Beyond the Sea--An Event Group Thriller
Page 35
“And how many innocent sailors were wasted in your attempts to find other frequencies?” Henri asked.
“Too many to count. Thirteen ships of our navy sacrificed all for the future of their nation. So, we cozied up to Simbirsk on one of her magical appearances, and as I said, we followed. We needed a stabler platform because of the dangers of riding the old girl to this world, so we sent in our newest, strongest asset—”
“The Rostov-on-Don,” Jack answered for him.
“Yes, very good, Colonel. She is strong and very capable as you just learned, and she can submerge to escape the worst of the phase shift forces.”
“Why not just use a phase shift engine inside your submarine and copy the frequency of the transfer when Simbirsk moved?” Jack asked.
“For the simple reason their sciences couldn’t miniaturize the engine—it’s too big,” Henri said with a small chuckle. “They have no choice but to follow Simbirsk wherever she goes. Now that’s a plan, a stupid one, but it is a plan. You people will never cease to amaze me with your reach of power, even though that reach will cost lives.”
Salkukoff didn’t appreciate the Frenchman’s humor or point of view. His face was a mask of anger as he nodded at Farbeaux over their failures of science. He gestured, and several of the commandos approached and placed Jack’s and Henri’s hands behind their backs.
“There, you have successfully exposed our evil plans, Colonel, but there will be no salvation for you or any of the forces you have arrayed against us. You will remain here with these shipwrecked sailors, fighting the Wasakoo for the remainder of your lives, and live a life free of deciding who is evil and who is good in the world. Here, you can be good all you want. With the Simbirsk being immediately destroyed upon my return, there will be no going home for you, Colonel.”
Salkukoff turned and started toward the hatchway leading down into the phase shift engine spaces.
“Maybe, maybe not,” Jack said with a smile, and his voice made Salkukoff stop and turn to face the American and the Frenchman. He tilted his head, not understanding.
Jack moved his hands from behind his back before they could be tied. The Russian commandos seemed amused. Collins tore away part of his shirt, and then that piece was torn into four small strips. Two of these he handed to Henri, who accepted them with a nod. Both men stuffed the torn shirt into their ears and then went to their knees, making the Russians standing around them laugh and smile. Salkukoff was not among them as he realized too late what the American’s plan was.
Every man on the upper deck froze as the large number-three gun turret of the Russian battle cruiser started to rotate and the three barrels rose into the air.
The ancient warship had one last surprise in store for her passengers.
LOS ANGELES–CLASS ATTACK SUBMARINE USS HOUSTON
The crew strapped themselves down, men ran to their battle stations, and all were armed to the teeth with weapons as Houston was prepared to give her all to survive. With the detonations that had sounded through their loudspeakers from the surface of the sea, they knew even if they surfaced alive, there was going to be a possible fight.
“Okay, Rodriguez, warm up those pumps!” Thorne turned and looked at his young crew. They were as ready as he could ever hope; the men at their stations didn’t bow their heads in prayer, and there was no panic. They just turned to their duties and prepared for the worst. “All hands, prepare to surface.”
The chief of the boat hit the surface alarm, and the beluga call burst from the loudspeakers.
“Chief, blow all tanks, full rise on the planes, stand by for all-ahead flank, surface the boat!”
Every man aboard winced as the announcement was made. They saw the ballast control officer close his eyes as he blindly hit the aft and stern pumps that would activate the forcing of water from her bulk. Just as the ballast control officer turned the switch, they all heard the expansive explosion of water being forced from Houston’s open vents. The entire complement all closed their eyes when they heard Houston break away from the ledge. But also in accompaniment with the sound of releasing air came the sound they all dreaded. Houston started sliding before her tanks emptied enough to get them up and moving. The scraping and outside noise from her crushing bulk ceased almost as suddenly as it started.
USS Houston slid off the mountain ledge, and her bow dome dipped. The Gray Lady started a spiraling plummet to her death almost three miles down.
COMPTON’S REEF
At three hundred yards, the defenders inside the mine opened fire. They caught the Wasakoo off guard. The front line of skirmishers was so busy trying to cool themselves with water they never knew what hit them. Thirty-five of the green-tinted creatures went down in the initial volley.
Jenks raised his head and looked. He saw the Wasakoo behind the first line of attackers scramble. However, it didn’t take them long to recover. This time, they didn’t come on slowly; it was as if they knew they were short of time. They charged. A thousand of the hideous-looking species came on while screaming and shaking long, lethal-looking spears at them.
Three grenades were launched down the mountainside, and they rolled right into the center of the Wasakoo advancing line. They exploded. The bodies flew in all directions, but the grenades didn’t have the desired effect of making them think differently about their assault.
Barrels were red hot as the marines kept up their constant fire. But everyone inside the mine’s opening knew they would run out of bullets long before the Wasakoo ran out of spears.
“Well, that does it. Cover me!” Jenks burst from the opening, and then with all the strength he could muster, he threw the smoke canister as far downhill as he could.
On the mountainside, the green smoke popped, and the Wasakoo flinched from the strange attack. They avoided even walking into the billowing cloud.
“I hope Toad shoots straight!” Jenks yelled as he burst back into the opening.
Down below them, the Wasakoo made their last charge.
KIROV-CLASS BATTLE CRUISER SIMBIRSK
Everett placed his eye to the powerful scope in the fire directory station two hundred feet above the main deck. At first, he couldn’t even see the mountain, much less the opening of the mine’s entrance. He adjusted the scope, and with one eye closed, he finally saw the green smoke rising from the midway point of the mountain. He made the quick calculation and then entered it into the fire control computer. Computer? He laughed as he thought about it. It was that in name only, as most of the calculations were already made by the operator. He looked down at the wind velocity and saw that it was near zero. The distant target was cross-sectioned, and then the distance was put in.
“God, I hope my math still holds up.” Carl went over to the starboard bulkhead and chanced a look down onto the deck where Jack was attempting to buy him the time they needed. It didn’t look as if the conversation was going well. He also noticed the crew of the Simbirsk was being lined up on their knees. He didn’t like the look of that at all. He noticed one other thing also. The bulk of the remaining Royal Marines were nowhere to be seen. That was the little bit of hope he was waiting for. With luck, those marines knew when to attack. He picked up his radio.
“Commander, are you ready?”
“No, I’m never that anxious to blow myself up. Other than that, the tubes are loaded … I think.”
“Okay, here we go.”
On the main deck, the aft number-three turret started to rotate. As it did, the three sixty-foot-long barrels rose into the air. Carl chanced another look as his commands were now automated. It would be up to Ryan to trigger off the first explosive rounds at an enemy by a heavy cruiser since the Korean War.
“Gun number one, fire!”
* * *
Jack, Henry, and the Russian commandos were thrown from their feet as gun number one in turret three let loose. The concussion killed two of Salkukoff’s men who were directly under the powerful warhead when the two silk-lined powder bags ignited and then in
turn pushed the thousand-pound warhead through the tube and out into the blue sky. The recoil on the ship was fantastic. Simbirsk groaned against the power of the exploding fifteen-inch weaponry. Her bulk slid ten feet to the port side as the barrel flashed a fifty-foot-long trail of fire from her muzzle. Before anyone could react, another shell exploded from gun mount number two. This time, four of Salkukoff’s men were blown over the side, and Salkukoff himself was wrenched from the ladder he had been climbing and was thrown to the hard deck. Henri recovered fast as he tried to get to the downed Russian colonel, but he was hit hard in the back of the head and stilled momentarily.
Jack took a split second to recover. Even with the makeshift earplugs, he was almost knocked senseless. As he raised his head, he saw the Russian commandos were down and the regular crew was fighting with them. It seemed the Russian seamen, no matter how badly bruised they were by the blast of the big guns, were angry enough to shed off that pain and attack the men they blamed for their situation. He then saw a wondrous sight as the third and final gun was turning to the port side and the barrel was lowering. Collins quickly roused a hurt Farbeaux, and they both rolled underneath one of the lifeboats for protection.
“Jesus, Ryan is going for the sub!” Jack said as even in the directory Everett was amazed when the barrel and the turret started transiting on their own with no input from him. He hit the deck as the barrel went to its lowest attitude and the gun exploded outward. Everett quickly stood and saw the submarine. He saw the crew scrambling away in panic as the fifteen-inch shell struck just aft of the conning tower, missing the boat by only eighty feet. The submarine was inundated in violet seawater.
“Damn, Ryan, you missed!” Carl hissed.
Then he saw what no man ever wanted to see: the sub came to life and moved closer to get into position.
None of the Americans thought they would fire on their only way home, but they also knew the submarine captain had been fired on and was reacting instead of thinking. This whole operation may have just gone tits up.
COMPTON’S REEF
The first ranks of the Wasakoo had burst up and over the rock-strewn protection the marines had thrown up. They crashed into men, and the fighting became hand to hand. They knew their time in this life was done when the rest of the thousand enemies burst through.
Jenks emptied his close-in weapon, his nine millimeter, and then grabbed the skin of one of the sickly Wasakoo as it dove into the mine. Jenks started pummeling the creature on the head and neck, but he felt the weight of the large Wasakoo as it drove him into the ground. As the master chief looked into the grinning face of the Wasakoo, it hissed at him as its strong and webbed fingers started to choke the life from him. Then the pressure eased as Charlie appeared in his vision. The white-haired professor held one of the discarded spears in his hand as he brought it down once more into the back of Jenks’s attacker.
Suddenly, a freight train sound rent the skies above them. It sounded as if the massive fifteen-inch shell was reaching right out for them and not the advancing Wasakoo. The first explosion blew the marines, Charlie, and Jenks backward as it detonated not fifty feet from the mine’s opening. Fire and smoke covered everything. None of the men could even begin to hear the second round as it came crashing down from the almost mile-high arc. Another brutal earth-shattering explosion shook the very rock strata they hid behind. More fire, rock, pieces of Wasakoo, and foliage covered them all.
There was an eerie silence that filled the world. With the exception of men coughing and their painful attempts to rise, the world was gone for them. Dust filled the cave like dense smoke as Jenks shook his head. He saw Charlie move next to him. His spear was broken into two pieces, but he was still tenaciously hanging on to it.
“Come on, Doc, you’re all right,” Jenks said as he battled to his feet, and in the blinding dust cloud, he assisted Ellenshaw to his feet. Then they started helping the marines who had been closer to the opening than they. Three of them were hard to rouse awake, but they finally opened their eyes and coughed. All was still silent.
Jenks and the lance corporal made it to the opening, and that was when they saw the devastation the ancient Russian weaponry had caused. It looked as if the world had been plowed over. There was not a tree standing within fifty yards of the mine. Wasakoo were lying dead in all directions.
“Look,” the lance corporal said, pointing.
Jenks rubbed his eyes, coughed out a mouthful of dirt, and then saw what the marine saw. Out of over a thousand Wasakoo, only fifty or so were heading for the hills. They sprinted downhill at a pace that said they wanted nothing more to do with the intruders to their world.
“Thank God! I didn’t want to buy it here,” the lance corporal said as he wiped as much of the dirt from his face as he could.
“Hate to tell you this, Lance Corporal Jarhead, but we still have to travel through time and space to get back home.”
The marine looked at Jenks as the others, including the six children they had just saved, joined them.
“As long as no one shoots them big damn guns at us, I can live with that danger. That was freakin’ brutal!”
The battle for Compton’s Reef had ended.
KIROV-CLASS BATTLE CRUISER SIMBIRSK
Jack and Henri had lost all sense of time and predicament. The recoil of the large-bore guns had sent everyone to the deck. The gunfire itself had killed at least six men of Salkukoff’s command. Still, they held the upper hand. The Russian sailors they had rounded up and disarmed were as helpless as Collins and Farbeaux. They were just rising from the deck, and the commandos, to their credit, recovered far faster than their captives. Henri assisted Jack to his feet. Farbeaux removed the makeshift earplugs and saw that his left eardrum may have been perforated as blood-covered cloth attested to.
“You’re bleeding,” Jack said as he nodded his thanks at the Frenchman.
Before they realized what was happening, they were both pushed back down onto the deck by three of Salkukoff’s men. The man himself was wiping blood from his nose and forehead as he staggered toward them. He angrily kicked out at Jack and caught the colonel in the stomach. When Henri reacted, he was slammed in the back of the head by the foldable stock of an AK-47 and sent to the steel deck next to Collins.
“What did that little display prove?” He kicked at Jack again before he could recover from the first blow. “Two worthless misses at a now uninhabited island, and one toward my boat? Very poor plan, Colonel.” He angrily and ruthlessly took an AK-47 from one of his men and aimed it down toward the two men. “Now, here’s the rest of my plan,” he said as he aimed at the back of Jack’s head. Farbeaux looked up in time to realize that this time around they would not escape that inevitable bullet Collins and men like himself always expected.
In the fire control directory high above, Everett saw what was about to happen but was powerless to stop it.
LOS ANGELES–CLASS ATTACK SUBMARINE USS HOUSTON
As Houston blew all air from her ballast tanks, it looked as if it would be too late. The submarine flew off the shelf of the mountain and went straight down. The weakened ballast control system was not powerful enough to provide lift to her planes until more water was ejected from her bowels. Every man aboard was thrown into their stations as Houston began a descent they would never recover from.
“All back full!” Thorne yelled over the whine of the turbines.
“Answering all back!” the chief of the boat answered. “Reactors at 115 percent!”
Thorne closed his eyes as he hung on in the almost vertical environment. His lips moved as if in prayer, but he was counting internally. He ticked off the depth in his head, knowing where their crush depth was, and his calculations told him they had another hundred feet before Houston imploded like an eggshell.
The control room was calm for the circumstances they found themselves in. They hung on, and most of the seamen prayed.
“She’s slowing!” XO Devers called out. “Bow’s coming up!”
Thorne looked over at his control board and saw the depth numbers slowing. He again closed his eyes as Houston was still nearing her breaking point. The sound of her sail being punched in like a car in an auto accident reverberated throughout the boat. Loud popping started, and each pop of her hull sent fear through the crew. Still, Thorne hoped.
“She’s coming back up!” the chief shouted and yipped.
Houston was two hundred feet beyond her crush depth as they felt the forces shift more to the horizontal.
“That’s it! We are coming up!” Devers said, agreeing with the chief of the boat.
Houston started to rise at an incredible rate. Hull-popping noises sounded as she started to come to shallower waters. Soon she was heading in the opposite direction, straight up. Every man felt the speed as it increased. Thorne, against his better judgment, fought his way back toward the NAV table. He was hanging on for dear life when an announcement came over the loudspeakers that froze his blood.
“Conn, sonar, we’ve been hit with a sonar ping!”
Devers looked over at his captain with shock registering on his face.
“Sonar, conn, what are you talking about?”
“Conn, sonar, we have a surface vessel painting us. Torpedo doors opening. Suspected submarine right over our heads!”
“Damn, we’re going to be fired on!” Devers finally said.
“Sonar, conn, best guess as to ambient noise?”
“Conn, computer says the profile fits that new Russian sub we were warned about. Her screws are starting to turn. She’s Russian, all right!”
Thorne angrily threw the 1 MC mic at Devers, who caught it. “Weapons, open outer doors on aft tubes seven, eight, and nine. Vertical tubes one and two. Are the Harpoons warmed?”
“Weapons, aye, tubes are loaded with war shot, and doors are open. Doors open on vertical tubes one and two.”
“Conn, sonar, we have two torpedoes in the water!”