by R. K. Sidler
It was during this time that the cataclysmic events were taking place. Even in the great depths of the Pacific Ocean, those earth-changing events did not go unnoticed or unfelt. The turbulence in the water was such that both vessels had to break silence and initiate emergency power to maintain control of their crafts. It was not only the shifting of the tectonic plates, which affected the force of the underwater currents; it was the sudden eruption of magma through once dormant hydrothermal vents in the sea floor. Unfortunately for the Nevsky, it navigated itself right above one of these vents as it released its molten fluids. The massive craft became impossible to control. Alarm bells were ringing in every compartment.
The Texas immediately ascended the depths to escape the throws of the currents. When it was evident that the seas above were as perilous as those below, it found a manageable condition moving at a depth of thirty fathoms.
It was another twelve hours before the waters were calm enough to come to periscope depth. The captain’s first look showed no cause for alarm. There were seven to eight foot seas, and the sky was a dark gray. He instructed his chief radioman to send the encoded burst transmission prepared earlier. And then they waited.
While the Texas was waiting for a reply, the Nevsky found itself in serious trouble. There were radiation leaks in five of the sixteen missile tubes. Although bad enough in themselves, they were minor in comparison to the damage affecting the vessel’s reactor. The ship was dying; it was just a matter of time. When the crew managed to contain what they could, and generate enough power without causing more damage to the reactor, the captain made the decision to surface. He knew there was no other choice.
Following their slow ascent, the Nevsky waited near the surface until the waves abated. Captain Leonid Bardin preceded his executive officer, and the watch crew, onto the conning tower. When the outer hatch released, he felt the heat from the wind. It was much warmer than he anticipated. He looked in all directions and saw the same thing. A disturbed sea, a gray sky, and off in the distance what appeared to be a fluttering red light, which cast its glow off the sky above. It was a surreal scene as the clouds were unnatural in appearance.
One of the watchmen announced, “American submarine, southeast, two-thousand meters.” When they all turned to view the craft, it too was sitting on top of the water in full view with its own crewman watching the Nevsky.
Captain Bardin reached for the intercom, “Captain Lieutenant Orlov to the conning tower.” As he waited for his engineer, he removed his 8X56 Zeiss binoculars from their case. They had belonged to his father and they were passed onto him as a gift for his first full command. He studied the other submarine as he waited. There was little he could do. His was not a ‘hunter killer’ vessel with the speed and maneuverability to match the American sub, especially considering the shape they were currently in.
“Yes my captain,” Captain Lieutenant Sasha Orlov said as he stepped outside and saluted his commander.
“What news do you have for me?”
“It is the same my captain. The radiation levels are reaching the critical stage and there is nothing we can do to contain them. In a few more hours it will be perilous,” he finished in blunt efficiency.
The captain said nothing, looked back toward the other vessel, and asked his executive officer whether radio communications were as yet operable. They too had been attempting to send and receive signals to their own commands.
“No sir. Nothing, sir.”
“Very well, signal the Americans and tell them we request assistance.”
His executive looked at him, understood the gravity of the situation, the responsibility placed on his commander, and instructed one of the crew to signal the Americans to approach. When they were within a few hundred yards of each other, the Alexander Nevsky launched an inflatable boat with four crewmembers from their side. Two seaman, and two officers, all unarmed, made their way to the Texas. When they came to its side, a flexible ladder was lowered to allow them to board.
“Sir, Captain Lieutenant Orlov, and Senior Lieutenant Lukin of the Alexander Nevsky,” Orlov said in heavily accented English as he saluted.
His salute was returned. “I’m Commander Weston, captain of the USS Texas, and this is Lieutenant Gonzalez my exec,” he said while exchanging handshakes.
After the Russian sailors had been searched for weapons, their enlisted men remained topside, while the two officers were led to the galley. They sat down to a cup of coffee, and waited while the commander and his senior staff made their way in. They stood as the commander entered.
Jared Weston was a green-eyed thirty-eight year old who wore his red hair cut close to his scalp. At just under six feet tall, he carried his lithe body with authority and confidence. He took his job seriously and was known as a consummate professional. He came from a rural upbringing, and worked for everything he accomplished, including paying his way through college. It was not the natural route for a future commander of a naval vessel to come from a private school, but his talents were recognized early on, and his work ethic allowed him to move ahead of others. His parents were of little means, yet they provided the principles, which made him who he was. He was a man, and he should be able to make his own way. He was very proud of the career he made, and this was going to be, no doubt, one of the most interesting events in it.
They sat down.
“And what can the United States Navy do for our Russian friends?” Commander Weston asked.
There was no time to waste, and no purpose for deception, even to ‘save face.’ “The Nevsky is dying. An undersea explosion of some type caused several leaks within our missile tubes, and more importantly, in our reactor. Captain Bardin sent us here to ask that you save our crew. There are one-hundred-thirty men on board. If you could take us to the nearest port, we would be indebted to you.”
While he digested this information, he studied the face of his Russian counterpart to see if there were any signs of deception. He knew something was wrong with the sub, but he did not know if he was hearing the whole story, and he did not want to make a hasty decision until he was sure that he did. “Have you made radio contact with your superiors,” Commander Weston asked.
“Our communications and much of our electronics are not functioning,” Orlov said.
Ascertaining this was important because they too had problems with their navigation, communication, and much of their other electronic instruments. There was no need to disclose this information at the moment. “How was your ship damaged, and what do you make of the surface conditions,” he asked to see if they knew anything more than the crew of the Texas did.
Orlov was at first curious by the question, then contemplative. He had a good idea of what might have caused the damage, but he had not stopped to consider the strange nature of the environment he saw when he came out of the sub. “We believe some sort of underwater eruption damaged our vessel. We didn’t come into contact with any structure, and there were no onboard explosions. It was something external,” he finished.
“What about out there,” Weston pointed with his thumb indicating the strange weather conditions.
“I don’t know,” Orlov said.
They sat there studying one another. It finally dawned on the young Russian about what had concerned the Americans.
“Commander,” he began, “We have received no radio instructions, nor do we believe we are at war. We saw the red sky to the east, but we both know there is nothing in that area which would be targeted by either of our countries. I am here only for the sake of our crew.”
While he considered that statement, he said, “What about the Nevsky?”
“The captain will stay on board to scuttle her,” Orlov said in a somber voice.
“How do I know he won’t believe we are really at war, knowing that his ship is dead, fire his payload at their prearranged targets then be happy to go down with his ship knowing his crew is safe. That would be quite a coup,” Weston challenged.
“Comman
der, I can only give you my word as an officer. We only wish to save our crew, and you are our only hope.”
While he studied the young man, commander Weston issued the orders to his exec, “Get out as many inflatable craft as we have. Tie them to each other and send a skeleton crew to deliver them to the Nevsky. Have the Chief prepare quarters to accommodate our guests. Make sure they are all searched prior to coming aboard, not so much as a pocket knife gets on.”
“Aye, Aye sir.”
“Thank you commander. I can assure you, this is no trick, and I only wish we would have never met under these circumstances,” he said offering his hand once again.
―
It was an uncomfortable feeling allowing almost as many ‘enemy’ crewmen on board as the Texas itself had. The transfer had gone quite rapidly. The crew of the Nevsky was searched, escorted to the area made ready for them, and held under guard. All but six had boarded the Texas. The captain, his political officer, and four other seamen had decided their fate was with the Nevsky.
When the last of the Russians had boarded, Commander Weston saw the Nevsky prepare for submersion. He too ordered the Texas to dive and monitor the other vessel as best as they could. If they detected any outer doors opening, indicating a possible missile launch, they would sink it themselves. He did not know if all of his systems were operational yet, but he knew his craft was much faster. If all he could do was ram it, then he would do it.
It was a nervous time for everyone, including the Russians.
Fifteen minutes later, it was apparent what the captain of the Nevsky was doing. They were at the edge of the ‘trench.’ He was taking his sub in a deep angle dive, which would eventually cause it to rupture. If that did not happen, it would simply remain on the bottom as those on board would be helpless in a matter of hours anyway. They would wait.
When it was determined that the Nevsky would never be heard from, or seen again, Commander Weston ordered his crew to take them to the surface, and to bring Captain-Lieutenant Orlov to the conning tower.
“Captain, our communications, and much of our other electronic navigation systems are not functional. They haven’t been since whatever happened yesterday,” he said deciding a bit of truth was in order.
Orlov simply nodded in understanding at both the statement, and the reason behind it.
“I came back up to get a good look at where we are in relation to what is lighting up the sky there on the horizon,” he said pointing to the east.
“That should be Nicaragua. I’m afraid based on what you said about how you were damaged, and the gray sky with these heavy clouds, that that light is an eruption from the Masaya volcano. The only way to know is to go have a look. We’ll get as close as we can to confirm what we can. I’ll expect you to manage your crew, and we’ll let a few at a time come topside to get some air so they can see things for themselves.”
“Thank you Commander. I appreciate your offer, as will my crew.”
“Hopefully we’ll be able to get you safely ashore and on your way home. We should know before the day is over. Keep yourself handy.”
“Yes sir,” he said as he saluted and left the tower.
―
They were unable to make it closer than a few miles from shoreline. The ash was quite heavy even at that distance as the sub, and those standing outside, were soon covered in the gray colored flakes. It was obvious that there was more than one active volcano in the area. The light visible on the darkening horizon provided the evidence.
Commander Weston made course adjustments to move the Texas as far from the fallen ash as possible, while still maintaining visual contact with the coastline. This was how they had to navigate. The stars were not visible, and their navigational equipment was still inoperable. The officers of the Texas stood two-hour watches along with one of their Russian counterparts, and two additional seamen, while they sailed along at a steady fifteen knots.
The scene was much the same through the night, and on the following day. Early in the morning, they came near to shoreline where a sizeable city had once been. It was a macabre scene. Dead bodies were everywhere, floating in the water and lying on the ground. There was no standing structure in view. Fires had obviously swept through the area, but none was yet still raging. The crew of the Texas examined it with the naked eye, and when composure allowed, through the nearness of their powerful binoculars. They passed by several such towns, all of which shared the same fate, until the commander gave the order to steer further out to sea.
When they estimated their distance, speed, and relative positioning, it was believed they would make San Diego in twenty-eight hours. Twenty-eight hours later and the city was nowhere to be found. For the next twelve hours, they continued north along their current route. What was supposed to be the California and Western coast of the United States was instead a combination of sea stacks and sheer rock face hundreds of feet high. Morale among the officers was becoming grim. It was time for a decision.
“Reverse course, maintain current speed,” Commander Weston ordered. He said nothing more until the next day.
When they returned to an area estimated to be near the California-Mexico border, the USS Texas came to a stop. It was the first area they found that allowed passage inland before they came to the rocky cliffs. The carnage was visible on shore, but the crew did their best to ignore it. Nothing could be done about it in any event. After a meeting with all of the officers on board, they emerged from the galley and began the preparations agreed upon. The Texas would be abandoned.
“This is Commander Weston,” the captain said into the vessel’s intercom, “Prepare to go ashore. Make ready all available craft, and secure all movable equipment, both personal, and functional. Make haste, but don’t leave anything of value behind, especially rations. That is all.”
It took more than seven hours to vacate the sub even though they were only a few hundred yards off shore. Once that was completed, a skeleton crew returned to the Texas to move her further out to sea. Once there, precautions were taken to secure the weapons systems. After one last look around, commander Weston gave the final orders to his crew. Orders he never even considered before this day. “Seal it up,” he said to the welders, “Seal it up tight.”
He stood by as the men did their work. When they were finished, they paddled their boat to shore to join the others who were establishing a makeshift camp. They did so as far from the smell of the carnage as possible. A few men were brave enough to search about through the ruins, but they returned finding little of value.
―
It was a somber night. They posted a guard more because of training, than out of any real necessity. They did not even hear the call of animals that night. No barking from dogs, no cries from sea gulls ever present on the shorelines, and none of the unnatural sounds indicating the presence of men.
After they made a quick meal for breakfast, Weston addressed them all with Captain Lieutenant Orlov translating for his compatriots. “It’s obvious we cannot stay here. Since none of our directional equipment works, and celestial navigation is not available to us, we have estimated a course, which should intersect with the center of the United States. If we come across anyone, or any form of communication along the way, so much the better. I’m sure we can all make guesses as to what we think happened. I’m also sure that we will be much better served if we remain together, and support one another. We don’t know what we are going to find out there. But, if we stick together, I’m sure we can handle it.
“What I want to do now is divide everyone up into manageable teams under each of our officers. We will be in mixed company to learn to communicate with each other better. You will obey the orders of your appointed officer regardless of uniform. We will spend the rest of this day getting ready for the move.
“We’ll need to go into the town and secure any wheels, or wheeled vehicles, which we can use to transport our equipment and supplies as well as any viable supplies we can find. I’ll want all of the speci
alists to look for materials of their trades to include medical supplies. If you think we need it, and we can transport it, bring it.
“Any questions?” There were none. The gravity of the situation maintained control of the general attitude for the time being. What was incumbent upon their officers was to prolong that control.
“Very well; Chief Stewart has the list and he’ll break you down into your respective groupings. We have a lot to get done today, so let’s be serious about it,” he finished with a tone of authority, but without an acknowledgement of his rank, which is customarily followed with an ‘aye aye sir,’ or a ‘yes sir.’
Two-hundred fifty-seven naval personnel, which included ten enlisted women from the Texas, set out to find the answers to what had caused such devastation in such a short period of time, and to find anything resembling the life they left behind.
THREE
After several weeks of reconstruction projects, the people in the mountain complex turned their attention to daily routines. It was a grim time where activity of any kind provided needed distraction from the tragedy they had survived. Emotions ran high and tempers were short. The best therapy was work and time. Everyone lost loved ones, and while it was human nature to want to survive, that survival provided little comfort as time passed. Not only did the loss of family and friends weigh upon them, the loss of a life they had envisioned was now gone. Uncertainty and the unknown prevailed.
Several of their number, however, were not plagued by such thinking. They were the ones preparing for an event such as this, knowing long beforehand that it was a certainty. The preparations they made went far beyond their initial survival. They planned for all contingencies involved for an indefinite stay underground, and what would follow. They knew people needed structure, routine, and satisfaction in accomplishment. But most importantly, they needed hope. Hope of a return to what had been, hope of a future not living underground. Hope for themselves. Hope for their children. They gathered many of the best and brightest into the complex under the guise of an exercise. These were the ones who would shape that hope. The scientific advancements known to the government and military establishment were much farther along than those whose progress was hindered by the many bureaucratic layers that existed in private industry. Geneticists, biologists, pathologists, and engineers of all sciences were recruited without their knowing their actual roles. They were assigned to labs with technology and equipment with which even they were not familiar. This served to both placate them, and make them useful for the promotion of the goal to inhabit the surface once again.
