Quantum Storms - Aaron Seven

by Dennis Chamberland

  Seven then shared the story of the survivors at Dutch Harbor and that he had promised them safe passage to Pacifica on the Leviathan at the earliest opportunity.

  “I’m guessing that the Leviathan should’ve left by now and be in transit to or from. I can’t imagine she’s already returned.”

  “Hmmm…” Legend responded. “That makes this more problematic.”

  “Why?”

  “Because if the Chicoms know the colony’s only protection isn’t around, then they’d have a free ride to pull up to the front door and demand entry at any time. Yet they’re merely circling. But if they don’t know when the Leviathan will return, then they may be acting in caution – even lookin’ for him. If the Leviathan’s schedule’s suddenly become unpredictable, then I don’t know what they may do.”

  “What else?” Seven asked.

  “Well, there’s one other possibility. If the Chicom somehow missed the Leviathan’s departure, then they may be simply waiting for it to resume its previous duty schedule. If that’s so, then the Chicom skipper’s probably gonna be going away for a few days until the Leviathan’s safely back home. If that’s the case, then I’d be totally surprised if he came back around the other side of that circle. You see, he not only wants Pacifica , but the Leviathan as well. He’d be a total fool to sink her unless he had no other choice. With the Leviathan, he can capture not only the jewel of what remains of the civilized earth, he’ll also own his very own nuclear navy. And all he has to do is wait till she comes back home and powers down the plant. I can almost guarantee you that within an hour of the Leviathan’s return to base, the Chicom sub will be back in its orbit, watching Pacifica , preparing for the inevitable strike.”

  “Inevitable?” Seven asked, almost disbelieving.

  “Yep, inevitable. Our task is to get to Pacifica as quickly as we can, and radically change the Leviathan’s schedule. That should put the Chicom skipper in something of a quandary and delay the invasion.”

  “Or speed it up,” Seven responded.

  “Yeah, it could. If the Chicom feels he’s been noticed, it could force his hand. So, here’s the deal,” Legend said, eyeing the plot carefully. “We’ll maintain speed and heading. If the Chicom shows back up on the circle here, we’ve no other choice but to come to all stop and wait. The worst thing that can happen is if she decides to sail south, because that’ll put her right down our throats. The best of all possible solutions is that she peels off and sails north, here. Then we can slide right on in.”

  “Good plan,” Seven said with no emotion, then he swallowed hard. “We must warn them as soon as we can.”

  57

  The Pacifica Command Center watch officer had just reported for his duty – the noon to four PM watch. He settled into his seat in the incredibly complex, multi-level center, alight with displays monitoring every one of Pacifica’s machines, both internal and external, that related to each of the massive subsea community’s complex mechanized systems. He scanned the screens carefully, noting in his mind the vast array of information streaming toward him. Seeing nothing amiss, he relaxed, sat back, propped his feet on the console and clicked open an e-book whose face glowed before him. Two minutes later, someone touched his shoulder.

  “Larry, I need to ask you something,” a nervous voice said.

  The watch officer spun about in his high backed seat to see a junior watch stander just behind him. “Admiral Spencer’s going to get plenty PO’d if he catches you reading on duty,” the young man said, eyes flashing back and forth between the book and watch officer, Larry Nix.

  “It’s a training manual. What do you actually want, Dick?” Nix responded sharply in clear annoyance, clicking the book off.

  “Well, I thought for a minute I saw something,” the junior watch officer, Dick Later, replied.

  “What do you mean, you ‘saw something’? Where?”

  “Out there,” Later said sheepishly, pointing into the deep blue void just outside the window.

  “What? Another whale? A school of jack? What?”

  “Just take a look, okay?” Later asked in frustration.

  Nix sighed deeply, turning to face the windows. He bobbed his head back and forth in clear mockery, then returned his icy stare to the withering Later. “Okay, I looked. Now get back to your station.”

  In frustration, Nix turned his head and looked back outside the windows as Later settled into his seat and switched his e-book back on.

  “Hey, Larry, I think you’d better look again,” he said in a whisper.

  Nix looked up with a hard stare, then lifted and turned his head over the back of his seat, his eyes peering over its top and glancing at the windows.

  “Ohmagawd! Oh hell…” he gasped, as he turned back to his panel and rammed his fist against the collision alarm causing the piercing warning signals to ring out throughout the entire community.

  He turned back around to look outside as a towering, massive, black structure slowly approached Pacifica out of the gloom. Surrounding it were small underwater craft shaped like large techno fish, ringing its mid-section some 100 feet out from the main body. Nix spun around and checked his acoustic detection beacons. They all read nothing and appeared to be malfunctioning simultaneously.

  “How can this be?” he whispered just as Frank Spencer burst through the door. “Oh, crap…” Nix said quietly to himself.

  “Nix, I want an update and a full status report, and it’d better be good!” Spencer bellowed. “You’ve called this entire community to general quarters, and if I don’t get some answers, I’m gonna start kicking some ass – starting with yours!”

  It was at that moment that Spencer saw the enormous, towering, black platform approaching out of the gloom through the windows. “My God, man! Why didn’t you sound the alarm five minutes ago?” he screamed at Nix as he stood by his side.

  “Look!” Nix said, pointing at the displays.

  Spencer looked and saw that they were all flashing data as if nothing were outside approaching the community.

  “This isn’t possible! They can’t all malfunction at once! Someone’s sabotaged our systems.”

  “Pacifica , Pacifica , this is the Phoenix ,” said a voice over the community’s underwater acoustic systems.

  “Give me that microphone,” Spencer bellowed. “Stop your approach, Phoenix , stop immediately! You’re about to ram us!” he shouted, bracing himself against the nearest console as the Phoenix inched ever closer.

  “Negative, Pacifica , we’re not gonna ram anybody. We’re approaching close enough to give you a view of our observation deck. Will you be kind enough to ask Serea Seven to approach the Command Center ’s central window?”

  “I demand to know who I’m speaking to,” Spencer said in undisguised, heated anger. “I have no intention of fetching anyone until I get some answers!”

  Approaching beside Spencer, Serea had quietly entered the Command Center and said, “It’s fine. Tell him I’m here, Frank.” Beside Serea stood her father, Sean Conlin and the Commander, who had all entered the center together.

  Spencer looked to her and started to speak in anger, then, noting her father, he froze in indecision.

  Professor Desmond just nodded.

  “You’ll get your answers in due course, Mr. Spencer,” the metallic, nearly artificial voice said.

  “She’s here,” Spencer snapped. “And it’s Admiral Frank Spencer, so cut the mister crap. And how did you know my name?”

  “Tell her to walk to the central window and look at our tower near the top. There’ll be an observation window facing your control center which is backlit a medium blue. Tell her to look into that window.”

  Serea moved slowly to the central window and peered through the void between Pacifica and the towering structure that had now stopped just 30 feet from touching them. She squinted through the haze at the bright blue observation window hovering just in front of her. As she did so, the Commander moved to her side.

  “Oh, dear,
dear God! Oh my God, it’s Aaron!” she gasped incredulously as her hands covered her mouth. “I knew you were alive, I knew it…” she breathed then began to openly weep and wave as across from her she could see her beloved, precious Seven waving in return, holding Luci with his left arm.

  “What?” Spencer raged as he paced quickly to her side. “This isn’t possible! Well, I’ll be dammed if I let him back onboard! I’ll be dammed!”

  Serea turned to him and with a balled fist struck Spencer squarely on his jaw, knocking him back against the Commander who kept him from falling all the way to the deck. “And I’ll be dammed if I let you stop him,” she said fiercely through her tears.

  Spencer clutched his fist and just as he was about to raise it, the Commander gripped his hand and squeezed it with a vise-like grip. Then he whispered into his ear, “If you even think about it, you die, right here.”

  “Raylond, you must ensure some sanity here,” Spencer said, jerking himself away from the Commander. “If he’s allowed back onboard, then chaos will reign. This just isn’t possible!” Spencer raged, moving his jaw tenderly.

  “We’d like to visit your facility,” the metallic voice said from Phoenix . “I’m the Phoenix ’s commander, Striker Legend. And I’m sure you’re anxious to welcome your leader back home! Let us know how you want to transfer personnel.”

  “Aaron Seven is no one’s leader, for God’s sake! We’re not transferring anybody,” Spencer said into the microphone. “Now get that monstrosity away from Pacifica immediately. And do not, I repeat, do not return or we’ll have you blown out of the water!”

  Serea’s face turned hard. She looked at Spencer with a withering stare reserved only for the most wicked, evil, vile and dangerous creatures as she said, “Commander, if you don’t hand me that microphone, immediately, I’ll have no other choice but to gain access to it myself, which will involve much gratuitous violence that ultimately will become a scene none of us will wish to recall at a later date.”

  The Commander looked at Spencer. “Hand it over or learn to use a prosthesis,” he said convincingly.

  Spencer looked to Desmond who just stared back at him. “I won’t be humiliated, Desmond!”

  “Joseph, you’ve run out of time,” Serea said forcefully to the Commander as she took a step toward Spencer.

  Just as she spoke, the Commander gripped Spencer’s hand with a snap and the microphone popped up into the air. He caught it and handed it to Serea as he gave Spencer a look that would have melted titanium.

  “Phoenix , this is Serea Seven, Aaron’s wife. Please forgive the last transmission, it was sent in error and the individual will be severely punished for his gross stupidity, I can assure you. From this moment forward, I’ll be your primary contact here at Pacifica . I’m most pleased to make transfer arrangements, of course, and the entire community is more than delighted to see our leader return, at long last. The sole exception may be one moron who’s having a tantrum over who’s in charge here in the sandbox.”

  Serea snapped the microphone off, and then turned to the Commander. “You have my permission to kill him if he gets in my way,” she said seriously, looking at Spencer with a withering stare. “Joseph, you know me very well and you know when I’m deadly serious. Now do your duty and ensure this operation goes smoothly. I want my husband standing in front of me in less than an hour or Frank’s body in a bag. And quite honestly speaking, at this moment, both options would please me very much.”

  The Commander’s face turned rigid. It was as though a switch had been snapped in his head – as though a killer robot had been given its prime directive and had been turned on to make his mission happen at any cost. The Commander stared back at Spencer, folding his arms. “Confine yourself to your quarters, sir, unless you want me to do it for you. I highly recommend you do it yourself - for your own safety.”

  “Raylond, how can you allow this mutiny to proceed without even a comment? You designed the system of laws here, now I demand you make them work! This is nothing but anarchy in its most malicious form!”

  “Raylond, may I recommend that we get on with the transfer so that we can allow the Phoenix to move away from us to a more secure location?” suggested the always level headed Sean Conlin. “Then we can all meet together in a calmer venue and talk this out. There’s absolutely no need for a violent confrontation here. I volunteer to temporarily assume the watch and relieve the entire community of general quarters.”

  Desmond’s eyes shifted to the floor, and then he merely looked back at Conlin and nodded.

  “Mr. Nix, I have assumed the watch,” Conlin barked. “You will remain on duty and assist me.”

  “Aye, sir.”

  “Now relieve general quarters. Mr. Later, you are assigned to assist Mrs. Seven in making the transfer arrangements as quickly as possible from the Phoenix .”

  “Aye, sir.”

  Serea looked to Conlin. “Thanks,” she mouthed with a relieved smile.

  Conlin winked and smiled briefly in return. “May I have the microphone, please?” he asked.

  Serea handed it to him, tears now streaming down her face again, as she turned and faced her husband, still staring back at her from across the void.

  “Phoenix , back off to a position out at 300 feet at zero nine zero true and hold there. Can you hold your position in the current?”

  “Yes. Roger that, Pacifica , we’ll assume that position and hold.”

  “I’m turning you over to our Mister Later to work out the pick up.

  “Now clear the Command Center except for Serea and all duty personnel,” Conlin barked, eyeing Spencer.

  “I’m filing formal assault charges against her and you,” Spencer said to the Commander who just stared back at him though his sunglasses.

  “Funny, you don’t actually look suicidal,” the Commander hissed through clenched teeth.

  “Raylond, how much longer must I endure these treasonous threats against my safety?” Spencer whined, turning to Desmond. But the Professor had already departed the center. Spencer left immediately thereafter.

  58

  The night following the fire on Concharty, the full moon rising over the summit, Warren and Wattenbarger again made the trek from the cave to the flat top of the mountain, with Warren leading. In the moonlit darkness, they were stunned at the dramatic change of landscape that lay before them. The preposterous sight of the nose- ended aircraft rising off the mountain top was a sole monument to the earth’s dissolution into an endless chaotic nonsense. The huge piles of brush that had surrounded it were now completely burned away. But the jet aircraft stood as it had on the previous evening, poised delicately onto the mountain’s crust as though it were purposefully erected that way by some maniacal giant child, then left adrift and alone, a reminder of the limits of just how strange things could get. The fuselage of the aircraft had been blackened on its forward quarter, but above that line, its metal gleamed in the moonlight as though it had just rolled off the assembly line.

  As they approached the aircraft, they could see countless piles of glowing ash in lumps across the devastated and burned moonscape. In the darkness, the orange glow seemed to creep in blurry patches out of the otherwise grey blanketed mountaintop. The odor of bunt wood was nearly overpowering and the light veil of smoke caused their eyes to burn and tear. They stepped into the first ash layers carefully to avoid the occasional patch of underlying hot coals. For unspoken reasons, they walked directly to the upended aircraft as though it would provide some remembrance of the previous day’s trek or because of some innately human need to view the unspeakably weird face to face. But as they walked, Warren could feel the heat build on his face and exposed arms.

  Before they had approached to within 100 feet of the aircraft, Warren stopped in his tracks.

  “What?” Wattenbarger asked. “What is it?” he whispered.

  “We can’t go on. It’s too hot. We have to let this cool for another night or perhaps two.”

  Wattenba
rger coughed lightly. “Well, I’m glad you said it because I was about to.”

  Warren turned to go back, walked ten paces, then stopped again. “My God…” he whispered as he felt the hair on his neck rise.

  “What?”

  “Look. Over there,” Warren said, pointing to his right.

  “It can’t be!” Wattenbarger exclaimed.

  “Let’s have a look,” Warren said, walking briskly to where he had pointed.

  They walked no more than 50 feet and stopped together, side by side. There before them was a set of footprints in the ash. They were the prints made by boots, adult in size, and lead away from them into a nearby tree line that had not been burnt. The prints left the unmistakable imprint of cowboy boots.

  Warren spun around to look behind him. The footprints arced around the edge of the ash line and off out of sight to the north.

  “There’s someone living up here!” Warren whispered in excitement. “Someone else is still alive up here on the mountain besides us!”

  “What do we do?” Wattenbarger asked. “Follow them?”

  “I don’t think it’ll do us any good,” Warren responded, his eyes flashing about in his head. “Besides, we may not want to find him and he may not want to be found. And, we can’t afford any more cutting of our rations.”

  “But what if he has more? What if he has a huge stash?”

  “And what if he doesn’t want to split his with five other mouths?” Warren responded. “Think about it. The whole idea of trying to find this guy is not a good one.”

  Warren ’s head turned repeatedly behind him and forward as though he were trying to calculate the exact position of this mysterious wanderer. The silence of the night cut though him. Even though he was standing in the heat of the fire’s edge and trickles of sweat dripped down the back of his neck, he shivered involuntarily.

  “This is a problem,” Warren then whispered even more quietly.

  “What?” Wattenbarger asked in a full voice. “Don’t like company in your old age? Stuck in your routine? Too much TV and not enough mixing with the neighbors?”