“No. Delete info, Sally.”
The screen went blank.
Just then, a hand landed on her shoulder. Looking up, she saw it was Roberts, the liaison with Stratcom—the Joint Space Operations Center, which tracks all space events. He was a fairly decent molecular biologist. “They can’t find him,” Roberts said. “If you think he’s on his way down…share now.”
Counting to ten, she blew out her breath and stood. Clapping her hands together loudly, she shouted, “Can I have your attention, everyone? I believe Captain Sheraton is planning to either touchdown or splashdown near San Diego, specifically, close to Coronado, California.”
Rogers shook his head. “That’s not protocol. He’d follow his set plan.”
“No, he wouldn’t. Sally cannot communicate clearly with Sully. They are designed to link up perfectly, regardless of proximity. Given the comet and a multitude of possibilities that we may not even consider, Captain Sheraton is most likely coming in hot.” Kimberly’s voice was strong and definitive.
“I’ll have to discuss this with department heads, and then we’ll decide.”
Kimberly shook her head. “You don’t have that kind of time.” If she waited for them to decide, she feared the worst would happen—that Bennett would need to land in the ocean and be trapped without help.
As the scientists gathered in the center of Command to discuss it, she said softly, “Sally, call Jonah Melo’s wife on her cell phone.”
“Dialing.”
Kimberly turned away from the men. The call connected. “Alisha, this is Kimberly Warren. I don’t have a lot of time, but I need your help.”
“Of course! Wait, I’m putting you on speaker.” The sound on the other end of Alisha’s phone amplified. “You have us both now.”
“Melo, there’s a problem. There’s a comet, and I think the ice chunks from it damaged the communication system. Bennett is in the atmosphere now. There’s no way the shuttle can make it to its prearranged landing point. Do you know where he’d go?”
“The west coast, from the Silver Strand Training Complex to the Amphibious Base to NAS—that’s Naval Air Station North Island, off Coronado, California—or somewhere in that vicinity,” Melo said. “We know that water like the back of our hands.”
“I think so too,” she whispered. “I can’t get them to listen to me here. Can you do something to help him?”
Melo was silent for a moment. “Yes. I’m actually on base, visiting SEAL Team ONE. I’ll put a plan into action. Can you get a helicopter here?”
She smiled. “Why take a helo when I fly CarP? Can you let the tower know I’m coming?”
He laughed. “Yes, I’ll let Command know that you’ll be landing at NAS or somewhere around there.” The phone went dead.
Silently, she slipped out of the room, closing the door behind her. The men could bicker all night long. There were people from Melo and Sheraton’s SEAL community willing to help, and she could get to the man she loved. The weight of how deeply she loved him settled on her shoulders, and she stumbled.
Steadying herself against the wall, she took several breaths to regain her equilibrium. “Sally, I need you to keep tracking Captain Sheraton and show his progress on my phone. This data will travel with me outside of the Lester Facility.”
“This is forbidden. It is against standard protocols, Kimberly. Your protocols.”
“I know, Sally, but they are my rules, and I command this action with master key 60LKH4327J. Confirm.” Kimberly made her way down the main hallway, turning at the far hallway for the flight hangar. She had a date with CarP.
“Acknowledged. The requested information is on your phone, Kimberly. Fly safely. I will be monitoring you.” The computer’s voice was soothing, something she herself had programmed in. It was oddly comforting right now.
“Thank you, Sally,” said Kimberly. If she didn’t know better, she’d wonder if the computer was worried about her. Of course, that was a question of sentience. Computers being aware…well, that was best suited for another discussion at a different, less life-threatening moment.
* * *
Inside the Warren Shuttle, the temperature was increasing. There was no way to lower the heat, and Bennett was burning up. Sweat dripped into his eyes, and he blinked rapidly to clear them.
Wires hung out of the lower console, and stuff slid around the floor. No matter how much one attempted to secure items, coming through the atmosphere had to be like giving birth…messy.
Remaining alive was the primary objective. Bennett gritted his teeth. The pressure in the cabin had already popped one eardrum, and that was his “good” ear—the one that hadn’t been somewhat affected by the constant drone of gunfire over the years.
Warm fluid trickled from his ear down his neck and onto his shoulder. Most likely it was blood. He couldn’t let go of the yoke to wipe it away. It didn’t matter. There was nothing to be done about it anyhow. Either it would heal, or it wouldn’t.
The priority was getting the shuttle safely on the ground and surviving the journey.
The windshield finally cleared of dust as the shuttle hurtled toward the Earth. He needed to slow down before he reached a critical-mass point where the structural integrity gave away. His mind flashed on Kimberly, and he remembered a few fascinating design features that she’d added, despite her peers’ objections.
“Sully, are you still there?” Bennett asked.
“Affirmative.”
“Calculate the sequence that will slow us the most using the air-brake flaps, and then use it. Most likely those flaps will snap off, but it’s possible it will help us slow down.” Bennett’s arm muscles shook as he fought the force of the juddering yoke to hold it steady.
Sully counted down. “I’ve calculated that releasing them in bursts of two flaps will be most effective.”
“Understood. Implement.” Bennett’s heart raced, and his pulse thudded hard.
“Set One. Set Two. Set Three. Set Four,” Sully said.
As the flaps lifted, the shuttle did indeed slow its speed. Several of the metal panels ripped off, but it gave Bennett enough wiggle room to ease off the yoke and direct the shuttle into a more gentle descent. Relief flooded him as this took the pressure off.
Mountains came into view as the shuttle hit waves of turbulence.
Sully said, “Extreme turbulence increasing.”
“Expand and elongate the wings,” commanded Bennett. When Sully didn’t answer, he flipped a switch to lower the air brakes. He pulled a lever next to his seat that manually set the wing-extension mechanisms into action. They snapped into place exactly as they were designed to do. The giant wings caught a thermal, and it lifted the shuttle high above the turbulence before releasing it back to the wind. They hit several more pockets of thermal air before reaching San Diego. By this point, all of the systems were off-line. He glided over Coronado. It was an eerie and oddly exciting feeling. Without enough power to stop the shuttle, it would crash into whatever was on the runway and probably keep going.
SEALS trained off these waters, diving and prepping, and there would be a BUD/S class seeing him crash-land. That would get someone’s attention. Bringing his focus back to his flying—or gliding, rather—he caught a great wind and soared upward.
A thought flashed through Bennett’s mind. He knew why Kimberly had named the onboard computer Sully. She did it in honor of one of her favorite Air Force pilots, an honest-to-goodness hero: Chesley “Sully” Sullenberger III. He laughed aloud, releasing some of the tension that had built up inside of him. Man, why had that revelation taken so long? Looking forward to teasing her about it gave him another reason to come back to Earth safely.
Circling over the Amphibious Base, he thought of his life as a Navy SEAL. It had been the best experience of his life, unquantifiable and indefinable. His eyes widened as he spotted Kimberly’s contraptio
n, the CarP, and intense pleasure surged through his body. “That’s my girl! I knew you’d come through.”
Melo waved one arm as he leaned on a crutch with the other. He was right there beside her. “Good on you, Melo, a decent swim buddy to the end,” Bennett said.
Just as he’d expected, on the shore were several Basic Underwater Demolition/SEAL classes with their helmets stacked on the sand behind them, as well as half of the SEALs on the base. They’d all come out on the beach to help. They launched RIBs, or Reinforced Inflatable Boats, into the water and crawled on board. One SEAL directed the action in each boat, most likely an instructor, and several SWCC—Special Warfare Combatant-Craft Crewmember—boats, which were larger crafts, already waited for a cue to join in the rescue.
“Here goes,” Bennett said. Using the manual lever, he lowered the flaps and did his utmost to land the shuttle on the water. Unfortunately, the vehicle sank like the two tons of metal it was, and he unclipped his harness and rushed to the escape hatch.
Pressure from the water above prevented the hatch from releasing. Bennett made his way back to his seat. Underneath was a bottle of oxygen and a mask. This was why it was always important to read the instruction manual. If he hadn’t known all the specs of this bucket of bolts, he might have begun to panic. The oxygen, along with his training, made him fairly calm. They knew where he was and what would happen when the shuttle sank.
The only personal items he had brought on this mission were the two knives strapped to his legs and the Ka-Bar knife. Ka-Bars were from the time of the Frogman, but SEALs still used them today. Pulling it from the small compartment on the other side of his chair, he withdrew duct tape and stuck the stuff around the mask, creating a solid seal.
The oxygen was cool and relaxing as it pumped slowly into his lungs with each breath. Bennett realized his mistake almost instantly: there was no way to vent the carbon dioxide.
But seeing his Teammates appear on the other side of the shuttle’s glass made him grin. He’d be out of the shuttle momentarily. They motioned to him and he got the gist of what they were going to do.
Holding on to a safety bar, he watched them break the glass with several gunshots. Water gushed inside, filling the shuttle quickly and completely. Bennett allowed a few seconds for the water pressure to stabilize before he swam out to them. When he scraped his leg along the glass, he felt the sting and welcomed it. He was alive, and pretty soon he was going to have Kimberly in his arms.
Nothing prepared him for his body’s reaction as he left the shuttle. Spasms rocked his torso, and if the mask hadn’t been taped on, he’d have lost it. Hands grabbed him and directed him slowly to the surface.
Bennett knew he needed a hyperbaric chamber. Its purpose was to over-oxygenate the blood and reduce the build-up of gas bubbles in arteries and veins, allowing deprived tissue to heal. He knew the Amphibious Base had one. More than a few diving accidents had happened over the years, and having a portable chamber to treat decompression sickness, or the bends, as quickly as possible had saved many lives.
An invisible weight crushed the air from his chest. He couldn’t see what was making it happen, but he knew that it was gravity, the change in pressure brought on by his time in space, and the swift descent to Earth. All of it had screwed with his body’s equilibrium. Pain racked his body as waves of dizziness overtook him.
Someone ripped the tape away from the mask and his body. He took tiny breaths, and each one hurt worse than the previous one. But the smell of the salty, sweet air was nirvana to his psyche. The Pacific Ocean, the sand, and something else—rather, someone else—made his nostrils flare. It was her.
He opened his eyes to see Kimberly looking down at him. Her worried expression made him smile. Nothing came out when he tried to speak. He wanted to reassure her, let her know he would be okay. She kissed his lips. It was brief peck, yet oh, so tender.
His throat closed as he coughed and choked. This was a crappy way to die: survive a peril-filled mission and the harrowing descent back to Earth, only to croak on the beach where he’d started his whole Navy SEAL journey.
Hands lifted him, moving him at a swift run toward…something. A cloudless blue sky sped by above him as the sun warmed his skin. His eyes blinked like a slow motion camera until they were too heavy to keep open, and then all sensory information ceased. The world faded to black.
Chapter 14
The sound of an air compressor woke Bennett. It was loud as air hissed around him. Damn, was he back in the Lester Facility? That place needed a heater—and a splash of paint color.
He tried to speak and nothing came out. His body hurt, and he could taste salt water on his lips. Think. What happened last? Images filled his mind: the shuttle flying through the air, the ocean, and his brethren outside the window as they swam in the water surrounding the shuttle. Had he crashed it? Was he alive or was he in hell?
Prying his eyes open was no small feat, as they were caked with gunk. Through the glass he saw a man in a lab coat and Kimberly. He was encased in some kind of tube. Hell, it felt like a coffin, and he resisted the urge to struggle. This was the reason SEALs were put in uncontrollable situations like waterboarding: so they could think clearly when the shit hit the fan.
Bennett calmed his nerves. He focused his gaze upward. By the way Kimberly gestured, he could tell that she was angry. As her hands settled on her hips and the doctor stopped talking, they appeared to be at a stalemate.
Kimberly, his lady, was a fighter. Her jaw stretched wide as she yelled. He wanted to remind her to watch her blood pressure, to remember her heart. Protecting it—and her—was a priority.
Rubbing at his face, Bennett remembered more aspects of the landing. He took a tentative breath and was relieved to realize that it didn’t hurt as much as he thought it would. He performed a swift physical inventory, and he decided that with the exception of the giant gash on his leg, he was in relatively good shape. He tapped on the glass in an attempt to gain their attention.
Two pairs of eyes that had been staring daggers at each other turned toward him. Kimberly’s hand lay flat on the glass. She smiled at him. Worry was still etched on her features, but there was relief there too.
Placing his hand below hers, he smiled up into those beautiful eyes. The love he saw there made his heart skip a beat. He knew that she was one of the individuals responsible for making sure that a crew was there to meet the shuttle. What an incredible lady! She was a fighter that wouldn’t let him down.
Despite the past, he made a promise to himself…that not only would he cherish her and enjoy making love to her for the rest of his life, but he would ask her to be his wife. That was the only kind of forever that would make her into his life partner, his swim buddy, and an integral part of his world.
Her mouth moved, but he couldn’t hear what she was saying. A speaker squawked, and he flinched. Kimberly was back to yelling at the doctor.
“Hello?” The doctor moved into view. “I’m Dr. Naisse. How are you feeling?”
“Better.” His throat was raw. “Water?”
“Next to you.” Pointing to Bennett’s left side, Dr. Naisse urged him to drink. “In addition to your current need for the chamber, you have four crushed disks in your neck and back.”
Bennett grabbed the water and had swallowed two bottles before the doctor warned him to slow down. His body momentarily considered heaving the liquid back up, but his need for hydration was too great, and happily, it stayed down. “Uh-huh.”
When he tried to move his body to the side, his whole being hurt. Perhaps his body was more damaged than he realized. He had hit the ocean like a ton of bricks.
“As you can probably guess, you have whiplash too. Don’t try to move too much for the next few hours. When you’re in a larger environment, we’ll get a physical therapist to put you through your paces,” Dr. Naisse said. “Most of the bruises on your body are from the saf
ety straps. Three of your ribs are bruised on each side, along the axis of the straps. You might end up with a giant X over your chest, like a superhero, for a while.” The doctor smiled. “That was a joke. I guess you’re not in the mood to laugh.”
“Not really,” stated Bennett flatly.
“Well, Captain, let’s get down to additional immediate matters,” Dr. Naisse continued. “Your Dr. Warren would like to have you moved to the Lester Facility. Because you’re an operational sailor in the Navy, I’ve explained to her several times that this is impossible.” With a pointed look at Kimberly, the doctor continued. “You will be moved to a facility of our choosing. In the meantime, I would appreciate you having a discussion with”—the doctor coughed—“her about the necessity of following these steps. The Navy has rules we must all abide by.”
Kimberly took the doctor’s place. She checked over her shoulder and then gave Bennett her full attention. “I spoke with Ouster,” she said. “He’s speaking with SECNAV for me.”
Bennett coughed. “Oh, man! I’m sure that’s going over well.”
Kimberly frowned. “Listen, you, I want you where I can see you and help you. I’m not letting you out of my sight for a very long time.”
“I get it.” He smiled up at her. “I feel the same way about you. But SECNAV doesn’t handle this kind of stuff. Proper channels, and all that.”
She leaned over the glass, her face very close. “You just risked your life to blast away tons of space debris orbiting the Earth, cleaning up mistakes that mankind needed to erase before it became a junkyard too cluttered to allow us to reach the stars. Then you risked it all to move a laser array into position to protect the Earth from incoming threats, all while a giant comet pelted you with God knows what! SECNAV can take five minutes out of his precious damned schedule to see to your well-being.”
A chuckle escaped Bennett’s lips. “When you put it like that—”
The tension in her face relaxed. “I do.” She looked away for the space of several heartbeats, and when she looked back, her eyes were filled with tears. “I…I never gave up hope.”
The Soul of a SEAL Page 24
