Beyond the Sea--An Event Group Thriller

by David L. Golemon

  LOS ANGELES–CLASS ATTACK SUBMARINE USS HOUSTON

  Captain Thorne was on his back inside the sonar shack, cursing and trying his best to get the new cable attached to the equipment. They had stolen from Peter to pay Paul. The cable was from the PC that crewmen used from time to time to send loved ones e-mails. It had been sacrificed to repair the sonar and radar suites. Finally, he made the cable connection, and then he pushed himself from under the console.

  “Well, give a shot, Lieutenant.”

  As Thorne watched from the deck, the lieutenant silently prayed and then hit the switch. There was a loud electronic beep, and then the display screens came up. The four sonar men couldn’t hold in their unbridled enthusiasm, and they let out a cheer. Thorne was helped up by the lieutenant and patted on the back.

  “You did it, Skipper.”

  “One down, eighty more items to go. How is the XO coming along with our air supply?”

  “He says we still have plenty of air, just no way to get it into the compartments. He has most of the crew busy cleaning up seawater, and that should keep their minds busy for a while.” The young lieutenant JG looked around, and then the captain caught his drift and moved away from the young sonar men.

  “What is it?” he asked as he wiped his sweaty brow.

  “Captain, the XO says the ballast control panels are totally scorched. We have cannibalized everything from personal equipment to the damn washers and dryers for the right boards, and nothing even comes close.”

  “Okay, what we have to do is build new boards for ballast control.” Thorne stopped and thought a moment, and as he did, there was another cheer that erupted throughout the boat as fresh air once more started to flow through the ventilators. He took a deep breath and got as close to the vent as he could to catch the cold air.

  “New boards?” the lieutenant asked.

  Thorne felt the cold air wash over him, and after a moment, he fixed the officer with a determined look.

  “I want circuit boards from everything not being utilized and others that we won’t need. Boom boxes, personal iPads, anything. Gather everything up and get it to engineering, and then we can piece something together. Just a blow switch will do.” He slapped the boy on the back. “Go. We’ll worry about diving some other time. Right now, we have to get up to the sunshine.”

  The lieutenant turned and left, not catching the worried look from Thorne about their chances.

  As he gave orders to his sonar men, Thorne lost his balance as the Houston was starting to lose its hold on gravity. The submarine started to slide down the shelf they had landed upon. He held on for dear life as the sliding increased. The sound of smashing rock and sand reverberated throughout the ship, and every man knew what was happening. Most closed their eyes and waited for the inevitable slide to the proverbial deep end.

  Thornes cursed inwardly. As suddenly as it started, he felt the Houston catch on something, and the slide downward was arrested.

  Captain Thorne again closed his eyes in a silent prayer, and when he opened them, he saw the frightened faces of his sonar men. He was starting to run out of encouraging words for the crew. His gaze went from young face to young face.

  “What do you say we find a solution to our ballast problem and get the hell out of here?”

  The faces relaxed as Thorne delivered what he thought would be his last encouraging words.

  If the Houston had windows, the crew would not be as happy at Thorne’s words as he thought. The USS Houston was only sixteen feet away from the precipitous drop of two and a half miles to the seafloor far below.

  COMPTON’S REEF—THE ISLAND

  Charlie had named the new island Compton’s Reef. The name was funny to most, but Collins had cringed when Ellenshaw had mentioned the director’s name. That would be something Jack would take up with crazy Charlie later.

  As they moved, the sounds of life were all around them. They smelled food cooking. They smelled the grasses that lined the trail they traveled upon. They also heard the sounds of laughter, playing, a community living life the only way they knew how—day to day.

  After only ten minutes, Jack broke into a clearing, and the sight that met his astonished gaze almost made him weak in the knees. For the first time, he wished Sarah could see what it was he was seeing at this very moment.

  “Wow!” Ryan said as he stepped out of the bush and stood beside the colonel.

  Inside the clearing, there were well over three hundred huts of varying size and shape. The largest one in the center of the large village looked as if it were some form of community center. Women sat around its exterior and did their chores, chopping leafy vegetables and other cooking activities. Men were off to the side, repairing nets and fishing spears, while other men placed the baskets they had observed being brought down from the mountain in even rows at the edge of the large community. Even the children, who were still playing, laughing, and running, were involved in the village’s activities by carrying water from the large stream-fed lagoon.

  Jack quickly estimated that the inhabitants must have been at the very least three to four hundred strong. The most amazing thing was the fact that outside of mere curiosity, the folk of this community gave them only cursory looks and glances. Even several of the blond-haired women looked over at the men and giggled as they noticed them. Their worlds were not that much different, Jack figured.

  “This is amazing,” Charlie said as he adjusted his recovered glasses and took in the scene. “It’s like something out of a Jack London or some South Seas romance novel.”

  Ryan was looking at a group of young women who were sewing items that looked as if they came from a bolt of sharkskin material. They looked his way, and he smiled back at them.

  Jenks popped a cigar into his mouth, thought better of it with their present company, and then pocketed the stogie.

  The Russians eyed the scene, and Collins didn’t know what their thoughts were. They stood and watched the activity with mild interest. It was Salkukoff who joined Jack, Ryan, and Everett.

  “As you can see, Colonel, these people are not a threat to our ships. So, may I suggest we cut this visit short and get back to saving ourselves?”

  Collins was curious as to why the Russian was so adamant about not spending time in this village of innocents.

  “Forget it. We have to learn all we can about these people.” Charlie angrily looked at the Russian colonel. “We can draw conclusions on our own environment by study,” he said as he looked sideways at Salkukoff as if he were a barbarian.

  Ellenshaw immediately went to a group of men who had large nets strung up in the branches of two trees as they used large wooden needles to repair the links of line that made up the net. He immediately smiled and watched silently. The men nodded at Ellenshaw and then continued jabbering and sewing.

  Jack was mystified at the easy way Charlie took things. His naïveté amazed him. How simply the cryptozoologist looked at life. Jack smiled as did Everett and Ryan.

  “Never stand in the way of science, Colonel. I thought you would have known that doing the things you do with history.”

  The shocked look on Salkukoff’s face told Jack he had hit pay dirt on the Russian. The small brief supplied by Compton’s new orders had come in handy on just who this man was suspected of being.

  “And suddenly, you know far more about me than previously thought, Colonel Collins.”

  Jack just dipped his head and then moved off toward the center of the village.

  “Ryan, did you bring that package from Shiloh you got from their mess?”

  Ryan looked at Jack and then remembered. He quickly reached into his small pack and brought out a clear neoprene bag. It was full of individually wrapped saltwater taffy in varying colors. He tossed the bag to Collins.

  “Didn’t anyone ever tell you not to feed the animals, Colonel?” Salkukoff said with a dirty little smirk.

  Jack noticed the Russian’s eyes constantly meandered over to the assembled baskets lined n
earby and then just as quickly looked away. The American, after noticing this, pretended to ignore him, and then he opened the bag. He caught the attention of a small girl as she moseyed across to the stream running in the center of the village by holding up a piece of the tantalizingly colorful taffy wrapped in paper. The girl, not knowing what the item was, just went about her business.

  The small child had several large halved coconut shells and used them to dip into the stream. After filling the coconut shells with freshwater, the girl placed the other half of the shells over them and sealed the small containers. She was about to get up and return to her chores when the dark shadow of Jack fell upon her. She stood quickly, spilling some of the water. Her eyes were big, round, and the bluest Collins had ever seen. He was joined by Everett and Ryan as the girl’s eyes went from man to man. Jack smiled down at her. He unwrapped an orange-colored piece of taffy and offered it to the small blonde. She looked from the gift to Jack.

  “She won’t take it, Colonel.”

  Everett looked at Ryan and smirked. “Five bucks says she does, flyboy.”

  “You’re on. You’d better—” Jason stopped when Carl started laughing.

  The small child had placed her containers of water on the ground and accepted Jack’s offer without much trepidation. She examined the orange-colored candy and then sniffed it. She squeezed her fingers closed and squished it somewhat, and then she smiled up at Jack.

  Ryan and Everett examined the child. She was wearing what looked like sharkskin shorts and a halter top of grass. As the girl popped the taffy into her mouth, it remained open as the sensation and taste of sugar hit her taste buds. Her eyes widened, and all the visitors to the village that day smiled and laughed at her reaction—everyone with the exception of Salkukoff, who watched without mirth or humor. He shot Kreshenko and Dishlakov an angry look, but this time they ignored him and then joined the rest of the landing party as more children came over to where they stood.

  When Jack saw the curious children start to advance on them, he quickly handed out handfuls of taffy to the men around him. Soon there were over seventy-five children ranging in age from a couple of years to fifteen or so. The amazing part was that the parents of these children watched and smiled at not only the scene before them but the strangers themselves.

  “They are totally trusting,” Charlie said, rejoining the group. “No inhibitions, no fear.”

  “I’m afraid we equate this gentle world to our own and are very sad to realize our world comes up lacking, Doc,” Everett said as he handed a piece to a mother who had come to see what the children were laughing over. All the children had their mouths and cheeks stuffed full of candy.

  “I suppose,” Ellenshaw said as the children started to move away.

  “All right, what is it, Doc?” Jack asked. “I know that look. You’re worried about something.”

  “I’m concerned about that,” he said as he pointed to a hut in the far corner of the village. “They must have an enemy. It’s not us, but there’s something in this world these kind and gentle people fear.”

  Jack and the others followed Charlie’s gaze, and then they saw what it was he saw. The large hut was surrounded by war shields and axes. Spears and bows. Slingshots hung from small poles, ready to be snatched up at a moment’s notice.

  “I see what you mean,” Jack said.

  Before they could move to the hut and examine the villagers’ weaponry, they were approached by the same small man who had confronted them on the trail. He went to Jenks and then took his hand and started pulling him away. Other men joined in and started escorting the visitors toward the far end of the village.

  “Now, did you geniuses ever consider that fish may not be the only meat product these folks eat?” Jenks said as he looked behind him as the man pulled on his hand and arm.

  “As much as I hate to admit this, I think that antisocial bastard may have a point,” Ryan whispered to Jack as they were led away. “I mean, we could be on the menu tonight.”

  Before Jack could tell Ryan to stay cool, they all smelled it. Jenks heard his stomach rumble, and even the two Russian Navy men perked up at the smell of roasting meat. They were led to a small clearing near the far side of the large village, and that was when they saw several of the blond natives of this new world bring out a large roasted boar on a long pole. The visitors were escorted to small blocks of tree trunk, and the women gestured that they should sit. They were all amazed to see that these simple people had a social gathering place for their main meal of the day.

  As the men sat down and exchanged looks of wonder, a deep bass sound echoed throughout the island. Salkukoff was the only one of them to tickle his gun with his fingers. As he stopped and looked up, he saw Jack and Farbeaux looking at him.

  Henri had been the only man outside of Salkukoff who hadn’t been more appreciative of their new surroundings. Jack leaned over and spoke in low tones to the Frenchman.

  “What is it?” Jack asked over the sounds of the horn being blasted.

  “Our Russian colonel was the only man here not to be surprised by that hut over there and the weapons it contains. He wasn’t even curious. Dishlakov and Kreshenko were, but not him.” Henri faced Jack. “We also have to get a look-see inside those baskets, because if you have been watching Salkukoff as I have, you would have noticed a disconcerting way that our Russian friend has of eyeing them. Why is that, Colonel?”

  Jack looked over, and the Russian was staring right at the two men. Collins said nothing but knew Henri was right, having noticed the same thing.

  As the seashell horn was blasted by one of the larger fishermen, other horns started their refrain. Soon adults were arriving from all parts of the island to join the group meal. Men, women, and children greeted the others who had joined them.

  “Now this is a barbecue,” Jenks enthusiastically said as his mouth started to water. “This has got to beat shit on a shingle, huh, Doc?” he said, nudging Charlie on the arm and almost knocking him from his small tree stump, joking and mentioning the military’s main meal of the past 150 years of chipped beef on toast.

  “I am quite famished myself,” Ellenshaw said as he rubbed his arm from the master chief’s gentle pop.

  Women started singing a song in their native language, when the village’s men joined in. It was rough but harmonious. They sang as everyone sat down for their evening meal. Their bodies swayed to the sounds of the song that even the young children had joined in for.

  “We are truly barbarians in a gentle land,” Henri said, sparking strange looks, as the Frenchman had never once shown sentimentality about life back home. Jack and Everett figured the man was just waiting for the villagers to bring out something that the antiquities thief could steal. But as Jack looked on, he could see a change in Farbeaux. He was genuinely impressed by what he was seeing.

  The horns calmed, and the singing slowed as food was passed around. Jack was handed a large wooden bowl with fish and pork. There were greens that looked close to seaweed. He sniffed the food and found the fragrance of the seaweed was something he would never have expected. The fish was done to perfection, and the roasted boar was succulent.

  “I may never want to leave this place,” Ryan said as he popped a long strand of seaweed into his mouth, slurping it up like a strand of spaghetti. The young women around the great campfire giggled and exchanged words about the handsome young naval aviator. Again, Ryan made them practically swoon when he popped a large piece of pork into his mouth and then rubbed his belly in overexaggerated pleasure over the taste of the meal. All around them, the villagers ate and laughed as if the visitors were a normal part of life. Jack chewed on the delicious roasted boar and then leaned over to talk to Ellenshaw, who was busy studying the wooden bowl and its craftsmanship.

  “Doc, what does our traveling link with Europa make out about their language?”

  An astonished look came to Ellenshaw’s face as he snapped his fingers. “Damn, I almost forgot!” He reached into the p
ack at his feet and brought up the closed-looped system that was their very limited remote brain of Europa. He flipped open the aluminum top. He whispered, “Europa, can you identify the language being spoken by these indigenous people?” Charlie held the computer outward without drawing attention to what it was he was doing.

  It only took a moment, and it was straight up. “No, Doctor.”

  “No syntax, no morphology, is there nothing close to one of the languages you are familiar with?” Again, Charlie held the laptop up so Europa could hear. He also used the camera system to scan the people as they spoke. He just hoped that the portable laptop housing Europa Jr.’s limited memory would allow him to gain the information he needed. Not being in direct contact with the supercomputer was limiting, to say the least.

  “Doctor, from their hand gestures and spoken language, it is calculated that the indigenous peoples involved are utilizing both spoken and sign languages. There is a total of two million six hundred thousand combinations on record. Limited memory on the portable system has curtailed a more detailed study.”

  Ellenshaw closed the top and then placed the laptop back into his pack. He shrugged at Collins. “I wish Pete or Dr. Morales could expand this new memory system for the portable Europa more.”

  “I’m sure they didn’t expect us to run into language problems,” Everett said as he placed his bowl aside.

  “Look at that,” Kreshenko said as he was looking at the sky overhead.

  The sun was setting, and what came up next was still a frightening and amazing sight: the moon with her trail of debris spread out across the sky like an incomplete ring of Saturn. The sparkling white material that used to be the same moon they used to stare up at was almost fluorescent in color and made every man at the campfire that night feel small and unknowing.

  “How long do you figure the tail of that moon is, Colonel?” Kreshenko asked.

  “My guess would be close to about three hundred and fifty thousand miles.”

  Wonder seized all their minds.