Beyond the Sea--An Event Group Thriller

by David L. Golemon

  “They look like giant abalone shells, or maybe oyster. You can clearly see the inside, and it sure looks like mother-of-pearl.”

  Ryan was right, and the observation made sense for this waterborne species. With the world lacking in any sustainable wood, at least in this part of their world, material from the seas would be their only source of craftwork. On the screen, the view got even lower. The sails on most of the craft were furled, but the observers could see many of the soft-skinned creatures run to and fro in near panic. They could see that the appearance of the flying machine had upset them to no end.

  “Okay, I think we’d better get the drone back. We need her back in the air as an early warning system.” Jack pursed his lips in thought. “Captain, can we get a copy of this sent over to Captain Kreshenko without jeopardizing any secrets about Aegis?”

  Captain Johnson nodded to the CIC watch commander, and in minutes, a copy was being run off digitally.

  “Jack, I would feel much better keeping the ships in motion. Sitting anchored here like this is a little too reminiscent of Pearl Harbor.”

  Jack nodded in agreement at Carl’s fear. “Captain?”

  “I agree. It will take some time to coordinate with Peter the Great and then time to rig towlines up to Simbirsk, but yes, I would feel better in motion.”

  Jack looked at the digital clock mounted on the bulkhead. “Say two hours?”

  “We’ll make it less if possible,” Johnson said as he picked up the ship-wide communication.

  By the looks of the faces manning their electronic gear in CIC, Collins knew the entire crew would feel better on the move. No one liked the aspect of sitting still and getting shot at.

  “All right, let’s get with Jenks and Charlie and see if they believe we can get that phase shift up and running. I think it’s time we try to get our collective asses back to our world.”

  They all started moving to the hatch, and as the marine guard opened it, it was Ryan as always who placed his mild form of damper on everything.

  “Yeah, who wants to get their asses shot off here in Adventureland when we have a chance to do it at home?”

  KIROV-CLASS BATTLE CRUISER PETER THE GREAT

  Colonel Salkukoff watched the command bridge from his place just beneath the forward missile mount. The automatic loading system would burst forth from a rubberized membrane and streak toward its intended target. But after the first two missiles ever fired in anger by Peter the Great in the North Atlantic against the Americans, Salkukoff knew she would never fire another. The movement that he could see beyond the thick glass told him that activity had picked up on the cruiser, which indicated that they had collectively made the decision to weigh anchor and be on the move. This was expected, and Salkukoff shook his head. He turned to the large man standing next to him. The commando was former Spetsnaz, the Russian equivalent of a navy SEAL or Delta Force, and very adept in his skills of killing. The man was as dedicated to their cause as Salkukoff himself.

  “We can no longer pretend that this mission will not get out to those who can do us harm. We have lost the source, and we must shut down operations on a permanent basis.” He shook his head. “It is a shame. We could have recovered far more of the resource material than we have. But alas, we have garnered too much attention. This Colonel Collins, despite what our superiors believe, is no fool. Nor are the people he works for. It wouldn’t take them long to add up two plus two.”

  “Orders?” the black-clad commando asked.

  “We will contact Dolphin and make arrangements for the destruction of the Simbirsk. There will be no recovery. Better to sink her here than take a chance on the Americans or some other NATO member recovering her wreck in the deep waters of home.” He smiled as he turned away and looked up into the bridge once more. “At least here it is unrecoverable. Mission complete.”

  “What will Northstar command say about shutting down the diamond operations?” the commando asked.

  Salkukoff lost his smile. “As far as they are concerned, comrade, the mine played out and we lost the cooperation of the Wasakoo. The situation was unavoidable.” He faced his specialized killer once more, the very man who had hanged kindly Professor Gervais. “I don’t know about you, but I am tired of being a delivery boy. I have other plans, as you do also.”

  “Yes, Colonel. It’s time to make our mark with the Northstar Committee as soon as we get home. We have wasted quite enough time here in this backward world.”

  Salkukoff held the man’s gaze for a full thirty seconds. “The spilling of Russian blood is always, well, let’s say, difficult. Necessary, but most difficult.”

  “Northstar has taught us well, Colonel.”

  “Yes, yes, they have, Captain. I will try to isolate Captain Kreshenko from the rest of his crew. They cannot be trusted to see the light. They are loyalists to a fault and will follow that man anywhere.”

  “Dishlakov?” the commando asked as he stood beside Salkukoff.

  “I’ll leave that to you. Make it as efficient as always, my friend.”

  The commando chuckled as if the man couldn’t be serious. He turned away and left the colonel alone.

  Salkukoff watched the bridge once more. He finally turned away and brought up a small device he had on him at all times. The electronic sending unit used low-frequency bandwidths and was virtually undetectable by listening ears. He started typing out his message on the small keyboard: To Dolphin, Operation Clean Seas has been authorized. Stand by for orders.

  He replaced the device into his pocket, and with a final look at the battle bridge, he moved off for his last few hours on board Peter the Great, as he knew by this time tomorrow, the great warship would be sitting on the bottom of this upside-down world. And Simbirsk and Shiloh would share that same watery grave.

  19

  TICONDEROGA-CLASS AEGIS MISSILE CRUISER USS SHILOH

  Jack was dreaming of Sarah and, strangely enough, the small green alien they had lost during the Overlord operation, Matchstick. It was disturbing in the fact that Collins rarely dreamed at all. His mind was so tired that his brain completely ran on in a direction of its own accord. While Sarah said little in the dream, it was the recurring words of the small green alien that kept echoing in his dream over and over again. Matchstick was sitting on Sarah’s lap as he did quite often in the long days and nights of debriefing the alien after Arizona. It seemed Matchstick opened up when he was in her lap, as if he were comfortable and trusting of the small geologist far more than any other.

  “You are not alone, Colonel Jack; you are not alone. Friends, friends, friends, everywhere.” In the dream, Matchstick would look straight at him while repeating the same words over and over. Then he did the strangest thing. As a gift to Matchstick after his debriefing was completed, Jack and the security department had given him a copy of the Beatles’ greatest hits. The small alien had fallen in love with “Octopus’s Garden.” In the dream, he kept singing in his raspy, cotton-filled voice, “I’d like to be, under the sea, in an octopus’s garden, in the shade.”

  The knock on the door woke him. He sat up in the bed and looked around, not knowing exactly where he was. The knock sounded once again. Finally, he knew, and the dream he had been having faded, with the exception of that silly Beatles song.

  “Come!” he said louder than he wanted.

  A marine opened his door, and Henri Farbeaux stepped inside.

  The cabin was small but offered the creature comforts as Henri came in and flipped on the desk lamp. Jack sat up and placed his bare feet on the tiled floor. He looked at his wristwatch and saw that he had been sleeping for six hours, much to his shock. He placed both palms on his eyes and rubbed them. He shook his head until his vision cleared and then saw that the Frenchman was offering him a cup of coffee.

  “It’s not the seventy-five-year-old coffee from Simbirsk, but American dark roast will have to do.”

  Collins nodded and accepted the offering. “Damn. They let me sleep too long. It’s 0220.”
>
  “Captain Everett left orders that you not be disturbed for eight, but I needed to see you before I depart Shiloh.”

  “Depart?” he asked when he lowered the coffee cup.

  “Yes, we’ve been under way for five hours. Simbirsk is in tow, and Peter the Great is bringing up the rear. I couldn’t board the cruiser earlier because Salkukoff’s commandos were everywhere after dark. I couldn’t risk it.”

  “And boarding a moving ship at sea isn’t risky?” Jack asked as he finally stood up. He started dressing.

  “Risky, but it will be unexpected.”

  “We could wait until daylight and find some excuse to get Peter the Great to at least slow enough for you to board safely.” Collins slipped into his black T-shirt.

  “It would be expected. Salkukoff is no fool. My chance of getting to him now is better. I expect the colonel will make his play soon after the sun rises. It’s now or never. I have a team of marines that will get me to the stern of Peter the Great; I gain egress there and do what was ordered. I only hope Captain Kreshenko appreciates the finer point of my orders and doesn’t line me up to be shot.”

  “I have a feeling the captain won’t be too broken up about losing Colonel Salkukoff.” Jack put his boots on. “I think it’s still too risky, Colonel.”

  “Why, I didn’t think you cared,” Henri said as he rose from the desk chair.

  “Of course I do, Colonel. I would never deprive Carl of your company. He wouldn’t handle it too well if we lost you.”

  Farbeaux fixed Jack with a look that told him where he could go with his sense of humor. He turned and opened the door to the waiting marine guard who was watching over the sleeping colonel. Farbeaux nodded, and the marine turned and left.

  “Henri,” Jack said as he zipped up his Nomex vest. He held out his hand. Farbeaux looked at it and then took the offered good-bye. “You watch your ass over there.”

  “That, Colonel, I intend to do, I assure you.”

  “Good luck.”

  Henri let go of Jack’s hand and left.

  Jack took a deep breath and then sat hard onto the bunk. He started humming that silly tune that Matchstick had been singing in his dream. That and repeating the words about friends everywhere. Then he suddenly stopped and shook his head in wonder.

  “Losin’ it, Jack.”

  EVENT GROUP COMPLEX

  NELLIS AIR FORCE BASE, NEVADA

  Will Mendenhall was sitting at his desk inside the security offices. The four empty cups of coffee sat before him as he stared at the far wall and its bank of dead monitors. He had shut everything down, with the exception of the duty officer’s station being manned from the outer offices. He had left orders that he was not to be disturbed.

  The information that Virginia and Europa had recovered had been playing on his mind ever since he had heard the theory of a separate Russian government.

  The door opened, and it startled Will from his thoughts. The director nodded and then went straight to a chair in front of Mendenhall’s desk.

  “To ease your mind, Captain Mendenhall, I informed the president on our … well … our guesswork. It wasn’t something he really wanted to hear. So, for now, the ball is in the court of others.” Niles Compton slowly stood on aching legs and moved to the door. “All we can do now is our jobs.” Niles nodded and started to open the door but stopped. “Captain?”

  “Sir?” Will said as he watched the director and his weariness at 12:30 A.M.

  “Feel like getting out of here for a few days?”

  Will stood and looked at the director, with hope in his eyes.

  “I could use some time off, yes, sir.”

  “If you promise not to inform Sarah, Anya, and Virginia of your leaving, it is my understanding that NATO command has ordered a full-scale search-and-rescue operation in the North Atlantic over some missing ships. I believe we have an F-15 getting ready for departure at Nellis.”

  “Yes, sir!” Will said as he started making orders for his replacement. He suddenly looked up. “What do I say to Sarah and the others?”

  Niles paused at the door once again and faced Mendenhall.

  “What is that stupid excuse Jack and Carl use whenever they vanish unexpectedly and without orders?” Niles lowered his head in mock thought. “Oh yes—they’ve gone fishing.”

  Mendenhall smiled as he knew the old excuse was used no fewer than twenty times when the colonel and captain disappeared without notice.

  “Bring back the full legal limit of fish, Captain. Make it six to be exact. I expect nothing less.” Niles turned and left.

  For Will Mendenhall, he was starting to know the director and liked what he was learning about the smartest man in government service. He especially liked it when Niles knew when not to be that smart.

  KIROV-CLASS BATTLE CRUISER PETER THE GREAT

  The marine sergeant placed the “pop gun” on his knee as he carefully aimed the short-barreled shotgun-like device toward the stern railing sixty feet above the choppy wake being spun by the four giant bronze propellers of Peter the Great. Behind him, Henri Farbeaux aimed the night scope up and saw that the stern was as clear as it would ever be. As jumpy as all sailors were, he didn’t want to get shot at in this last critical moment. Farbeaux nodded that the fantail was clear of Russian personnel.

  The navy motorman manning the Zodiac goosed the throttles on the two 150-horsepower motors, and the Zodiac sprang forward into the shadowy lee of the stern. The marine top sergeant popped off the charge, and the small hook shot up and out of the Zodiac. The rubberized hook caught on the top railing that lined the extreme aft end of the giant cruiser. The rope played out behind as the sergeant pulled on its rubberized coating as hard as he could. He was assisted by another marine, and the rope came taut.

  The five-man marine and navy crew assisted Henri to the forward-most position in the large rubber boat. The Zodiac bounced hard as the froth being churned up by Peter the Great’s massive propellers almost flipped it, but a quick swerve out of the churning vortex helped in its recovery.

  “Good luck, Colonel,” the top sergeant said to Henri over the eardrum-breaking charge of the Russian cruiser and the noise of their own motors. Henri just nodded.

  He would never have let Colonel Collins know just how out of sorts he was in when it came to remembering his special forces training back in France in what seemed like a hundred years ago. He lowered the goggles and then took a deep breath. The top sergeant held up a remote. He flipped the safety switch off.

  “Now remember, this thing will pull your arms out of their sockets if you don’t let go at the right time. Just as you reach the topmost railing, let the hell go, or we’ll be unspooling your arms from the motor and the pulley at the top for the next month.”

  Again, Farbeaux only nodded as he adjusted the pack he wore at the small of his back. It had been so long since his training, he felt foolish when the large marine had adjusted the pack from the front—where it would have caught on the railing and flung him back into the sea—to the back, where it wouldn’t be in the way. Henri swallowed and then looked at the marine.

  “Okay, go!” the sergeant called out as he pushed the illuminated red button on the remote.

  Suddenly, the world was split by the sound not unlike an unspooling fishing line as Henri was yanked far harder than the sergeant said he would be. His booted foot was the last to clear the gunwales of the Zodiac as the Frenchman’s black-clad body shot from the boat. As soon as he was clear, the Zodiac peeled off and then took up station just to the port side of Peter the Great, just in case the Frenchman came crashing back into the sea. The marines knew it was a useless gesture, because if Henri didn’t make the slingshot action successful, he would surely die from not only the fall but from the churning and explosive wake of the cruiser that would chew him up.

  When the Zodiac slid into the calmer water just outside the wake, they saw that Farbeaux had grabbed the uppermost railing and was dangling. They cringed when it looked as though h
e slipped and then relaxed when Henri’s strength showed through and he vanished over the top rail and onto the deck of Peter the Great as she sped along her way. The Zodiac made a sharp and dramatic turn and with throttles full open to their stops and sped away back toward Shiloh.

  The sergeant handed the pop gun to a corporal and then shook his head.

  “That was about the ballsiest thing I’ve ever seen.”

  “Just who in the hell are these people, Top?”

  “You know what? I don’t want to know.”

  * * *

  After gaining the coarse steel deck, Henri stayed down as he studied the situation. He quickly stood and then took ahold of the rubber-and-plastic grappling hook and threw it into the sea. He also removed the black knitted cap, and that soon followed. The goggles were next. As he again stooped to his knees, he soon saw that Peter the Great was only a quarter awake. Kreshenko must have given his tired crew a break and only went to a lower state of alert so they could get some rest for their journey home tomorrow.

  Henri stood and walked as normally as he could past the stern missile launcher and the .50-caliber machine guns lining her deck. If he was seen, he knew that Salkukoff would have the final laugh. Even Kreshenko would not have approved of an assassination on board his ship.

  He heard voices, and he stopped and took station behind a tarp-covered lifeboat next to the port railing. He listened as two Russian sailors slowly made their trek toward the stern, where they both lit cigarettes and laughed about something.

  “That was close,” Henri mumbled to himself. Another minute and that grappling hook would have hit one of those poor fellows right in the head. He smiled and then moved off. He found the steel stairs that led upward into the main superstructure of the cruiser.

  Men were seen here and there, but they were too busy concentrating on their tasks at hand to notice the shadowy figure climbing the stairs. Henri quickly found the hatchway he was looking for and then ducked inside. The passage was darkened nearest the door for light discipline reasons. Henri used this darkness to move like an ancient ninja, only at his age, he felt more like a turtle caught in the middle of a road race. Twice he heard voices and moved into another passage to avoid the men. He finally made it to officers’ country after narrowly avoiding getting caught no less than seven times on his journey.