A Triple Thriller Fest (91 page)

“Granted, signal
Benthic Ranger One
,” said Messinger.

Westerman activated the semaphore attached to the outside hull of
Benthic Ranger Two
.  In International Morse Code, Westerman tapped out, “Danger.  Unknown approaching from the rear.  Danger.”

Westerman repeated this message over and over again.

He was too late.

“Tommy, what the hell was that?” screamed O’Shaunnessy, as the large black object jetted past the starboard window of
Benthic Ranger One
.  Dirks turned to see the object, but the thing had already disappeared.

Due to the size and speed of the mysterious vehicle, violent eddy currents were established in its wake.  This hydrodynamic phenomenon is similar to the whirlpools that are formed by rivers rushing past bridge pilings. 
Benthic Ranger One
was caught up in the eddies and shook tremendously.  The control wheel vibrated with such force that Dirks thought it was going to rip his hands off.

If Dirks and O’Shaunnessy hadn’t followed procedures and had not stowed everything away, chaos would have prevailed.  As it was, the operating manual and some other loose objects went sailing across the cabin as the Benthic Ranger was tossed about like driftwood in a crashing wave.  Dirks and O’Shaunnessy were strapped into their seats with both shoulder harnesses and a lap belt.  Even so, their bodies felt the strain of the powerful force of the eddy, a hydraulic tornado.

As the bucking and twisting subsided, Dirks struggled to regain control of his Benthic Ranger.

“Tommy, look out.” screamed O’Shaunnessy.

The Benthic Ranger stopped spinning in time to directly confront the mysterious black object now about fifty yards in front of them.  Although Dirks thought he could see a window, he was not sure.  All he could be certain of was the glassy black appearance of this object now confronting him and O’Shaunnessy.

“Jimmie, ready the uranium torpedo for firing.”

“Torpedo armed and ready, sir.”

“Fire on three.  One, two, three, fire.”

“Torpedo away, sir.”

The hard-tipped depleted uranium torpedo was designed to cause damage by both the momentum of the heavy uranium tip and by a subsequent explosion of the conventional warhead behind the uranium head.  Dirks and O’Shaunnessy watched as the torpedo sped toward the enemy, leaving a cavitation trail through the water.

The torpedo struck.  Instantly, a billowing cloud of steam and sediment mushroomed from the point of impact.  In the relative stillness of the bottom, the sediment cloud hung suspended, obscuring Dirk’s and O’Shaunnessy view.

“Nothing could have survived that torpedo,” said O’Shaunnessy.

Dirks intently stared into the darkness.  “Stay alert.”

From the static cloud of benthic sediment, the black nose of their adversary gradually came into focus.  The mysterious vessel moved slowly but steadily toward
Benthic Ranger One
.

“Did you see that, Tommy?”

“Holy shit,” said Dirks.

“Fire the laser cannon.”

“Laser fired,” responded O’Shaunnessy.  The blue green beam struck the mysterious craft.  The craft hesitated for a moment, but continued its steady forward movement like a hawk going for the kill.

“Let’s get the hell out of here,” said Dirks as he turned the control wheel fully to the right.

The propellers on
Benthic Ranger One
turned with intense energy as Dirks gave them all the juice they could swallow.  Both Dirks and O’Shaunnessy were pushed back into their seats as the Benthic Ranger executed a sharp right bank.

Simultaneously, the mysterious vessel gathered speed and fired a focused sonic pulse at the fleeing submersible.  The narrow focused shock wave caught the Benthic Ranger in its left rear quadrant.  The bundled energy of the focused sonar vibrated the outer hull of the Benthic Ranger and penetrated to the pressure hull.  Inside the Benthic Ranger, Dirks and O’Shaunnessy fought hard to maintain control of the vessel.

The sonic boom shattered the Benthic Ranger’s outer fairing, then the Benthic Ranger’s control system.  The pulse vibrated welded fittings until they cracked due to the multi-cycled harmonic mechanical stress and ruptured.  Hydraulic fluid sprayed out, at first in a fountain of reddish fluid, like a wounded whale.  As the reservoir of hydraulic fluid in the Benthic Ranger diminished, the spraying oil subsided and was reduced to a mere trickle.  With loss of hydraulic fluid, the control wheel in Dirks’ hands became useless.  The electrically driven propellers continued to turn, driving the Benthic Ranger forward.

The loss of rudder and diving plane control resulted in a crippled Benthic Ranger, unable to perform its mission.

“Shut down the reactor,” said Dirks.

“Aye, aye, sir.”

As boron rods were mechanically inserted into the reactor in fail-safe mode, the chain reaction ramped down to a dead stop.  Auxiliary battery power remained on to provide life support functions and to provide light, but little else.

“What do you think are our options?” said Dirks.

“We should blow our ballast.”

“Well, we certainly aren’t doing any good here.”

The second focused sonic pulse caught
Benthic Ranger One
full force.  The front window started to crack and implosion followed immediately.  Dirks and O’Shaunnessy never knew what hit them.  As the Benthic Ranger collapsed into itself, crushing its occupants, the buoyancy of the vessel disappeared. 
Benthic Ranger One
slowly fell to the ocean floor.

“Captain, Captain!  The thing got
Benthic Ranger One
, it was terrible!” screamed Takeshita.

“What happened?”

”
Benthic Ranger One
got off one uranium torpedo, but the damn torpedo just bounced off the thing like it was a Nerf ball.  They also got off one blast with the laser cannon.  The thing hesitated as it took the hit but then went for the kill.  As
Benthic Ranger One
was trying to get away from the thing, it fired some sort of sound pulse.  Our passive sonar went crazy. 
Benthic Ranger One
was crippled after that.  Then the thing attacked again, this time firing a sonic boom at
Benthic Ranger One
within an incredibly short range. 
Benthic Ranger One
imploded.”

“We noted the sonic blast as well.”

“The sonic blast must have been really something to have caused so much damage,” said Takeshita.  “I’ve never seen anything like this.”

Inside the command module, Messinger and his two top officers continued to review their options.  Whatever the mysterious vehicle was, it was able to fend off a uranium torpedo and had a strange sonic weapon capable of destroying a Benthic Ranger.  The speed of the vehicle was amazing.

“Do you think it was Russian?” said Messinger.

Diaz frowned.  “I’ve heard that both DARPA and the Scientific and Technical Directorate, KGB’s counterpart, have been developing something called a focused sonic pulse gun.  Do you think that was what took
Benthic Ranger One
out?”

“What’s a focused sonic pulse?” said Wright.

“Sound is transmitted by a rapidly dissipating compression wave rather than by energy on its own right,” said Diaz.  “A focused sonic pulse is a grouped energy pulse, not unlike the trick with a pretzel can and rubber diaphragm with a hole in its center that physics professors like to use to demonstrate sonic cannons.  Our attempts at narrow beam sonar imaging have been feeble attempts to harness the energy in sound waves.

“Even whales seem to be better than us.  Some marine biologists say that whales can stun their prey with sound pulses.  I’ve heard recording of these supposed sonic pulses from whales and they sound like gunshots.

As we know from basic research in the field, if sound energy could be focused, then a beam of the focused energy could be transmitted to any metallic or crystalline object at a harmonic frequency that would vibrate the object violently, with catastrophic results.”

“So what happens?” said Messinger.

“If the right frequency is transmitted, the object will literally explode.  You probably remember the commercials that Ella Fitzgerald made for that audio tape company, where a recording of her reaching a high note shattered a crystal goblet.”

“Wow.”  Wright sank into one of the chairs in the command module.

“Why is it attacking us?” said Messinger.

“If it’s Russian, they may be trying to destroy the station.  For what purpose, who knows?  When I was in the nuclear Navy, we would play cat and mouse games.  Sometimes we would even bump, but nothing like an overt attack.  This is weird, especially given the changes in the Soviet Union, or should I say the Newly Independent States.  It could also be from some other country, I suppose.”

“Maybe they were attempting to infiltrate American waters and came upon this installation and decided that we had to be eliminated,” said Wright.

“This is a big ocean,” said Messinger.  “We would have never noticed them if they hadn’t attacked the Watch Station.”

“What if it isn’t Russian or some other nation?” said Wright.

“What do you mean, Jerry?” said Messinger.

“What if it’s from the Rock?” Wright said with a worried look on his face.  He used the unofficial tag that all young CSAC personnel used to describe the Sentinels.  A term that more senior officers frowned upon.

“That, Mr. Wright, is very scary,” said Messinger.  “What do you think our course of action should be, gentlemen?”

“Our primary mission in a case like this is to defend the Watch Station against any attack,” said Diaz.  “However, as we have seen, we may not have the firepower to accomplish that mission.”

“Let’s get an update from Takeshita,” said Messinger as he picked the intercom microphone.  “Command to
Benthic Ranger Two
.  What is the present status?”

Over the loudspeaker in the command module, the three officers could hear Takeshita’s report.

“Captain, she’s just sitting there like some cat watching a mouse.  As far as I can tell, the vehicle has not been damaged by a direct hit with a uranium torpedo or a blast from the laser cannon.  It’s just sitting there.”

“Can you tell anything more about this thing?”

“Sir, it appears to be about twice the size of a Benthic Ranger.  I can’t tell if it has any windows or ports, it’s a little too far off for me to tell.  I can’t tell if it has any external propulsion.”

“Jamie, keep a watch on that thing.  If it makes a move, holler.”

“Aye, aye, sir.”

“We could wait this out, Captain,” said Diaz.

“Wait a minute, this thing — whatever it is — has already killed four of our crew.  What’s to prevent it from taking the rest of us out?” said Wright.

“For one thing, the attack on
Benthic Ranger One
could have been a defensive action,” said Diaz.  “After all,
Benthic Ranger One
did fire a torpedo at the thing and blast it with the laser cannon.  We’ve already sent the S.O.S. buoy off.  Help should be coming any time.”

“That doesn’t explain the unprovoked attack on the Watch Station,” said Messinger.  “However, I agree with Mr. Diaz.  As long as the thing is standing off and not making any overt moves, we should sit tight.”

The wait was excruciating.  Under normal conditions, life on board Watch Stations was not a holiday.  Under unexpected wartime conditions, the stress easily became unbearable.  The remaining crew sat silently.  There was nothing to do but wait.

“Men, this is Captain Messinger.  We’ve decided to wait this one out for the time being.  As I’m sure you may have guessed, whatever is out there has destroyed
Benthic Ranger One
. 
Benthic Ranger Two
is still on the docking pad.  Jack Christensen, could you come forward to the command module?  All others assemble in the transfer module.  Be prepared for immediate evacuation.”

Jack Christensen, sonar mate, first class, was Watch Station Three’s top instrumentation and computer technician.

“Yes, Captain,” said the young black seaman as he reported to the command module.

“Jack, we have to be prepared to abandon the Watch Station at any time.  I want all data copied to floppies in case we have to leave in a hurry.  Also, I want the destruct sequence for all our instrumentation and computer memory initiated, but with a pause command.”

“Aye, aye, sir,” said Christensen, as he snapped off a salute.

“Gentlemen, now we wait,” said Messinger to Diaz and Wright.

1600 Hours: Monday, June 28, 1993: CSAC Headquarters, Newport News, Virginia

“Admiral, you’d better come downstairs immediately, sir.  We have an emergency.”

“Be right there,” said McHugh.

McHugh hurried to the stainless steel elevator that would drop him into the subterranean world of CSAC Operations.  Marine guards snapped to attention as he hurried down the narrow corridors toward the elevator.

At the elevator, McHugh gave his identification card to one of the Special Operations Group airmen, who ran it through the reader on the door.  The stainless steel doors of the elevator slid open silently and McHugh stepped in.  As the doors of the elevator opened into the heart of CSAC, McHugh hurried to the Situation Room.  As he approached the Situation Room, he noted an unusual flurry of activity, given the normal low key manner of operations at CSAC.

The stainless steel doors of the access way to the Situation Room slid open and McHugh entered.  Because of the emergency, McHugh was admitted to the Situation Room immediately, not stopping to adjust to the red light environment.  McHugh hurried into the room, noticing that the wall monitor displayed an enlarged map of the location of Watch Station Three.

“Joe, what’s going on?” said McHugh.

“We’ve received an S.O.S. from Watch Station Three,” said Captain Joseph Mannington, McHugh’s deputy chief of operations for CSAC.  “The Watch Station released the transponder buoy at approximately 1530 hours.  The transmission was picked up by one of the CSAC communications satellites in geosynchronous orbit.  The message was delivered about 10 minutes ago.”