Beyond the Sea--An Event Group Thriller

by David L. Golemon

  Water finally succeeded in doing what the torpedo hadn’t. The engine room came to pieces as the sea struck her hot power plant. The stern of the missile cruiser erupted up and out, blasting men and equipment into the opening created by the failing engines.

  Peter the Great slowly settled into the water as her remaining forward sections dug deeply into the violet-colored seas. Fire and smoke marked the area where she came to a complete stop. Alarms continued to sound as men started to rise from her decks. They stumbled, assisted others, and watched in abject astonishment as every Wasakoo aboard ran and dove into the sea. The circling mantas and their riders splashed into the water and vanished as if they had never been.

  The sea was now littered with large sections and floating bodies of the two most powerful warships in the history of the world. The one remaining vessel was still anchored in the center of an ever-expanding mass of debris and dead men.

  The last target left—Simbirsk—waited for the final blow to come.

  KIROV-CLASS BATTLE CRUISER SIMBIRSK

  Hand-to-hand battle raged across the expansive deck of the Simbirsk. Sailors and marines were running low on ammunition as they fought with the attacking Wasakoo. The war was brutal as men fought this strange enemy on a sea that was unrecognizable. They all, to a man, did not want to die in this world.

  Jack had nearly been impaled by a spear as brutal looking as any medieval weapon from humankind’s own history. The iron tip penetrated his pant leg and seared his skin as it nicked his upper thigh. He pulled the spear free of the steel and material and then threw it at a charging Wasakoo. The weapon struck the creature and went straight through its chest. The Wasakoo crumpled and then hissed in Jack’s direction as it slowly fell and then rolled underneath the railing and fell into the sea.

  Henri let loose with the Thompson at a group of Wasakoo as they tried to fight their way up the bridge ladders. He sent five of them crashing down onto the steel deck, but two others were still climbing. He cursed his luck when the bolt of the Thompson slammed open and stayed there. He tossed the weapon away just as Ryan let loose with his Colt .45. The two Wasakoo Henri had missed flew off the ladder and fell to their deaths.

  The horns started sounding from the boats that had been tied up next to Simbirsk. The seashell call reverberated even over the noise of close-quarter battle.

  Collins and the others were stunned as every Wasakoo that had boarded the battle cruiser jumped over the side. The battle had ended just as fast as it had started.

  Jack looked around and took stock. The fires that had erupted were still blazing, but he suspected that the attack was not meant to take down the Russian relic. Men were gathering themselves, prodded by Ryan and a few of the marines to start battling the remaining fires that still flamed high into the air. He went to the rail and, after wiping blood from his face, stared at the destruction floating all around them.

  Shiloh was dead in the water only fifteen hundred feet away. Her stern section was a mass of twisted steel and flaming debris. She was settling into the water at a rate Jack knew was possibly fatal. He watched as damage control parties scrambled from section to section attempting to save their dying ship. His eyes next went to the mass of flames rising less than a mile away as Peter the Great began to slide bow first into the water. Even with the devastation, Collins saw several large Zodiacs as they sped reinforcements toward the stricken Peter the Great. Even with his own ship in peril, Captain Johnson was sending assistance over to fellow sailors.

  “They’re still trying to save her,” Everett said as he stepped up to Jack as he searched his bandolier for another clip of .45 rounds for his now useless Thompson, which he tossed to the deck when he found it empty.

  “What in the hell hit us?” Farbeaux said as he assisted Ryan in tossing over the side the bodies they had just sent to their doom. He watched as the dead Wasakoo splashed into the water, and then he faced Carl and Jack.

  Collins became silent as he angrily watched two great ships fighting for their lives within visual range. He had never felt so helpless in his life. Spitting blood from his mouth, he turned and searched until he found the pack lying on the deck. It was smoldering from some of the chemical accelerant used by the Wasakoo, and he quickly stamped it out. He opened the case and then pulled free the canvas bag they had recovered from the village. He ran his thumb over the Cyrillic lettering as he looked from it to the violet seas.

  “I believe the theory of our friend Salkukoff having another ship out there has been confirmed in no uncertain terms, gentlemen,” Henri said as he watched Jack study the canvas bag. He felt the shudder of the Simbirsk under his feet as the wake from the distant detonations reached the Russian ship. It again settled as Jack looked into Henri’s blue eyes.

  “Not a ship—a boat,” he said as Ryan joined them. His arm was dangling some, as he had taken one of the elongated arrows to the forearm. It was a simple wound and one he could live with, but it still smarted as he kicked at the remains of a Wasakoo, which he simply nudged under the railing and into the sea. “A submarine,” he said as he again read the canvas bag.

  “The only boat we had in tow before this mess started was Houston,” Carl said to Jack. “But she had to have been destroyed or sunk during the transition to the phase shift. If we hadn’t heard from her by now, she’s had it, Jack. Those boats are like eggshells.”

  “Not Houston,” Collins said as he finally looked up and over at the flaming Peter the Great. He tossed Henri the bag but faced Everett. “Somewhere out there is the Rostov-on-Don. She has to be a Russian sub.”

  All three men were aghast.

  “And this canvas carryall was from the boat’s stores,” Henri said as he quickly deduced that Collins was right.

  “If they have a sub that has phase shift capability, why do they need Simbirsk? Why wouldn’t they center their attack on us? Why just Peter the Great and Shiloh?” Ryan asked.

  “I don’t know,” Jack said as he continued to look out to sea.

  “I guess we’re about to find out,” Carl said as he pointed to something a mile away.

  The sea erupted in bubbles and foam as the water parted, and the giant black object rose like a mythical sea creature from the depths.

  “Back home, Europa, in one of her military intelligence briefings, mentioned a new class of boat out of the Russian shipyards. According to her, this might be the new Russian Yasen-class attack sub. It was only rumored, but there she is.” Carl faced Jack. “Good guess on the sub idea, ground pounder.”

  They watched as the Rostov-on-Don, a boat named after the small Russian city in the south, surfaced and then settled onto the calm waters of the violet ocean. She sat unmoving as water cascaded from her blackened hull. The white lettering of her designation was bright against her elongated conning tower. They watched as her antennas and radar dish rose high above that sail. Her menacing bulk just sat there facing the destruction she had just caused. This boat had just fired on one of her own. Even as they watched, they saw the menacing vision of her cruise missile doors opening just aft of that large, sloping conning tower.

  “Thirteen thousand–ton displacement weight, top speed of thirty knots, she has a crew of one hundred and twelve officers and men.”

  All three men turned and faced Henri, who shrugged.

  “You are not the only one, Captain, to study and know Russian warfare plans.”

  “Always full of surprises, Henri,” Everett said as he turned to watch the behemoth sitting only a mile away. It was like a predator just waiting for the right time to strike.

  “Yes, well, here’s a surprise for you, if you like. She also has long-range nuclear-capable cruise missiles whose doors are now open for business, if you had not noticed. Also, I might remind you, we have none of that. I’m afraid our friend Salkukoff has us over what you would call a barrel.”

  “Some damn surprise, Henri,” Ryan said as he watched in wonder at the sub.

  “Look, she’s signaling,” Carl said as he rea
ched for and retrieved his binoculars.

  “What does she signal?” Collins asked as he watched the meaningless naval-speak flashing across to them.

  Carl watched the flashing strobe from the conning tower of the black submarine.

  “Oh, boy, you’re going to love this one, Jack.”

  COMPTON’S REEF

  The small team had reached the middle section of the mountain. Only fifty yards from the mine’s opening, they waited to see if any survivor of the village massacre appeared. They hadn’t in the three minutes they had been watching. Charlie was tempted to spur the marines forward, but he knew when to keep his anxiousness to himself after so many years with Jack and the others. Still, he bit his lower lip as he waited with mounting frustration.

  As they waited, they felt the rumble coming from the sea. They did not have the vantage point to see what had happened, but every man feared the worst. Everyone had been around death and destruction their entire professional lives and knew what the war sounds were. Their homes away from home were under attack. Jenks was feeling as frustrated as Charlie was but knew the marines would be cautious, as one disaster did not relate to the other when they were on a mission. They focused on their job and theirs alone.

  Before they realized what was happening, they were caught off guard by twenty of the Wasakoo as they broke their cover and ran for the mine opening. They saw them vanish into the darkness beyond, and then they heard the screams emanating from the interior.

  “My God!” Charlie said as he mindlessly rushed forward.

  “Doc! Doc!” the lance corporal called out after the charging professor. “Damn it!” He waved his men forward. “Let’s go!”

  The ten marines with Master Chief Jenks in tow ran after Ellenshaw.

  The lance corporal never even considered bringing night vision for their little foray and was kicking himself for that minor flaw in their mission planning. Still, they charged silently forward.

  They saw Charlie suddenly veer off into the worn trail in front of the mine’s opening. Then they watched as ten of the Wasakoo dragged five men and two women out screaming. They were helpless as the villagers were dispatched ruthlessly in front of their children, who ran in panic. Ten more of the Wasakoo broke from the opening, and one of them grabbed a screaming child of no more than ten years of age. Ellenshaw recklessly charged headlong into the creature, knocking it down, along with the crying child. The Wasakoo quickly recovered and then fell on the white-haired madman.

  The 5.56-millimeter round caught the scaled attacker in the head, sending it backward as the marines broke into the opening. Expert marksmanship brought down the Wasakoo faster than the marines could site them. They were all feeling the relief at shooting something. The frustration was clear on the young faces as they tried to save as many of the villagers as they could. Ellenshaw quickly recovered and started rounding up all the children he could see. He hustled a group of six off into the trail brush as the United States Marines fought the strangest skirmish in corps history.

  It was over in less than thirty seconds from beginning to end.

  Ellenshaw was helped by Jenks as they gathered what was left of the innocent human population. Six children, four girls and two boys. One of the parents hung on for three minutes, but her wounds were too great, and she died in the arms of a nineteen-year-old marine.

  Six marines checked the interior of the mine until it dipped so low they could go no farther. If any of the survivors escaped the Wasakoo, they were far down into the shaft of the mine. They had no more time to search for them.

  “How many?” Charlie asked as he coddled a crying girl of no more than three years of age.

  Jenks had two of the children in his thick arms as he turned for the trail and the way back to the Zodiac.

  “Six. Six are all that’s left,” Master Chief Jenks hissed as he pushed by several of the saddened marines. “We failed these people for the second damn time!”

  Suddenly, Jenks was pulled from behind by the lance corporal and then roughly pushed to the ground with his armload of children just as several of the elongated arrows came bursting through the air to strike the bush and rocks around them.

  “Take cover!”

  As the twelve men and six children hit the dirt, they saw the reason why the lance corporal had been so persuasive. On the mountainside a thousand yards away, there were at least a thousand Wasakoo slowly making their way toward the mine.

  “Back into the opening! Take cover!” the lance corporal said as he harangued his meager force back into the darkness and safety of the mine’s reinforced opening.

  “Oh, shit,” one of the youngest marines said as he saw the fast-deteriorating situation.

  “Yeah,” Jenks said as he easily placed the children down next to Ellenshaw. “You took the words right out of my mouth, squid.” He pulled a nine-millimeter pistol from its holster and charged the weapon. He looked down at a girl who was hiccupping through her crying. He winked and smiled down at her. Then he started counting the Wasakoo and came to a number he knew would not be advantageous to completing their harried mission. It was the lance corporal who tossed Ellenshaw the radio with the clear indication that he should at least send out a call for help. He knew that from the sound of explosions from the sea that they really couldn’t expect a rescue.

  “Gentlemen, prepare to defend yourselves!”

  KIROV-CLASS BATTLE CRUISER SIMBIRSK

  Jack knew the truce was at the very least an uneasy one. Russian marines and sailors stared at the four large rubber boats as they approached. Collins saw at least half of the Russian sub’s complement riding shotgun for Salkukoff and his black-clad commandos—seventy fresh and heavily armed men against what was left of the Simbirsk and her patched-together crew of British, Russian, and American sailors and marines. And as Jack looked them over, he knew the men on board were in no condition to continue a fight that they had no chance of winning. He felt the weight of his personal nine millimeter in its shoulder holster and decided that he would use it in lieu of surrender. He himself would beat Farbeaux in his quest to kill the Russian.

  “Do we have a plan, Jack?” Everett said with hope as he continued looking for extra ammunition by checking fallen marines and sailors. The disgusting task was making him angrier by the minute.

  Collins continued to watch the boats approach and the arrogant way Salkukoff stood at the bow of the lead boat as if he were George Washington crossing the Delaware. Jack remained silent, and Carl knew that when the colonel went quiet, someone was heading for a heartache. Everett knew that one way or the other, the Russian wasn’t going to get away with killing everyone who knew the secrets of phase shift.

  “I suspect our colonel is going to attempt the honorable way out,” Henri said as he tossed his own empty nine millimeter away.

  “Yeah, I’m for that. Any bastard that would shoot at his own people, I think, lacks trust,” Ryan said as he joined the men at the rail to watch the triumphant approach of Salkukoff. He saw Collins turn and wink. The action always made Ryan feel good about their impending doom.

  Before anyone could speak, Jack’s radio crackled to life. His eyes went from the rubber boats now tying up to the gangway to his handheld. He took it and listened. The voice was low and nearly inaudible. He turned up the volume as he and the others moved away from the view of the Russians who were getting ready to board.

  “Doc, is that you?”

  Again, there was static. Then the faint and distant voice came across again.

  “Say again, Charlie,” Jack said, and he couldn’t help but look over as Salkukoff and his men started the long climb up the gangway.

  “Thousands of Wasakoo are nearing our position, over.”

  “What is your location, Doc?”

  “The mine; we have survivors, but we are surrounded by a hostile force. Can we get some support? Over.”

  Jack lowered the radio and looked from man to man, hoping someone had an idea. Jason shook his head as he anxiously
looked around him as if finding a weapon would help Jenks, Charlie, and the marines that were with them. Henri bit his lip as he angrily stewed over Salkukoff’s arrival. But he too eventually shook his head. Collins turned away and adjusted his view where he could see Compton’s Reef and the mountain at its center fifteen miles away. Too far to even reach them in time even if they had a plan. Jack was frustrated, as his ideas for rescue were rather complicated by their surrender at sea.

  When Carl froze, so did the others. He suddenly started looking around, and then his eyes settled on the extreme height of the pagoda-style tower above them. He took the radio from Jack’s grasp and then started talking.

  “Doc, are the marines close by?”

  “They’re kind of busy setting up what defense we can mount, which isn’t much. There’s just too many of them.”

  “Doc, do you have smoke? Over.”

  “I don’t know what—”

  Carl was getting frustrated, and he shook his head as the noise of the men pounding and slowly coming up the gangway was like the sound of a ticking time bomb in his ears.

  “Smoke, yes, we have red and green smoke, over.”

  “Good boy, Doc. Look, I need one of the marines to pop smoke in front of the mine’s opening in fifteen minutes exactly. Do you copy?”

  “Fifteen, got it.”

  “Okay, Doc, tell everyone as soon as green smoke has been popped in front of the Wasakoo advance, hunker down inside. You’ll know when. Listen to the marines and Jenks; they’ll know what’s coming. Over.”

  “Got it—pop green smoke in fifteen. Ellenshaw out.”

  Carl tossed the radio to Jack and then watched as Salkukoff gained the upper deck only four hundred feet away.

  “Jack, you’re a ground pounder—what would you estimate the distance to the mine’s opening?”

  Collins hurriedly opened his bag where he had retrieved the canvas carryall. He pulled out a small device. “A gift from Sarah—she says my eyes are getting too bad without glasses.” He tossed it to Everett, who smiled when he saw what it was.