Leviathan heeled to the right, almost losing the captain from her command chair. Leviathan went into such a tight turn that most modern submarines would have sheared off their planes in the fantastic stresses brought upon the hull. Soon the first line of Chinese Akulas came into view. They were in a position that was almost too perfect to believe—they had not moved one inch. They were bow-to-bow and just hovering, sitting there like three blind mice. Alexandria closed her eyes all the way and listened to the rush of water outside the glass. The music continued booming into her ears as the great submarine heeled in the opposite direction, straightening her attack angle.
Leviathan was now at one hundred knots as she straightened for her run.
“All hands, imminent collision—I repeat, imminent collision,” Samuels called over the com system, far below in the control center.
Alexandria finally opened her eyes. The massive headache was easing as the adrenalin shot through her body. Just then the dark gray silhouettes of the submarines took on a ghostly shape before her. She clenched her jaw muscles and did what had become a ritual with her: She prayed to her family for the strength she needed to do what needed to be done.
As the slicing plane protector came within feet of the first Chinese boat, her mind suddenly became clear—Samuels was right, I could have gone deep and avoided this confrontation. Her reaction to this revelation made her very nearly throw her control sticks in the opposite direction, just as the sharklike bow plane of Leviathan struck the sonar dome of the first sub in line.
Leviathan slammed into the sonar dome of the Chinese boat, shattering it like an eggshell and sending more than thirty-five men in their forward spaces to a gruesome death. Then, as Leviathan barely slowed, she hit the second sub in line; it was just a glancing blow but enough to crack her hull, sending her sliding into the depths with her power plant screaming in reverse.
Suddenly, as if a switch had been thrown inside her brain, she became aware that it was as if something had taken control of her actions. She wanted to stop this insane attack, but part of her was beyond reason as she bore down on the unsuspecting warships.
The third boat was a Russian that had heard the collision of the first and second sub in line and had started to turn toward the disturbance. The attacking Akula was only one second from launching a spread of torpedoes when she was struck amidships by Leviathan. The collision was not meant to be in that area of the Akula’s hull. Leviathan, though certainly able to withstand the blow, was still rocked as she slowed to fifty knots after the brief collision sent her rolling under the stricken submarine.
The American and the remaining submarines used that chance to defend themselves. The Russian attack boat Leviathan had just silenced snapped into two pieces and fell to the bottom of the Strait, crushing every soul onboard.
As the fourth Chinese submarine in line was struck, Captain Jefferson knew he had to find some sort of shelter. All hell was breaking loose, but for the life of him, his sonar team could not get a handle on it. It was as though the defensive line were getting rammed by an invisible ghost.
“Damn it, we’re blind as hell—what in God’s name is out there?” Jefferson said as Missouri heeled to the port side and her bow angled steeply down. “Sonar—conn. You don’t have anything on your scopes other than the destroyed subs?”
“We get a ghosting of speed on the waterfall, then a shape as a collision happens. Then nothing, Captain—we’re dealing with something that doesn’t have the same hull construction as us or anything in the world. Some kind of stealth technology. We only know there are no torpedoes in the water!”
“Damn it. Take her deeper, Izzy—deeper!”
“Fifteen degrees down plane—all-ahead flank!” his first officer called out.
“All noises have stopped, debris descending to our starboard and port beam, sound of bulkheads collapsing. We also have noise conducive to four subs going shallow—yes, the Dubrinin, Tolstoy, Peter the Great, and the Chinese boat Tzu-Tang—I think we’re all that’s left down here, Captain.”
“Damn, the last one out of the pool.”
“Captain, we can’t shoot what we can’t see or hear.”
“I know, Izzy, I know.”
Alexandria’s attempt to avoid the last collision had failed and the heavy maneuvering afterward to regain control threw Niles and the others in the now closed and watertight observation lounge. Garrison Lee went down in a heap, and Alice fell on top of him. Sarah saw an opportunity. Instead of being terrified, she had gotten angry. Virginia reacted at the same time. Tyler had fallen to a knee after the last collision and was struggling to gain his feet. At that moment he was hit simultaneously by Virginia and Sarah. Virginia went high and Sarah low, grabbing for the gun as she heard voices at the hatchway. Before she knew what was happening, several shots discharged from Tyler’s weapon. The rounds missed everyone and ricocheted off the titanium bulkheads, making loud pings as they did. Niles and Lee started to assist the women but were grabbed by other security men before they could.
“Fools!” Tyler said as he regained his feet. Then he lost his balance once more as everyone lost their footing. Before anyone could take advantage of Tyler’s predicament, several more security men had entered and leveled their weapons.
Leviathan again rolled to their right and all of them felt her accelerate. Captain Heirthall, all doubt once more removed from her actions, was aiming for the last target in the Bering Strait—USS Missouri.
USS MISSOURI (SSN-780)
“That’s it—nothing else is out there, Captain,” sonar reported.
“Damn it—where are you?” Jefferson said as he closed his eyes in thought.
Outside of Missouri’s hull, Leviathan was closing once more at seventy-five knots, aiming straight at the bow of the American boat.
Suddenly, thuds started penetrating their hull. The soundwaves were faint, but after the silence of the previous attacks, the strange noise seemed as loud as cannon fire. The BQQ sonar was also picking up another sound as the great submarine closed on them—the sound of water rushing over a rough surface.
“Captain, we have what sounds like possible gunfire and something else, a thousand yards to starboard!”
“Izzy—match bearings on that noise and shoot!”
In the control center of Leviathan, Samuels was reluctantly about to sound the collision warning for the last time for their final target.
“Commander, we are making noise, I can’t tell from where yet, but the sound is emanating from Leviathan.” The technician pushed his headphones into his ears and listened intently. “We have torpedoes in the water—we have four fish—American Mark forty-eights—they went active as soon as they left their tubes. Torpedoes have acquired Leviathan!”
“Commander, someone has discharged a weapon onboard. It has definitely affected our stealth!”
There was no response coming from the auxiliary control station in the captain’s suite at the base of the conning tower. Samuels knew he had to act.
“Hard right rudder, all-ahead flank—take her down to a thousand feet!” Samuels said as calmly as he could. “Launch countermeasures!”
Alexandria had heard the gunfire from somewhere down below. She closed her eyes as Leviathan started altering her course. She started fighting her emotions as the headache was suddenly under control. She need not contact control, knowing Samuels would do what needed doing. Her senses were draining of all input except regret at what she had done.
As she stood, she stumbled down the platform, caught herself, and then slowly walked to the large round viewing port. She tried in vain to smile, now realizing it had to have been Virginia and the people from the Event Group who had given their position away. She nodded her head as Leviathan started a run for her life. As Leviathan maneuvered and “House of the Rising Sun” went into its dramatic climax, she slammed against the glass. Alexandria slid down into a heap; she closed her eyes and her body slumped. As she slid into unconsciousness, she thought she felt
movement inside her head. Before going completely out, she wondered if she truly was insane.
Leviathan went deep. One of the Mark 48 torpedoes had locked onto the sound of the fast-moving sub. The water became disturbed with every turn of her giant bow planes and aft rudders, until the Mark 48 snapped its thin guidewire and the giant sub banked hard to starboard. The torpedo was seeing and targeting the now-roughened edges of the bow-plane titanium shields that had been warped during the ramming.
The first and second torpedo lost contact as the great submarine dived beneath the thermal layer. They went for the bubbling and frothing canisters that were ejected from the stern of Leviathan. However, unbeknownst to the men and women onboard the giant submarine, the last two American weapons had driven underneath a large section of one of the destroyed Chinese Akulas as it sank fast to the bottom. The first Mark 48 turned downward to the deck of Leviathan, slamming into her vertical launch tubes just aft of the conning tower. The second hit a glancing blow off her port side, then went straight down after its rebound and exploded just below the engineering compartment at the aft portion of Leviathan. The great submarine was rocked, first downward and then up, actually bending almost five degrees at her midsection.
The crew was thrown around in their seats. Water leaks sprang up in a thousand places. Her thermal-dynamic drive went offline, sending out a screeching alarm throughout the ship. The four nuclear power plants scrammed and shut down.
As her life’s work shuddered around her, Alexandria’s eyes fluttered open. She tried lifting herself off the carpeted deck. She failed, then tried again, finally gaining her feet. She slowly wiped blood from her lip and knew she had blood coming from her ears. She staggered to her chair and hit the intercom.
“Report, Mr. Samuels.”
“We’re still getting information, Captain. Power plants are offline and we have already switched to battery power. We have preliminary reports of casualties in engineering and three out of the six weapons rooms. We have a hull breach in engineering—no report as to the extent of damage. The hull has sustained damage from the strike and from our own ramming to the point we must be heard by enemy sonar. We cannot repair the bow planes or the damage to the vertical tube hatches until we can dry dock.”
“Very well—get Leviathan moving out past the Strait, then take us deep; three thousand feet will do. For now, plot us a course for Saboo. We’ll use the deep thermal cline to hide our noise.”
“Aye, Captain—Saboo.”
Alexandria steadied herself, then decided it was time to go and see how Compton and the others were, and congratulate them on a surprise move that she would have never guessed them capable of. As she wiped the blood that streamed from her left ear off the side of her face, she knew deep down she was grateful for her, and Leviathan’s, first-ever failure.
USS MISSOURI (SSN-780)
Captain Jefferson was in sonar listening on a set of headphones. He shook his head.
“I’m not sure, Captain, until I run the tapes back, but I think we hit her. The detonations were too far away for our fish to have struck any debris from the Akulas. After that we picked up a high-speed whine heading due south out of the Straights. We may not have caused that boat to sink, but we caused some kind of damage to her hull. We hurt her,” the supervisor in sonar said. “The Mark forty-eights had to have picked up on some previous damage to her hull after the guidewires broke. That and the damage we caused are what we heard.”
Jefferson removed his headphones, looked at First Officer Izzeringhausen, then back at the three sonar technicians. “Once the sonar recording is examined, can you find her again?”
“Unless they can dry dock whatever that thing is, yes, Captain, we can find her.”
“Look, Izzy, there’s been nothing for the past twenty minutes. Get to the surface and sweep for survivors. I want to get out of this valley of death as soon as we can go with a clear conscience. When we are up top, we need to call home and report this mess. And hopefully they’ll send us some help.”
Missouri had won a shortened fight because she threw a sucker punch just before they themselves were about to go down. Jefferson figured they had stretched their luck just about as far as they could.
PART THREE
THE BLACK QUEEN
The sea is the greatest magician of all—it hides the truth beneath miles and miles of water—it covers its real meaning with layers of depth and pressure, and will only reveal what it needs to draw men close, closer to the depths, then suddenly it wraps its cold arms around you and the real truth is finally revealed.
—Captain Octavian Heirthall
13
Sarah, Lee, Alice, Virginia, and Niles waited outside of Leviathan’s sickbay. They had been there for the past hour as the ship’s surgeon, Dr. Warren Trevor, worked on Farbeaux. The bullet had hit the Frenchman in the lower right hip, hitting nothing vital.
“I am having the hardest time figuring out Colonel Farbeaux,” Niles said, looking at his hands.
“I think it’s time I tell you something.” Sarah hesitated, and then decided just to say it outright. “The colonel is almost as insane as our good Captain Heirthall,” she said, slowly standing up and pacing in front of the small group. “He saw an opportunity when Leviathan‘s assault team attacked, and came into the complex behind them to kill Jack. He’s under the illusion that Jack killed his wife, and Farbeaux, at least I suspect, really looked at himself for the first time as an accomplice in her death. When he found out Jack was already dead, something drained from him—like he lost his only reason in life for living.”
“He focused on Jack because—?”
Sarah stopped pacing and looked at Niles. “The only thing I can figure is that he blamed Jack for making him feel human back in the Amazon, saving those students and the rest of us from that nuclear detonation. His actions since being onboard Leviathan are bordering on—well, like he’s looking to get killed. Maybe a death wish. His move on the sergeant, his open hostility to every member of the Leviathan‘s crew … it all adds up.”
The Group was silent as they thought about the intricacies of the Frenchman.
“I congratulate you on your ability to endanger Leviathan for the first time in her long existence.”
They all looked up and saw Alexandria Heirthall standing in the open doorway. Four of her security men, including Sergeant Tyler, who was sporting a white bandage around his head, flanked her. They could see the bloodstained handkerchief knotted tightly around her right hand, and the traces of blood at her left ear.
“Captain, I think it’s time we understood each other,” Niles said with dark anger edging his voice. “We are not, as you so euphemistically state it, your ‘guests.’ We are held here against our will to answer for our knowledge on just who you are. Since you have declared war on the world, must I remind you that as prisoners of that war, we have the right to attempt escape when the opportunity presents itself?”
Tyler started toward Niles with rage etched on his features, but Heirthall reached out and stayed him with just her delicate hand.
“Fair enough, Doctor, prisoners of war it is. Sergeant Tyler, please escort the prisoners to the forward observation lounge and secure them there.”
Tyler turned on Heirthall. “Captain, these people are an extreme hazard to our mission. I warned of the consequences of bringing them onboard in the first place. I must insist they either be executed or placed adrift at sea. They are—”
Heirthall turned on Tyler, placed a hand on his chest, and slammed him against the bulkhead—her actions startling everyone watching.
“You insist?” she hissed with a low menacing tone as more blood started flowing from her left ear. “Onboard Leviathan you insist on nothing! You follow command, for not only my sake but the higher order we fight for. Am I understood, Sergeant?”
Lee nodded at the flow of blood from Alexandria’s left ear, and Niles decided to use that as a reason for ending the confrontation. As crazy as Heirthall was, he kn
ew Tyler, in his cold and calculating way, would likely be a far less merciful captor.
“Captain, you’re bleeding rather severely,” Niles said.
Heirthall ignored Compton, keeping her eyes on Tyler until the large man nodded his head just once. Alexandria released him and then took a hesitant step back.
“What is going on here?” Dr. Trevor demanded as he stepped from his sickbay. Then he saw the condition of the captain and quickly stepped forward.
“Sergeant, do as you were ordered,” Heirthall said as she allowed the doctor to take her by the arm. “Dr. Compton, Colonel Farbeaux will no longer be tolerated. As soon as the doctor finishes with him and we come close to shore, he will be released.”
“Released or thrown into the sea?” Niles asked.
Alexandria wiped some of the blood from the side of her face and then turned to Compton. She looked as if she wanted to say something but only frowned, then left the waiting room with the assistance of the doctor.
Sergeant Tyler looked at the gathered group and with his cold gray eyes gave an unvoiced command. The six security men led the group out of sickbay.
“That man not only means us harm, but anyone with eyes can see he has an agenda,” Alice said.
Before they could file out of the waiting area, Dr. Trevor turned and called out. “Your friend—he will recover nicely. I removed the bullet and he’s resting comfortably,” the doctor said in his soft English accent. “Very little damage, no muscle or bone was struck.”
“Thank you—Doctor—?” Niles heard but could not say anything as a security man shoved him through the hatch.
Farbeaux looked up at Sarah and a thin smile crossed his lips. He swallowed and grimaced in pain. An hour before, Tyler had entered the observation lounge, taken Sarah by the arm, and without explanation brought her here to sickbay, telling her she had an hour with Farbeaux to explain to him his predicament. He warned that if the Frenchman gave them any more trouble, Sarah would be the one to reap the punishment. With a cold stare and menacing smile, Tyler had left her alone in sickbay with Farbeaux.
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