Dirk Pitt18-Black Wind

by Cussler, Clive

  the volatile liquid propellant through an injector into the rocket

  engine's four combustion chambers. Inside each chamber, an igniter is

  activated, detonating the propellant in what amounts to a controlled

  explosion. The exhaust from the fiery detonation, seeking the path of

  least resistance, comes blasting out of each chamber through a

  constricted nozzle at the base of the rocket. The power of thrust is

  generated by the purged exhaust, enabling the Zenit rocket to defy the

  force of gravity and lift itself off the launchpad.

  But the final three seconds of countdown are all critical. In those

  brief few seconds, onboard computer systems quickly monitor the engine

  start-up, checking propellant mixture, flow rates, ignition

  temperature, and a host of other mechanical readings affecting engine

  burn. If a significant deviation is discovered in any of the engine

  parameters, the automated control system takes over, shutting down the

  engine and scrubbing the launch. A reinitialization of the entire

  launch process is then required, which may take upward of five days

  before another launch can be attempted.

  Ling ignored the video screen of the Zenit at the launch tower and

  instead stared at a computer display of critical measurements as the

  final seconds of the launch countdown ticked toward zero. At T-1

  second, a row of green lights burst onto the screen and Ling allowed

  himself a slight breath of relief.

  "We have main engine thrust up!" he shouted aloud as the display told

  him the computers were ramping up the rocket's RD-171 engine to maximum

  launch thrust. Every eye in the room turned to the video screen as the

  propellant floodgates were opened and the fuel burst

  through the rocket's engine in a torrent. For a long second, the

  rocket sat still on the pad as the fiery exhaust burst from its

  nozzles, the flames licking the water deluge and spraying a thick cloud

  of white smoke beneath the platform. Then, with a burgeoning burst of

  power, the Zenit surged up off the pad. The launch tower clamps fell

  away as the white rocket, erupting with 1.8 million pounds of thrust,

  climbed up past the tower and into the sky with a blinding glare and

  deafening roar.

  A cheer rang through the launch control center as the engineers watched

  the Zenit rise successfully off the platform. Ling broke into a broad

  smile as the rocket climbed higher, grinning good-naturedly at Tongju.

  Kang's henchman simply nodded back in satisfaction.

  At the far side of the bay, the bespectacled engineer who monitored the

  platform continued to stare mesmerized at the video image of the rocket

  as it climbed into the crisp blue sky. Oblivious to him was the

  computation on his computer monitor, which showed that the platform

  stabilization deviation had continued to rise, creeping past fifteen

  degrees in the last seconds prior to launch.

  Fifteen feet beneath the water's surface, Pitt's ears were bleeding

  from the acoustical barrage. What started with the sound of a distant

  freight train had rumbled into the bombardment of a thousand erupting

  volcanoes as the Zenit's engine reached full thrust. The deafening

  sound, Pitt knew, was only a warning of the real savagery to come. The

  building force of the rocket's exhaust was deflected into the flame

  trench, where thousands of gallons of water dampened the inferno. The

  blasting force of the exhaust was little repressed, however, gathering

  into a steaming cloud of fury that proceeded past the deflectors to the

  open sea below the platform, where it pounded the water like a

  sledgehammer.

  Positioned almost directly beneath the launchpad, the Badger was

  pummeled like a small toy, surging twenty feet down in a blast of

  bubbles and vapor. Pitt felt as if he were trapped in a washing

  machine as the submersible was tossed violently about. The seams of

  the vessel twisted and groaned from the force of the surge and the

  interior lights flickered from the shaking. A loose battery pack

  bounced off Pitt's head, gashing his temple as the submersible nearly

  turned turtle in the bellowing turbulence. Shaking off the blow, he

  discovered a new worry when he braced a hand against the bulkhead

  during a side roll. To his surprise, the bulkhead was searing hot. He

  quickly pulled his hand away, cursing as he shook it in the air to

  cool. A sickening thought drew over him as he felt a heavy mist of

  sweat dripping down his forehead and realized the water sloshing at his

  feet was rapidly warming. The rocket's exhaust was creating a boiling

  tempest around him, which might poach him alive before the rocket

  cleared the platform.

  A second, more powerful surge stuck the submersible as the rocket's

  full thrust came to bear. The force of the current pushed the Badger

  charging through the water in a contorted angle, nearly on its side.

  Pitt clung to the controls for balance, unable to see ahead through the

  turbulent water, which offered no visibility. Had he an inkling where

  the submersible was headed, he might have braced himself for the

  impact. But the collision came without warning.

  Ripping with the surge like a raft down the Colorado River, the

  submersible tore head-on into the side of the Odyssey's flooded port

  pontoon. A metallic clap thundered through the water as the

  submersible smacked against the immovable hull. Pitt was jerked from

  the pilot's seat and flung against the forward bulkhead amid a rain of

  loosened electronic debris as the interior lights fell black and a

  series of hissing sounds erupted throughout the compartment. A

  grinding noise told Pitt that the Badger was sliding along the pontoon

  until another clang erupted and the submersible tilted over to one side

  and jerked to a sudden stop. As Pitt collected his senses, he realized

  that the submersible was wedged against the platform hull from the

  force of the rushing water, perhaps entangled in one of the pontoon's

  drive propellers. Turned on its side against the huge pontoon, there was no way

  that Pitt could open the entry hatch, dare he try to flood the interior

  and escape to the surface. With a sickening awe, he realized that if

  he wasn't soon baked alive he would face a swift death by drowning

  trapped inside the leaking submersible.

  Six thousand miles away, Kang smiled weakly as he watched a satellite

  feed of the rocket bursting off the deck of the Odyssey.

  "We have opened the genie's bottle," he said quietly to Kwan, sitting

  across his desk. "Let us hope he follows his master's wishes."

  Tongju watched intently as the Zenit climbed up past the launch tower

  with a thundering reverberation that could be felt even inside the

  bowels of the Koguryo's control center. A lingering applause still

  rang through the control center as the jubilant launch crew cheered the

  rocket's ascent. Ling afforded himself a wide smile as the computer

  display told him that the Zenit's engine was operating at full thrust.

  He peered at Tongju, who returned the glance by nodding tight-lipped in

  approval.

  "The mission is
still far from over," Ling said, visibly relieved that

  the rocket was finally under way. But the riskiest phase of the

  mission was behind them now, he knew. Once the rocket was ignited, he

  had little control, if any, over the outcome of the mission. With a

  quiet uneasiness, he settled in as a spectator to monitor the balance

  of the flight.

  From the cockpit of the Icarus, Al, Dirk, and Jack watched with dread

  as the blast of the rocket shook across the open sea. Just seconds

  before, Giordino had eased the struggling airship down onto a flat

  clearing atop Santa Barbara Island, where the relieved Sea Launch crew

  quickly jumped out of the overcrowded gondola. Captain Chris-tiano

  hesitated at the cockpit doorway, stopping to shake hands.

  "Thank you for saving my crew," Christiano said through a grim face

  pained with disgrace for losing command of the Odyssey.

  "Now that we can get airborne again, we'll make sure they don't get

  away," Dirk replied with shared anger. He then pointed out the cockpit

  windshield toward an approaching blue dot on the horizon.

  "The Deep Endeavor's on her way. Get your men down to the shoreline

  and prepare to transfer aboard."

  Christiano nodded then stepped off the gondola, leaving it empty save

  for Jack.

  "All ashore," he uttered into the cockpit.

  "Then let's get this gasbag back into the sky," Giordino grunted,

  turning the propeller ducts upward and advancing the throttles. With

  roughly eight thousand pounds of human cargo suddenly off-loaded, the

  blimp rose easily into the air. As Giordino aimed the airship back

  toward the Odyssey, their eyes collectively caught the first billows of

  smoke that indicated the launch was initiated.

  The fuming exhaust of the burning liquid oxygen and kerosene propellant

  bursting against the platform's water dampener system created a massive

  white cloud of vapor that quickly enveloped the entire platform and

  surrounding sea. For what seemed like minutes, the Zenit stood still

  at the launch tower. To the men in the airship, there was a hopeful

  moment where it appeared that the rocket was not going to leave the

  pad, but finally the tall white rocket began to rise, its blinding

  exhaust glaring like a fireball. Even a half-dozen miles across the

  water, they could hear the sharp crackling sound of the combusting fuel

  as the hot explosive thrust met the cool surrounding air, creating the

  echo of an ax ripping through a pine log.

  Though it was a powerful, almost beautiful sight, Dirk felt a sickening

  knot in his stomach as he watched the rocket ascend. The glistening

  white missile would host the most savage terrorist attack the world had

  ever seen, resulting in a horrifying death for millions. And he had

  failed to stop it. As if that was not punishment enough, he knew that

  Sarah was somewhere in the target area of Los Angeles and might very

  well be one of the strike's first victims. And then there was the fate

  of his father. Glancing forlornly at Giordino, he saw a grimace on the

  old Italian's face the likes of which he had never seen before. It was

  not a look of anger with the terrorists but an expression of concern

  for the loss of a lifelong friend. As much as Dirk did not want to

  face it, he knew that amid the noxious inferno of the rocket's blastoff

  his father was somewhere on the platform fighting for his survival, or

  worse.

  Aboard the Deep Endeavor, Summer felt the same pangs of dread swell

  through her body. Dirk had radioed the ship with news that the Sea

  Launch crew had been rescued, but also that their father was somewhere

  aboard the platform. When Delgado was the first to observe the rocket

  igniting, she thought her legs had turned to rubber.

  Grasping the captain's chair for support, she stared stoically toward

  the platform as tears welled in her eyes. All fell silent on the

  bridge around her as they watched in disbelief at the rocket as it

  surged off the launchpad. As one, their thoughts were on the fate of

  the NUMA leader, lost somewhere in the rocket's white plume of smoke.

  "It can't be," Burch muttered in shock. "It just can't be."

  Inside the Badger, the temperature was unbearable. The superheated

  metal skin created a sauna effect with the water that was rising

  inside. Pitt could feel himself on the verge of passing out from the

  heat as he clawed his way back to the tilted pilot's seat. A handful

  of lights still blinked on the control panel, indicating that the

  emergency life-support system still had power, but the propulsion

  systems were long expired. Though his body was numb from the heat, his

  mind quickly calculated that he had one chance to break free from the

  grip of the pontoon. Through sweat-laden eyes, he reached forward and

  mashed a control button market ballast pump. Then, grasping the

  control yoke, he flung himself backward into the rising water, using

  his full weight and remaining strength to yank the sub's rudder against

  the burgeoning current. The rudder blade protested at first, then

  swung slowly against the rushing water, fighting against Pitt's every

  movement. With muscles aching and spots appearing before his eyes,

  Pitt clung desperately to the yoke, fighting not to pass out. For a

  second, nothing happened. All Pitt could hear was the

  churning torrent of the water rushing against the sub, while the

  temperature inside continued to rise. Then, almost imperceptibly, a

  grinding noise struck his ears. Gradually, the noise grew louder,

  matching the sound he had heard before. A faint smile crossed Pitt's

  lips as he fought to maintain consciousness. Hang on, he told himself,

  gripping the yoke tightly. Just hang on.

  An eagle-eyed flight engineer, standing on a rocky hilltop of Santa

  Barbara Island amid his stunned Sea Launch colleagues, was the first to

  detect it. A subtle, almost invisible waggle at the base of the rocket

  as it cleared the launch tower.

  "She's oscillating," he said aloud.

  His surrounding crewmates, exhausted and stunned by the entire ordeal,

  ignored his words and watched in angry disbelief as somebody else

  launched their rocket from their platform. But as the rocket climbed

  higher and higher into the sky, more of the experienced launch veterans

  detected something amiss with the flight trajectory. At first, just a

  murmur rippled through the assembled crew; then, an excited buzz jolted

  the men like an electric shock. One man started to yell, cursing at

  the rocket to burst, and then another followed suit. Before long, the

  entire crew was jumping up and down while shouting at the soaring

  rocket, cajoling the mechanical beast like some last-dollar bettors

  urging a long-shot nag to the wire at Pimlico.

  On board the Koguryo, the excitement of the launch had yet to wane when

  a seated flight engineer turned to Ling and said, "Sir, the Stage One

  engine indicates an active gimbaling beyond nominal flight plan

  parameters."

  The Zenit-3SL, like most modern rockets, was steered in flight by

  adjusting, or gimbaling, the launch vehicle's engine, redi
recting its

  thrust to govern the rocket's heading. As Ling was aware, the initial

  launch sequence called for no gimbaling until the rocket was in a

  stabilized climb, then the navigation system would initiate slight

  steering adjustments to guide the rocket toward the target. Only an

  undetected imbalance would create an immediate steering correction from

  launch.

  Ling walked over to the engineer's station and peered at the man's

  computer monitor. His mouth fell open as he saw that the rocket's

  engine was gimbaled to its maximum degree. He watched in silence as, a

  second later, the engine adjusted back to its neutral position, then

  gimbaled to the full extent in the opposite direction. Almost

  immediately, the whole cycle started over again. Ling immediately

  surmised the cause.

  "Choi, what was the launchpad horizontal deviation at T-0?" he shouted

  to the platform engineer.

  The engineer looked back sheepishly at Ling and uttered in a barely

  audible voice, "Sixteen degrees."

  "No!" Ling gasped in a raspy voice as his eyes scrunched closed in a

  panic of disbelief. The color rushed from Ling's face and he felt

  himself grasping the computer monitor to steady his suddenly weakening

  knees. With dire foresight, he slowly opened his eyes and stared at

  the video screen of the charging rocket, waiting for the inevitable.

  Pitt had no way of knowing the impact from his frenetic hole drilling.

  But the dozens of gouges poked into the side of the support columns had

  opened up a flood of incoming seawater that quickly overpowered the

  Odyssey's ballast pumps. With the automated controls set to maintain

  the prescribed launch depth, the incoming water collected in the rear

  support columns and tugged the platform down by its aft side. Firing

  off the platform, the Zenit rocket was over fifteen degrees off

  vertical center as it left the launchpad and immediately tried to