Fatal Orbit

by Tom Grace

  The imaging chamber flashed solid white, the acoustic shockwave blasting through the water, swamping the AD supercomputer with an overwhelming surge of data.

  “What the heck was that?” O’Roark asked.

  “They must’ve launched,” Rainey answered.

  “That can’t be good for our guys,” Grin said.

  As the data buffers cleared from the sonic overload and the holographic image resolved once more, Grin zeroed in on Argo. Debris littered the water and the submerged portions of the launch platform were separating. Rainey moved closer to the chamber, almost pressing his face against the acrylic enclosure.

  “Argo’s breaking up,” Rainey said, “and there’s something in the water, off the starboard side. I think it’s the SEALs.”

  “I see ’em.”

  Zooming in closer, four human forms were clearly visible. The sonar man hit the talk button on the mike.

  “Control, Torpedo Room. We have four, repeat, four injured men in the water off the starboard side of Argo. Be advised, Argo is breaking up.”

  Grin zoomed out and traced a guideline between Virginia and the fallen men.

  “Bearing zero-nine-six,” O’Roark continued, reading the data off the display. “Distance five thousand yards.”

  “All right, we got men in the water. Bring us around to zero-nine-six,” Johnston ordered. “Put us on the top near Argo. XO, I want the divers ready to hit the water as soon as we break the surface. Have the med team standing by and have ’em check for radiation in case that rocket blew.”

  CHAPTER FIFTY-FOUR

  The thirteen men of Bravo were still underwater when the rocket leaped off the platform, but they heard and felt the deep rumbling of the launch and Sanya’s barrage clearly. They swam up between the huge vessel’s twin screw propellers—both were idle, the ship being held in place by thrust controllers running down the keel. Above them, the ship’s stern ramp was folded up in place, covering the watertight door that sealed the hold. The metal hull was smooth and seamless, impossible to scale unaided.

  Two of the SEALs took aim and fired grappling lines into the upper face of the watertight door, just below the stern rail. The hardened composite tips punctured the thin steel plating of the upper hull and found solid purchase. Lines set, the men removed their fins and began climbing.

  The two point men quickly reached the rail, then carefully surveyed the stern deck. It was empty. One after the other, the SEALs hauled themselves over the side. As they hit the deck, they drew out their MP5 submachine guns and covered the port and starboard approaches. Silently, they moved forward, leaving room for the rest of the element to climb aboard.

  Kilkenny was last over the rail, and that’s when he saw the destroyer holding position off the starboard side. A cloud of gray smoke hovered ominously around the forward gun turret.

  “Shit! Did they blast the—” before Kilkenny could finish the question, he saw the smoke trail rising in the sky.

  “They must’ve missed,” Lieutenant Ralph said wryly, his SEALs now in control of the stern deck. “Thing is, they got boats in the water heading this way, and there’s another one of those on the other side.”

  “Then we’d better get to it.”

  Bravo broke into two groups. Ralph led five men up the port side of the superstructure, while a master chief took point with the seven-man group that included Kilkenny on the starboard. Rounding the corner, Kilkenny saw the white arcing trail of smoke set against the clear blue sky.

  They had just reached the lifeboat davits when a small group of people stepped out onto the deck, their laughter arrested by the menacing sight of the Chinese destroyer.

  “On the deck! Now!” the chief ordered, rushing toward them.

  A woman screamed, startled by the command. Several of the people dropped immediately, the startling approach of a threatening figure in black more than enough reason to comply. The SEALs behind Kilkenny followed his lead and secured the frightened civilians.

  Just inside the door, a man fled, rushing back into the launch control room. Most of the technicians were still inside, monitoring the rocket’s progress through first stage separation and second stage ignition.

  “We’re being boarded!” the man shouted hysterically. “There’s a bunch of armed men out there!”

  “What?” the launch director said.

  “They’re coming this way!” The man was in a full panic.

  Moug rushed to the observation platform forward of the superstructure and found Skye standing by the rail, watching the smoke trail extend upward.

  “They’ve destroyed Argo,” Moug announced.

  “I expected that as soon as they announced their intention to board us. That’s why I moved up the launch.” Skye’s voice was flat, eerily devoid of emotion. “They’re out for blood—yours and mine.”

  “I’ve no intention of letting them have it.”

  Skye checked her watch. “Neither have I.”

  CHAPTER FIFTY-FIVE

  Zeus-1 crossed over the Tropic of Cancer five hundred miles east of the big island of Hawaii, exhausting the last remaining propellant to shift its orbit. The target was close now, less than five minutes away. The inertial gyros spun up, turning the spacecraft’s stiletto form around, aiming down at the deep blue of the Pacific. Inside, the chemical fires began to burn.

  Directly over the equator, Zeus-1 fired for the last time. The long burst flew straight down, just over two hundred miles, hurtling through a cloudless sky.

  Where the laser struck the ocean, seawater instantly flashed into superheated steam, the vapor lost in the drifting smoke from the barrage. It crossed Sanya’s main deck, slicing through men and metal with equal ease, igniting small fires in its wake with droplets of molten steel.

  On the bridge, sparks flew as equipment shorted out, bundles of wires fused into circuits never imagined by the ship’s engineers. The scent of burning flesh and liquid steel mingled with electrified ozone.

  Captain Yao died almost instantly when the beam sliced through his left shoulder, carving him open and bisecting his heart and lung—his moment of glory evaporating in less than five minutes.

  The beam crossed Sanya diagonally, back to front, through the forward island. Exiting the bridge, it struck the destroyer’s most potent anti-ship weapon—a cluster of four Raduga 3M-80E Moskit surface-to-surface missiles. Though equipped with a solid-rocket booster, used to quicken its acceleration to Mach 3, the Moskit’s primary source of propulsion is a liquid-fuel ramjet engine. The laser burned through the first of the upper tubes on the quad-launcher and cut into a Moskit.

  Flames erupted from the missile tube, the kerosene fuel exploding, triggering a second concussive blast from the Moskit’s three-hundred-kilogram warhead. Fire and shrapnel from the first missile set off the other three, a quartet of explosive power that easily broke the structurally weakened Sanya in half. A fireball nearly eighty feet in diameter rose from the doomed ship as Zeus-1 exhausted its last joule of energy.

  Sanya’s Command Information Center shuddered violently, and those standing were thrown against bulkheads or onto the deck. The room plunged into darkness and, to Commander Shi, who struggled to capture his breath after colliding with the fixed seat at the weapons console, it seemed an eternity before the emergency lights flickered on and the alarms sounded.

  Shi grabbed the sound powered phone. “Damage Control Central, CIC Report!”

  “We’ve lost contact with the bridge. Reports indicate an explosion in port side quad launcher. No contact with forward damage-control party, we’ve sent another team forward to investigate. Electrical systems isolating forward section of the ship and we’ve also lost pneumatic lines and pressure in fire main forward. We have no contact with the forward section and we’re taking on water in all the lower decks.”

  On deck, damage control teams dressed in heavy fireproof suits raced toward a scene of total destruction.

  The SEALs moving along Aequatus’s starboard main deck stopped
when the massive fireball erupted from the Chinese destroyer. Flames roared from the gaping wound in the hull and a roiling cloud of oily black smoke billowed upward. Seawater flooded the open deck, turning to thick steam where it touched the inferno.

  As the nearly severed bow filled with water, the ship folded and Sanya’s stern rose into the air, exposing her rudder and screws. Fuel for the twin turbine engines poured from the keel tanks, spreading in a thin layer across the calm water.

  “My God,” Kilkenny said softly.

  “Still got a job to do,” the master chief shouted. “Let’s move.”

  In seconds, the sea was aflame.

  “Investigators report the entire port quad launcher is gone along with half the bridge,” the officer in charge of Damage Control Central reported.

  Commander Shi felt the same sickening knot in his stomach last shared by the officers and crew of the Kursk. A hit by just two Moskit missiles was more than enough to send a ship the size of Sanya to the bottom. A low, sickening groan filled the CIC, the howl of steel plates and beams twisting, stressed and deformed beyond their strength toward failure. The room pitched forward steeply and Shi knew the weight of the incoming water had lifted Sanya’s stern out of the sea. There was no hope now.

  “Damage Control Central, sound alarm to abandon ship.”

  CHAPTER FIFTY-SIX

  Moug grabbed Skye’s arm and marched her back inside.

  “What are you doing?” she demanded, struggling against his bruising grip.

  “My job.” Moug checked the passageway—other than a few of his men it was still clear. “The ship’s been boarded. My men are moving into defensive positions, but we have to get to the helicopter now.”

  “What about that other ship?”

  “C. J., I’ll admit it’s a crapshoot, but staying here will get us killed either now or sometime after our trial in Beijing. Your pilot’s a hell of a flier, spent a dozen years in Apache gunships before I hired him. He’ll get us to Kiritimati.”

  Skye detected a tone in Moug’s voice she didn’t often find—fear. “All right, but what about Tao?”

  “I’ve sent Unger to get her.”

  The two groups of SEALs quickly swept through the main level of the superstructure, encountering no opposition, only bewildered crewmen. Covering the fore and aft stairways, they moved up to the next level.

  “Cut her ankles loose and get her on her feet,” Unger ordered as he burst into Tao’s stateroom.

  When Tao was standing, Unger grabbed her by the arm and wheeled her toward the door.

  “You,” he barked to the first guard, “go to the forward stair and take up position with the others.”

  The guard nodded and ran down the passageway. The remaining guard stood ready, awaiting Unger’s orders.

  “Cover my back.”

  Uzi in one hand and Tao in the other, Unger headed toward the forward stair.

  Moug and Skye descended the stairwell. On the landing below, they saw members of his handpicked security force crouched with weapons at the ready. He nodded to the men, then escorted Skye onto the third level.

  The passageway in front of them was empty and spanned almost the full length of the ship. From here, it was a straight run to the helipad on the bow. They moved quickly, Moug leading with a pistol in his hand.

  “Oh, God!” Skye exclaimed. “My laptop.”

  “Forget about it.”

  “But that laptop has everything on it. If they crack the encryption—”

  Realizing that the information stored in Skye’s computer would be enough for even the most inexperienced federal prosecutor to land a death sentence against them, Moug stopped. “Where is it?”

  “In my suite.”

  “I’ll deal with it. You just get off this ship. And once Zeus-2 is operational, cut a deal.”

  As soon as Kilkenny and the SEALs reached the second floor, the men posted in the aft stairwell opened up with a burst of submachine gun fire. Bullets ricocheted wildly off the stair framing and the tubular steel handrails.

  The chief on point caught two fragmented rounds in the neck and shoulder. Kilkenny fired several rounds of cover fire back up the stairwell as a pair of SEALs pulled their wounded leader back to safety. Fire from above ceased.

  As the platoon medic went to work on the wounded man, Kilkenny took command of the group. He squeezed off a few timed bursts from his MP5 and signaled for flash-bangs. Two of the men backing him each lobbed one of the nonlethal weapons up the stairs—then the SEALs protected their eyes and ears.

  On the upper landing, the grenades exploded amid a group of five defenders, blinding them with a flash of light more intense than the sun while simultaneously assaulting their hearing with a blast of mind-numbing sound.

  “Go!” Kilkenny shouted, the stairwell still echoing like the inside of a cathedral bell tower.

  The SEALs wasted no time slamming the defenders face-down on the deck and disarming them. The stunned prisoners were bound hand and foot with zip-ties. Kilkenny left one man with the medic and the wounded chief and led the remaining three upstairs.

  Unger and Tao reached the third level landing just as Ralph’s group of SEALs mounted their assault on the other group of defenders. A burst of gunfire from below sent a shower of blistering rounds rattling around them like lethal pinballs. Unger pressed himself back against the wall and pulled Tao in front as a human shield.

  Two loud metallic clinks preceded a pause in the ferocious gunfire. Unger pushed Tao toward the door, the remaining guard trailing behind them. The two flash-bang grenades exploded, one of them on the landing between the second and third levels.

  Unger’s backup clenched his burning eyes shut and raised his hands to his ears. Stunned senseless by the grenade, the man was no longer conscious of the Glock in his hand and struck himself with it squarely on the side of the head. Partially shielded by the bulkhead, Unger and Tao caught only a piece of the grenade’s sonic assault.

  “Drop it!” Kilkenny shouted.

  Unger raised his pistol, and the last thing he saw was the muzzle flash from Kilkenny’s rapidly approaching MP5. Two short bursts—one to the head, one to the chest—ended Unger’s life. Kilkenny was there before the man’s body dropped onto the deck. He pulled Tao aside, allowing his men to leapfrog past, slung his weapon back and removed her bonds.

  “Ugh, I can’t thank you enough,” Tao said, her eyes on Unger’scorpse.

  “All in a day’s work, ma’am.”

  She looked up at him, surprised by the sound of a familiar voice. Kilkenny removed his dive mask and balaclava.

  “Nolan!” She threw her arms around him. “I thought you were dead.”

  “Naw, just stubborn. I’m glad to see you’re still among the living, too.”

  “Hey, Kilkenny, this isn’t the love boat,” Ralph said poking his head out of the stairwell.

  Kilkenny flashed him an all-clear and the rest of the SEALs stormed into the passageway, stepping over Unger’s body.

  “This here’s the lady from the message, LT,” Kilkenny replied. “The chief, damn, I forgot the guy’s name …”

  “Harwell.”

  “Yeah, Harwell. He took a hit back there. Ricochet. I left him with the medic and another guy. The rest of my men are up ahead having a look-see.”

  Ralph pointed his men forward, then nodded to Kilkenny. “I’ll take it from here.”

  “All yours.”

  CHAPTER FIFTY-SEVEN

  HANGZHOU

  “Captain, a civilian helicopter has lifted off from Aequatus,” the bridge watch officer reported. “The tactical weapons officer reports SAM is locked on target and awaits your orders.”

  “Let them go,” Jin said without turning away from the dark column of smoke rising from the Sanya.

  “Sir?”

  “Lieutenant, our orders were to secure that ship and capture the leadership of the Skye Aerospace Corporation,” Jin said sternly. “Beijing wants them alive and wants no unnecessary civil
ian deaths—two points on which Admiral Guo was most emphatic. Skye has entertained many world leaders aboard that ship, including our own foreign minister. We do not know who is on that helicopter and destroying it is a poor way to find out.”

  “Aye, sir. What are your orders?”

  “This possibility was considered during the planning of this mission. Instruct the radio room to make contact immediately with our diplomatic mission to Kiribati.”

  USS VIRGINIA

  “That definitely cannot be good,” Grin said, zooming in on the destroyer standing off Aequatus’s starboard side.

  The bow of the ship sank low in the water, her main deck and forward gun turret clearly visible in the underwater image. Like a gaping wound, a massive fissure rent the hull nearly down to the keel a third of the ship’s length back from the bow. Connected only by the structure and plating of the lower decks, the rapidly flooding forward section became a millstone around the rest of the vessel’s neck, raising her stern out of the water, threatening to drag the proud ship down.

  Men and debris were in the water, the image merely an artificial approximation of the hellish nightmare on the surface. The keel twisted at the fissure, steel plates folding like paper, until the destroyer’s tapered bow pointed straight down. It was a moment of impossible balance, a tug-of-war between buoyancy and gravity. The tensile forces building within the structure of the keel grew well beyond what the ship’s builders had ever imagined. As one piece failed, those remaining picked up the load until they, like fibers in a rapidly fraying rope, could carry no more.

  The forward section twisted again, dangling by the most tenuous of bonds until, at last, it broke off and fell away. Relieved of the burden, the rest of the destroyer settled back into the ocean, listing forward and taking on water.