotte is in space. He’s heading for the Core.”
“Why?” Asha asked.
“To see the end,” Sofia said.
“And what is that?”
Sofia looked at her with eyes that were much too mature for her age. “We won’t know until he sees it.”
THE FYNBAR
Tracking the Core was simple. Follow the planet-sized spaceship.
At first Turcotte wasn’t quite sure what direction the Core was heading. Orientation in space isn’t easy and despite having more time piloting a spacecraft than anyone else from his planet, he was still a relative novice. He missed Yakov in the co-pilots seat and his navigational skills. More so, he missed the Russian’s steadying presence.
Turcotte had noticed warships and scouts racing away, dots disappearing against the darkness of space, outbound from the Solar System. Which was odd since none of them possessed FTLT. Where were they going?
Darlene? Turcotte tried.
There was nothing, but he felt a trace of her in his mind. A presence that was dissipating.
Despite the difficulty of staying oriented, the Core’s trajectory soon became apparent.
Turcotte let go of the controls.
Darlene?
Still nothing. But she was out there. She’d given all.
Darlene. You will be remembered.
Then Turcotte felt the presence of the Metabols.
She will be remembered.
THE FACILITY
“What is happening?” Asha asked Sofia.
But the Metabol ignored her and walked outside, into the town square of the Facility where the rest of the Metabols were gathering.
“What’s going on?” Joseph asked, coming up to Asha.
Asha checked her flexpad. “Something to do with Darlene.” She called Turcotte. “What is going on? Do you have contact with Darlene?”
“Watch,” Turcotte responded and the screen showed the view from the Fynbar of the Core heading for the sun.
SS SAROV
“Depth at target?” the Captain asked.
The XO was looking at the chart, carefully avoiding the detonator. He read off depth.
“A smidge beyond our rated capability,” the Captain understated.
“Yes, sir,” the XO acknowledged. He checked his watch. “We’re five minutes out.”
The Captain walked around the control center, lying a comforting hand on the shoulder of each sailor and whispering something, then moving on to the next.
“Three minutes,” the XO announced. He paused. “Sir?”
“Yes?”
“It’s been an honor to serve with you.”
“Prepare for a hard dive,” the Captain announced. He took the microphone and addressed the entire crew. “Gentlemen, I have never been prouder of any crew. You are brave men and you have served not only Mother Russia, but all of mankind. We are saving the planet from destruction. There can be no greater calling.” He released the transmit, then ordered: “Hard dive!”
The bow planes at the front of the Sarov went to maximum deflection and the nose of the submarine plowed down, toward the crushing darkness of the depths of the Cascadia Subduction Zone.
THE FYNBAR
The Core was accelerating. Directly toward the sun. Very fast, easily outdistancing Turcotte.
Turcotte stopped the Fynbar not far from Earth. He watched the dark alien orb silhouetted by the sun’s brightness.
SS SAROV
The XO was reading off the depth, but the Captain sliced his hand, indicating there was no need. It didn’t matter any more.
Everyone was either strapped in to a seat or holding on tight since the deck was tilted at 50 degrees. The engines were at max thrust, pushing the Sarov deeper, faster, an unheard of maneuver for a submarine.
The first creaking metal noises announced they were approaching crush depth. At this velocity they’d be to it fast.
The Captain slammed his hand on the button. For a moment there was nothing. The Captain worried that Volkov had actually disarmed Poseidon even though the system had checked out.
That worry was obliterated as the 100-megaton warhead incinerated the Sarov and all on board.
The heat from the explosion, equivalent to that of a star, also wiped out the Swarm warship and most of the hadesarchaea. It blasted the sediment and the surrounding rock, opening a chamber over a half mile wide. The entire area was thoroughly seeded with Cobalt-60, effectively killing any surviving hadesarchaea; and all other living creatures within miles.
Given the depth of the event, there was no waterspout, which was fortunate as previous underwater nuclear tests had proven that a waterspout laced the air with radioactive moisture. However, there was a massive upsurge bubble over three miles across on the surface.
The closest land, the west coast of the Olympic Peninsula was the first to get hit. As the power approached, the shallower water built up a tsunami. The wave rose, higher and higher. By the time it made landfall it was over a thousand feet high. It smashed ashore wiping out everything in its path.
