Beyond the Sea

15

Niles looked up from his hushed conversation with Xavier Morales as the others sat down. The missing heads of all the departments suggested Niles had some news concerning their mutual friends in the North Atlantic. They were wrong.

“I want to say something about what is really happening. It’s not just about the colonel and his mission team in the Atlantic. The entire battle group is missing. This rumor you may have already heard, as I failed to stop the scuttlebutt before it started. It’s true. They are not lost, just missing. That is not why I asked you here. I figure you deserve a more detailed mission objective. Virginia may need some input from someone other than me or Xavier. She may need your input also. I put Xavier and Virginia in the clean room of Europa and sequestered them to do some very deep research through Europa. She did her job and may have a bread-crumb lead as to what the Russians are playing at where our field team is concerned. We suspect that things inside the Russian government are not as they appear. These facts are being forwarded to our friends in Britain, as they have suspected the same thing for the past thirty years. Virginia?”

Virginia stood at her normal seat at the conference table and cleared her throat and then nodded.

“The information we gathered through Europa and her cyber activities is not only disturbing, it’s terrifying. It seems we have been duped since the great military purges of Stalin’s in the ’30s. We have learned that not only is the Russian government not in control of that nation, they haven’t been since the spring of 1941. With the start of Hitler’s Operation Barbarossa, the German invasion of the Soviet Union, Joseph Stalin became nothing more than a figurehead of that nation.”

“Tell them your suspicions, Doctor,” Niles said with encouragement.

“The people behind this charade since 1941 are now preparing for all-out war with the West.”

“We worked closely with them during the Overlord operation; we had no indication at that time of any deception,” Alice said.

“That is because we were dealing with people who had no knowledge of this hidden government outside the office of the president. Putin may not even know he is not in charge. He is nothing more than a mouthpiece but thinks it’s him calling the shots. Just like every leader that country has had since Stalin. They are all figureheads. They fall from grace, no problem, next man up as appointed by this hidden group,” Virginia said as she shook her head at the disbelief of her own voice.

“Okay, now you know as much as we do. Virginia, prepare a presentation, and I’ll speak with the president as soon as you have it.”

Virginia just nodded as a brief thought of Jenks and the others flashed through her mind. She was prepared to do as ordered, when she stopped and then pulled out her electronic notepad. “We do have one more item that is as confusing as the rest. It seems the Russians are out to acquire as many industrial blue diamonds as they can get their hands on.”

“And why are blue diamonds so important to the Russians?” Niles asked Virginia.

“That we don’t know. But one thing is for sure: the Russian government as we know it does not exist, and what their plans are for them we haven’t a clue.”

Niles remained sitting and thinking as Virginia sat back down. He looked at Alice in the hopes she had some advice as far as why the Russians would want blue diamonds, but her face said that she was just as stunned as he was. She just shook her head.

“We have to stand down for now until we have more information. I’ll get word to our friends in MI6 somehow and see what they can come up with.

“Captain, you haven’t commented since you came in. Is it that you’re worried about Jack and the others? Or is the thought of the Russian agenda for war against the West?”

Will Mendenhall gathered his briefing materials and then faced his director.

“I think war has already been declared here, Doctor, and we’re just learning who is declaring it. It might already be too late.”

Niles watched as they filed out of his office and conference room. He picked up the phone and made the connection to the Oval Office.

“How in the hell do I start this conversation?”

Master Chief Jenks watched as Professor Gervais covered the ground that he and Charlie Ellenshaw had already covered without the Russian scientist’s knowledge. Jenks wanted to see how up front the good professor was in telling the Americans the truth of the science of phase shifting.

“As you see, gentlemen, the phase shift occurs when the correct frequencies are struck between the field generator on board Simbirsk and the surrounding air. For a reason no one’s science can explain adequately is why the vessel vanishes at all. The electrical field generated around the ship disperses and then takes the ship with it into an adjoining dimension that fits the electrical field frequency. This world just happens to be on the same frequency as the phase shift field. Eventually, by adjusting varying frequencies, we can discover new worlds, new peoples, new assets for our own.”

“Professor, trust me when I say we have had some experience in this area.” Jenks paced around the glass separating the field coils for the phase shift engine and placed a hand on one of the large lightbulb-like electromagnetic pulse projectors. He removed it quickly when he remembered Charlie’s hypothesis that it was these innocent things that burned sailors to death when their electrical field was released. “The Simbirsk cannot hit the same frequency twice, much less continuously send it to the same dimension. It would be random at best. So why does the Simbirsk travel to the same one every time?” Jenks turned and faced the small Russian, and Charlie saw that the man was apprehensive at best. “You would have to have a targeted transponder to guide the shift to that same location, thus here we are in Candyland with the purple sea. So, you see my concern here, Professor? The electromagnetic field and the frequency of this world cannot be random, as you suggest. You don’t know the frequency. You would need a transponder, a signal to lock on for that correct freq.”

“How do you know it would take a corresponding beacon or transponder? Maybe this is the only other dimension there is,” Gervais said, thinking his argument was sound enough for the Americans to become believers.

“I don’t want to get into the whole Einstein thing about there being a varied world of differing dimensions. That stuff gives me a massive headache. But rest assured, Professor, we know for a fact that dimensions are vast and varied. Time, space, all that E = MC2 crap, while not proven”—Charlie smiled as he glanced at Jenks—“is a fact of life.”

Jenks saw the worry on the face of Gervais. “Believe me, we’ve been down a lot of roads, and we suspect Mr. Alien Brain Einstein was pretty accurate.” Jenks moved back to the small worktable with the diagrams Professor Gervais didn’t know the Americans already had. “Now, why don’t you tell us what it is you people are really up to here?” Jenks lit a cigar, knowing that was forbidden to do inside the phase shift engine area.

“I don’t understand,” the Russian said as he glanced toward the main hatch, where a Russian commando watched them.

Jenks reached into his pocket and produced a second blue diamond that Jack had given him for this little confrontation. “You have a field element here already, don’t you, Doc?”

Gervais looked from the filthy diamond to Jenks and Charlie. Ellenshaw was smiling, as he loved confronting people about the truth or lie of their predicament.

“Field element?” he asked, looking again at the Russian watching them. He seemed more attentive than he had been just a moment before.

“What ship is out there, Professor?” Jenks persisted.

“I don’t know what it is you mean.”

Charlie stood and did his best prosecutor pose as he faced Gervais. Jenks allowed the cryptozoologist to have his moment.

“I think it’s time you come to the side of the Lord, Professor. That man you have calling the shots is a maniac sent to cover up the fact that your government, or whoever he works for, has known about this place for a very long time and has sent people here to gather up industrial blue diamonds. For what purpose?”

Gervais clammed up.

Charlie leaned on the table, his hands only inches from the Russian scientist. “You know, I have learned a lot about people by accompanying the very best while they were doing what they do best, discovering who the real bad guys are.” He looked at Jenks, who nodded. “You, my good man, are in the company of very bad people, who in turn are being ordered around by more, even worse people. Why are you here?”

“You know that Salkukoff is here for one reason. He cannot allow anyone to learn the real truth of what’s happening here. He is going to try to kill us all,” Jenks added.

“He will succeed. He always does.”

“Now, was that so hard? Being human is hard sometimes, and I know that for a fact,” Jenks said.

“So, you have been in this dimension before?” Charlie asked, surprised Gervais had given up so readily.

“Yes, twice.” Again, they saw him look at the Russian commando, who was overtly watching them. “Certain elements inside Russia have discovered a new and improved way to destroy mankind. During the rush to find new weaponry for the common good during this outer space incursion, we discovered a way to destroy organic material and leave the surrounding area — buildings, cities, and geological formations — untouched.”

“Neutron physics?” Jenks asked.

“That’s been outlawed by international agreement,” Charlie said, and for some strange reason, that elicited a small laugh from Gervais.

“With industrial diamonds, we can now generate power from a laser platform in space. We can target entire cities or countries. But the power it takes will require abundant industrial blue diamonds to operate. Salkukoff has information on your strange group under the desert and knew that you had recovered every available blue diamond on the planet for Operation Overlord and some other mysterious project in Brooklyn conducted a few weeks back.”

A knowing look between Charlie and Jenks belied the fact that the Russians had an inkling of the Wellsian Doorway. How much they knew, that would be for Colonel Collins and Niles to figure out later.

“Salkukoff and others believe the Americans are on the same trail for the same technology. You are correct in one regard — he knew your group would be coming to the North Atlantic when the Simbirsk mysteriously arrived out of nowhere.”

“And his plan is to…?” Jenks persisted.

“His plan is to discover what you know and then to make assurances you never get back home.”

“What assets from your nation are here?” Charlie asked.

“I don’t know. They don’t take me into their confidence. The two times I came, I was blindfolded and kept in isolation. It seems we were transported by ship, but every time I was allowed to depart, again I was blindfolded. I do know it was a ship, as I am prone to seasickness. That fact they couldn’t hide from me. I am also aware that with the original transport to this world by Simbirsk, she had a well-equipped library. One of the books in that library was one Dr. Ellenshaw mentioned in passing yesterday. It was Treasure Island. Somehow, Salkukoff uses that book, which was found by our aquatic friends, and used it to his advantage. He interfered most assuredly in the development of this species toward an aggressive nature. He uses that pirate nature to secure the diamonds.”

“Come on, Dr. Zhivago, we figured that out when we saw the damn pirate flags on those boats. Now tell us something useful before that maniac kills more innocent people,” Jenks said angrily.

“All I do know is that Salkukoff and his higher management use one species against the other. That they use the indigenous life-forms here to gather the diamonds for transport back to our dimension. One group gathers; the other group secures and then transfers the diamonds to their new masters.”

“So, you people have enslaved one group and given power over them to another. Do you ever stop and think before you do something as shameful as slavery, no matter what the cause is?” Charlie looked at Gervais, and Jenks could see that the kind and gentle cryptozoologist was furious. “All of this for gathering the science to kill your fellow man?” Charlie said with indignant outrage.

“Professor, why do you suppose the villagers greeted us with caution but not outright fear?”

“Because they are your slaves, and they were used to seeing men from our world in theirs,” Charlie said as things started to fit. “They dig the diamonds, and the aquatic species keeps them in line. Amazing inhumanity.”

Gervais hung his head. His shame was apparent. “I believe the mission here is coming to an end. Salkukoff and his people have grown paranoid that their mission has been compromised. They are still far short of acquiring enough of the diamonds for any extensive weaponization purposes, but they have decided the risk of exposure is now too great to continue. Now, that’s all I know, gentlemen.”

Jenks looked at Charlie. “That’s all we’re going to get from Mr. Wizard here.” Jenks slapped the small man on the back hard. “Thanks, you sniveling little coward.”

Gervais now knew he had been ambushed by the Americans. Once more he looked up, and he saw that the Russian commando had vanished.

“Looks like the cat will be out of the bag soon enough, Doc.” Jenks also saw that their guard had vanished. It was obvious the Russian commando had more important things to report to Salkukoff. “I hope you have a good reason ready as to why you spilled your guts.”

Charlie paused and looked down at Gervais.

“You make me ashamed of being a scientist. Our jobs are to explain and teach the rest of the world to everyone. Here you have enslaved a gorgeous people and raped their land so you can possibly kill other innocents.” He slammed his hands down on the table. “You deserve what’s coming to you.”

Jenks puffed on his cigar and then paused at the spot the commando had occupied moments earlier.

“You have an offer of sanctuary aboard the Shiloh. I suggest you make use of it.”

Jenks and Ellenshaw left the professor alone to contemplate his future.

Jenks and Charlie reported to Jack and Carl. His suspicions were confirmed, and as he looked out over the violet seas, he knew the Russians had an unknown phase shift asset out there somewhere. He turned and faced his two intrepid interrogators.

“So, these sea creatures are attacking us and the villagers in support of the Russian game here? And you are convinced the Russians already have what amounts to an occupation force? And he now has a suspicion that Salkukoff is finished with this little experiment and is packing it in?”

“According to Gervais,” Jenks offered.

“Radar from neither Shiloh nor Peter the Great has shown anything that could be considered an asset here, Jack — no ships, no aircraft,” Carl reminded him.

“A nearby island?” he asked.

“Not that shows up on radar. Compton’s Reef is the only substantial island for seven hundred miles that our limited resources can tell,” Carl explained. “There is an above-water reef thirty miles to the southwest. Coral mostly. We’ll get the drone to overfly it as soon as we can. That may well be a place for our Russians to hide. Now we know why Salkukoff wants the Simbirsk back so badly. They need it for this occupation force to get home with their plunder.”

“Could they be hidden on the island we just visited?”

“Possible, but improbable,” Charlie said. “Those people were not concerned about us because they were used to seeing men of our dimension because of the Russian incursion. They would have guided us to that element if they had them there, thinking at the very least we were together. They are too innocent to be any sort of ally in this.”

“I agree,” Jack said, lightly hitting Ellenshaw on the arm as he moved past him. “Okay, we have some time to track this Russian element down. Until then, we have two problems. One, how can we defend these ships against the force of aquatic attackers we faced last night? Two, can we discover if Kreshenko and his crew are a part of this? If not, do they have an inkling of what is really happening not only here but in their own country?”

“My suspicion is that no one in the Russian military is aware of this secret society that runs things over there. Kreshenko believes his orders still originate in Moscow. We know that they don’t, but do he and his crew?”

They turned and saw Henri Farbeaux as he stepped in from the shadows.

“Can Kreshenko and his men be convinced that he is on the wrong side of this?” Jack asked the only man in the world who knew this form of criminality.

“My honest evaluation?” Henri asked as he looked at the strange sea surrounding Simbirsk.

“If that’s possible,” Carl said as he jabbed Farbeaux one more time.

“Sometimes it is, Captain, but rarely,” the Frenchman said as he turned back to face the group of Americans. “I must stay true to form, at least in Captain Everett’s opinion, and say we cannot take that chance. Peter the Great and her crew are now the enemy no matter which way you play this. Kreshenko will follow his orders. The same orders I have for Colonel Salkukoff must apply to all Russian military personnel from this point on.”

“What are you saying?” Charlie asked, almost afraid of the answer.

“What he’s saying, Doc, is that Peter the Great and her entire crew have to meet the same fate as the man they answer to, and that is to eliminate them all if possible,” Jack answered for Henri. “See what you can do, Henri. I don’t relish the thought of a sea battle here and now. We have to find a way to convince the Russian Navy of our intent to save their lives.”

“And the hidden asset they have in this dimension. Even if we convince Kreshenko, they all have to be destroyed and all access to these blue diamonds removed. Whatever that asset is, they may have extensive firepower. The one advantage we have is the fact we know they need the Simbirsk.”

“One little flaw in these theories, gentlemen, is the fact that these so-called allies from the sea attempted to burn Simbirsk. Why would they do that unless our friend Salkukoff had another way home?”

Henri had just thrown the proverbial wrench in the works by saying what everyone else had overlooked.

“My God,” Ellenshaw said aloud.

“In my experience, Professor Ellenshaw, God has very little to do with what we do for a living. He abandoned men like us long ago.”

Henri Farbeaux walked away after giving them all the hard truth of the day.

Jack faced Jenks, Carl, and Charlie. He saw Ryan approach. He looked hot and sweaty. He stepped up to Collins.

“What did you find out, Jason?”

“Well, you won’t believe it. It’s like visiting a wartime museum down there. Colonel, this ship is packed full of ordnance. The damn Russians never removed a thing.”

“Are you going to let us in on it or what?” Jenks asked.

“I sent Mr. Ryan on a small tour of the facilities on Simbirsk. Tell them, Jason.”

“The turrets are fully functional. They have over a thousand rounds of sixteen-inch projectiles in her magazines. High and dry, and fully functional, and as deadly as the day the old Soviet Union made them.”

“What does that mean?” Ellenshaw asked.

“It means, Doc, we now have something a little more substantial in case we need it, either against our fish-faced pirate friends or…” Everett just nodded toward the anchored Peter the Great.

Charlie Ellenshaw walked away, shaking his head. Collins knew the old hippie well enough to see what was coming.

“Where does this madness end?”

Not one of the career military men had answers to Charlie’s question, especially Jack Collins.

He was also not the only one to know that the United States and Russia were already in a state of war.

16

Captain Thorne pushed the cushioned headphones harder onto his ears as he tried in vain to hear what it was his experienced sonar men were hearing. He cocked his head and then shook it.

“I don’t hear anything that doesn’t sound like static.”

“It was there, Skipper. We heard it on three different occasions.”

Thorne removed the headphones and looked at his sonar officer. “Are you sure it wasn’t whales or something else biologic?”

“Computers say no. Our program eliminated biologics almost immediately. It says mechanical.”

“Surface?”

“We don’t know, Skipper. But it seems it has a pattern. Possibly search and then silence. We just don’t know.”

“Keep on it. It may be a moot point if we don’t get those ballast pumps operational.”

“Yes, sir.”

Thorne left the sonar suite and found XO Devers. He guided him into the mess where he sat down at a table. The cooks were busy, and they were alone.

“What do you think?” Devers asked after he himself had reported the spotty contact earlier.

“It makes my decision not to release the emergency tracking buoy and transponder look brilliant. It’s a good thing we didn’t if we have a hostile close aboard.”

“Agreed. It was a stroke of luck you waited until our situation was dire enough to tell the world we were sunk — of which that aforementioned situation is fast becoming, by the way.”

Thorne smiled at Devers.

“Well, let’s take our minds off our mysterious visitors until we can do something about it.”

Suddenly, there was movement as Houston began to once more slide down along the diminishing shelf. Thorne grimaced as the noise of scraping steel against sand and rock sent shivers down the spine of all who heard it. Both officers grabbed the tabletop and held on. Their bodies swayed in a sudden stop as Houston’s bow caught on something and her slide was arrested. Both officers let out a pent-up breath.

“Now that, Skipper, is hard to take your mind off of.”

Thorne just nodded.

The time USS Houston needed to save herself was sliding away faster than their slow ride down the mountainside.

Jack was belowdecks with Carl and Jason and their ever-present company of Russian commandos who watched their every move. They had not seen Colonel Salkukoff in three hours. Kreshenko reported that “His Majesty” had retired for the afternoon. Jack suspected he was missing for other reasons, but since the crew of Shiloh was prohibited from access to the old Russian cruiser, there wasn’t much he could do about it. The personnel he had aboard was all he could expect. With the Russian captain Kreshenko still a mystery, they knew they couldn’t take him into any confidence or suspicion they had.

“There they are,” Ryan said as he raised the heavy steel gate to show them the Simbirsk’s firepower.

Everett whistled. “Now that’s old-school stuff there, Jack.”

The sixteen-inch projectiles were lined and stacked on pallets. They were secured by heavy bands of steel bracing and looked as deadly as ever. A thousand shells filled the reinforced magazine.

“The powder bags are stored over there and seem to be high and dry,” Ryan said as he pointed to another powder magazine. “They also have .50-caliber and twenty-millimeter ammunition, enough to invade a small country. That’s not even mentioning the five-inch shells for the six mounts on deck.”

“Evidently, the old girl never got a chance to fire on that Nazi sub she encountered,” Jack said as he closed and secured the magazine.

“Are you thinking what I’m thinking here, Jack?” Carl said as he opened the powder magazine storage locker. He stepped back and whistled again as over four thousand silk powder bags were covered in a heavy tarp.

“I think I am. This could be our only fallback in making sure Simbirsk never sees her home again.”

“Hopefully after we hitch a ride home on her, so let’s not get ahead of ourselves here,” Jason said with not a smile near his mouth.

The old-fashioned alarm bell sounded throughout the empty bowels of the old cruiser. The three Americans quickly gained the stairs and climbed to the upper decks. The four Russian commandos were right behind them.

The sun was bright and beat down upon the one hundred men who had been transferred over from Peter the Great and now lined the rails, manning AK-47s and the Simbirsk’s old twenty-millimeter guns. Jack went to the railing and looked out over the seas at where the excitement seemed to stem.

“Look at that,” Jenks said as he joined them, wiping his hands on another old rag. Ellenshaw was with him and had to remove his glasses and clean them in order to see the magnificent sight before them.

Coming in from the north was the fishing fleet at full sail. The colors were amazing. Jack turned as more excitement erupted behind them. They ran around turret number two and went to the starboard side. There had to be at least another fifty boats with full loads of women and children heading toward the anchored Simbirsk, Shiloh, and Peter the Great.

Jack was in awe of the native spectacle. They could hear music — flutes, small drums, and gaiety. Collins smiled, and then he heard one of the Russian sailors charge his AK-47, and as Jack watched the young man, he raised the assault rifle to his shoulder. The colonel easily reached out and gently lowered the raised barrel. Other sailors saw this, and they too relaxed.

“Easy. I don’t think they’re sending their wives and children out to attack.”

The Russian sailor smiled, then faltered, and then the large American slapped him on the shoulder with a wink.

“Can’t blame the Ruskies for being a little shaky. After all, they’ve all seen those other ones up close,” Jenks said as he turned to Charlie. “They make our pirates from the storybooks look like pussies.”

“By the ‘other ones,’ I suppose you mean what seems to be the dominant species here?”

“Yeah, those jokers. Those fish boys. Bunch of nancies, if you ask me.”

As the fishing fleet and the boats from the village came closer, everyone relaxed. Jack looked over and saw the crewmen of both Peter the Great and Shiloh were also lining the rails, weapons relaxed as they stared in awe at the approaching wave of humanity.

“Ooh,” the young sailor said beside Jack. The boy rubbed his belly as he spied the roasted pigs and birds that filled the boats from the island. The music seemed South Pacific in its natural sounds of whistles, drums, and flutes. Russian sailors started cheering their guests as they came on. Even the Americans on Shiloh cheered.

Ropes were thrown from both landside and seaward as the boats came in. Russian sailors tied off the ropes and then threw over old rope ladders and lowered the gangway as close to the violet sea as they could get. Sailors started assisting women, men, and children aboard the Russian battle cruiser. Food by the boatload was handed up to the happy men of the Simbirsk.

“It seems our hosts have invited themselves to dinner, Colonel.”

Collins and his company turned and saw that Captain Kreshenko had joined them. He was wearing a white shirt with his rank on the collar. His first officer, Dishlakov, was at his side.

“It does seem, Captain,” Jack said as he turned back and watched the joyous, very much smaller men and women step aboard the largest object they had ever seen before. They touched the rough steel of her turrets and the wood of her deck. They were amazed by the portholes and bridge windows. Several of the more agile men climbed up cables, jabbered something in their native tongue, which would elicit laughs from their visitors, and then the brave man suddenly jumped from the cable and dove forty feet into the violet waters accompanied by many a cheer from the Russians, the British, and the Americans.

The fishing fleet tied up, and load upon load of fish was handed up to waiting arms. Fruits, vegetables, and other exotic growth were brought on board.

“Perhaps we can set aside suspicions and our natural animosity for one evening, Colonel. I will inform your Captain Johnson that he and his off-duty crewmen may join us. Unarmed, of course.”

“Of course. And I’m sure Captain Johnson would be happy to accept.”

“Of course, we will see to it that the on-duty personnel on board Shiloh receive their share of this marvelous bounty.”

With that, Captain Kreshenko and Second Captain Dishlakov turned and left.

Jack turned to Carl, and the SEAL and just shrugged. “A breakthrough?”

Collins only raised a brow to the observation.

“Huh. He probably just wants to separate the crew of Shiloh and then murder us all during the freakin’ dessert course,” Jenks mumbled and then went to assist an older woman on board as she struggled with her grip on one of the old rope ladders.

Ryan watched the master chief and then turned to face Jack and Carl.

“He might just have a point about being whacked at dessert. I think I saw that movie.”

The foredeck of Simbirsk was covered in old World War II green blankets that had once been donated by the United States to her Russian allies at the opening of the war against Nazi Germany. Food of varying varieties extended fifty yards and covered an immense section of deck. Kreshenko had allowed another hundred sailors from Peter the Great to join them, and they and Shiloh’s crew eyed each other from opposite sides of the blankets. The villagers and the men from their mining operations and their fishing fleet were interspersed with both crews and seemed not to notice the distrust among them. It was obvious distrust was not something these gentle people understood. The gathering had made Jack wary because he didn’t know what the natives’ play was. It was almost as if they sensed these men were different from those previous thugs that had introduced a form of slavery to their island. Collins knew he felt an obligation to their cause but could not find an avenue that could help them, other than all-out war with their Russian companions. That would ensure that none of them ever saw home again.

Jack’s eyes continually roamed the faces on deck, but thus far, there was no sign that Colonel Salkukoff intended to join them. Also missing was Professor Gervais and most of the Russian commandos. Jack pointed this fact out to Everett, who agreed that he too had noticed.

One point of decent news was the fact that for the past half hour, Captains Kreshenko and Johnson were in deep conversation as they walked the deck, speaking only where they were assured they were alone.

Both crews seemed to be accepting of their guests. Americans and Russians alike were kind and very amused by the antics of the villagers. Food by the pound was being consumed by all. Baked fish and other delicacies were placed on steel plates supplied by the engineers, and acetylene torches were used to the amazement of the fishermen and others to heat the fresh bounty of the strangest fish species any of them had ever seen. They were strange enough that Charlie Ellenshaw cringed every time one of these was thrown hissing onto the hot steel. He was running from man to man, trying to see what it was they had caught before the fish vanished forever before his inspection. Crazy Charlie was so excited that he had men from both nations laughing at the way in which he tried inspecting everything before it was consumed. He even went as far as taking a plate from a Russian sailor and looking it over, much to the shock of the man eating it. Still, the crews seemed at ease enough for the moment to excuse the excesses of the past two days.

Jack was also smiling as he watched the excitement of his friend. That was when he saw Henri standing aloof next to the number-one turret. He was in the dark far beyond the powerful deck lighting. Collins silently stood and placed his hand on Carl’s shoulder to keep him from following.

“It looks like our Frenchman has something on his mind. I’ll be right back.”

Jack walked over and stood next to Farbeaux as the Frenchman watched the festivities.

“A beautiful people,” was all he said.

“Yes, they are. It’s a shame our kind has interfered here,” Jack said as he watched a group of young girls no older than ten dance for the sailors to raucous cheers. The female members of Shiloh wowed the young girls with parcels full of makeup and small mirrors. It seemed the vagaries of female social standards translated well to species rather than the situation.

“Coming from our world, it seems we should be used to the loss of innocence. We have learned acceptance of a certain amount and go on justifying it in that manner,” Henri said as he exhaled deeply. He finally turned and faced Jack. “Professor Gervais is dead.”

Collins forced himself to relax as he stepped closer to the Frenchman. “Not by your hand, I hope,” he said as he felt the anger already start to well up inside.

“I do not kill harmless old fools, Colonel. You should know that about me by now. No, the good professor hung himself right next to the phase shift engine.”

Jack exhaled and then leaned against the bridge bulkhead. “Suicide,” he said as he inwardly damned himself by not making Jenks stay close to Gervais at all times. Now, so many answers and a possible ally in their escaping this mess were gone.

“Yes, but it seems strange that four fingers on his right and two on the left were snapped in half. Do you suppose he had difficulty in tying the noose around his neck?”

“You saying it was forced?”

“In the circles I have been privy to, Colonel, men such as Gervais never commit suicide. They blame, they become sorrowful for what they have done, some turn to Jesus, others to the bottle, but most never go out that way — too much of a coward. No, he was murdered.”

“My investigation says suicide, Colonel Farbeaux. Otherwise, you would have been the first person questioned if there were the least bit of suspicion as to the cause of death.”

Jack frowned as he realized the Russian had come upon them unheard. He could see Henri tense up at the sudden appearance of Salkukoff and his six commandos. Two of them were removing the covered body of Gervais from down below.

“Unfortunate, to say the least,” Jack said as he turned and faced Salkukoff.

“He has served his purpose on this mission, Colonel Collins. He has confirmed the phase shift system is still functional. His recommendation to me an hour before he decided to exit this world was that we could make the attempt at getting back to our own dimension at any time.”

“That has yet to be agreed upon by my engineer, Master Chief Jenks.”

Salkukoff smiled and placed his hands behind his back and then rocked on his heels.

“I’m afraid your calculations are far beyond your understanding of the situation, Colonel Collins. You assume that you still have jurisdiction in this matter. Your right of salvage, I think you quoted upon our initial meeting.”

Jack remained quiet, as he knew this wasn’t his play. It was Salkukoff’s.

“For tonight, we will allow these men to enjoy themselves.” He started to turn. “It would be a shame for us to have hostilities while our innocent guests are aboard.” He started walking and then stopped and faced Collins and Farbeaux once more. “After all, they have a hard enough life as it is facing the Wasakoo.”

“The very same Wasakoo you turned into pirates?”

“That was a fortunate coincidence. The Wasakoo had already stumbled up the book on board Simbirsk during the original experiment. We just happened to take advantage of it. The idiots actually think Treasure Island is like a bible of sorts. Pretty adventurous of them, agreed? Good evening, gentlemen.”

They watched the Russian and his escort of killers move away and smile and taste the offered food. Two more went the long way around while carrying the covered body of Gervais.

“May I assume the good colonel knows a little more than he did just last night?” Henri inquired. “I think we just met the architect of this whole situation. The Wasakoo — do you think he even knew he spilled the beans?”

“All he did was confirm the facts we already know, Colonel. I mean, who could make something like the Wasakoo up? I mean, if I made up a name, I would have chosen Klingon, or Romulan, or the Sith, or something.” Jack smiled.

“I am always amazed at the way in which you come to your conclusions, Colonel. Totally amazed.”

Jack merely walked away without further comment. Henri watched and then slowly followed, shaking his head at the irreverent way he joked during the most stressful times.

The radar operators on both Peter the Great and Shiloh were relieved early for their chance to join the visitors and eat their food. In the confusion of operators changing shifts, they all missed the large red blip that appeared and then vanished just as quickly.

Death was over the far horizon and was watching them closely.

Salkukoff and his commandos had transferred the body of Professor Gervais to a waiting whaleboat. Twenty-six commandos sat waiting for Salkukoff to join them as the colonel conferred with Captain Kreshenko.

“I have concerns, Colonel Salkukoff. Even though my men are jovial at the moment, I don’t expect them to take the news of this apparent suicide well. They all knew of the professor’s importance in getting them back home. Morale will plummet.”

“That is why we are removing the body to Peter the Great for storage. Allow your sailors this time to forget about their situation and enjoy the company of these”—he paused as he gestured to the hundred small boats tied to the anchored ships—“people.”

Kreshenko watched as Salkukoff waited for more questions, but the captain merely stepped back to allow the colonel his way. He watched the dark-haired man step easily into the whaleboat and then turned away. He paused when he saw the Frenchman looking at him in the light of the strangely shattered moon overhead — even stranger now that the smashed orb was rising higher into the sky with its trailing tail of moon debris.

“Interesting man,” Henri said as he stepped forward and faced the Russian sea captain.

“Interesting term, maybe? But the man is one who I’ve known for a very long time. Maybe not him, but others like him. They have been hiding in the shadows since the fall of the old regime.” Kreshenko looked directly into the Frenchman’s blue eyes. “These are men who rejoice in the troubles and sorrows of our world.” He started forward to rejoin the men at the bow and their revelry with the villagers but stopped as he came astride Henri. “I suspect he would have little or no compunction to bring that chaotic philosophy to this world also.”

“Captain?”

Kreshenko stopped but did not turn.

“We all may have to make some hard choices in the next few hours.”

Kreshenko allowed his shoulders to slump as the Frenchman made it clear that their survival might just depend on him and only him. But still the captain moved off in silence.

Farbeaux turned and went to the stern railing of the old warship and watched as the whaleboat started off toward Peter the Great. He saw the boat pause momentarily, and then it slowly moved off again. His eyes went to the anchored Shiloh and saw that her above-deck crew were relaxed, as most of them had just returned from the fabulous feast brought to them by the villagers. Again, his eyes turned away and watched the violet-whitish foam from the Russian boat as it vanished around the port side of Peter the Great.

“Is it bothering you as much as it is me?”

Henri heard Jack’s voice but remained fixed on Peter the Great five hundred yards away. “If you knew my thoughts at the moment, Colonel, you wouldn’t like them.”

Collins stepped up and stood next to the Frenchman. Although Jack would never fully trust Henri, he knew his instincts were infallible when it came to pegging the intentions of bad people. He knew Farbeaux was one of those bad men who used common sense in the way he did business.

“Where will he strike first?” Jack asked as his eyes also remained on the giant missile cruiser anchored across the way.

“It will not be where we suspect it will come, Colonel,” Henri said as he finally turned away from the sea and faced Jack. “That man cannot allow even his own people to return to our world. They have seen and heard far too much. Whoever is pulling Salkukoff’s strings wants their venture here and their treasonous activities toward Moscow kept quiet. And I suspect that for many years they have excelled in doing just that — silencing those who know of them.”

“Kreshenko?”

“I don’t know what is running through that man’s mind. He’s disciplined, he’s loyal to a fault, and he is a career navy man. I suspect Captain Everett or that little naval aviator, Ryan, would have a better chance at getting into his head.”

“I’ve recommended that already. One thing is for sure: until we have an accurate guess as to what that murderous bastard has planned for us, we need Captain Kreshenko to make the right choice.”

Henri chuckled as he gestured for Jack to precede him back to the bow and the festivities there.

“So, we are hoping for a career Russian military officer to make the right choice between helping us Westerners or committing wholesale treason?”

“That about sums it up, Colonel.”

“Luckily, there is a precedent that shows the average Russian is capable of a little revolt against authority on occasion.”

“That, Colonel, sir, is what we are banking on.”

Sailors from both nations helped the villagers load their belongings into their small boats. The native people of this strange world were not going home empty-handed. Americans and Russians both gave freely of their own possessions. Children were leaving with so much candy, cakes baked by both mess crews, and other items such as mirrors and clothing. The villagers were now wearing everything from New York Yankees caps to Russian national hockey team jerseys. The natives were leaving with assorted pots, pans, and utensils that amazed and wowed each and every one of them. The sailors waved their good-byes from the railings of both Simbirsk and Shiloh.

Captain Kreshenko, who had not said a word to anyone during the final stages of this diplomatic endeavor, allowed the men of Peter the Great and Shiloh to continue to mix. There were now well over three hundred men comprising both crews on the old battle cruiser. They mingled and spoke in broken English among themselves, and as sailors, they all had similar stories of their duties and of home. Even Captain Johnson and his officers were enjoying learning more about Russian procedures. Even more surprising was the fact that the strict Captain Kreshenko allowed it.

Charlie Ellenshaw was abnormally silent as he stood alone watching the sails of the fishing boats grow smaller in the moonlight. He leaned heavily against the railing and didn’t notice the master chief step up next to him. The old navy man was eating something that resembled a banana but was totally dark green in color, but looked ripe after peeling.

“I didn’t see you eat anything tonight, Nerdly.”

Charlie turned and saw the master chief and shook his head. “Sometimes I don’t know how you and Colonel Collins can do it.”

“What’s that?” Jenks asked as he tossed the green banana peel into the sea.

“Professor Gervais. I believe he was a kind and gentle man who was murdered because of someone’s political or military aims. I feel terrible I spoke to him in the manner in which I did. Just terrible.”

“I’ll excuse you for that one, Doc, since you are an endangered species of hippie and all of that. We do it because if we don’t, others will meet the same fate as the good professor. This is a screwed-up world we live in, even here in this whacked-out place. And I know you probably think Gervais was a good man forced to do bad things, but that’s the choice most people in the scientific field must decide on for themselves. Now, as for what I would do?” Jenks paused and lit his after-dinner cigar. “Simple — I would have blown the whole project to hell and back before doing what he did. All he had to do was say something.” Jenks slapped Charlie on the back. “I think you’re one of those opposite-thinking kind, Nerdly. I think you would have screamed to high heaven if you knew about this experiment. And that, Chucky, would have gotten you a note on a toe tag in the morgue.”

“Thank you… I think,” Ellenshaw said.

“Ah, what the hell does an old sea dog know about it?” Jenks said and then guided Ellenshaw away from the railing. “All I want to do is get home and then live the rest of my life with a woman who will do all the thinking. Now, let’s get you some of those leftovers and get something into that skinny-ass body of yours.”

Charlie smiled, knowing that even a heavy brain like Jenks could think about the good of things.

“I envy you, Master Chief,” Charlie said as Jenks slapped a large piece of pork into his hand.

“Ah, crap. I envy you, Nerdly, having three names like you do. Charles Hindershot Ellenshaw III,” he said, looking up at the moon and its trailing comet-like tail. “Now that is really a name you can sink your teeth into.”

Charlie smiled, as this was the first time Master Chief Jenks ever called him by his real name.

As the two men turned away from the sea, they failed to see the underwater bubbles pass by the bow of the Simbirsk. They were heading straight for Compton’s Reef.

17

Jack, Carl, Ryan, Henri Farbeaux, and a weary Captain Ezra Johnson watched from the darkened CIC far beneath the main deck of the heavy cruiser. They spied the activity on the wide-screen monitor on the bulkhead. Other members of the CIC teams were monitoring radar and sonar, but they watched the activity on the monitor, as did the officers.

The drone was flying high over Peter the Great. Most of the sailors were still settling in from their evening with the islanders. The night watch had been posted, and the crew, for the most part, went belowdecks for some well-earned sleep. Jack smiled when he saw that a lot of the Russian boys were wearing traditional United States Navy headgear. The reason for the covert flight was an attempt to spy on Salkukoff and his commandos. As the propeller-driven drone circled Peter the Great, they saw nothing of the colonel.

Captain Johnson patted the shoulder of the drone’s remote control specialist. “Bring her back home, Jenkins. We’re not going to see anything that bastard doesn’t want us to see.”

“Aye, sir,” the young man said as he input the correct orders into the remote system. The drone would fly back and land softly in the water next to Shiloh, where she would be recovered and recharged.

“Well, that was a bust,” Ryan said as he rubbed his eyes.

“Captain, we’re picking up something strange on the horizon,” young Seaman Jenkins said as he pointed to the large monitor. “We have a bright glow to the south.”

“Adjust angle of turn and bring the camera up.”

The drone turned, and instead of overflying Shiloh, she pointed her nose camera toward Compton’s Reef.

“What the hell?” Johnson said as he took a tentative step closer to the large monitor, as if getting closer to it he could actually see more detail. What the high-definition camera system told him and the others was that Compton’s Reef was burning.

Jack and the others were out of CIC in a flash. All sleepiness and weariness were now gone. As they hit the steps leading up, the general quarters alarm sounded throughout Shiloh.

“All hands, man rescue stations. All sea rescue elements to their stations; this is no drill. I repeat, no drill. Man rescue craft!”

Jack and his men gained the main deck, and all they could see was the Shiloh’s powerful searchlights probing the seas between herself and the island. Even Peter the Great was in the process of launching rescue crews in whaleboats.

“Marine strike team report to boat ramp six.”

“Let’s go,” Jack said as he started making for the stern, where the marine unit would be launched. “Carl, radio the Royal Marines stationed on Simbirsk. They are to hold station at any cost. Tell them to keep their heads on a swivel, as this could be a ruse of some kind.”

“Got it, Jack,” Everett said as he raised the radio and made the call.

Altogether, there were three Zodiacs filled with the marine strike team assembled on Shiloh. They were closely followed by the Russian complement of shipboard marines in their larger whaleboats. There were no less than a hundred fighting men moving toward the burning island, along with the other Zodiacs filled with corpsmen and damage control specialists from Shiloh.

As their boats struck the brown-colored sand, they heard the screaming coming from the village at the center of the island. The two varying marine elements broke into two groups with the Russians going to the left and the American marines to the right. They moved quickly as the screams of the islanders became louder. The flames reached far above the coconut trees and palms. The flaming tendrils reached out for the setting moon.

As Jack broke into the open, he couldn’t believe what it was he was seeing. The creatures, the Wasakoo, as Salkukoff had informed them, were running from hut to hut, setting them aflame. Their long spears were dispatching those women and children who were too slow to move. Curved swords were slicing into women and children alike. Warriors from the village were putting up a brave fight, but Jack could see they were losing badly. Collins aimed his nine millimeter and shot the closest of the green-skinned creatures. The tentacled giant turned with a loud, screaming hiss and started toward Jack just as fifteen M4 automatic weapons opened fire beside him.

Farbeaux and Carl broke into the clearing and came face-to-face with one of the Wasakoo. The beast had a spear in hand, poised to throw, and in one of the eight tentacles it had circling its neck, it held a pearl-handled bone knife. Farbeaux and Carl both fired their handguns at the same instant.

The Russian marines opened fire from the opposite end of the village as they caught those Wasakoo who were now in flight in the open. The shots slowly dwindled down as the attackers were quickly dispatched. Jack swallowed hard and then reached for the radio.

“Captain, Collins here, over.”

“Johnson, go.”

“Captain, we need the rest of the medics and more medical supplies ASAP, over.”

“We were watching from the drone. I’ve already dispatched additional medical and rescue teams. I informed Captain Kreshenko. He’s also sending what he can. Oh, shit. Those green fish bastards are escaping on the western side of the island. No, never mind. The Russian marines just saw to it they aren’t going anywhere.”

“Thank you, Captain,” Jack said as he replaced his radio.

Charlie and Jenks were late arriving, as no one waited for them to enter one of the landing craft. As they advanced slowly into the clearing, they saw the devastation. The bodies of the very people they had just shared a feast with were spread throughout the clearing. Their homes were in flames, and Russian and American sailors were doing all they could to not only secure the area but to assist the wounded and dying. The anger among the young sailors and marines of both nations was palpable as one dead child or woman after the other was turned over and examined. The gifts that had been given to the islanders were strewn throughout the shattered village.

“Did we cause this?” Charlie asked as he leaned over and felt for a pulse of a young boy who had the entry wound of one of the large spear points in his back. He lowered his head when he found the child lifeless.

“No, Doc, we didn’t,” Jenks said as he sadly faced the destroyed village and its people. His eyes fell on the men of the community. They had died bravely, as they all had weapons in their hands. He shook his head and wondered if Charlie was right after all. These people had lived here for how many thousands of years and hadn’t been wiped out by this aggressor species before this, so why now? He spit and tossed his dead cigar away, no longer wanting that small simple pleasure.

Collins found Farbeaux, Everett, and Ryan standing by one of the bodies of the fishermen who had brought them the bounty they had just consumed. It was the elder of the village lying there with his throat slashed and a spear in his side. He was dead, and Jack Collins cursed himself for not thinking about posting some form of security detail for these innocent people.

“Jack, you’d better take a look at this,” Carl said as he stood from his kneeling position.

Collins slowly walked over, and he was joined by a stunned Master Chief Jenks and a tearful Charlie Ellenshaw. Carl tossed something, and Jack caught it in the dwindling moonlight. He held the object up and examined it in the flames. His eyes narrowed as he looked at it.

“This one was wearing it,” Carl said as he kicked out at the still form at his feet. The tentacles around the creature’s head moved, but it was only a nerve reaction. The long, thick muscled appendages moved and then settled.

The object that was removed from the lifeless body was nothing more than a canvas pouch with a long strap attached. Jack held it up closer to the fires and saw the Russian writing on it. He tossed it to Henri, who was fluent in Cyrillic writing.

Henri looked up after a quick examination and raised his eyebrows in confusion.

“What is it?” Ryan asked as Henri handed the canvas bag to him.

“What did it say?” Charlie asked as he pried his eyes away from the slaughter around him.

“Rostov-on-Don.”

“What is that?” Ryan asked as he gave the bag back to Henri.

“It’s a city in southern Russia.” Jack turned and saw Kreshenko coming onto the scene accompanied by six Russian marines. Of Salkukoff and his black-clad killers, there was no sign. Kreshenko’s face held the visage of a man shocked beyond measure at the carnage around him. Collins took the carrying bag from an angry Henri Farbeaux and approached the captain and tossed him the bag.

“Can you explain this? It was found on one of the aquatic creatures. He was wearing it.”

“Rostov-on-Don,” he read aloud, loud enough that his accompanying marines all looked pale in the firelight.

“I cannot,” Kreshenko said. “This does not make sense to me.”

“Do you think someone in your company might know?” Jack asked, not allowing Kreshenko to know his anger was close to being out of control.

The captain slapped the bag into a marine’s hands and then nodded and turned and quickly left the village that had turned into a massacre site.

Jack turned and nodded for everyone to help and assist the medical teams as best as they could. He pulled Henri aside.

“Why would a bag with the name of an obscure Russian city be on one of those creatures?”

“I don’t know, Colonel. Perhaps it was taken from Simbirsk on one of her magical appearances into this world, just like the book Treasure Island.”

Jack nodded and started to turn away.

“What are you thinking, Colonel?”

Collins stopped and turned.

“I would conclude that you were probably right, Henri, with one exception: the Russians, nor anyone else during the ’40s, had a little-known invention called Velcro.”

Farbeaux watched Jack walk away to assist the dead and the dying and shook his head.

“Yes, I could see how that places a big hole right in the middle of that theory.”

18

Jack sat against a small charred log and counted the bodies. Three hundred and twelve of the kind and gentle villagers were lying dead in the early morning light. The sun rose against the backdrop of smoldering grass huts and the meager possessions of this simple people. He knew that at least some of the villagers had escaped the carnage, but he suspected they would never see them again. How could trust ever be regained once lost? Their lives had been affected by strangers more than once, and in all instances, the newcomers had fallen far short of a just treatment of these natives.

“It’s not your fault, Jack.”

Collins looked up and shaded his eyes from the sun rising behind Carl. The career navy man sat at the end of the burned log and lowered his head.

Jack and Carl looked from the scene of devastation around them as Charlie and Jenks walked up. Jack stood, as did Everett. They were all covered in soot and were filthy from searching for survivors inside their shattered homes. Ellenshaw was worse than anyone. He was burned in several places, and his hair was even more of a mess than ever. Beyond Charlie’s condition, they could all see the morale of the combined sailors and marines had taken a serious hit. Russian marines sat with American marines, and all were in shock at what had happened. One such Russian was holding the broken hockey stick he had given one of the male children. He angrily threw it away and then stood and left.

“My search parties have not turned up any more of the surviving islanders, Colonel. I am afraid we have made our friendship with the native people a moot and very much lost point after this.”

They turned and saw Kreshenko and his XO, Dishlakov, as they examined the village for the first time. In the rising sun, they closed their eyes against the devastation.

“Captain, it’s time you chose a side.”

Kreshenko looked at Jack, as his words seemed to have fallen on deaf ears. Captain Kreshenko held the look a moment and then turned away. Dishlakov looked as though he wanted to say something but stopped short. He turned and followed his captain.

“Second Captain Dishlakov,” Collins called out to the man’s retreating form. He slowed and then stopped without turning. “We are all responsible for this slaughter.”

Dishlakov hung his shoulders and then left the clearing.

“We’re going to have to do this without them, Jack,” Carl said as he watched the second captain vanish into the scorched undergrowth.

Collins looked around him at the burned homes of their new friends. His mouth went into a straight line.

“I agree. But first, our friend Henri has a job to do,” Jack said as he removed the radio from its case. “And I’m going to help him.”

Carl watched the colonel turn away to speak privately with Farbeaux, and he didn’t like the look on Jack’s face one bit.

Jack had his eyes closed inside the darkened and air-conditioned interior of the Shiloh’s CIC. Everett, Henri, and Ryan, along with Captain Johnson, sat beside him as their eyes watched the screen above them. The view was aerial, and it showed the vastness of this violet sea. The drone had been launched five hours before, and even on its power-conservation settings, it was now low on power without seeing anything to the southwest. Their theory on a reef or another small island was now getting weaker and weaker.

“That’s it, Captain. We have hit the PNR. We have to bring her back to the barn,” announced the young lieutenant JG from his seat.

“The point of no return had been reached, Colonel. We have to bring back the drone or lose her.”

Collins opened his eyes and sat up. “Bring her back. This is like searching for a needle in a stack of other needles.” Jack stood and stretched. He slapped the operator on the back. “How long until you can get the remote recharged and in the air again?” He glanced at the digital watch on the bulkhead. “We have to find out where these creatures come from and if the Russians have any surprises for us out there.”

“Thirty minutes’ return trip and another twenty to change her batteries and another five to download her old programming and install new.”

Captain Johnson silently nodded in agreement.

The remote control operator sat up straight in his chair and then gestured toward the monitor.

“We have something, thirty-six miles out.”

On the monitor, the men inside the CIC saw an amazing sight. The complex makeup of natural coral material spiraled into the afternoon sky. In brightly colored towers made up of the organisms that constituted the living reefs of coral, they saw the home of the aquatic species that had been allied with Salkukoff. The computer display, as generated from the visual information supplied to Shiloh by their drone, scrolled across the screen. The system immediately identified no fewer than seventy of the giant coral towers as they rose from a naturally supported bed of reef that stretched for fifty miles or more. Jack saw thousands of boats tied up in and around this exotic community.

“Look. As clear as the water is, you can see the structures are more under the water than they are above,” Ryan said as he leaned closer to the monitor.

Battlements and other defensive positions lined the uppermost reaches of the coral towers. They could see thousands of the aquatic species as they went about their chores for the day. It was almost medieval in its makeup.

“Charlie should see this,” Carl said as he watched the amazing scene below the drone’s cameras.

“Captain, sonar.”

Johnson moved quickly to his four sonar operators. He leaned in and saw their waterfall displays and immediately saw the anomaly. Then as he watched, the contact went dark again, and the waterfall display of color went back to its pristine shape of straight lines.

“Have you checked your equipment?”

“Yes, Skipper. Diagnostics says we are back to 100 percent reliability. There is something out there.”

“What is it?” Jack asked as he, Carl, and Jason crowded around.

“A soft sonar contact bearing the same course as that reef. Not sure if it’s real or not. Hell, it could be below or above the water. Being just over the horizon, radar is no good.”

Collins moved away, deep in thought.

“I can tell you’re thinking the same thing I am. Why would Salkukoff leave his only way back home?” Carl said as Ryan also nodded in agreement that it was indeed strange for the Russian to take that chance.

“He has to have an alternate source of the phase shift equipment. My guess is another ship.”

They all turned back to the monitor that was being overflown one last time by the drone. They had garnered the attention of the Wasakoo, as many of them were pointing to the sky. By their frantic gestures, the sight of the strange birdlike drone awed and confused the aggressive species.

“Look at their boats,” Ryan said as he placed a hand on the shoulder of the operating lieutenant. “Can you come in tighter on their watercraft?”

The operator brought the drone into a shallow dive toward the towering coral city. The drone leveled out, and the camera zoomed in tight.

“They look like giant abalone shells, or maybe oyster. You can clearly see the inside, and it sure looks like mother-of-pearl.”

Ryan was right, and the observation made sense for this waterborne species. With the world lacking in any sustainable wood, at least in this part of their world, material from the seas would be their only source of craftwork. On the screen, the view got even lower. The sails on most of the craft were furled, but the observers could see many of the soft-skinned creatures run to and fro in near panic. They could see that the appearance of the flying machine had upset them to no end.

“Okay, I think we’d better get the drone back. We need her back in the air as an early warning system.” Jack pursed his lips in thought. “Captain, can we get a copy of this sent over to Captain Kreshenko without jeopardizing any secrets about Aegis?”

Captain Johnson nodded to the CIC watch commander, and in minutes, a copy was being run off digitally.

“Jack, I would feel much better keeping the ships in motion. Sitting anchored here like this is a little too reminiscent of Pearl Harbor.”

Jack nodded in agreement at Carl’s fear. “Captain?”

“I agree. It will take some time to coordinate with Peter the Great and then time to rig towlines up to Simbirsk, but yes, I would feel better in motion.”

Jack looked at the digital clock mounted on the bulkhead. “Say two hours?”

“We’ll make it less if possible,” Johnson said as he picked up the ship-wide communication.

By the looks of the faces manning their electronic gear in CIC, Collins knew the entire crew would feel better on the move. No one liked the aspect of sitting still and getting shot at.

“All right, let’s get with Jenks and Charlie and see if they believe we can get that phase shift up and running. I think it’s time we try to get our collective asses back to our world.”

They all started moving to the hatch, and as the marine guard opened it, it was Ryan as always who placed his mild form of damper on everything.

“Yeah, who wants to get their asses shot off here in Adventureland when we have a chance to do it at home?”

Colonel Salkukoff watched the command bridge from his place just beneath the forward missile mount. The automatic loading system would burst forth from a rubberized membrane and streak toward its intended target. But after the first two missiles ever fired in anger by Peter the Great in the North Atlantic against the Americans, Salkukoff knew she would never fire another. The movement that he could see beyond the thick glass told him that activity had picked up on the cruiser, which indicated that they had collectively made the decision to weigh anchor and be on the move. This was expected, and Salkukoff shook his head. He turned to the large man standing next to him. The commando was former Spetsnaz, the Russian equivalent of a navy SEAL or Delta Force, and very adept in his skills of killing. The man was as dedicated to their cause as Salkukoff himself.

“We can no longer pretend that this mission will not get out to those who can do us harm. We have lost the source, and we must shut down operations on a permanent basis.” He shook his head. “It is a shame. We could have recovered far more of the resource material than we have. But alas, we have garnered too much attention. This Colonel Collins, despite what our superiors believe, is no fool. Nor are the people he works for. It wouldn’t take them long to add up two plus two.”

“Orders?” the black-clad commando asked.

“We will contact Dolphin and make arrangements for the destruction of the Simbirsk. There will be no recovery. Better to sink her here than take a chance on the Americans or some other NATO member recovering her wreck in the deep waters of home.” He smiled as he turned away and looked up into the bridge once more. “At least here it is unrecoverable. Mission complete.”

“What will Northstar command say about shutting down the diamond operations?” the commando asked.

Salkukoff lost his smile. “As far as they are concerned, comrade, the mine played out and we lost the cooperation of the Wasakoo. The situation was unavoidable.” He faced his specialized killer once more, the very man who had hanged kindly Professor Gervais. “I don’t know about you, but I am tired of being a delivery boy. I have other plans, as you do also.”

“Yes, Colonel. It’s time to make our mark with the Northstar Committee as soon as we get home. We have wasted quite enough time here in this backward world.”

Salkukoff held the man’s gaze for a full thirty seconds. “The spilling of Russian blood is always, well, let’s say, difficult. Necessary, but most difficult.”

“Northstar has taught us well, Colonel.”

“Yes, yes, they have, Captain. I will try to isolate Captain Kreshenko from the rest of his crew. They cannot be trusted to see the light. They are loyalists to a fault and will follow that man anywhere.”

“Dishlakov?” the commando asked as he stood beside Salkukoff.

“I’ll leave that to you. Make it as efficient as always, my friend.”

The commando chuckled as if the man couldn’t be serious. He turned away and left the colonel alone.

Salkukoff watched the bridge once more. He finally turned away and brought up a small device he had on him at all times. The electronic sending unit used low-frequency bandwidths and was virtually undetectable by listening ears. He started typing out his message on the small keyboard: To Dolphin, Operation Clean Seas has been authorized. Stand by for orders.

He replaced the device into his pocket, and with a final look at the battle bridge, he moved off for his last few hours on board Peter the Great, as he knew by this time tomorrow, the great warship would be sitting on the bottom of this upside-down world. And Simbirsk and Shiloh would share that same watery grave.

19

Jack was dreaming of Sarah and, strangely enough, the small green alien they had lost during the Overlord operation, Matchstick. It was disturbing in the fact that Collins rarely dreamed at all. His mind was so tired that his brain completely ran on in a direction of its own accord. While Sarah said little in the dream, it was the recurring words of the small green alien that kept echoing in his dream over and over again. Matchstick was sitting on Sarah’s lap as he did quite often in the long days and nights of debriefing the alien after Arizona. It seemed Matchstick opened up when he was in her lap, as if he were comfortable and trusting of the small geologist far more than any other.

“You are not alone, Colonel Jack; you are not alone. Friends, friends, friends, everywhere.” In the dream, Matchstick would look straight at him while repeating the same words over and over. Then he did the strangest thing. As a gift to Matchstick after his debriefing was completed, Jack and the security department had given him a copy of the Beatles’ greatest hits. The small alien had fallen in love with “Octopus’s Garden.” In the dream, he kept singing in his raspy, cotton-filled voice, “I’d like to be, under the sea, in an octopus’s garden, in the shade.”

The knock on the door woke him. He sat up in the bed and looked around, not knowing exactly where he was. The knock sounded once again. Finally, he knew, and the dream he had been having faded, with the exception of that silly Beatles song.

“Come!” he said louder than he wanted.

A marine opened his door, and Henri Farbeaux stepped inside.

The cabin was small but offered the creature comforts as Henri came in and flipped on the desk lamp. Jack sat up and placed his bare feet on the tiled floor. He looked at his wristwatch and saw that he had been sleeping for six hours, much to his shock. He placed both palms on his eyes and rubbed them. He shook his head until his vision cleared and then saw that the Frenchman was offering him a cup of coffee.

“It’s not the seventy-five-year-old coffee from Simbirsk, but American dark roast will have to do.”

Collins nodded and accepted the offering. “Damn. They let me sleep too long. It’s 0220.”

“Captain Everett left orders that you not be disturbed for eight, but I needed to see you before I depart Shiloh.”

“Depart?” he asked when he lowered the coffee cup.

“Yes, we’ve been under way for five hours. Simbirsk is in tow, and Peter the Great is bringing up the rear. I couldn’t board the cruiser earlier because Salkukoff’s commandos were everywhere after dark. I couldn’t risk it.”

“And boarding a moving ship at sea isn’t risky?” Jack asked as he finally stood up. He started dressing.

“Risky, but it will be unexpected.”

“We could wait until daylight and find some excuse to get Peter the Great to at least slow enough for you to board safely.” Collins slipped into his black T-shirt.

“It would be expected. Salkukoff is no fool. My chance of getting to him now is better. I expect the colonel will make his play soon after the sun rises. It’s now or never. I have a team of marines that will get me to the stern of Peter the Great; I gain egress there and do what was ordered. I only hope Captain Kreshenko appreciates the finer point of my orders and doesn’t line me up to be shot.”

“I have a feeling the captain won’t be too broken up about losing Colonel Salkukoff.” Jack put his boots on. “I think it’s still too risky, Colonel.”

“Why, I didn’t think you cared,” Henri said as he rose from the desk chair.

“Of course I do, Colonel. I would never deprive Carl of your company. He wouldn’t handle it too well if we lost you.”

Farbeaux fixed Jack with a look that told him where he could go with his sense of humor. He turned and opened the door to the waiting marine guard who was watching over the sleeping colonel. Farbeaux nodded, and the marine turned and left.

“Henri,” Jack said as he zipped up his Nomex vest. He held out his hand. Farbeaux looked at it and then took the offered good-bye. “You watch your ass over there.”

“That, Colonel, I intend to do, I assure you.”

“Good luck.”

Henri let go of Jack’s hand and left.

Jack took a deep breath and then sat hard onto the bunk. He started humming that silly tune that Matchstick had been singing in his dream. That and repeating the words about friends everywhere. Then he suddenly stopped and shook his head in wonder.

“Losin’ it, Jack.”

Will Mendenhall was sitting at his desk inside the security offices. The four empty cups of coffee sat before him as he stared at the far wall and its bank of dead monitors. He had shut everything down, with the exception of the duty officer’s station being manned from the outer offices. He had left orders that he was not to be disturbed.

The information that Virginia and Europa had recovered had been playing on his mind ever since he had heard the theory of a separate Russian government.

The door opened, and it startled Will from his thoughts. The director nodded and then went straight to a chair in front of Mendenhall’s desk.

“To ease your mind, Captain Mendenhall, I informed the president on our… well… our guesswork. It wasn’t something he really wanted to hear. So, for now, the ball is in the court of others.” Niles Compton slowly stood on aching legs and moved to the door. “All we can do now is our jobs.” Niles nodded and started to open the door but stopped. “Captain?”

“Sir?” Will said as he watched the director and his weariness at 12:30 A.M.

“Feel like getting out of here for a few days?”

Will stood and looked at the director, with hope in his eyes.

“I could use some time off, yes, sir.”

“If you promise not to inform Sarah, Anya, and Virginia of your leaving, it is my understanding that NATO command has ordered a full-scale search-and-rescue operation in the North Atlantic over some missing ships. I believe we have an F-15 getting ready for departure at Nellis.”

“Yes, sir!” Will said as he started making orders for his replacement. He suddenly looked up. “What do I say to Sarah and the others?”

Niles paused at the door once again and faced Mendenhall.

“What is that stupid excuse Jack and Carl use whenever they vanish unexpectedly and without orders?” Niles lowered his head in mock thought. “Oh yes — they’ve gone fishing.”

Mendenhall smiled as he knew the old excuse was used no fewer than twenty times when the colonel and captain disappeared without notice.

“Bring back the full legal limit of fish, Captain. Make it six to be exact. I expect nothing less.” Niles turned and left.

For Will Mendenhall, he was starting to know the director and liked what he was learning about the smartest man in government service. He especially liked it when Niles knew when not to be that smart.

The marine sergeant placed the “pop gun” on his knee as he carefully aimed the short-barreled shotgun-like device toward the stern railing sixty feet above the choppy wake being spun by the four giant bronze propellers of Peter the Great. Behind him, Henri Farbeaux aimed the night scope up and saw that the stern was as clear as it would ever be. As jumpy as all sailors were, he didn’t want to get shot at in this last critical moment. Farbeaux nodded that the fantail was clear of Russian personnel.

The navy motorman manning the Zodiac goosed the throttles on the two 150-horsepower motors, and the Zodiac sprang forward into the shadowy lee of the stern. The marine top sergeant popped off the charge, and the small hook shot up and out of the Zodiac. The rubberized hook caught on the top railing that lined the extreme aft end of the giant cruiser. The rope played out behind as the sergeant pulled on its rubberized coating as hard as he could. He was assisted by another marine, and the rope came taut.

The five-man marine and navy crew assisted Henri to the forward-most position in the large rubber boat. The Zodiac bounced hard as the froth being churned up by Peter the Great’s massive propellers almost flipped it, but a quick swerve out of the churning vortex helped in its recovery.

“Good luck, Colonel,” the top sergeant said to Henri over the eardrum-breaking charge of the Russian cruiser and the noise of their own motors. Henri just nodded.

He would never have let Colonel Collins know just how out of sorts he was in when it came to remembering his special forces training back in France in what seemed like a hundred years ago. He lowered the goggles and then took a deep breath. The top sergeant held up a remote. He flipped the safety switch off.

“Now remember, this thing will pull your arms out of their sockets if you don’t let go at the right time. Just as you reach the topmost railing, let the hell go, or we’ll be unspooling your arms from the motor and the pulley at the top for the next month.”

Again, Farbeaux only nodded as he adjusted the pack he wore at the small of his back. It had been so long since his training, he felt foolish when the large marine had adjusted the pack from the front — where it would have caught on the railing and flung him back into the sea — to the back, where it wouldn’t be in the way. Henri swallowed and then looked at the marine.

“Okay, go!” the sergeant called out as he pushed the illuminated red button on the remote.

Suddenly, the world was split by the sound not unlike an unspooling fishing line as Henri was yanked far harder than the sergeant said he would be. His booted foot was the last to clear the gunwales of the Zodiac as the Frenchman’s black-clad body shot from the boat. As soon as he was clear, the Zodiac peeled off and then took up station just to the port side of Peter the Great, just in case the Frenchman came crashing back into the sea. The marines knew it was a useless gesture, because if Henri didn’t make the slingshot action successful, he would surely die from not only the fall but from the churning and explosive wake of the cruiser that would chew him up.

When the Zodiac slid into the calmer water just outside the wake, they saw that Farbeaux had grabbed the uppermost railing and was dangling. They cringed when it looked as though he slipped and then relaxed when Henri’s strength showed through and he vanished over the top rail and onto the deck of Peter the Great as she sped along her way. The Zodiac made a sharp and dramatic turn and with throttles full open to their stops and sped away back toward Shiloh.

The sergeant handed the pop gun to a corporal and then shook his head.

“That was about the ballsiest thing I’ve ever seen.”

“Just who in the hell are these people, Top?”

“You know what? I don’t want to know.”

After gaining the coarse steel deck, Henri stayed down as he studied the situation. He quickly stood and then took ahold of the rubber-and-plastic grappling hook and threw it into the sea. He also removed the black knitted cap, and that soon followed. The goggles were next. As he again stooped to his knees, he soon saw that Peter the Great was only a quarter awake. Kreshenko must have given his tired crew a break and only went to a lower state of alert so they could get some rest for their journey home tomorrow.

Henri stood and walked as normally as he could past the stern missile launcher and the .50-caliber machine guns lining her deck. If he was seen, he knew that Salkukoff would have the final laugh. Even Kreshenko would not have approved of an assassination on board his ship.

He heard voices, and he stopped and took station behind a tarp-covered lifeboat next to the port railing. He listened as two Russian sailors slowly made their trek toward the stern, where they both lit cigarettes and laughed about something.

“That was close,” Henri mumbled to himself. Another minute and that grappling hook would have hit one of those poor fellows right in the head. He smiled and then moved off. He found the steel stairs that led upward into the main superstructure of the cruiser.

Men were seen here and there, but they were too busy concentrating on their tasks at hand to notice the shadowy figure climbing the stairs. Henri quickly found the hatchway he was looking for and then ducked inside. The passage was darkened nearest the door for light discipline reasons. Henri used this darkness to move like an ancient ninja, only at his age, he felt more like a turtle caught in the middle of a road race. Twice he heard voices and moved into another passage to avoid the men. He finally made it to officers’ country after narrowly avoiding getting caught no less than seven times on his journey.

He finally saw the captain’s quarters and, next to that, the more comfortable guest quarters afforded naval and politburo dignitaries when they came aboard. This was the cabin Salkukoff had been issued. Close to the captain of Peter the Great at all times, Second Captain Dishlakov had informed him.

He frowned when he saw that the usual marine guard who was accorded the commanding officer of any warship was missing. The two cabins were unguarded, and that, he knew, was not good.

Farbeaux had that old familiar feeling of danger that had saved his life on numerous occasions in his dealings with shadowy men. He listened but could hear nothing other than the constant drone of Peter the Great’s engines as they pushed her through the sea. He stepped quickly toward the wooden door. He placed his head closer to the cabin and listened. He heard nothing. He angrily turned and removed his lightweight bulletproof vest and covered the cage-enclosed light, and then he quickly smashed the cage and bulb with the butt of his nine-millimeter silenced handgun, the vest catching their remains before they shattered onto the deck. He lowered all to the tiled deck, and then without thinking about it too much, he quickly reached out and turned the handle and opened the door to Salkukoff’s cabin.

The room was empty. The intel he had received by questioning Second Captain Dishlakov regarding the sleeping arrangements made Henri realize he was in trouble, and he quickly lowered the gun as just then he realized he had been had.

“Step back easily, Colonel,” Salkukoff said as his own Makarov silenced pistol jabbed Henri in the back. “And since you have failed in your mission, you won’t be needing this.” He deftly reached around Farbeaux and pried the pistol from his gloved hand. Henri felt the pressure of the gun barrel ease, and he turned.

“Easy, Colonel. I am no fool.”

Farbeaux looked the Russian in the face close up for the first time. He saw a life of privilege in his soft features. A man who had had everything handed to him. One of the chosen of his mysterious organization. Farbeaux knew the type well, as he himself had been one of the chosen as deemed by the French government in his extensive training. But Henri could see this man was a true believer in his cause. Whatever end game that was, he didn’t know. And if the situation didn’t change very soon, he never would.

“If I thought you were a fool, Colonel Salkukoff, I would have killed you in the Ukraine.” Henri stepped from the darkened cabin and into the shadowy passageway. Salkukoff watched the Frenchman’s hands closely. He gestured with the gun for him to go to Kreshenko’s door and enter. He did so.

Kreshenko’s body was laid out on his bunk. One leg was on and one off the bed. His uniform blouse was off, and he only wore a white undershirt. Evidently, Salkukoff had murdered the man in his sleep. The bullet hole was clearly visible in his forehead. The Russian clicked on the overhead light and stepped into the captain’s cabin and closed the door.

“A tad cowardly,” Henri said as he turned away from the still body of Kreshenko to face the Russian killer.

“And you had a different plan of attack for myself?”

“Yes, I was going to wake you before I killed you, Colonel. I wanted you to see who it was that was ending your life.”

“You have changed since our last meeting in the Ukraine, Colonel Farbeaux. You seem to have lost your edge. I think the Americans are starting to get to you. Fifteen years ago, could I have caught you in the act?”

Henri said nothing. Salkukoff was right. He had indeed lost his killing edge, and he knew it was Colonel Collins and Sarah who had effected this change the most. Still, he could never admit that and never would.

“Before you kill me, answer one question for me.”

“As a professional courtesy, Colonel, why not?” Salkukoff said as he eased his frame onto the captain’s bunk only after slinging the captain’s stiffening leg away from him. He smiled as he tossed Henri’s pistol on the bed next to Kreshenko. “Go ahead,” he said as he kept the silenced Makarov pointed at Farbeaux’s belly.

“Your organization — is it real, or is it nothing more than I suspected all along when the Americans and the British first brought it up, that you and your mysterious benefactors are nothing more than organized crime thugs pulling strings from behind the wizard’s curtain?”

Salkukoff smiled even wider. “Organized, highly. Crime?” He shrugged while the pistol never wavered. “We don’t have race wars, Colonel. We don’t have internal strife, at least behind the curtain, as you so cavalierly put it. We control certain aspects of government but encourage a more direct approach to the problems of this world. The West has become a serious problem. We are no longer going to play the game, Colonel Farbeaux. And soon, we will make our intentions known to the world. With the market cornered on industrial blue diamonds, we will make military strides the West can only dream of. The phase shift operation was only the beginning. There are plans in the works that no one in NATO could ever see coming. Never see because the West is blinded by their arrogance in their stance that they are the righteous. I am here to change all of that. The Northstar Committee is changing it.”

“Sorry I asked,” Henri said as he slowly lowered his hands but raised them again when Salkukoff made a rising gesture with the silenced business end of the Makarov.

“Now, shall we conclude our business, Colonel?” The gun came up toward Farbeaux’s head.

On the darkened bridge, the officer of the deck walked the ten steps to his communications console and removed the phone from its cradle after receiving the call.

“Bridge,” he said into the handset.

“Lieutenant Kaninen, we have just received a signal from Shiloh. She is slowing to make tight her towline to Simbirsk. Shiloh actual is asking for us to take up station aft of Simbirsk for rescue operations if needed.”

“Signal Shiloh. We will make the course correction immediately.”

“Aye,” came the reply.

“Slow to one-third. Helm, bring her hard over. Give Shiloh and Simbirsk a wide berth. We don’t need a collision. Thirty degrees starboard.”

“Aye, slow to one-third speed, helm at thirty, aye.”

Peter the Great outwardly looked as if she hadn’t slowed at all when she started her wide turn. The mighty ship heeled to the port side at nearly twenty-six knots, going heavily onto her side.

Inside the bridge, her crew grabbed handholds as the force of the turn nearly knocked them from their feet.

It was that way throughout the ship.

Henri knew he didn’t have the time or the correct distance to make the outcome of the next ten seconds any different from if he didn’t move at all. He waited as Salkukoff aimed for the spot right between his eyes.

The sudden roll to starboard at twenty-six knots slammed Henri into the bulkhead as the chair Salkukoff was sitting in nearly tipped over. The speed of the maneuver increased as Henri saw his opening. He quickly rebounded from the steel wall and used that momentum to sling himself into the Russian. The pistol silently discharged as the bullet missed the Frenchman’s head by an inch. The next round nearly shot his fingers off as he finally managed to grab the barrel of the hot weapon. Peter the Great straightened as she came perpendicular to Shiloh and Simbirsk, and then the cruiser went to full speed. The momentum of the acceleration threw both men from the chair to the deck as they fought for control of the gun.

Finally, the pistol came free after Henri used one of his elbows and jabbed the Russian in his face. The weapon flew across the cabin and clattered to the deck. Farbeaux started smashing his fists into the exposed face of Salkukoff. With every blow, the Frenchman felt the years of hate sliding away as justice was finally being meted out to the killer of Ukrainian children.

Peter the Great again made her turn to finally take up station to the aft side of the towed Simbirsk. As the final turn was completed, Henri felt his advantage slip away as, again, the momentum of the turn threw off the colonel’s balance and gave Salkukoff leverage. Salkukoff pushed Henri off for all he was worth. Farbeaux slid into a corner on the tiled deck. His head struck the bulkhead, and he momentarily saw stars. He heard the cabin door open and heard Salkukoff run. Henri quickly regained his senses and reached for the Makarov but couldn’t find it. He stood on shaky legs and then saw his own weapon on the bunk next to the dead body of Kreshenko. He grabbed for it and turned angrily toward the door and then gained the passageway.

The ship was vibrating heavily as Peter the Great’s engines went to full power. Farbeaux stumbled down the passageway until he came to an open door. He reached for the dogged latches, and then he heard the man behind him.

“The colonel said you were far more formidable a man than what I believed. I see his concerns were justified.”

The Frenchman turned and saw the large Russian commando as he stood in his black Nomex BDUs. His unsilenced pistol was aimed straight at Henri. He knew this time no hard maneuvering would avail his limited time here in this backward world. His eyes went to the Russian’s face, and he waited as the large captain withdrew his radio — the only Russian portables that had been unaffected by the EMP assault on everyone’s electronics.

“The situation has been corrected, Colonel,” the man said into the radio. “You may proceed to the boats, and I will join you shortly.”

Henri waited as the Russian placed his radio back onto his belt.

“Good-bye, Colonel Farbeaux,” he said as his finger started to pull the Makarov’s trigger.

The blast of weapon’s fire made the Frenchman flinch. He actually thought he could feel the red-hot bullet penetrate his Nomex. Henri felt no pain. As he looked up, he saw the Makarov slowly slide from the commando’s fingers and fall to the deck. The man himself turned to face the person that had just shot him in the back. Again, the loud report of a handgun sounded, and the body of the Russian jerked once more as he slowly slid down to the deck. The large body twitched once and then went still.

Henri looked up and saw Second Captain Dishlakov and two of his marines. The XO was still holding the smoking pistol he had just used to save Henri’s life. What was a little disconcerting to Farbeaux was the fact that the smoking Makarov was now pointing at him.

Dishlakov gestured one of the Russian marines forward, and he easily removed the gun from Henri’s grasp. The Frenchman watched as the XO angrily looked him over as he handed back the weapon to the second marine.

“Why have you come to my ship, Colonel Farbeaux?”

“To kill the man who’s now getting away,” he said as he watched the marine to his right. Henri knew that he would never make the move to get his gun back before the Russian made kindling out of his attempt.

“Where can Colonel Salkukoff run to? His only escape from our situation is aboard one of three vessels. And I don’t think he will find open arms waiting for him on either the Simbirsk or Shiloh. He has nowhere to go.” Dishlakov reached out and removed Farbeaux’s gun from the marine who had taken it from him. He smelled the barrel and then tossed it back to the Frenchman. Henri caught it but could not hide the surprise on his face.

“Captain Kreshenko is—”

“Dead, yes, I know. He is being attended to as we speak.”

Again, the Frenchman was taken off guard. He holstered his nine millimeter.

“He was murdered just as this piece of dung tried to murder me in my sleep. I wasn’t in my cabin but in the wardroom, writing to my wife and children. When I was finished, I saw this scum”—he kicked at the dead commando—“coming from my cabin. I followed him with company. Then we found you, Colonel.”

“I am sorry for the fact I didn’t get here on time.”

“What were your orders? I assume they came from Colonel Collins?”

“No, the colonel would not have been as stealthy as I. He would have just come across to Peter the Great shooting. That’s his way. Low threshold for injustice, you see.”

“You may find this humorous, Colonel Farbeaux. I assure you, I do not.”

“Attention, attention. Unauthorized use of motor launch at station number three. Station number three.”

“Damn!” Henri said as he turned and ran from the companionway to the star-filled sky outside. He was soon passed by Dishlakov and his marines. They all ran to the port-side station where the announcement had said the theft was occurring. The dangling lines told Henri all he needed to know. As he peered over the side, he saw two of the large motor launches as they sped away. Both were filled with the remaining Russian commandos and a waving Salkukoff.

A Russian marine stepped to the railing and took aim with an AK-47, but Henri reached out and lowered the weapon’s barrel. He shook his head and turned to Second Captain Dishlakov.

“Too late.”

They watched as the two boats vanished into the night.

At dawn, the small armada of ships slowed and then came to a stop. Captain Johnson and his officers not on watch joined Jack, Carl, Henri, Ryan, Charlie, and Jenks on board Peter the Great. The off-duty personnel gathered at the stern of the cruiser, and the crewmen of Shiloh and the riggers on Simbirsk watched from a distance. The covered body of Captain Viktor Kreshenko was prayed over, and then the makeshift platform, a table from the ship’s galley, tilted forward, and the sheet-wrapped body of their captain slid into the violet-colored sea. They watched until the weighted body vanished below the surface.

The mood of the Russian crew was somber at first, but after the word had spread that their commander had been murdered by one of their own, the morale had changed from one of sorrow to that of vengeance.

Jack saw the mood of the crew as he and the others lowered their offered hand salute. Jenks snorted, and then he and Charlie moved away. Carl, Jack, Ryan, and Henri stayed behind as they studied the sea.

“I think that settles the question of whether Colonel Salkukoff has an emergency out in getting away from this crazy world,” Everett said as he leaned on the railing and stared out at the calm ocean.

“I agree,” Jack said, but he was otherwise unnaturally silent, as he also was lost in the view.

“After the confession as to this Northstar Committee, he cannot allow us to return to our world alive.”

All eyes turned to Henri, who was battered and bruised from his excitement with Salkukoff.

They heard a small disturbance coming from the fantail as several of the crewmen of Peter the Great simply tossed the body of the dead commando into the sea as if he were nothing more than garbage.

“The Russians have a hard time expressing their true feelings, don’t they?” Ryan said as he turned away from the scene.

“Jack, the master chief and Doc Ellenshaw have a request for you and Captain Johnson,” Everett said as he turned and saw the two captains conversing quietly not far away.

“What’s that?”

“They want the use of the drone.”

Jack finally relented his hold on the calm, violet sea and faced Carl.

“For?”

Carl looked uncomfortable.

“Come on, Swabby, it’s a little early in the morning to be hesitant about anything.”

“They want to overfly the island’s interior to find the remaining villagers who escaped the slaughter. They seem adamant about it.”

Everett was sure the colonel would deny the request, as they had operational concerns as far as the drone went.

“If Captain Johnson concurs, I don’t see why not. We don’t have much time before we make the attempt to return, so get it done.”

“The least we can do for those poor bastards is try to get them living again,” Henri said as he continued to look out to sea.

Carl was about to say something snappy to Farbeaux, but Jack shook his head. Everett could see that Henri was taking his failure of the mission personally and became silent.

“I see even the master chief is being affected by the loss of the innocence of this world,” Jack said.

“Well, then, the least we can do is ease his and Professor Ellenshaw’s minds,” Farbeaux said, surprising all who heard. “We need some good to come out of this.” He walked away with his head bowed and joined Jenks and Charlie as they spoke.

“Henri’s beginning to scare the hell out of me, Jack,” Everett said as they watched the three men converse.

“Why is that?”

“He’s actually morphing into a human being. And gaining respect for that man is the most frightening thing of all.”

20

Blankets and other soft materials had been spread out on the deck after the Mark 48 torpedo warhead had been removed. The entire warhead assembly had been taken to the mess to be disassembled by Machinist Mate Ramirez. Captain Thorne and XO Devers watched the kid of nineteen as his white cotton gloves felt for the pin release that would separate the 650-pound charge from its working innards. The entire torpedo, built by Lockheed Martin, weighed in excess of 3,500 pounds when fully assembled, but all Ramirez had was the stainless steel cap. The business end. He pulled the final pin inside the warhead, and his eyes closed momentarily when the warhead’s gyroscope released easily. He turned and handed the expensive part to the chief of the boat, who was assisting. The officers in the hatchway watched with sweaty palms as their lives and the life of Houston hung in the balance.

Ramirez swallowed and took a deep breath. If the warhead detonated inside the pressure hull, there wouldn’t be enough left of them to float to the surface.

“You’re doin’ fine, kid,” the chief said as he too wiped sweat from his dripping brow.

“Now, if I can pull her guidance board without any electrostatic discharge, we may be in business.”

The chief looked up and saw Thorne standing silently in the hatchway. He nodded, feeling far less confident than his display to the captain.

Ramirez reached inside past the charge of high explosives. He had his eyes closed as he visually pictured the torpedo from months and months of training. His fingers probed past the metal-encased charge and felt for the panel that had the waterproofed circuitry.

“Oops. That’s the trigger. Don’t want that,” the young machinist mate said as he backed his hand away slowly. He then started over, edging his probing fingers closer to the charge that was strong enough to break a capital ship’s back and sink her straight to the bottom.

The chief felt panic at the nonchalant way the kid did things.

“There we are. Now, where is that damn cable?” he asked aloud as his fingers finally found the electronic cable that connected the targeting computer board to the gyroscope. Again, he closed his eyes as he freed the three-inch-wide cable from its motherboard filled with computer chips. “That’s it. Now, to pull the board.”

Suddenly, Houston lurched. The submarine once more lost its grasp on the shelf and started to slide. The chief and Ramirez both lost their footing. The 190-pound nose cap slid free of the table and crashed to the deck, missing Ramirez’s head by five inches. He rolled free as the rest of the warhead, including her guidance package, came down next. It smashed into the blue-tiled floor and rolled against a bulkhead, where it came to a stop.

Thorne grabbed for a handhold as Houston gained speed. This time it looked as though the boat was going to slide right off the far end and down into a grave they would never rise from.

Suddenly, as men and women sang out prayers for their delivery from the crushing depths, Houston rolled to port. Her sail tower dug into the rocky strata, and her periscope and radar mast inside the tower sheared off as Houston slid to a stop only six feet from the edge. The grinding halt sounded throughout the boat as her four-story-tall tower had saved them.

Thorne was now at a severe angle as she came to rest almost on her side. He quickly regained his senses and stepped inside the mess. The warhead was lying against the far bulkhead, and its insides were scattered and smashed on the deck. Ramirez was being helped up to the sharply angled deck by the chief. The overhead lighting flickered and then steadied. Thorne reached for the phone and wrested it from its cradle.

“Damage report!” he said much louder than he intended.

“We’re still breathing up here. Forward torpedo room and engineering report small leaks, but nothing we can’t handle for the time being.”

Thorne placed the phone back and struggled forward. He stopped short of entering the mess as he faced Ramirez and waited for the bad news that they would have to wrestle another torpedo from the aft compartment and start over again.

“Well, let’s get going and get another Mark 48 taken apart.”

Thorne looked around, and then he heard the chief of the boat laughing. He became concerned that the chief had finally lost his mind for the many disappointments they had faced in the past three days.

“Almost blowing ourselves to hell is far funnier than I realized, Chief,” Thorne said as he looked from him to Ramirez, who was also smiling. His head dipped down, indicating the object he held. In his hand was the guidance board that had broken free of its screws when the sub jerked to life and started its slide. Thorne smiled himself as he realized that for the first time in three days they had caught a break. He stumbled and walked awkwardly toward the two men across the steeply angled deck.

“If you don’t mind, Captain, I think I’d better go change my pants,” Ramirez said as he handed Thorne the circuit board. He quickly excused himself and ran awkwardly toward the head.

“Chief?” Thorne asked, concerned over the lifelong navy man’s color.

“No, thanks, Captain. It’s a little too late for a crap break.” Thorne watched the old chief turn and leave, shaking his right leg as he did.

Captain Thorne closed his eyes as he felt the weight of the guidance board he held in his hand. He reached out and touched the cold steel side of Houston.

“Thanks for the break, Gray Lady.”

The CIC was well manned but mostly silent as technicians watched their scopes and screens but kept an ear open for the conversation being conducted by the gruff master chief and Charlie Ellenshaw. While most of the American naval personnel knew about how to take Jenks, they were still confused about crazy Charlie. They all to a man, Russian or American, British or civilian, liked the crazily coiffed Ellenshaw because of his naïveté when confronted with military protocol. They were impressed that the thin scientist wanted to learn everything he could. A million questions were asked by the cryptozoologist that highlighted the fact that the man caught on to everything very quickly. They listened to him and Jenks as they conferred with the young lieutenant flying the remote-controlled aircraft as it went high over Compton’s Reef.

“Nothing, Master Chief,” the lieutenant said as he banked the drone high over the destroyed village. “There is no one there.”

Charlie and Jenks watched the high-definition view of the destruction below the remote-controlled plane. The graves dug by the Russian and American sailors belied the fact that almost every man, woman, and child had been dispatched in the most horrible of ways by a ruthless enemy. Jenks was fuming as row after row of freshly dug graves filled the screen.

“All right, get out of there and head north toward the mountain. That’s the only place I think they could have gone.”

“The diamond mines?” Charlie asked as he adjusted his glasses.

Jenks didn’t answer as he studied the drone as it climbed and headed toward the slopes of the three thousand — foot mountain.

Charlie studied the master chief as he in turn watched the landscape below slide by. Jenks had become obsessed with finding the children and whatever adults of the innocent tribe remained alive.

“I’ll bet you your eighteen higher educational degrees, Doc, that those amphibious animal pirate bastards weren’t aggressive before the damn Bolsheviks got here.” Jenks rubbed a hand through his close-cropped hair and exhaled. “There was no reason for a mutual animosity between two different races to be enemies. One group lives and thrives in the ocean, the other on land.”

Charlie looked over at the six men monitoring the CIC’s radar and sonar stations. They almost to a man nodded in agreement with the master chief. He knew being a civilian sometimes made you a little slow on the uptake on military fairness. Now he understood it was the sense of justice that was being hurt by what had happened to the innocents of this world.

“Oh, shit,” the lieutenant said loudly as he used his joystick to turn the drone sharply away from the mountain. He brought the propeller-driven craft low to the trees.

“What?” Jenks asked.

The technician sitting next to the remote officer pushed a button, and the main monitor flipped pictures and rewound what was recorded.

“Shit!” Jenks hissed below his breath.

“How many?” Charlie asked.

On the screen, there was a long line of the Wasakoo scouring the jungle and sloping land of the mountain. From the high vantage point, it looked as though they were searching for the survivors also. Then the picture went black. The monitor again flared to life with the live feed coming from the drone. It was once more flying very high, and they could no longer see the aquatic species in their effort to find and kill the remaining men, women, and children of the island.

“Bastards,” a young seaman said aloud as others nodded in agreement.

“Why are they so intent on killing them all?” Charlie asked. He looked away from the monitor, hoping someone would answer him.

It was Jack who finally did. He had entered the CIC unnoticed. He was standing by the hatchway as the marine guard closed and secured the hatch.

“Because they are under orders.”

Charlie turned toward where Jack stood with his arms crossed. He looked tired and angry, but Ellenshaw knew that was the colonel’s natural state the past year.

“Orders?” Ellenshaw asked.

“One thing the Russians are good at, their main philosophy when they were being beaten or having to give up land, is to leave nothing behind that their enemy can possibly use; it’s called scorched earth. We suspect Salkukoff is getting ready to cut and run — close up shop, if you want to put it that way.” Jack uncrossed his arms and strode into the darkness of the control center. “The Wasakoo are exterminating the villagers, and then, I suspect, the blue diamond mines will be collapsed as if they were never dug. Scorched earth.”

“There!” the lieutenant said, pointing to the screen. “Recent trail sign.”

Jenks looked at the monitor, and there it was. A long line of brush and undergrowth had been etched into the landscape. It had to have been made by many people as they moved northward from the destroyed village.

“That’s got to be them. Follow the trail for as long as you can, but don’t let those Charlie Tuna sons of bitches see you.”

“Aye, Master Chief,” the lieutenant said as he drove the drone even higher into the sky.

“There. The trail leads right to the mountain.” Charlie leaned in closer. “And it looks like the Wasakoo are looking in the wrong direction.”

Jenks stood straight and looked at Jack. In turn, Collins looked at his watch and then back at Jenks. “We are scheduled to leave this world soon, Master Chief. You yourself said the phase shift reactor is too unstable to wait too long, even with it shut down.”

Jenks reached into his pocket and gave something to Ellenshaw. Charlie accepted it, and then he looked from the object to Jack.

“There. Give me five hours. If I’m not back, Charlie knows how to start the chain reaction to get the phase shift operational. The frequency is constant. You should be right back where we started in the Atlantic of our world.”

“No, I can’t take the chance, Jenks. I have too many men depending on your calculations. You can’t tell me Charlie can think on his feet on this if something goes wrong. No offense, Doc.”

“None taken, Colonel. But I think the master chief is right. We, at least our kind, did this thing to these beautiful people. We have to do something.”

“No.” Jack sat down in an unoccupied chair and rubbed his hands over his face. He looked up and faced his two people and the interested ears of the sailors around him. “What do we do if we actually find survivors? Uproot the whole species from their world and return them to ours? That would be almost as cruel as what Salkukoff and his superiors have done. We can’t return them to their life before this, and we can’t bring them back.” Jack stood and walked toward the hatch, where it was opened by a marine. He stopped and turned. “I’m sorry, Master Chief, Doc, but no. We have too much riding on this. I am not losing another man under my command for a reason not of our choice. We make the attempt to leave in five hours. I suggest you prepare the reactor on Simbirsk, and let’s get these boys home before Salkukoff really puts his scorched earth policy into full swing. Because I think we are the final domino he has to push over.”

They watched Jack leave, and Jenks looked at Ellenshaw. “I hate officers.”

Charlie just pushed his glasses back onto his nose. He saw one of the young seamen looking their way. The kid had to be no more than nineteen years of age. Ellenshaw fixed on the seaman. Jack was right to a point — these boys, along with the Russians and the British, deserved to get home. But still, he was fighting his own conscience and needed to know if he was alone in his confusion.

“What would you do?” Charlie asked.

Every ear in CIC heard the question, and it was if they all wanted to answer. But the young man held Charlie’s eyes.

“I think…” The boy hesitated momentarily until the lieutenant nodded that he could offer that opinion if he wanted. “I think that we won’t make it back anyway. I also don’t like running away. What happened to those people isn’t right, sir. I mean, what is our duty here? I thought we were here to protect those who can’t protect themselves. Does it matter where those innocents live? I say we not only find those people but also that we stay and get the asshole who caused all of this.” The boy lowered his eyes. “Sorry, Lieutenant.”

No words were spoken. Jenks was proud of what the new navy was currently producing. He could not have said it any better than the young radar tech who had placed everything into such simple terms that he had wished Colonel Collins could have heard it and reminded him of his duty. He knew Jack was killing himself over the losses of his Event Group people the past few years and was compounding his mistake by overprotection. Jenks came to a decision. He looked at the large marine guard and saw that he was watching intently, although silently.

“Lieutenant, feel like giving us heroes an hour without reporting a radar contact heading toward the island?”

The young officer looked around at all the eager faces inside CIC. They were waiting.

“The radar and sonar equipment is still sketchy, Master Chief. Sometimes we lose everything at once. Possibly for at least three hours.”

Jenks smiled and popped a cold cigar into his mouth. “Goddamn, I guess the navy is still on the ball when it comes to getting competent men. Thanks, son. Now you keep in contact with the Doc and me. We’ll be on secure channel 6. Keep the remote searching but under no circumstances lead those catfish-lookin’ bastards to the survivors. Understood?”

“You got it, Master Chief.”

Jenks turned and faced Charlie. “Well, Doc, you feel like disobeying the colonel’s orders and stealing a boat?”

Charlie looked taken aback at first, and then he came to a quick decision.

“We need more men,” he said simply.

The large marine finally stepped from the hatchway and faced the entire CIC.

“That shouldn’t be a problem, Master Chief. I have marines just standing around and getting spoiled by these navy boys. I think about fifteen of us. The Brits have the Simbirsk covered.”

“Thank you, son. I can only guarantee that I’ll volunteer to get shot by firing squad first.”

“The US Marines appreciate that.”

With that simple statement, the rescue of the villagers by Jenks and his team of American pirates was under way.

Jack, Carl, Jason, and Henri examined the small Europa link as supplied by the laptop. Jack pointed out the graph and shook his head.

“Even Europa Jr. is having a hard time keeping this damn thing in check.”

“Even with Jenks having removed the main power coupling?” Jason asked as he too saw the graph lines as they spiraled to the top every ten minutes.

“It has to have something to do with the uranium stolen from Chicago in the ’40s,” Jack said. “Jenks and our late Professor Gervais couldn’t get safely into the glassed perimeter surrounding the damn thing without causing a meltdown. They said we would have to wait until we were safely home again to decipher this mess. Until then, Europa will have to siphon off her power to other areas of the phase shift program, as you can see.” Jack ran his finger along the graph, and they all saw what he was saying. The graph clearly indicated that the power fluctuations were growing and for longer durations. “She’s about to run out of time and space on where to place the added power runoff. Europa?” Jack asked. “Also, in case you hadn’t noticed, the weather topside is getting a little dicey. We have storm clouds developing directly overhead.”

“Yes, Colonel Collins,” the twin sister of Europa replied.

“How long until containment of the power source is lost?”

“Estimate three hours, forty-seven minutes until phase shift is unstoppable.”

“Oh, wonderful,” Jason said as he turned away from the bad news.

Henri looked at his watch. He grimaced as the pain he was feeling after the fuss late last night showed on his face.

“Regardless, I suggest we get the Simbirsk, Peter the Great, and Shiloh tied down good and then recall all personnel just in case your little sex symbol computer is off on her estimate.”

“I hate to agree with Mr. Optimist here, but he’s right, Jack.”

Henri looked at Everett but kept his rebuttal at bay.

Jack merely nodded in agreement.

“Where is our esteemed science team?” Henri asked instead.

Jack looked around. “I thought they were right behind us.”

The alarms sounded from above deck, and that got everyone’s attention.

A Russian-language announcement sounded over the loudspeakers. They heard, even from their low vantage point, many hundreds of feet running across decks far above them.

“They just announced general quarters,” Henri said as he started to leave.

Jack removed the radio and called Shiloh. “Collins to Shiloh actual, over.”

He waited as the distant sound of the American warship’s alarms could be heard.

“Shiloh actual to Collins, go, over.”

“Captain, what’s up?”

“We may have an attack brewing thirty miles to the north. They started showing up on radar twenty minutes ago. Thought nothing of it at first, but their forces have built up quite substantially since.”

“Anything scary at this point? Over.”

“I don’t think it’s as heavy as their nighttime raid last night, but why take chances?”

“Got it. We’ll stay on Simbirsk. After this is settled, we must start getting the ships prepped for our attempt to get home, over.”

“Hang one, Colonel,” Johnson said as the radio went silent. Jack gave Carl and the others a worried look. “That damn master chief and crazy-haired Mr. Spock just stole one of the Zodiacs.”

“Alone?” Jack asked, forgetting to release the call button. Then he cursed and caught the tail end of Captain Johnson’s response.

“—took ten marines with him, over.”

Jack lowered the radio briefly and shook his head in wonder.

“Damn fools,” Carl offered.

“We have to send someone to help. Ten men and Charlie? Come on, not even the great Jenks can do that. No telling what in the hell they’ll run into.” Ryan kicked at the steel bulkhead.

“I hate to be the realist here, gentlemen, but what difference do the islanders make? It is not as if we can take them back with us.”

“We don’t play that damn mythical Prime Directive here, Colonel,” Ryan said, but Jack silenced him when he raised the radio.

“Captain, there’s not a lot we can do about your stolen boat. We’d better see what this gathering of ships is. Then I’ll let you keelhaul Jenks yourself — if you still keelhaul in the navy.”

“We do with pride. Now watch yourself over there, Colonel. Johnson out.”

Jack turned and nodded as he made for the hatchway and then quickly followed the others to the upper deck.

Men were scrambling everywhere. Russian sailors manned the twenty-millimeter and .50-caliber machine guns. Sailors lined the rails with their smaller close-quarter weapons, the venerable AK-47s. The Royal Marines had joined them, and all eyes looked to the northern seas.

“There,” Ryan said, pointing to the horizon.

Collins turned away from examining the readiness of both Peter the Great and Shiloh. He was relieved to see that, thanks to the overwhelming small-arms stores of the ancient Simbirsk, a ship out of time. The old girl had been filled to the brim with American-donated firearms from the days of the old alliance when the Soviet Union had needed everything the United States could ship to her in the earliest days of the war. Now Americans, Russians, and Brits all had either a Colt .45 semiautomatic tucked in their holsters or a weapon that every Axis soldier once feared, the venerable tommy gun — the Thompson submachine gun. One of these was tossed to Jack by Everett, who also slung a holstered .45 over his shoulder. Jack used the binoculars and finally saw what they were facing.

“Count, Mr. Ryan?” Jack asked as he focused on the distant ships.

“Fewer than sixty, no more.”

“Maybe we whittled them down a little more than we thought during their night attack,” Everett said as he too studied the distant fleet of sail.

Collins lowered the field glasses, and his look carried one of concern.

“You don’t have to say it, Colonel,” Henri said as he slammed a clip of ammunition into the Thompson. “Something is wrong. Why attack at midday? Why so few of them?”

“Well, since you have all the right questions, got any answers?” Carl asked, lowering his glasses and staring at the Frenchman.

Henri smiled and then charged the machine gun as he stepped to the railing. “In this world, Captain, I suspect that the answer is not going to be to our liking. I feel Salkukoff is out there, close by.” He again smiled as he faced the larger Everett. “And that is the man with a plan.”

“Yeah, great. I would have never guessed.”

Jack cursed when he saw Peter the Great casting off all her lines that linked her to the Simbirsk and in turn Shiloh. He started to raise the radio once more, but this time, Carl held him back. He shook his head and nodded toward the Shiloh. Jack turned and saw that Captain Johnson was doing the same thing.

“You can’t argue their logic, Jack. A captain is going to protect his ship at all costs. If they need to maneuver, they won’t want to be tied down. Without them, the Simbirsk doesn’t stand a chance anyway.”

Collins nodded in understanding. “What the hell. If this damn ship blinks out with all of us on deck, we’ll fry for sure, just like those boys on the Eldridge. Besides, if we don’t return with everyone we can, Niles will have our asses anyway.”

“See? No problem at all,” Everett said, commiserating with his boss.

“Here they come,” Ryan said.

They turned and watched the large sails of the ships unfurl and their outriggers dig into the violet waters of the sea. Some of the larger boats had to hold at least a hundred souls, the smaller, fifty.

An announcement in Russian and then one in English came across the loudspeakers: “Damage control parties stand by for fire suppression. Reserve units will stand by forward hatchway of turret number one.”

Across the way, Jack heard the now familiar announcement as broadcast by Captain Johnson. “Stand by to repel borders, port and starboard!”

The sterns of both missile cruisers churned to life. They sat unmoving, but still the microscopic sea life burst to the surface like a well of rainbow-colored water.

“Damn. This crap is getting real now,” Jason said as he watched from the port rail.

On came the fleet of processed wooden, shell, and skinned animal life that made up the Wasakoo seacraft. As all eyes watched, the sails were blown taut as the fast-attack craft came on far faster than anyone could believe. Some cut over the wakes of others, jumping high into the air and then coming down with a splash. The agility of the seamanship on display shocked the modern sailors. Other ships rolled heavily onto their outriggers. Again, the seamanship was astounding as the pilots of these strange and otherworldly ships almost defied the laws of gravity as they hopped over the swells their sisters were creating with their speed.

“Three thousand yards,” Ryan said as he finally placed the binoculars down and charged his own weapon.

As the speedy ships came closer, flags of different colors were hoisted by the strange creatures that sailed them. Suddenly, the sound of drums started thumping over the rush of sea and the cacophony of the men watching. The deep bass sound made the sailors of all nations lining the rails uneasy as they watched the attack unfold.

Before anyone realized it, the heavy weapons opened up. Large twenty-millimeter tracer fire lit up the afternoon sky as the missile cruisers opened up simultaneously. Being fed direct targeting from the spotty radar systems of both ships, the fire became deadly accurate as the exploding shells burst among the oncoming ships. Then the sixteen .50-caliber machine guns opened up. The green tracers streaked through the sky and started shredding the lead sails of the tough ships.

“My God, they’re chewing them up!” Ryan said, almost feeling sorry for the backward species in the crosshairs of a modern navy.

On the surface, the battle grew closer. The lead ships were either burning from the magnesium in the tracer fire or the explosion of the twenty- and forty-millimeter cannon fire. The din was deafening as the fire continued. A few of the smaller ships virtually disintegrated in front of their eyes as .50-caliber rapid fire tore through the wood, shell, and skin construction. The sickly green bodies started to be hit as many of the Wasakoo attackers chose death in the sea rather than the burning steel-jacketed dismemberment.

The explosion rocked the stern of Peter the Great. Even those lining the railings of Shiloh and Simbirsk ducked as the roar ripped over them. Jack cleared his vision as best he could and then saw the large black cloud as it reached skyward from the stern of the great battle cruiser. As he watched, he saw why as another round object came down on her deck. It rocked the ship once more as it too detonated. The sight was baffling at first, as he thought he was looking at some sort of giant bird. It was Henri who quickly realized what it truly was. He was the first to open fire into the blue of the sky.

A hundred manta-like winged creatures swooped in low. The wings weren’t the short, stubby sort you would see on normal manta rays, but long and silky looking. The scales were transparent in nature, making them light but strong. Each of these animals was saddled, and the Wasakoo rode them like stallions in a cavalry charge. They each tossed round balls that hit the decks of both cruisers and exploded. The grenade-like weapons were as deadly as their modern variant. Both Peter the Great and Shiloh were aflame before they even knew what was hitting them. After delivering their payloads, they drove back into the sea and vanished. Others rose to take their place, and more explosions rocked all three ships.

The volume of defensive fire slowed as each man tried to dodge the death being delivered from an area they never saw coming — the sky. Then the ships finally gained the right distance, and they too opened fire. This attack was far deadlier than the one from the air. The large arrows thumped down and around the men as they tried in vain to dodge both explosives and the sharpened projectiles. They thumped into and penetrated the steel of all three ships. The small platelets of steel-like material attached to the arrows burst to killing life, like a magnesium flare. The steel of the decks and the bulkheads where they struck started to burn and melt. Men ran from conflagration to conflagration, extinguishing as best they could the sun-hot chemical.

The small-arms weapons fire erupted from the railings of all three ships. Jack and the others took aim and started placing a withering fire into the ships as they came close enough to start tossing grappling hooks toward the anchored ships.

Suddenly, Shiloh burst to life as her stern dug deeply into the sea as her large propellers churned at full speed. The turbine wash was so severe, it threw seawater high into the air enough so that Jack and his men were inundated with a blinding sea.

“Peter the Great is also moving!” Henri shouted as he quickly lashed out with the butt plate of the Thompson, sending one of the climbing Wasakoo flying back into the roiling ocean.

Two hundred yards away, Peter the Great, with her engines screaming, exploded into movement. Her bow dug in at first, and then, when her powerful power plant kicked in, the stern went down, and then the giant ship was off. As they watched both the smoldering ships moving off, the men fighting on the desk of Simbirsk felt their hearts sink. It was a lonely feeling, seeing all that firepower leaving you behind.

Still, the heavy bombardment from above continued as sailors fired into the sky. Magnesium-fed tracers of green, white, and red filled the air as bullets went in all directions. Simbirsk was now fighting for her life.

21

Jack realized that this was not a probe; this was an all-out Wasakoo assault. He leaned over the rail and fired on the closest of the sail-laden ships as they came alongside with the black-emblazoned skull and crossbones flags waving in the increasing winds of a growing storm. Sailors at the rails shot down into them, but still the ropes and grappling hooks kept sailing through the air to attach themselves to Simbirsk.

Peter the Great was going out to meet the oncoming fleet. Her main guns of fifty twenty-millimeter and forty-millimeter rounds chewed up the seas as she lay down a withering fire. As Collins managed a look through the din of noise and light, he saw that Peter the Great was causing severe damage to the attackers. At the bow of Simbirsk, Captain Jackson had placed the Aegis cruiser in between their only ride home and the maniacal Wasakoo as they charged forward. Jack had to admire the determination of this aquatic species as they gave their lives in massive numbers to accomplish their goal, of which Collins and the others had yet to see for themselves.

“Oh, come on!” Ryan said as he dodged one of the large arrows that dug into the steel deck next to his feet, forcing him to hop and jump out of the way. Henri quickly and alertly kicked out at the flaming steel attached to the bone weapon and kicked it over the side. Ryan nodded his thanks but quickly returned to the rail and pointed.

The seas parted, and thirty giant sea turtles rose to the surface. The wakes they created made it seem as though the strange sea life in this even stranger ocean was under some form of high-energy power. On the backs of these enormous turtles that were at minimum thirty-five feet in diameter were the Wasakoo in all their colored glory, waving swords and spears at the defenders. They shot arrows and spears and even catapulted the deadly extinguisher-resistant steel platelets into the quickly burning ship. Jack and the others started concentrating their fire on this new threat even as more of the flying mantas burst from the sea for a second strike from the sky.

To their front, the Shiloh was delivering a brutal defense against this new submerged threat. She rammed three of the turtles just as they broke the surface, forcing the massive bulk of Shiloh up and over the creatures, crushing the Wasakoo on their backs. Red blood mixed with the violet-colored sea as the world exploded around them.

The men at the railing ducked as the recently removed Gatling gun of the old and reliable R2-D2 system of Phalanx opened fire manually from the stern of Shiloh. Without their radar guidance system operating, the men operating the large cannon had a hard time placing the thousand rounds per minute exactly where they wanted them. Before they knew what was happening, over fifty of the Wasakoo were swept into the sea after the twenty-millimeter rounds bashed their fragile boats and bodies to pieces.

“This doesn’t make sense!” Jack yelled at Everett as the captain released a relentless burst of firepower from his Thompson. When that was out, he removed the old Colt .45 and started blasting those he had missed. He faced Jack as he replaced the pistol and then quickly slammed home another clip for the Thompson. “Why are they doing this?”

“Maybe because they are just mean bastards!” Jason offered before Carl could. The captain just shook his head.

“I don’t know, Jack — I gave up trying to figure this place out with the purple seas!” He fired again over the railing as a webbed-fingered hand appeared and tried to pull the Wasakoo up and over the rail. Everett’s rounds caught the strange creature right in the face and blew most of its head free of its body. Carl grimaced.

“They’re running a scam on us!” Jack said as he was pushed out of the way by Farbeaux, who saw the Wasakoo attack from the rear. He quickly shot the scale-covered creature in the chest three times as it crumpled to the deck.

“They covering for something?” Carl asked as he assisted Jack back to his feet.

More small bombs rained down from above as more manta raiders struck from the sea. The sailing ships were now massing around the still bulk of the Simbirsk. The attack was now being concentrated on their only way out of this madhouse.

“Well, if they wanted our attention, Colonel, they have gained it,” Henri said as he felt his pockets for more clips of .45-caliber ammo.

Just at that moment, a hundred of the Wasakoo burst over the side of Simbirsk. They came over en masse, and then all hell broke loose as sailors started to fight back at close quarters. Swords of bone and shell started to appear, and it was a terrifying sight as the Russian and British forces charged to meet the threat. Spears of twenty-foot length started sailing through the air and meeting the flesh of the brave men who fought for the ship under their feet.

This time it was Jack who returned the favor for the Frenchman. A Wasakoo had jumped onto the back of Farbeaux and raised a thick, powerful arm up to bring the sharp knife down and into Farbeaux’s back. Jack quickly shot the creature in the scaled forehead. The suddenness of his shot made Henri think he was shooting at him. When he realized Collins had just saved his life, all he could do was nod in thanks.

“They have us occupied here, so what is their game?” Jack asked anyone as he emptied his Thompson into a group of three Wasakoo as they had taken down one of the Russian sailors. The men were resisting the boarding of their ship with determined ferocity.

Everett wiped blood from his chin where an arrow had come close to decapitating him. He almost saw the large Wasakoo too late as it plunged a knife into the arm of Ryan, who cursed and dove away just as Everett unloosed a barrage of fire that nearly cut the Wasakoo in half. He assisted the injured Jason to his feet just as four more of the aquatic creatures came at them. Henri sliced through them, sending them all crashing to the deck.

A mile away, Peter the Great was taking heavy damage from the air war above them. The mantas were fast and dove quickly away as long lines of tracer fire crisscrossed the skies above. Shiloh was faring no better, as her weaponry was even weaker than that of the Russian ship. They were being boarded by the speedy sea turtles as Wasakoo jumped nimbly from sea turtles to the fast-moving Shiloh. Men were now fighting close quarter and hand to hand. Her beautiful fantail and bridge areas were awash with the chemically enhanced fireballs striking the great cruiser. Men were fighting from Jack staff to bow as the Aegis cruiser sliced the much slower sailing ships into glass and kindling.

There were over a thousand instances of hand-to-hand combat going on at any one time across the three ships. As much as Peter the Great and Shiloh were sacrificing for the safety of their ride home, the Simbirsk, they found themselves losing by superior numbers that were willing to die in the attack.

“Look!” Farbeaux called out above the din of firing weapons and screaming men and Wasakoo.

On the horizon, even more of the sailing ships came into view. Henri quickly numbered them in the hundreds.

Jack quickly figured this might not be just a ruse.

The Wasakoo were attacking with everything they had.

“You hear what?” Captain Thorne asked as he leaned into the sonar shack.

“Gunfire on the surface — a lot of it, Skipper,” the lieutenant said as he offered Thorne his own headset.

Thorne placed the headphones on and listened. It was so strange how one could hear popping noises on the surface of the sea almost a mile above them.

“What in the hell is going on up there?” He closed his eyes and listened, pressing both earpieces harder onto his head. “If it didn’t sound so crazy, I would almost have to say that it’s small-arms fire.” He looked up and watched the startled faces of the men around him. He removed the headphones and then left the sonar room. “Gary, what’s the situation with the ballast pumps?”

“Twenty minutes, Skipper,” the XO said as he went from station to station checking on his repaired systems. “But I don’t know about surfacing into a firefight. Right now, Houston’s like an eggshell sitting on the edge of a kitchen counter. I think someone could sink us with a well-placed rock.”

“Well, we may not have a choice; someone up there is fighting one hell of a battle, and we are bound to surface right into the middle of it. Weapons, keep the Harpoons warmed and ready, stern tubes seven, eight, nine, and ten loaded for war shot. The last two, I want drones ready to fire. Double-check our decoys. I want to be ready to loose weaps as soon as we break the surface.”

“You don’t think we’ll be able to control our ascent?” Devers asked Thorne quietly as he came to the navigation table.

“Not with a flaky ballast control system. I think once we start our ascent, there may be no stopping her from surfacing. I want to be ready for a fight if and when that happens.” Thorne leaned in closer to Devers. “Get the chief of the boat and get to the arms locker and distribute everything we have to the crew. M4s to the watch shift and nine millimeters to the officers. Empty out the locker.”

“Jesus, you’re expecting some real shit up there, aren’t you?”

“You never know — we pop off a torpedo and we may just kill ourselves. And the Harpoons could cook off in their vertical tubes. No, this way we can possibly fight the boat if we have to.” Again, his voice lowered. “Depending upon what it is we do meet up there, get the self-destruct sequence entered into the main computer. If this thing goes south and we have a possible boarding situation, I want to blow Houston right out from under the bastards.”

XO Devers saw the seriousness of his captain and then saw the men around him in the control room. For the first time, like Thorne had days earlier, he saw the bright young faces that were now being asked to do the nearly impossible.

“Chief of the Boat, to the arms locker, please.”

Thorne took the 1 MC mic. “Captain to crew, we blow ballast in twenty minutes.”

The horn sounded throughout the boat as small-arms weapons were disbursed as far as they could be.

“Make all preparations for getting under way,” Thorne said.

All eyes went from their individual consoles to the man standing next to the navigation table. Then the words were said that no submariner ever wants to hear.

“Stand by battle stations surface. Gentlemen, this one we may have to fight up close and personal. It sounds like there’s a gunfight going on up there, and guess who is on the fight card? Make all stations battle ready.”

The sailors of the USS Houston prepared for a surface battle that had not been fought between a submarine and a surface combatant since the end of World War II.

The broken and nearly blind and deaf Houston made ready for the fight of her life.

The marine lance corporal, a veteran of both Iraq and Afghanistan, deployed the nine men in the makeshift rescue team off the beaten and worn trail that led to the diamond mine high above. It wasn’t until the twelve men had climbed to the midway point of the small mountain that they saw as well as heard the battle raging across the sea a few miles away. Most of the marines wanted to turn back at that point, knowing that a fight was taking place that had the ramifications of either staying in this strange world forever or helping in the fight to leave. One look at the determined faces of Charlie Ellenshaw and Master Chief Jenks staid their doubts. The two Event Group men would go it alone if need be.

The PFC at the point position held up a fist, and the others scrambled for cover into the underbrush. Jenks listened as the lance corporal slowly and cautiously moved forward and then knelt beside the point man.

“What is it?” he asked.

“We got six or seven of those squid things up ahead.”

“What are they doing?”

“Right now, nothing. Look,” he said in a low voice.

Jenks and Ellenshaw joined the two, and their eyes saw the same thing as the marines’.

Six of the Wasakoo were standing and slowly pouring water from large shell-like carriers over their exposed skin. The water seemed to revive the creatures.

“They must rehydrate their skin after so long out of the water. Could be a point we could use if we ever find ourselves stuck here,” Charlie said as he adjusted his glasses.

“That’s real comforting, Doc,” Jenks said, shaking his head.

“Just a point.”

“More of them,” the point man said as he eased farther back into the bush.

They saw a group of at least sixteen more of the Wasakoo join forces with those already reviving themselves in the clearing ahead. These newcomers did the same as the first group. They doused their exposed, scaly skin with water. Charlie didn’t know if it was salt water, but he suspected it was. The entire group was heavily armed with spears and knives. Several had bows made from what looked like the spines, or quills, from some exotic sea life. The arrows were made of the same. The sharkskin pants they wore were reflecting the overhead sun, and it looked as though the heat was dehydrating these creatures at a fast rate.

“Listen,” Jenks said.

As the small rescue became still and silent, a hundred of the Wasakoo joined the group. They repeated the same process as the first two sets.

“They must have had a rendezvous set up to refresh themselves,” Charlie Ellenshaw offered.

“Too many to take on even with our weapons. They could overwhelm us before we did enough damage,” the lance corporal said as he pulled on the arm of the point man. “Come on, we can’t sit here and wait them out. Let’s find another way.”

The twelve men easily moved off to the left to try to make their way around the large group of Wasakoo. As they moved off by at least three hundred yards, they stopped as another group of the sea creatures broke into a clearing ahead of them. This was the largest group thus far. Over two hundred of the aggressive species sat and stood while soaking their bodies with water. Weapons were casually laid at their sides, and the men watched as even these soldiers from a strange world seemed to joke and prod at each other. They were like fighting men from their own dimension as they joked and glad-handed their fellows.

“They have no natural fear,” Charlie again said.

“Look, Doc, if you’re going to give this National Geographic narration all the way in, why don’t you just walk over there and get an interview?” Jenks asked in exasperation. “Just stop teaching for an hour or so, will ya?”

“Sorry, Master Chief — hard habit to break.”

“One thing is for sure, they are slowly making their way to that mine up there. They’re just taking their time in their search. He’s right; they have no fear of anyone interfering.” The lance corporal turned and faced both Jenks and Ellenshaw. “The doc here may be right; we could use that to our advantage if the need arises.”

“I agree,” Jenks said. “They have no fear whatsoever and that could be a break for us. They don’t know we’re here.”

“I suspect the natural senses they use in the sea don’t translate that well to land. As you can see, these creatures are outright miserable in this environment,” Ellenshaw explained.

Jenks was tapped on the shoulder and binoculars thrust into his hand. He was confused at first but saw the marine pointing.

“That must be the mine entrance right up there,” he said.

Jenks adjusted the glasses, and then he saw what the marine was seeing. The reinforced mine opening was only a quarter of a mile up. That was where the Wasakoo were heading. As he studied the entrance, he could swear that he saw movement at the mouth of the mine. He cursed as he saw a small child appear and then just as quickly vanish. He lowered the glasses and turned to face the others.

“It looks like the drone told the truth. They’re in there.”

“Well, we know where we have to go; sitting here isn’t going to get the job done,” the lance corporal said as he easily stood and then gestured the men farther to take a path that would lead them around the company-sized group of Wasakoo.

If the small rescue team had the use of the drone, they would have seen a far more chilling sight ahead, as over a thousand of the sea creatures were coming up the mountain from the opposite side.

The battle for Compton’s Reef was drawing near, and Jenks, Charlie, and the ten US Marines were outnumbered two hundred to one.

His crew was having a hard time with damage control and the attackers. As men fought to extinguish the chemically enhanced blazes erupting on all decks of the enormous missile cruiser, they were harassed and killed by Wasakoo who had used the speed of their boats to attach themselves to the railings and fight their way onto the main deck. Second Captain Dishlakov had abandoned the bridge and was fighting alongside his men. The battle had been raging as they sped in a wide circle in Peter the Great’s battle to protect Simbirsk. They were losing.

He was momentarily thrilled to see Shiloh as she steamed a closer-in circle around Simbirsk. She was also ablaze but seemed to be fighting well.

“Captain, we are running low on forty- and twenty-millimeter ammunition,” his new XO said as the man took quick aim and fired his Makarov pistol into the upturned face of a Wasakoo as it sprang over the railing. Dishlakov patted the man’s shoulder.

“Then get knives, wrenches, and fuel oil. We fight this ship until she can’t fight any longer.” He took the young man by the sleeve. “We must give Simbirsk all the time we can.”

As the officer moved off, Dishlakov looked around and knew his ship couldn’t last much longer. The bulk of Peter the Great would survive because the Wasakoo had no meaningful way of sinking her, but the attrition upon his crew was growing to a level that they would be expended long before the great battle cruiser gave up the fight.

More of the manta rays burst from the sea and climbed skyward, their long wings crushing the air as they rose. Ten of the ray-like beasts came on, and soon their riders were launching more of the explosive devices that struck and burst open. Their brightly flared results started more intense fires. Dishlakov fired into the sky, as did others. Three of the creatures crashed into the flaming deck, where they and their riders were quickly dispatched by the crazed but lethal defenders.

More of the flying mantas burst from the sea, only this time they were larger and carried more than ten of the Wasakoo on their backs. The rays slammed into the upper deck just aft of the number-three missile launcher. One of the Wasakoo, injured from his jump from the back of the ray, limped over and then slashed at the aluminum cover of the missile hatch. Too late, Dishlakov and others saw the creature as he dropped something into the well where one of the Burn missiles was housed. The Wasakoo was struck down as their bullets ripped into its body, but they all knew it was too late. The Burn missile exploded in its launch tube.

Men were thrown from the deck along with many of the attackers. The Burn missile sent explosive gases up and out of the housing, and suddenly, large parts of the missile cruiser flew into the sky and sea. The entire port side was in flames.

Peter the Great was slowly being bled to death.

Captain Johnson was almost knocked from his feet on the battle bridge as the entire port side of Peter the Great burst out like an exploding balloon. He adjusted his field glasses and saw the flames being swept backward by the speed of the great warship.

“How in the hell did they know to hit their missile tubes?” Johnson turned away from the horrid scene and then grabbed his second in command. “Get below and place teams on all missile batteries; they’ll try the same here.”

“Aye,” the man said, and then he quickly went to his radio to give out the order.

Johnson hissed as he again sighted Peter the Great as she sped along in flames. He could see the crew fought both Wasakoo and the damage that had been done, and it looked as if both efforts were failing. He then turned his glasses onto the Simbirsk. Her crew was fighting valiantly, but he knew they wouldn’t stand a chance if he moved Shiloh from her current close-in station to assist; he knew the Simbirsk would be done for. He cursed as he knew that Second Captain Dishlakov was on his own.

“Helm twenty degrees to starboard; get in closer to Peter the Great. Fire control, get the fifties and twenty-millimeter weapons to assist the Russians. Sweep some of those bastards off her deck, give her crew a chance to get damage control working.”

“Aye, helm answering, twenty degrees to starboard.”

As Shiloh heeled over sharply, her .50-caliber machine guns and the manually operated Phalanx twenty-millimeter cannon opened fire on Peter the Great. Although many holes were punched into her side by the heavy-caliber weaponry, they could see the sudden assault had the desired effect on the attackers. Over two hundred Wasakoo were knocked from their ropes, and some even fell to pieces and then plunged into the sea. Peter the Great’s entire starboard side was swept clean of the attackers. Shiloh again turned away as her heavy weaponry kept a constant fire in their efforts to assist their onetime enemy.

As Captain Johnson had his mind momentarily eased as Dishlakov and his brave crew once more gained the upper hand in fighting the fires, the announcement from his CIC stunned him. Did one of Peter the Great’s missiles cook off? He was frozen in shock as the vision of a missile coming in at sea-top level slammed into Shiloh on her bow section.

The warhead’s detonation rocked Shiloh to her core. Men flew from the decks as a missile slammed into her stern. Flames erupted all along her mainframe and engulfed over fifty men as the fireball expanded. Johnson was thrown from his feet, and with one of his arms nearly broken, he tried to stand. Shiloh slowed and then started to immediately list to starboard. She was taking on water.

“All damage control stations shift to decks four, five, and six aft of frame sixteen, all sections!”

The announcement brought Johnson’s senses back faster than a face slap. As he stood, he felt hands on him as men tried to gather their wits.

“Conn, CIC, torpedo in the water!”

This time, Johnson felt his heart actually skip a beat.

“Peter the Great is under attack by a submerged source!”

Captain Johnson felt his hopes being dashed as he and his bridge crew were helpless to do anything as the long white wake of a torpedo headed straight toward Peter the Great.

Captain Thorne had just made the announcement to seal the boat. All hatches and vents were closed and all stations prepared to trust the last chance they had in getting the ballast tanks to release their hold on the sea.

“Conn, sonar, we have a submerged disturbance twenty miles to the north. Water slug! Submerged missile launch!”

Johnson grabbed the 1 MC mic. “What?”

“Suspected submerged contact has launched a missile.”

“Damn,” Thorne said as he turned to his XO. “Just what in the hell are we facing here, Gary?”

“Conn, sonar, we have a surface detonation!”

Thorne allowed the mic to lower as his heart skipped a beat. He looked at all the anxious faces watching him. He again raised his mic to his mouth but was suddenly cut off.

“Conn, sonar, we have high-speed screw cavitation — torpedo in the water!”

Thorne closed his eyes as the information refused to break into the clearer thoughts he had been trained in. His eyes went to XO Devers, and both men saw the same look of disaster. Wherever they were, whatever place they found themselves, somehow a shooting war was erupting right above their heads, and they were blind as bats.

They felt the disturbance in the seas even this far down as Houston once more rocked and rolled. This time when she started to slide, Thorne knew she wouldn’t stop until they went off the almost three-mile ledge she had lodged herself on. Every crewman aboard felt the vibration start anew as Houston began to slide. They heard the rush of sand and rock as her massive bulk started her slide into oblivion.

“Conn, sonar, we have a surface detonation, three-quarters of a mile away from the first.”

Thorne reached out and took a handhold on the stanchion that helped guide the periscope and felt his heart stop for a moment as the submarine picked up speed in her hurry to slide into the abyss far below. He once more raised the 1 MC mic to his lips, but he stopped when Houston once more came to a grinding halt. He closed his eyes in silent thanks.

“Engineering, how are we coming with that repair?” he asked anxiously.

“Skipper, we’re almost there,” came the call.

Houston slid a few feet and then settled. Thorne again felt the boat move and froze until it stopped.

“Gentlemen, there’s a fight going on up there; we don’t have the luxury of time here.”

For emphasis, every crew member felt the rumble of explosions even from their stranded spot on the side of the submerged mountain ledge.

“Chief of the Boat, stand by to surface!”

22

Second Captain Dishlakov could not believe what he had just been told. He quickly scanned the waters in the direct path of the giant warship. There it was: a single straight line of a torpedo’s wake heading straight at him.

“Hard to starboard!” he shouted as he watched in horror as the wake vanished as the torpedo went deep. The fear of every surface commander ever to take to the modern seas flared into his mind. “All ahead flank!”

Too late. The torpedo dove under the bow of Peter the Great, and the magnetic sensors buried deep inside ordered the warhead to detonate. Dishlakov felt the entire front sections of the enormous warship rise free of the sea, and he had the frozen moment in time all soldiers and sailors of the world knew was the pivotal time of an imminent death. The forward sections of the eight-foot-wide keel of Peter the Great separated as if they were nothing more than cordwood. The bow flashed brightly as her forward missile battery ignited in a fireball of massive proportions. A hundred feet of bow sheared away as the entire bulk of the battle cruiser came crashing back into the sea. Men, Wasakoo, and steel flew in all directions as the wail and cry of bending and cracking steel sounded even above the din of explosive outgassing.

Dishlakov was thrown into the bulkhead along with every sailor on the battle bridge. Glass shattered, and men screamed as their electronic suites exploded into the frightened faces. Seawater rose to a height of three hundred feet before it came crashing down onto the exposed sailors fighting her fires. Her number-one forward gun mount was tossed into the air as if it were nothing but a toy being kicked by a petulant child. The sea rushed into the now sheared-off bow of the mightiest vessel ever built by the Russians. Her engines kept up their relentless push as they continued to drive Peter the Great through the now erupting seas.

Water finally succeeded in doing what the torpedo hadn’t. The engine room came to pieces as the sea struck her hot power plant. The stern of the missile cruiser erupted up and out, blasting men and equipment into the opening created by the failing engines.

Peter the Great slowly settled into the water as her remaining forward sections dug deeply into the violet-colored seas. Fire and smoke marked the area where she came to a complete stop. Alarms continued to sound as men started to rise from her decks. They stumbled, assisted others, and watched in abject astonishment as every Wasakoo aboard ran and dove into the sea. The circling mantas and their riders splashed into the water and vanished as if they had never been.

The sea was now littered with large sections and floating bodies of the two most powerful warships in the history of the world. The one remaining vessel was still anchored in the center of an ever-expanding mass of debris and dead men.

The last target left — Simbirsk — waited for the final blow to come.

Hand-to-hand battle raged across the expansive deck of the Simbirsk. Sailors and marines were running low on ammunition as they fought with the attacking Wasakoo. The war was brutal as men fought this strange enemy on a sea that was unrecognizable. They all, to a man, did not want to die in this world.

Jack had nearly been impaled by a spear as brutal looking as any medieval weapon from humankind’s own history. The iron tip penetrated his pant leg and seared his skin as it nicked his upper thigh. He pulled the spear free of the steel and material and then threw it at a charging Wasakoo. The weapon struck the creature and went straight through its chest. The Wasakoo crumpled and then hissed in Jack’s direction as it slowly fell and then rolled underneath the railing and fell into the sea.

Henri let loose with the Thompson at a group of Wasakoo as they tried to fight their way up the bridge ladders. He sent five of them crashing down onto the steel deck, but two others were still climbing. He cursed his luck when the bolt of the Thompson slammed open and stayed there. He tossed the weapon away just as Ryan let loose with his Colt .45. The two Wasakoo Henri had missed flew off the ladder and fell to their deaths.

The horns started sounding from the boats that had been tied up next to Simbirsk. The seashell call reverberated even over the noise of close-quarter battle.

Collins and the others were stunned as every Wasakoo that had boarded the battle cruiser jumped over the side. The battle had ended just as fast as it had started.

Jack looked around and took stock. The fires that had erupted were still blazing, but he suspected that the attack was not meant to take down the Russian relic. Men were gathering themselves, prodded by Ryan and a few of the marines to start battling the remaining fires that still flamed high into the air. He went to the rail and, after wiping blood from his face, stared at the destruction floating all around them.

Shiloh was dead in the water only fifteen hundred feet away. Her stern section was a mass of twisted steel and flaming debris. She was settling into the water at a rate Jack knew was possibly fatal. He watched as damage control parties scrambled from section to section attempting to save their dying ship. His eyes next went to the mass of flames rising less than a mile away as Peter the Great began to slide bow first into the water. Even with the devastation, Collins saw several large Zodiacs as they sped reinforcements toward the stricken Peter the Great. Even with his own ship in peril, Captain Johnson was sending assistance over to fellow sailors.

“They’re still trying to save her,” Everett said as he stepped up to Jack as he searched his bandolier for another clip of .45 rounds for his now useless Thompson, which he tossed to the deck when he found it empty.

“What in the hell hit us?” Farbeaux said as he assisted Ryan in tossing over the side the bodies they had just sent to their doom. He watched as the dead Wasakoo splashed into the water, and then he faced Carl and Jack.

Collins became silent as he angrily watched two great ships fighting for their lives within visual range. He had never felt so helpless in his life. Spitting blood from his mouth, he turned and searched until he found the pack lying on the deck. It was smoldering from some of the chemical accelerant used by the Wasakoo, and he quickly stamped it out. He opened the case and then pulled free the canvas bag they had recovered from the village. He ran his thumb over the Cyrillic lettering as he looked from it to the violet seas.

“I believe the theory of our friend Salkukoff having another ship out there has been confirmed in no uncertain terms, gentlemen,” Henri said as he watched Jack study the canvas bag. He felt the shudder of the Simbirsk under his feet as the wake from the distant detonations reached the Russian ship. It again settled as Jack looked into Henri’s blue eyes.

“Not a ship—a boat,” he said as Ryan joined them. His arm was dangling some, as he had taken one of the elongated arrows to the forearm. It was a simple wound and one he could live with, but it still smarted as he kicked at the remains of a Wasakoo, which he simply nudged under the railing and into the sea. “A submarine,” he said as he again read the canvas bag.

“The only boat we had in tow before this mess started was Houston,” Carl said to Jack. “But she had to have been destroyed or sunk during the transition to the phase shift. If we hadn’t heard from her by now, she’s had it, Jack. Those boats are like eggshells.”

“Not Houston,” Collins said as he finally looked up and over at the flaming Peter the Great. He tossed Henri the bag but faced Everett. “Somewhere out there is the Rostov-on-Don. She has to be a Russian sub.”

All three men were aghast.

“And this canvas carryall was from the boat’s stores,” Henri said as he quickly deduced that Collins was right.

“If they have a sub that has phase shift capability, why do they need Simbirsk? Why wouldn’t they center their attack on us? Why just Peter the Great and Shiloh?” Ryan asked.

“I don’t know,” Jack said as he continued to look out to sea.

“I guess we’re about to find out,” Carl said as he pointed to something a mile away.

The sea erupted in bubbles and foam as the water parted, and the giant black object rose like a mythical sea creature from the depths.

“Back home, Europa, in one of her military intelligence briefings, mentioned a new class of boat out of the Russian shipyards. According to her, this might be the new Russian Yasen-class attack sub. It was only rumored, but there she is.” Carl faced Jack. “Good guess on the sub idea, ground pounder.”

They watched as the Rostov-on-Don, a boat named after the small Russian city in the south, surfaced and then settled onto the calm waters of the violet ocean. She sat unmoving as water cascaded from her blackened hull. The white lettering of her designation was bright against her elongated conning tower. They watched as her antennas and radar dish rose high above that sail. Her menacing bulk just sat there facing the destruction she had just caused. This boat had just fired on one of her own. Even as they watched, they saw the menacing vision of her cruise missile doors opening just aft of that large, sloping conning tower.

“Thirteen thousand — ton displacement weight, top speed of thirty knots, she has a crew of one hundred and twelve officers and men.”

All three men turned and faced Henri, who shrugged.

“You are not the only one, Captain, to study and know Russian warfare plans.”

“Always full of surprises, Henri,” Everett said as he turned to watch the behemoth sitting only a mile away. It was like a predator just waiting for the right time to strike.

“Yes, well, here’s a surprise for you, if you like. She also has long-range nuclear-capable cruise missiles whose doors are now open for business, if you had not noticed. Also, I might remind you, we have none of that. I’m afraid our friend Salkukoff has us over what you would call a barrel.”

“Some damn surprise, Henri,” Ryan said as he watched in wonder at the sub.

“Look, she’s signaling,” Carl said as he reached for and retrieved his binoculars.

“What does she signal?” Collins asked as he watched the meaningless naval-speak flashing across to them.

Carl watched the flashing strobe from the conning tower of the black submarine.

“Oh, boy, you’re going to love this one, Jack.”

The small team had reached the middle section of the mountain. Only fifty yards from the mine’s opening, they waited to see if any survivor of the village massacre appeared. They hadn’t in the three minutes they had been watching. Charlie was tempted to spur the marines forward, but he knew when to keep his anxiousness to himself after so many years with Jack and the others. Still, he bit his lower lip as he waited with mounting frustration.

As they waited, they felt the rumble coming from the sea. They did not have the vantage point to see what had happened, but every man feared the worst. Everyone had been around death and destruction their entire professional lives and knew what the war sounds were. Their homes away from home were under attack. Jenks was feeling as frustrated as Charlie was but knew the marines would be cautious, as one disaster did not relate to the other when they were on a mission. They focused on their job and theirs alone.

Before they realized what was happening, they were caught off guard by twenty of the Wasakoo as they broke their cover and ran for the mine opening. They saw them vanish into the darkness beyond, and then they heard the screams emanating from the interior.

“My God!” Charlie said as he mindlessly rushed forward.

“Doc! Doc!” the lance corporal called out after the charging professor. “Damn it!” He waved his men forward. “Let’s go!”

The ten marines with Master Chief Jenks in tow ran after Ellenshaw.

The lance corporal never even considered bringing night vision for their little foray and was kicking himself for that minor flaw in their mission planning. Still, they charged silently forward.

They saw Charlie suddenly veer off into the worn trail in front of the mine’s opening. Then they watched as ten of the Wasakoo dragged five men and two women out screaming. They were helpless as the villagers were dispatched ruthlessly in front of their children, who ran in panic. Ten more of the Wasakoo broke from the opening, and one of them grabbed a screaming child of no more than ten years of age. Ellenshaw recklessly charged headlong into the creature, knocking it down, along with the crying child. The Wasakoo quickly recovered and then fell on the white-haired madman.

The 5.56-millimeter round caught the scaled attacker in the head, sending it backward as the marines broke into the opening. Expert marksmanship brought down the Wasakoo faster than the marines could site them. They were all feeling the relief at shooting something. The frustration was clear on the young faces as they tried to save as many of the villagers as they could. Ellenshaw quickly recovered and started rounding up all the children he could see. He hustled a group of six off into the trail brush as the United States Marines fought the strangest skirmish in corps history.

It was over in less than thirty seconds from beginning to end.

Ellenshaw was helped by Jenks as they gathered what was left of the innocent human population. Six children, four girls and two boys. One of the parents hung on for three minutes, but her wounds were too great, and she died in the arms of a nineteen-year-old marine.

Six marines checked the interior of the mine until it dipped so low they could go no farther. If any of the survivors escaped the Wasakoo, they were far down into the shaft of the mine. They had no more time to search for them.

“How many?” Charlie asked as he coddled a crying girl of no more than three years of age.

Jenks had two of the children in his thick arms as he turned for the trail and the way back to the Zodiac.

“Six. Six are all that’s left,” Master Chief Jenks hissed as he pushed by several of the saddened marines. “We failed these people for the second damn time!”

Suddenly, Jenks was pulled from behind by the lance corporal and then roughly pushed to the ground with his armload of children just as several of the elongated arrows came bursting through the air to strike the bush and rocks around them.

“Take cover!”

As the twelve men and six children hit the dirt, they saw the reason why the lance corporal had been so persuasive. On the mountainside a thousand yards away, there were at least a thousand Wasakoo slowly making their way toward the mine.

“Back into the opening! Take cover!” the lance corporal said as he harangued his meager force back into the darkness and safety of the mine’s reinforced opening.

“Oh, shit,” one of the youngest marines said as he saw the fast-deteriorating situation.

“Yeah,” Jenks said as he easily placed the children down next to Ellenshaw. “You took the words right out of my mouth, squid.” He pulled a nine-millimeter pistol from its holster and charged the weapon. He looked down at a girl who was hiccupping through her crying. He winked and smiled down at her. Then he started counting the Wasakoo and came to a number he knew would not be advantageous to completing their harried mission. It was the lance corporal who tossed Ellenshaw the radio with the clear indication that he should at least send out a call for help. He knew that from the sound of explosions from the sea that they really couldn’t expect a rescue.

“Gentlemen, prepare to defend yourselves!”

Jack knew the truce was at the very least an uneasy one. Russian marines and sailors stared at the four large rubber boats as they approached. Collins saw at least half of the Russian sub’s complement riding shotgun for Salkukoff and his black-clad commandos — seventy fresh and heavily armed men against what was left of the Simbirsk and her patched-together crew of British, Russian, and American sailors and marines. And as Jack looked them over, he knew the men on board were in no condition to continue a fight that they had no chance of winning. He felt the weight of his personal nine millimeter in its shoulder holster and decided that he would use it in lieu of surrender. He himself would beat Farbeaux in his quest to kill the Russian.

“Do we have a plan, Jack?” Everett said with hope as he continued looking for extra ammunition by checking fallen marines and sailors. The disgusting task was making him angrier by the minute.

Collins continued to watch the boats approach and the arrogant way Salkukoff stood at the bow of the lead boat as if he were George Washington crossing the Delaware. Jack remained silent, and Carl knew that when the colonel went quiet, someone was heading for a heartache. Everett knew that one way or the other, the Russian wasn’t going to get away with killing everyone who knew the secrets of phase shift.

“I suspect our colonel is going to attempt the honorable way out,” Henri said as he tossed his own empty nine millimeter away.

“Yeah, I’m for that. Any bastard that would shoot at his own people, I think, lacks trust,” Ryan said as he joined the men at the rail to watch the triumphant approach of Salkukoff. He saw Collins turn and wink. The action always made Ryan feel good about their impending doom.

Before anyone could speak, Jack’s radio crackled to life. His eyes went from the rubber boats now tying up to the gangway to his handheld. He took it and listened. The voice was low and nearly inaudible. He turned up the volume as he and the others moved away from the view of the Russians who were getting ready to board.

“Doc, is that you?”

Again, there was static. Then the faint and distant voice came across again.

“Say again, Charlie,” Jack said, and he couldn’t help but look over as Salkukoff and his men started the long climb up the gangway.

“Thousands of Wasakoo are nearing our position, over.”

“What is your location, Doc?”

“The mine; we have survivors, but we are surrounded by a hostile force. Can we get some support? Over.”

Jack lowered the radio and looked from man to man, hoping someone had an idea. Jason shook his head as he anxiously looked around him as if finding a weapon would help Jenks, Charlie, and the marines that were with them. Henri bit his lip as he angrily stewed over Salkukoff’s arrival. But he too eventually shook his head. Collins turned away and adjusted his view where he could see Compton’s Reef and the mountain at its center fifteen miles away. Too far to even reach them in time even if they had a plan. Jack was frustrated, as his ideas for rescue were rather complicated by their surrender at sea.

When Carl froze, so did the others. He suddenly started looking around, and then his eyes settled on the extreme height of the pagoda-style tower above them. He took the radio from Jack’s grasp and then started talking.

“Doc, are the marines close by?”

“They’re kind of busy setting up what defense we can mount, which isn’t much. There’s just too many of them.”

“Doc, do you have smoke? Over.”

“I don’t know what—”

Carl was getting frustrated, and he shook his head as the noise of the men pounding and slowly coming up the gangway was like the sound of a ticking time bomb in his ears.

“Smoke, yes, we have red and green smoke, over.”

“Good boy, Doc. Look, I need one of the marines to pop smoke in front of the mine’s opening in fifteen minutes exactly. Do you copy?”

“Fifteen, got it.”

“Okay, Doc, tell everyone as soon as green smoke has been popped in front of the Wasakoo advance, hunker down inside. You’ll know when. Listen to the marines and Jenks; they’ll know what’s coming. Over.”

“Got it — pop green smoke in fifteen. Ellenshaw out.”

Carl tossed the radio to Jack and then watched as Salkukoff gained the upper deck only four hundred feet away.

“Jack, you’re a ground pounder — what would you estimate the distance to the mine’s opening?”

Collins hurriedly opened his bag where he had retrieved the canvas carryall. He pulled out a small device. “A gift from Sarah — she says my eyes are getting too bad without glasses.” He tossed it to Everett, who smiled when he saw what it was.

“A laser range finder. Leave it to little Sarah to cover all your aged shortcomings,” Henri said as Jack shot him a be careful look.

“We may not have a chance, but the Doc and Jenks might,” Carl said as he turned and faced Ryan. “Grab four men and get to turret number three; you know what to do.”

“Ah, shit, you’re kidding!” Jason said as Farbeaux had just caught the drift of what the American naval captain was proposing.

Carl didn’t answer as he started for the ladder that led skyward toward the top of the command and control tower of the World War II battle cruiser.

“Hey, where are you going?” Jack asked.

Everett stopped just short of the ladder and pointed up. “Fire control directory. Ryan has to know what in the hell he’s shooting at. Jason, secure yourself and your fire team in that turret and fortify it, because it won’t take Salkukoff very long to figure out what it is we are up to. I’ll pass you fire control readings. I suspect you’ll have only three shots — don’t waste them.”

They watched as Everett started climbing the steel stairs toward the highest point of the Simbirsk, the ancient fire control directory once used by every surface ship in the world for directing fire.

“Jack, keep that ass-hat Salkukoff occupied until we make our play.”

Henri turned and faced Collins. “And just how are we supposed to do that? I mean before or after he executes us? If he had no particular qualms about killing his fellows, what chance do we have?”

“That’s what I like about you, Colonel — forever the optimist.”

“And not facing reality is what I so admire about you.”

Jack turned as he saw Salkukoff approach, and Everett vanished into the high towerlike structure at the top of the mast.

“I’ll make you a deal, Henri. No matter what happens here in the next few minutes, we seriously do that man harm before we die.”

Henri Farbeaux watched as the Russian and his commandos approached. They were disarming Russian sailors and marines. The bulk of the Royal British forces vanished with Ryan into the aft number-three turret after they had removed the foul-weather caps from the enormous muzzles of the three fifteen-inch guns.

“That will be a pleasure and, I might add, a worthwhile way to die.”

Jack only smiled as Salkukoff stepped up to them.

23

For the third time, Jenks sent an angry Charlie back into the deeper part of the mine with the children. After Ellenshaw had passed on the information from Carl to Jenks, he was then placed in charge of getting the children to safety if this plan didn’t work. The ten marines and Jenks lined the mine’s opening, preparing to fight for the time Everett needed to make whatever happen, happen.

“Twenty grenades and a thousand rounds of ammunition. Four flash bangs, two claymores, which we already laid two hundred yards downhill. One LAWs rocket. That’s all we have between us and the fish boys.”

Jenks nodded at the marine lance corporal, who delivered the bad news as gracefully and as bravely as any marine could. The master chief managed a look up and over the large rocks they had placed for defense. He saw the Wasakoo as they hesitated only a thousand yards from their position. They were confused as to what these strangers were up to. Many of them threatened to break free of their group, and every time one of them would stand to possibly charge, one of the youngest marines, a private who grew up shooting squirrels in Virginia, took it down with a cleanly placed and long-distance shot. This action, three thus far, had kept the Wasakoo hesitant about charging. But Jenks knew that the situation would soon change as soon as the enemy found out their true numbers.

“Well, that may not be enough firepower to win, but it’s enough to make those bastard barracuda-faced pirate fuckers wish they had picked another area for a stroll.”

The lance corporal smiled as he went into a prone position next to the master chief.

Jenks felt a tug at his pant leg, and he looked back. It was the same little girl who had hiccupped for thirty minutes through her fear. Jenks grimaced and then snatched the child up. He stuck out his tongue and then winked. She was cautious, but she returned a smile that warmed the gruff old master chief’s heart. He thought about losing what was left of the villagers, and he stood with the girl in his arms and then returned her to Charlie, who had been frantically looking for her. Ellenshaw expected a tongue-lashing from Jenks but was relieved when he just handed the girl over. The master chief pulled out a pen that had been given to him by a navy puke a few months before and was one of his possessions he had bragged and showed off to everyone who would listen and admire it. He held it up and then leaned into the girl as he showed her the cheap ink pen he had been given. He turned it up and then down in front of her eyes, and she smiled and clapped her hands, amazed at the magic.

“I don’t believe it. They still make those?” Charlie asked as the girl relaxed as she watched the magic before her eyes.

The pen was one of those you might have purchased years ago at a liquor store checkout counter that depicted a slender, beautiful woman on the pen itself, and every time you turned it over, the black dress she wore would slowly vanish. Turn it back and the dress reappeared. The children watched and laughed at the magic coming from the world of the master chief.

“Yeah, well, just don’t look too closely at the face of the woman in the pen, Doc, or you’ll find me on the short end of the stick that kicks your ass.”

Charlie watched him move back to his defensive position. Then he looked closely at the face of the woman, and then his brows rose. The woman’s face was the exact twin of Assistant Director Virginia Pollock. A mere coincidence, but it was her all right. Jenks, Charlie knew, had it bad.

Ellenshaw smiled for the first time in days. He soon lost the grin when the noise from the front of the mine froze his blood.

“Here they come!”

Once inside the number-three gun turret, Jason stood momentarily confused as to just how he was going to do this without blowing them and the Simbirsk to pieces. Then his eyes fell on the elevator control switches that would allow the silk powder bags to be delivered from the powder stores eight decks beneath him. On the opposite side, he saw the same control system to raise the thousand-pound, fifteen-inch projectile to the turret. Ryan also saw the communications console that would connect him to the projectile and powder bunkers. He hit the switch.

“Hey, is anyone down there?” he asked, hoping beyond hope that the system didn’t send his voice out all over the battle cruiser.

“We’re here, Commander,” said the cockney-tinged voice of the Royal Marine sergeant. “I don’t know what it is we’re supposed to do, but we’re here.”

Jason knew his education at the academy had barely touched on surface warfare to the point where he knew how to fire the main guns that were designed right around the turn of the last century, but he quipped to himself that he had seen plenty of movies on the subject. He just hoped they were accurate. He closed his eyes as he tried to remember his instructions.

“Okay, there is an automatic lift near the powder stores on the starboard side of the armory.”

“Yes, we see it.”

“Now, very carefully go into the vault and, using the elevator, load three bags onto the slide. The switch to raise it up is right next to the aft bulkhead. For God’s sake, be careful — we don’t know how this powder has been treated the past seventy years.”

It seemed like a lifetime until Ryan heard the elevator engage. The noise was tremendous as the automatic doors sprang open, waiting for the delivery.

“Three shells and six bags of black powder, Commander. I don’t know about your end, but we are bloody making a lot of noise down here.”

In the turret, Ryan heard the motors engage, and he flinched again as the machinery made a tremendous amount of noise as the elevator transferred its heavy load. As he watched, the steel-reinforced door slid up, and before he realized what was happening, the large fifteen-inch shell fell forward, and he closed his eyes as he waited for the detonation that would end them all. Instead, the large thousand-pound shell eased into the steel slide just below it. Jason took a deep breath as a pushrod hydraulically pushed the shell into the breach. He repeated the same motions on the number-two and — three guns. The shells were in. Now if he could only get the most dangerous part over with and see if he could send these shells outward in the right direction.

“Bag elevator has stopped and has delivered your load. We’re out of here. We’ll take up station in the aft area and wait for orders. I’m sending two men up to you.”

Jason didn’t answer as he saw the first white-colored powder bag arrive and the auto-loader come into play. He hurriedly moved to the number-one gun of turret three and turned the large stainless steel handle, and he opened the breach. Then he bit his lower lip as he thought about what he had to do next. Then he remembered. He saw another stainless-steel slide and moved it into place. The slide went right to the breach’s opening and stopped. The powder bag was now right in front of the breach. Jason kicked at the steel next to the breach in frustration. Then before he could move and think on it, a large piston came free of the bulkhead and then pushed the first silk bag into the breach. Jason was amazed at the sophistication of the Russian design. He knew they were freaks of nature when it came to fully automated systems, and any time the old Soviets could take it out of the soldiers’ hands in favor of assurance from automation, they did.

Finally, the last bag was pushed into the gun, and Jason closed the breach. He took a deep breath as the hatch came suddenly open. He quickly pulled his nine millimeter from its holster but stopped when he saw the two hands raised in deference to his threat.

“Scared the hell out of me,” Jason said as he shoved the gun back into his shoulder holster.

The two marines came inside and dogged the hatch.

“Now look, even if we pull this off, we’re bound to have company.”

“The sergeant has that aspect covered, Commander. His four men will lie in wait for any visitors.”

Again, Jason took a deep breath and then raised his radio to his lips.

“Ryan to Everett.”

There was no answer to his call. He immediately started thinking the worst. Was he caught going up to the directory tower?

“Ryan to Everett,” he said once more, looking at the Royal Marines.

“Everett,” came the soft return. “Ready down there?”

“Yeah, but where in the hell are we going to point these cap pistols?”

“We’ll have to wait until our friends pop smoke for a more detailed sighting, but the preliminary coordinates are as follows.”

Ryan punched in the numbers on the directory system. It had taken him three full minutes to decipher the Cyrillic language, but he finally saw the small diagram that explained it all.

“Preliminary coordinates entered.”

“Okay, now we wait.”

Ryan looked at the two marines.

“If we lose our landing party, I think it only fair to warn you gentlemen that I intend to use those shells against the submarine out there.”

“Look, Commander,” the oldest of the two marines said, “we were shown film once of the old Missouri shooting those big bloody guns of hers — they are quite devastating. I don’t see why we don’t do things the old way.”

“What’s that?” Ryan asked curiously as he saw the smile on the face of the marine take shape.

“Two of these monstrous things will kill every fish man in that area. The concussion alone would kill them. If that is the case, why don’t we save the third shell for our unwanted guest?”

The smile became infectious as Ryan raised the radio to his lips and called Everett and informed him of their new plan.

Someone was going to get shot.

The two men faced each other, and not a word was said between them. Even as Salkukoff’s men gathered up the remaining weapons of the ship’s defenders, men from both forces became silent and hateful. Jack had been worried that the Russian had seen Carl and the others vanish, but thus far, Salkukoff gave no indication that he had. Thus far, the commandos had rounded up seventy-five men in varying states of injuries and anger. The Russian sailors were particularly having a hard time facing the very countrymen who had stabbed them in the back. One of these came close to being executed as he refused to raise his hands to be searched.

“I may assume your Master Chief Jenks and Professor Ellenshaw are in the phase shift engine spaces?” Salkukoff said as he stepped closer to Jack. “Ask them to secure the space and join us, please.”

Jack raised his eyebrows as if he didn’t know what Salkukoff was speaking of.

The Russian nodded toward one of his men. The Russian sailor he grabbed could not have been more than nineteen years of age. Collins and Farbeaux knew what was coming, and they also knew they had to talk as the hammer of the Makarov clicked back as the boy was sent to his knees.

“One more time, ask Dr. Ellenshaw and the master chief to join us, please.”

Collins allowed his eyes to move from the frightened boy to those of Salkukoff.

“Both men are dead. The engine spaces are empty. We had everyone above decks fighting your creatures.”

Salkukoff studied the American for the untruth that would surely be there. He seemed satisfied as he nodded for his men to secure the phase shift engine. The Russian sailor was released.

“Is that what you do now, Colonel — kill all of those in the path of your plans?” Jack asked as he heard sounds coming from the number-three turret and tried his best to cover the noise with his own words.

“The sacrifice of some for the greater good is always acceptable. You know the old tale, Colonel Collins. Or are you that twisted inside that you cannot recognize your own shortcomings?”

“I recognize them and have come to embrace them. But one thing I don’t do is turn on my allies — or my own people, for that matter. You, sir, do. A traitor to his country and fellow soldiers is the lowest form of life and always has been.”

“Noble speak, that is what I like to call it, and that is the particular reason your nations have always been vulnerable: the illusion that you are the force of good in our world. There is no such force, Colonel. And today it will be explained to you in no uncertain terms.” Salkukoff moved away and faced Farbeaux. “Treason, as the old saying goes, is a matter of dates, am I right, Colonel Farbeaux?”

Henri, to his benefit, remained silent.

“Why did you attack our ships?” Jack asked as he again heard more noises coming from the turret and from below, where the carousel and elevator to the armory began to move, transporting powder bags and shells to the turret itself. He knew he needed more time.

“Colonel, it is obvious to those who know how to rule with an iron fist. We cannot have witnesses to our dealings here. Blue diamonds are only a rumor, at least according to you Americans. No one can know how many we have collected. But alas, our mission here has come to an end, and now we have accounts to settle. Even our own people will be forever expendable in the constant endeavor to overcome the failings of our shared Russian history. Yes, they did their duty but will go down as merely missing at sea.” He smiled. “Just as yourselves and your brave Shiloh. An unfortunate way of doing business, I’m afraid, but a necessary one. My associates are now ready to make our move into the world, and you, sir, stand in the way of that. You and all these men. It was a fluke of science that brought us here, but that is why I will attribute that luck to destiny. It is our destiny to move now against the West.”

Jack watched over the Russian’s shoulder as both Peter the Great and Shiloh continued to fight for their lives. Salkukoff saw this, and again he smiled.

“As soon as we conclude our business here, we will sink both ships. A shame, but again, very necessary.”

“Why didn’t you attack Simbirsk?” Farbeaux spoke up for the first time.

Salkukoff laughed as he watched several of the dead defenders of Simbirsk unceremoniously jettisoned over the side.

“I think if given the time, your amazing master chief and your small portable computer, of which I must get a copy, would have figured it out. Our Captain Kreshenko was quickly becoming wise to our only vulnerability.”

“You can’t lock onto this world. You need the constant appearance and disappearance of Simbirsk to lock on to. You can’t duplicate your own science, just like we Americans couldn’t do it in the Philadelphia navy yard in ’43. If you tried to go it alone without Simbirsk, you would randomly come out wherever the phase shift sent you. You can’t duplicate the frequency. USS Eldridge had the same frequency, and when you stole the design, you inadvertently dialed the phase shift to the same frequency.”

“Your Jenks was getting close when he realized that the frequency of any phase shift engine is completely random. It all has to be precise to be useful; otherwise, you end up in even far more hostile worlds than this one. But since we could only come here with any hope of return, thanks to Simbirsk, we had no choice. The blue diamonds were found, and we used the constant phase shifting of Simbirsk to hitch a ride, if you will. Why she never powers down is still a mystery, but she’s become erratic, just as you saw in the North Atlantic, and that was the reason we are pulling the plug, as you Americans say. We didn’t expect her to produce the hurricane the way she did. Something is starting to fail in the phase shift engine. It’s deteriorating at an alarming speed. Her power is shifting our very atmospheric conditions. This is why we were caught off guard when she appeared in the North Atlantic. She has now outlived her usefulness. When she is powered up and we hitch our last ride home with her, she will immediately be scuttled in the deepest part of the Atlantic. And then, because of our missions to this world, we will be on an equal footing where blue diamonds are concerned.”

“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.

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.

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.

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.

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.

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.

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!”

The words yelled over the din of the reversing turbines was God’s answer to their prayers.

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!”

“Ballast control, slow our ascent!”

“Control boards have shorted out, Captain; we have no control.”

Thorne knew he would never have the time to get an accurate fix on their target. The firing solution was being scrambled by their faster-than-normal climb toward the sky. He came to a quick decision.

“Vertical tubes one and two, do we have a firing solution?” he asked his weapons station only eight feet away. He knew his torpedoes would be worthless at this high rate of ascent. It would now be up to his vertical launch system to send their Harpoon missile outward to avenge the death they would soon suffer from the hands of the Russian torpedoes. He had decided that Houston would kill the sub that killed it.

“Fire solution is constant, Skipper!”

“Torpedoes close aboard!”

Houston was traveling straight up, a position the designers at General Dynamics Electric Boat Division had never intended. Thorne didn’t know if the speed of the vertical climb would tear the Harpoons to pieces even before they were fully ejected from their tubes.

“Fire vertical tubes one and two!” Thorne ordered as he waited for the Russian weapons to impact his boat.

“Firing vertical tubes one and two!” Came the answer. “Harpoons have left the tubes, running hot, straight, and normal.”

Thorne knew that at least Houston would get in her death blow to the enemy just as they were sent to a watery grave themselves.

“Conn, sonar, torpedoes have locked onto us, impact in five, four, three, two, one!”

Thorne braced himself for the imminent death coming their way.

Impact. There was a loud bang. Every man flinched, and even a few screamed out. Another hollow-sounding thung sounded throughout the boat. Houston shook and rattled as she was still speeding full bore toward the surface.

“Conn, sonar, no warhead detonation,” came the call in a voice filled with excitement.

Thorne realized what had happened. Houston was breaking a speed record in her uncontrolled nose-up ascent. As he looked at the speed on the readout, he saw they were at fifty-five knots and speeding up. They had risen so fast and closed the distance to their enemy at a speed so unheard of that the enemy weapons had not the time to arm themselves. The Russian torpedoes had slammed into Houston but disintegrated upon impact. No doubt they would find at least one big hole in her skin when and if they surfaced.

“Oh, shit!” Thorne said as he studied the plot. Thorne looked also.

“Hard right rudder, all back full!”

Houston was heading directly at the enemy sub that had fired upon her, and Captain Thorne and XO Devers saw that their evasive orders would never be input before they surfaced right into their enemy.

Houston was doomed. Her speed and nose-up attitude would send them directly into the bottom hull of the enemy.

Carl took a chance and opened fire from the fire directory two hundred feet up. He missed Salkukoff and cursed his hurried aim.

Suddenly, gunfire erupted from several locations as Her Majesty’s Royal Marines came out of hiding.

It was amazing how military men the world over knew exactly when to act. Upon seeing Collins and Farbeaux about to be executed along with the remaining Russian sailors, everyone in hiding broke cover to assist. Bullets were heading in all directions.

Jack reacted without thinking as he leg-whipped the Russian colonel, sending him to the deck. Collins quickly elbowed the colonel and then reached for his fallen weapon. Henri also brought down another of the confused commandos as he ran by. He fell on the man’s back and then slammed his head face-first into the deck, successfully relieving him of his AK-47. The small battle was over in less than thirty seconds.

Jack stood and then started kicking Salkukoff until the man rose to his feet. He smiled at Jack as he moved his right hand toward the radio and hit the transmit switch three times in quick succession. Collins quickly reached out and took the radio and tossed it overboard.

“Too late, Colonel — we will all be dead in less than thirty seconds.”

“What did you do, you maniac?” Henri asked angrily as he unceremoniously popped the Russian in the belly, making him bow from the pain. The Russian started to laugh.

“Thirty seconds is all it takes for a torpedo to cover the short distance to Simbirsk.” He laughed even harder as he straightened up from Henri’s blow to his belly. “If we don’t go back home, none of us will.”

Jack pulled the laughing Salkukoff toward the railing and shook him. Everett joined them after his hurried climb back to the main deck. The Royal Marines were shepherding the remaining commandos into a small group. They only had six of them left, as the rest had been dispatched nicely by Her Majesty’s forces.

“Say good-bye to your friends and the Simbirsk, Colonel Collins, as I prepare to greet my own in that other place we all dream about.”

Jack cursed their luck as he faced the enemy submarine as it readied to end their lives.

Before anyone realized what was happening, a giant water slug broke the surface of the violet seas. The two Harpoon missiles rose three hundred feet into the darkening skies, and then the large weapons rolled over and dove straight down after shedding their outer protective casings. The impact struck the Rostov-on-Don dead center just aft of her sloped conning tower. The large 215-pound warheads of the two UGM-84 Harpoon missiles broke through the heavy steel plate of the submarine and detonated close by the vertical launch tubes with their missiles still inside. Ten other warheads along with the American missiles blew the Rostov-on-Don into two pieces. Water, steel, and other debris shot skyward.

Jack and the others were again thrown from their feet as the amazing rescue of their lives decimated the enemy sub. Salkukoff was shocked to see the Rostov-on-Don disintegrate right before his eyes. Jack hurriedly stood as the wave created by the two halves of the Russian sub struck them. The Simbirsk rolled over, knocking everyone again from their feet. The destruction of Salkukoff’s main asset tossed the seas to the extreme.

In the lower spaces of Simbirsk, something else was reacting to the roll of the giant ship. Europa Jr. was monitoring the phase shift engine to keep it from ramping back up, but as the giant wave of destruction hit Simbirsk, the laptop was thrown from the table and smashed onto the deck. Her lights went out just as the phase shift capacitors began to ramp up. The phase shift engine was once more breathing.

As every man crowded around the railing to see what had just happened, another sight caught their attention. In the middle of the debris-filled spot where the Russian sub had vanished, the ocean shot straight into the air as the seas erupted. The sonar dome of the USS Houston broke the surface and rose into the sky. The black-hulled submarine looked as if it had been shot out of a cannon. She shot up until her weight and gravity brought her back. Houston’s bow slammed back into the sea, and another large wake slammed into the battle cruiser. The attack boat quickly settled into the remains of the Rostov-on-Don. All the world became silent until the eruption of cheers from the Russian sailors and British Marines drowned out the noise of the encroaching storm. Jack looked at Henri and Carl and shook his head.

“I guess we have confirmation on Houston’s whereabouts. It looks like she came along for our little excursion.”

Cheers erupted again as men saw the crew of Houston come into view as they took their stations on the upper conning tower.

Jack smiled as he turned and faced Salkukoff and his look of utter bewilderment.

“Looks like you weren’t the only ones to have a navy out here, huh?”

“I… I… don’t understand.”

“Welcome to the club, asshole; we never understand our luck either, but there you have it,” Carl said as he intentionally slapped Salkukoff on the back as hard as he could, sending the Russian colonel into the top rung of the railing. Then Carl leaned into Jack. “I’ll never, ever curse the submarine service again.”

“I hear that, brother.”

24

Second Captain Dishlakov was the last crewman to be removed from Peter the Great. The amazing thing was the fact that he was escorted off and into a rubber Zodiac by none other than Captain Johnson. As Dishlakov dove feetfirst into the churning sea, it was Johnson who gave him his hand and assisted him into the last boat. The two men faced each other and, having no words to say, just shook hands.

A tremendous explosion inside the sinking Peter the Great sent debris skyward. The great warship finally broke her back, and the stern section twisted to the right and started heading for the bottom of a sea so far from home that most of the survivors could not begin to fathom it.

The Zodiac carrying the last of the Russian crew to depart watched helplessly as the magnificently raked bow of the missile cruiser rose high into the air just as the stern had done, and then slowly start sliding down to her watery grave. Second Captain Dishlakov watched his life vanish before him. Johnson placed a hand on the man’s shoulder as the Zodiac turned and sped away.

As men assisted the survivors aboard the Simbirsk, all attention was now focused on saving USS Shiloh from suffering the same fate as Peter the Great. Her stern was a wreck. The Russian weaponry had managed to punch a hole near her engine spaces, and she was down at the fantail. Her crew was fighting gallantly to save their ship, but from Jack’s perspective, she was fighting a losing battle. Even with damage control crewmen from Houston assisting, Shiloh was going to lose that fight. Collins came to a conclusion that no one was going to like. He turned to Everett.

“Swabby, we can’t take a chance that when we make the attempt to get home, Shiloh won’t break in two during the phase shift. She couldn’t stand the pounding. But you know more about what these cruisers are made up of more than I do. What do you think?”

Carl assisted one of the crewmen from Peter the Great over the railing and then wiped sweat from his brow. He shook his head.

“I say pile everyone on board Simbirsk and Houston and we get the hell out of here.”

Jack concurred. He didn’t look forward to telling Captain Johnson that he was going to have to scuttle his ship. “Get on the horn and inform Captains Dishlakov, Johnson, and Thorne what the plan is.”

Everett nodded and then went to deliver the worst news any commander could ever hear: abandon your efforts to save your ship.

Jack breathed a sigh of relief when he saw Charlie Ellenshaw as he stepped onto the deck of Simbirsk. He watched as Ellenshaw accepted the children saved from the island. Jenks was last to come aboard with the ten marines. He quietly thanked God that none of the landing team was lost. Not that Jenks and Charlie weren’t in trouble anyway, but that would wait for a better time. Jack approached, and Charlie held up a hand before the colonel could speak.

“It was my idea, Colonel.”

“Bullshit, Chuck. It was me,” Jenks countered.

“No, sir, I take full responsibility,” said the lance corporal as he saluted Jack.

Collins only shook his head. He then looked at the six frightened children crowded around Jenks. They were holding his legs as if to keep him from running away. Jack’s anger evaporated as quickly as it came on.

“We’ll discuss this later. Jenks, I need you and Charlie to get below and monitor that phase shift equipment.” He looked around and saw the strange weather pattern that was rapidly developing. The heavy clouds were starting to circle in a most unfamiliar pattern. “And take this ass-hat with you,” he said as he lightly kicked at the man sitting at his feet. Salkukoff said nothing as he was lifted from his feet by two of the American marines. “Chain him up down there, because if anyone survives this thing, I want it to be him. I’m sure his testimony will be rather informative when we get back home.”

“Personally, I think we should leave the bastard here with his fish-faced pirate friends,” Jenks said as he unceremoniously lifted Salkukoff from the deck. The children, with their natural instincts, moved away from Salkukoff and went to Charlie for their protection.

“Charlie, get the children to the empty armory; that will provide them with the best protection when and if this thing goes off.”

Charlie started herding the children away as Jenks pushed Salkukoff toward the hatchway. The Russian stopped and with manacled wrists shook off Jenks’s hold and turned and faced Jack.

“Even if you manage to control the phase shift, do you think bringing me back in chains will do anything to stop our movement?”

Jack smiled as he watched the caged rat before him. “We have some pretty dedicated people from both sides of the Atlantic that will do just that. These men are pretty good at exposing things. I guess we’ll just have to see how your countrymen feel about it when this whole thing goes public.” Jack turned away and then stopped and faced Salkukoff once more. “That is if your own sailors don’t string you up first.”

Salkukoff was about to say something when he noticed the men of his own nation’s navy were staring at him. They had murderous eyes, and their intent was clear. Salkukoff decided to stay quiet. He was pulled into the hatchway by Jenks.

“You know, someday our luck is going to run for cover the way we push it,” Ryan said as he joined Jack.

“Commander, I think our luck ran out when we lost so many during Overlord. I think we’re due a break where luck is concerned.”

“You have a point.”

Farbeaux joined them, and Jack saw the pistol in Henri’s right hand. He charged the weapon as he fixed Collins with that glare that was quickly becoming famous. He could see that the Frenchman was ready to fulfill the task he had been given by the American president and the head of MI6.

“I don’t know if you gentlemen have noticed, but we seem to have developed a rather strange weather pattern in the last half hour.”

Jack and Ryan looked around them and saw that vapor was rising from the sea and going straight up into the air. Before Jack could comment, he got a call on his radio. It was Captain Thorne. Collins lifted his radio and then turned and saw Thorne atop the Houston’s conning tower.

“Collins,” he said.

“Colonel, we are picking up a rise in ambient water temperature. Electrostatic discharge is increasing. From your brief, these look like the same readings we got the last time that shipwreck started to speak.”

Jack looked into the sky and saw that the rate of darkness was increasing. “As of right now, we believe the phase shift engine is disabled. We should know more in the next few minutes. Captain, is Houston capable of diving?”

“Negative. We shot our wad just getting up here. Houston’s diving days are done for now.”

“Captain, we need to get Houston tied down to Simbirsk. When this thing pops, it could crush your boat with her expanding wave of electromagnetic discharge.”

“That doesn’t sound fun. I agree. We can’t take another shot like the first one. This time around she’ll just buckle.”

“How many survivors can you take on from Peter the Great and Shiloh?”

“Hell, we can fit two hundred if we have to. We’re not diving, and our fighting days are done. Too much damage to our systems. We can shove survivors into torpedo tubes if need be.”

“Good. We’ll start transferring men over in the next few minutes. We can’t have everyone in one basket. No personnel above decks or near bulkheads when the phase shift happens.”

“Roger, we’ll be here. Thorne out.”

Jack lowered the radio and saw Captain Johnson approach. Everett was shaking his head as he brought up the rear.

“Why did I just have to order my crew off Shiloh?” Johnson asked. “We can still save her.”

“Captain, I appreciate your position. I know your ship is just as important to you as was Peter the Great to Second Captain Dishlakov, but she would never be able to stand the pounding of the shift. You’ll lose her. We already have a sub that can’t dive that may be blown apart by the power of this engine.”

“But—”

“Sorry, Captain, but this is my call. No more is to be risked.”

“I have one request, Colonel Collins,” Dishlakov said, breaking into the objections by Johnson. Jack waited. “My men and I will take full responsibility, but we cannot allow that man to return with us.”

“By ‘that man,’ I suppose you mean Salkukoff?”

“Yes,” came the blunt and angry answer.

“He’s needed back home, Captain.”

Dishlakov was angered, but his objection was interrupted by Charlie as he broke from the hatchway. He was gesturing wildly as he ran toward the officers.

“Get everyone below!”

“Doc, calm down,” Carl said as he took hold of Ellenshaw.

“Europa was smashed during the battle, and she’s not in control of the phase shift engine. The master chief says she’s about to blow her top. She’s getting ready to transition again.”

“Damn it,” Jack said as he raised the radio and handed it to Johnson. “Order Shiloh abandoned, now.”

Johnson saw the fear in the colonel’s eyes and accepted the radio and started giving orders. Then he handed the radio back, and he and Dishlakov ran to expedite the order themselves.

“Captain Thorne, this thing is about to blast off, and we are nowhere near ready. Do you have a working torpedo?”

“One and one only. We lost the ability to get air pressure into the tubes on our latest ascent. But yes, we do.”

“As soon as the all clear is given, put one into Shiloh.”

The silence from Thorne was long. Jack knew the captain was having a hard time coming to grips with scuttling the proud missile cruiser.

“I wish you had given me any order but that one.” Again, silence for thirty seconds. “Will do. Awaiting signal.”

A streak of lightning illuminated the darkening skies. As they watched, the clouds began circling at a much faster rate.

“Jesus!” Ryan yelled as he quickly removed his hands from the steel railing. “Electricity is coursing through this ship.”

“We don’t have the time we need,” Jack said as he faced Everett and Henri. “Get everyone belowdecks.” He raised the radio. “Plans have changed, Captain. Get your crew belowdecks and into the most protected areas you can. Captain Thorne, abort the plan; Shiloh has to ride out the storm.”

The wind picked up by forty miles per hour as the still-flaming Shiloh started sounding her emergency warning horns. Jack saw the crew of Shiloh start to abandon their fire hoses and start belowdecks. There were still over a hundred men aboard her.

“Jenks, where do we stand?” he asked into the radio.

“This thing is ramping up, and there is nothing I can do to stop it. It’s like it has a mind of its own. I’ve pulled every coil I could, but that didn’t buy us any time. She’s powering up, and there’s not a damn thing I can do to stop it short of sinking this relic.”

Another deep rumble and the sky above them burst forth with the greatest electrical display anyone had ever seen. The seas became choppy, and the violet-colored water started coming over the side of Simbirsk in waves. The sky was swirling in that sickening pattern they had all seen before. It looked as if they could see the mist of ocean rising into the sky as if reinforcing the storm high above. Men above decks were getting shocked as they grasped railings and other steel parts of the exposed ship.

“Get below!” Everett screamed at the men who had assisted the last of Peter the Great’s crew aboard.

Henri was pushing and screaming in Russian for the men to protect themselves.

Jack figured they had two hundred survivors aboard Simbirsk and over three hundred on the heavily damaged Shiloh. Thorne had picked up another hundred and secured them below. They were flat out of time.

“We got to go, Jack!” Everett said as he held the hatchway open. Henri got the last of the Russian personnel below and then turned with Everett and waited for the colonel.

“That’s it, Colonel,” Ryan said. “We’ve done all we can!” he said, trying to raise his voice over the power of the rapidly developing storm.

Collins looked up as the heavy rain began, and it was déjà vu all over again. Water was rising into the sky, and electrical discharge raced through the black clouds that expanded into an even wider pattern. He could feel the Simbirsk pulsing under his feet. He looked toward Houston and saw that Thorne was still up top and was easing Houston closer to Simbirsk. He pushed Ryan toward the stern of the Russian ship.

“Come on — we have to tie off Houston to Simbirsk; otherwise, the phase shift forces will rip her apart.”

Jack and Ryan fought with the heavy ropes as the deck crew of Houston tossed the ropes that would secure her to Simbirsk. They were soon joined by several marines and sailors as they disobeyed orders and the team braved the killing elements of the storm as they fought with the heavy lines. Everett was there with Henri, and they finally managed to secure Houston for their ride home — hopefully.

With a last look at Shiloh and Captain Johnson as he vanished into the bridge section of the still-flaming Shiloh, Jack realized that they were as ready as they would ever be. How many more men would they lose with the unstable phase shift? He couldn’t calculate the odds that they would all make it back. He raised the radio once last time.

“Houston, check in.”

“Houston is ready,” Thorne said as he vanished below the conning tower and into the deepest sections of the submarine.

He looked toward the burning Shiloh. “Captain Johnson, are you secure?”

“I’ll never be secure again, but for now, we’re as secure as we can get. I hope you don’t mind if I place a complaint on your methods of transportation?”

“You’ll have to stand in line for that, Captain. Good luck. Jenks?”

“Jenks here,” came the hurried reply.

“Abandon the engine spaces and get as far belowdecks as the rest.”

“What about this Ruskie?”

Jack nodded at Henri. “I have someone coming down to take charge of that.”

“Roger, I am so outta here!” Jenks said as the radio went dead. Jack shook it, but there was nothing. The electromagnetic pulse was flaring to life.

The skies overhead circled at a speed that was terrifying. Collins took Henri by the arm.

“If it looks like we might not make it, follow your orders. That bastard doesn’t deserve the same fate as these men. Put a bullet where it belongs.”

Henri only nodded as he, Everett, Ryan, and Jack turned and made for the open hatchway.

Simbirsk, Shiloh, and Houston started to move in a wide circle as the storm magnified the power of the phase shift.

For twenty miles around the tethered ships, the sea shot straight into the air and then settled once more as the buildup to the shift became unstoppable. The engine was so powerful that it changed the very fabric of the atmosphere.

Jack and the others, with the exception of Farbeaux, went to the battle bridge and made sure to stay away from the solid steel bulkheads. Henri went below with the intention of finishing what it was they were here for.

Once again all three vessels started getting pliable and warped beneath the onslaught of the shift.

The sky exploded overhead, and then the two elements met in an explosion of the magnitude of a detonating nuclear warhead.

Phase shift occurred less than four seconds after.

Jack saw the ship turn almost transparent. This time, his senses had not been caught off guard as they had been on the initial phase shift. He felt the deck beneath his feet grow soft and pliant, but he didn’t fight the strange sensation and allowed his feet to remain planted. Everett made the mistake of touching the old helmsman’s station, and his hand went completely through it. He lost his balance, but Ryan stopped his fall. Both men felt the nausea running through them. It hit Jack next. He felt his gorge rise, and his brain felt like it had exploded with a massive headache. All around him, the world spun.

Belowdecks, Jenks and Charlie were with the six orphaned children of Compton’s Reef as they huddled with the rest of the Russian and British crew of Simbirsk. Just before the phase shift started, Jenks had herded everyone he could into the solid steel armory. It was a tight squeeze, but everyone had made it in. Even Second Captain Dishlakov, with pistol out, was standing over a sitting Salkukoff and his remaining three men. Two of the Russian marines from Peter the Great also had him covered. As far as Dishlakov was concerned, Salkukoff was going to pay one way or the other for his treachery.

Jenks was watching Henri Farbeaux just as the transition of the phase shift started. The master chief didn’t really care for the look in the Frenchman’s eyes. He stood, unlike the others, as if he were a burglar waiting for the lights to go out. With his suspicions on Henri’s intent, he pulled the children closer to him. Charlie Ellenshaw had the inspiration to place a large rubber mat absconded from the mess facilities of the Simbirsk on the steel deck in the hopes it would provide the children with some comfort for the short but miserable ride back.

Then the effects hit with a shock to everyone’s senses. The children froze as first the wave of nausea hit them and then the sick feeling of electricity coursed through their small bodies. Jenks was proud as the children hugged him and held on, not making a sound. Then the bulkheads seemed to vanish, and it was like they were sitting on the ocean’s surface. It was still violet in color. The illusion was so real, it seemed Jenks could just reach out and place a hand on its cold surface.

“Oh, God,” Charlie said as he felt his backside slowly sink into the steel hull.

It was Dishlakov who saved Charlie from becoming a permanent fixture of Simbirsk. He reached out, grabbing Charlie’s hand and losing his Makarov pistol at the same time. He pulled for all he was worth and caught the professor just as the hull resolidified. Then the armory was filled with all the colors of the rainbow, and every man inside the battle cruiser felt the falling rain from the storm outside the confines of the phase shift. None of them knew it but would later guess that at that very moment they had begun to transition from one world to the next.

When the thunderous sound of static electricity filing the armory, Henri felt his vision go into a tunnel effect as he again lost his balance and fell forward. The pistol he had hidden behind his back flew from his hand as a fast-thinking Russian sailor reached for Farbeaux just after he came into contact with the deck. The young man pulled Henri in and held on for dear life and with a silent prayer to a God that might not even inhabit this bizarre world.

Dishlakov still had his back turned when Salkukoff saw Henri lose his weapon. Thinking quickly and with a murderer’s eye for survival, he reached out and with a booted foot slid the pistol toward him. One of his last remaining men saw what he was attempting and assisted by kicking the nine millimeter behind Salkukoff far enough to where he could grasp it with his manacled hand. Before he could congratulate himself, a large hand circled around his wrist, and he felt the bone snap.

A large Russian sailor with a machinist rank embroidered on his sleeve stood above Salkukoff and shook his head as the smaller man held back his scream of anger and pain. Salkukoff looked away when he saw that his fellow countryman would have no qualms of crushing the life right out of him.

Before the large Russian could seat himself again, the world around them flared to white light, and then they and the battle cruiser Simbirsk disappeared.

In the battle bridge, Jack felt his legs grow weak as he tried to focus his attention on Ryan and Everett. The bridge suddenly flared to brilliant life and sound. Collins felt his ears pop several times in rapid succession. Multicolored bands of light filled the bridge like an expanding fan, and then the world just vanished.

Will Mendenhall stood with Dutch Admiral Andersson and Captain McAvoy on the bridge wing of Nimitz. The search for the missing ships had found nothing. They discovered wreckage from the destroyer De Zeven, but thus far that had been it. F-18 Hornets crisscrossed the skies as the search continued.

Will felt his patience at the slow progress of the search growing thin. He had been aboard for only one full day and thus far had not one good thing to pass on to the Group about their chances of finding their missing ships and their friends. He wiped his face in frustration. His angered disposition was interrupted by a messenger who passed along a message flimsy to Admiral Andersson. He read it and then gave it over to Captain McAvoy.

“How far out are they?” McAvoy asked the messenger.

“Radar places them three hundred miles from our battle group. We also have the Russians asking permission to join the search.”

Admiral Andersson turned his attention to the four Russian cruisers and the five helicopters that had joined them the previous day. Needless to say, feelings were running high and tensions even higher.

“Another group?” he asked.

“Yes, sir, this group consists of Russian high brass.”

“That’s all we need,” Andersson said as he looked at Will Mendenhall. “You don’t have anything to do with this first group, do you?”

“Look, Admiral, you got a copy of my orders. I’m here to observe, and that’s all I know.”

The admiral looked at the army officer with skepticism. “And this second group of Russians? Nothing there either?”

“No, sir, I have no idea.”

Another runner popped his head into the bridge wing.

“Captain, CIC is reporting a rise in sea temperature, and winds are increasing. They recommend bringing in our CAP and search aircraft.”

“Do so, will you, Captain? This is starting to have a familiar ring to it.”

Will didn’t know exactly what it was they were speaking of. Then lightning lit up the already bright afternoon sky. He ducked as the bolts hit in several locations simultaneously.

Suddenly, Nimitz rocked on her keel. Waves began to hit the large warship with punishing blows. Men hurried to secure exposed aircraft, as the weather had turned so suddenly that Andersson and McAvoy became aware that whatever was happening was a familiar scenario as when they had lost ships from both the Russian side and their own.

“Admiral, we have massive activity thirty miles to the north,” the announcement came. The admiral looked through his field glasses and saw the large swell of sea and the circling clouds above it. Before he knew what to say or order, the world came crashing inward. The black clouds to the north burst down into the sea.

Will Mendenhall saw what was happening, and his tension ratcheted up with the other officers on board.

Then it happened. They saw the wall of water as it came in from the north. It swelled and then dropped. It rose and then fell. The actions made the Nimitz rise and fall with the seas. Mendenhall hung on for everything he was worth. Then the sound of ten thousand exploding bombs erupted around them. The sun was blotted out, and even the Russian ships that had joined them in their search one day ago had to turn their ships into the wind and swells. The sea once more settled, and just when they thought the event was over, the giant carrier rode high on a wave and then came crashing down with steel-wrenching power. Then all was silent.

Andersson was helped to his feet by Mendenhall, who was more confused by what just happened than anyone aboard.

“What in the hell just happened?” Will asked as McAvoy also rose back to his feet. He only shook his head.

“Captain, CIC, we have three new contacts on radar, thirty-five miles out, bearing three-one-seven degrees.”

McAvoy picked up the bridge phone. “Speed and course?”

“Zero speed, zero course; they’re just sitting there.”

“How is my air cover?”

“Shaken but still in the air.”

“Get me some eyes on target.”

“Vectoring search aircraft now.”

“Also order cruisers Sheffield and Saratoga forward toward the contact. Patch the CAP communications directly to us.”

“Aye, patching through communications.”

As they waited, Will couldn’t help but shake his head. Three contacts for six missing vessels was not a good sign. All he could do was pray for his missing friends. The wait was agonizing.

“Rough Rider One, this is Ghost Lead, over.”

“Ghost Lead, this is Rough Rider, over.”

The three officers waited as the radio played out their hopeful song.

“Rough Rider, we have three ships in bad shape. One of them is the Houston, one is Shiloh, and the third is not identifiable.”

McAvoy picked up the bridge phone once more. “All rescue elements head to target area, all ahead flank. Bring Nimitz into the wind. I want alert one fighters in the air in five. Rescue choppers launch immediately. All medical teams stand by for immediate transport. I want five damage control teams ready to board the damaged ships. All stations, general quarters. Communications, inform the Russian search elements of the situation, but warn them to stay clear, as we have air operations close aboard. Get off a secure communiqué to NATO command; inform them of the situation and ask for instructions in dealing with our Russian friends.”

McAvoy relayed the request from Andersson.

“Rough Rider, this is Ghost Lead, over.”

“Go, Ghost Lead, over,” answered the CIC.

“We see survivors taking to the open decks, over.”

Will Mendenhall closed his eyes, hoping that Jack, Carl, Jenks, Charlie, and even Farbeaux were among those survivors.

“Go ahead, son, and grab some flight gear and catch one of the medical choppers. Army officers give me hay fever anyway.”

Will smiled and then saluted the Dutch admiral and left the bridge just as the general quarters alarm started flaring to life.

The USS Nimitz turned into the wind, and F-18 fighters and Seahawk helicopters started lifting free of her expansive deck.

The search had suddenly turned into rescue operations, and every man aboard was grateful for that.

Over twenty miles away to the south, fifteen Russian warships turned toward the rescue site as well.

The real confrontation was about to start.

Mendenhall was amazed at the scene. Circling helicopters from Nimitz and the missile cruiser USS Ticonderoga were busy dropping men and firefighting equipment onto the decks of both Houston and Shiloh. Will saw that none of the assets were headed for the old Russian cruiser, which was currently listing at least ten degrees to her port side.

As the Seahawk circled, he examined the damage to Shiloh and figured that she would never face the open sea again. Her stern was completely gone up to the aft missile battery. She was aflame, and before a search for any survivors could begin, they had to take control of her fires.

Finally, they saw the first of Shiloh’s seamen emerge from belowdecks. Will stopped counting when he reached a hundred. He whistled and then heard the copilot exclaim that they had movement on Houston. Mendenhall saw who he assumed to be Houston’s Captain Thorne in the high conning tower gesturing that their damage control efforts should be concentrated on Shiloh’s condition.

Mendenhall spoke into the mic on his helmet. “No radio communication?”

The copilot turned in his seat and just shook his head.

“The Simbirsk, set me down there.”

“No can do, sir — no place to land this thing. We would have to winch you down. Besides, we have orders to stay clear of the Russian vessel by NATO command.”

“Damn it, I need to get down there!” Will said as he came close to losing his patience with cautionary orders from NATO brass. He knew if his friends survived, they would have been right in the thick of it. “Look, get me closer for a look-see.”

Mendenhall couldn’t believe what it was he was contemplating.

The Seahawk swung low over the water and approached Simbirsk from the stern. It hovered momentarily as the pilot examined the fantail for a safe landing zone for later. Will saw his opportunity. He unsnapped his harness, and then, tossing the helmet aside, he pushed his way past the naval crew chief.

“Captain, what in the hell are you—”

That was as far as the crew chief got as Will went through the open doorway and fell feetfirst into the choppy sea. With the weather clearing, he knew he stood at least a fifty-fifty chance of surviving.

“What in the hell?” the pilot said as he felt the sudden shift of weight to his bird.

“I can’t believe it; that army captain just jumped overboard.”

The pilot veered the Seahawk away from Simbirsk and rose back into the sky to see if they could get eyes on Mendenhall.

“Damn army’s full of nuts these days!” the pilot growled.

Mendenhall found the gangway. It looked as if it had just been laid down for him. He slowly brought himself out of the water and climbed. Remembering the photo from the Eldridge file, he removed his nine millimeter from his shoulder holster as he took the steps two at a time.

Will had just made it to the main deck when he saw the blood. It looked as if a major action had taken place not long before, and as he realized this, his heart began to sink. The sun broke free of the cloud cover as the skies rapidly cleared of rain and wind.

Mendenhall almost screamed when a bullhorn sounded from somewhere up above him.

“Who gave you permission to board this ship, mister?”

“Ah!” he said as his eyes went high.

Everett smiled from on high as he was joined by the colonel and Ryan.

“A little late for the prom, aren’t you?” Ryan yelled down.

Mendenhall was very tempted to raise the nine millimeter and point it at Jason, but he smiled instead and then holstered his weapon. He closed his eyes in silent thanks for getting his friends back home again.

“If you guys are done yachting, can we go home now?”

Four hours later, the rescue was complete. Admiral Andersson had ordered Shiloh to be taken in tow, and she was mated with her sister Aegis missile cruiser, Ticonderoga, and was already sliding lazily through the sea alongside Nimitz.

With the assistance of the engineering departments of both Ticonderoga and Nimitz, Houston was able to restore power to her planes and her defensive systems. She couldn’t dive, but that didn’t faze the crew one bit; they were ready to head for Norfolk and home. She was pacing the battle group as they turned south with the Simbirsk in tow by the naval support ship, USS Hannaford. The submarine was under guard with the German destroyer Lutjens and the Dutch frigate Vulcan riding shotgun until she could see her home port once more.

The officers of all combat vessels involved in the incident were safely transported to Nimitz. Jack, Carl, Jason, a bruised Henri Farbeaux, and Charlie Ellenshaw joined by Captain Johnson, Second Captain Dishlakov, and Captain Thorne sat tiredly inside a closed-off section of the hangar deck. A manacled Salkukoff sat in a chair in a far corner, having his broken wrist looked after by a navy corpsman. His remaining men were ensconced in Nimitz’s rather barren brig, guarded by angry marines.

Coffee and sandwiches were passed around much to the relief of the extremely hungry men.

“Where is Jenks?” Jack asked as he took a heavenly bite of a chicken sandwich.

Charlie, looking haggard and less enthusiastic about joining field teams ever again, sipped coffee and looked at Jack.

“The children wouldn’t let him go. He is with them right now in sick bay. He said he would join us as soon as he can.” Charlie again took a sip of coffee and then looked back at the colonel. “You know, if I didn’t know better, I would think that the master chief actually found something he doesn’t despise outside of Virginia.” He smiled. “It’s kind of creepy seeing him with those kids — it’s like he respects them or something.”

Collins smiled and patted Ellenshaw on the back.

“Don’t worry, Doc. I’m sure he’ll be back to his old self once we get home, all miserable and grumpy again.”

“Yeah,” Charlie said, perking up at the prospect of Jenks becoming nonhuman once again.

“Attention!” one of the marine guards called out.

All but Charlie stood as Admiral Andersson and Captain McAvoy entered the sealed hangar deck.

“At ease, gentlemen, at ease,” Andersson said as he went from man to man with the captain of Nimitz and shook each man’s hand.

“I can’t imagine what you have been through. You’re back in safe hands now.” Andersson nodded at the marine guard, and the two left the hangar deck and sealed it once more. “Gentlemen, please, take a seat.” The admiral took an offered chair from McAvoy, and both men sat and faced those who had come back from the grave. “First off, this is not a debrief. That will be conducted at Norfolk. We are here for another reason. We are about to be joined by my counterpart in the Red Banner Northern Fleet and other representatives of the Russian government. We also have NATO representatives arriving in minutes. I just wanted to warn you that the proceedings could get”—he leaned over and whispered into the ear of McAvoy—“as you Americans say, nasty. At the moment, we have three Kirov-class missile cruisers and five destroyers heading our way. They asked permission to board, and on orders from the president of the United States, I have given my permission.”

Jack looked over at Salkukoff and saw he was paying attention, and he didn’t like the look of relief he saw there. He looked at Henri, who had also noticed the look of satisfaction. He had explained to Jack that Salkukoff was nearing his end when the phase shift hit and he had lost his opportunity.

“Stand by to recover rotary aircraft,” came the loud announcement from above them.

“I expect that is our guests arriving,” Andersson said.

“Admiral, may I ask the condition and disposition of my remaining crew?” Dishlakov asked.

“Second Captain, I assure you they are being well treated and fed.”

“Inside your brig, perhaps?” Dishlakov asked with doubt framing the question.

“Your crew is with the remaining marines and sailors of Shiloh. As I said, your brave crew is being well treated. I don’t think we could separate the crews even if we wanted to.”

Dishlakov nodded.

The large panel door opened, and a US Marine stepped inside and allowed four men to enter. Then the large marine approached Admiral Andersson.

“Admiral, your guests have arrived.”

Anderson and McAvoy both rose and stood erect as they faced the four civilian-dressed Russians.

“I am Admiral Andersson—”

“Yes, Admiral, we are well aware of who you are, sir. Your commission in the Dutch navy has not gone unnoticed, especially being named to this farce called Operation Reforger IV. It would seem that when it comes to legalities, the Americans would prefer an officer from another country to take the fall; thus, they named you as overall commander. A convenient scapegoat.”

Andersson sat instead of remaining standing. He was told to expect that the Russians would be in a position of accusation.

“I am Dr. Leoniv Vassick. My colleagues are General Komsky, General Petrovsky, and Dr. Anton Garlitz.” The three other men didn’t have the courtesy to nod. They just stood behind the speaker, Vassick.

“I am told you are here to explain why it is you fired on our naval assets three days ago?” Andersson said with a neutral face.

The middle-aged man with silvering hair and the impressive man in the black suit smiled and then took a seat, and the other two Russians quickly followed suit.

“Let us not play games here, Admiral. You know we are here to take back Russian state property. We will not leave this area without the Simbirsk in tow. If you refuse our request, we have the naval firepower to assist us in this endeavor.” The man looked purposefully over at the line of chairs and then at Jack in particular. His eyes lingered a moment longer than necessary before moving away. “But let us not be militaristic here, Admiral. We need not resort to such horrid conclusions as open warfare. Just surrender our property, and we shall return to our shores, and our friendship will still be intact.”

“And what of your man over there who caused the death of over three hundred of my crew aboard Peter the Great? He also has to answer for the cold-blooded murder of fellow Russian scientist Gervais and Captain Kreshenko, who this man murdered in his sleep.”

All eyes went to Second Captain Dishlakov as he suddenly stood and pointed toward the seated and handcuffed Salkukoff.

“This matter will be taken up upon our return home. Colonel Salkukoff will answer to us and us alone.” The words from Leonid Vassick were uttered in a cold and calculated voice, but Jack could see that the coldness was not directed at Salkukoff but was pointedly aimed at Second Captain Dishlakov. Jack figured this whole disaster would be placed squarely on the shoulders of the expendable second captain.

“They’re going to hang everything on Dishlakov, Jack,” Carl whispered beside him.

Collins merely nodded, as he had become used to he and Everett coming to the same conclusions in roughly the same time frame. In other words, they were both becoming experts at smelling out a rat.

“Now, Admiral, the business at hand is our state property and your willingness to acquiesce to our demand.”

To his credit, Admiral Andersson, an old salt at seeing the truth of Russian threats and statements, remained silent and noncommittal. Instead of answering, he nodded toward Second Captain Dishlakov.

“We have the testimony of not only the second captain here but the testimony of your deceased Captain Kreshenko.” For emphasis, Admiral Andersson gestured to Captain McAvoy, who held up the logbook of Peter the Great. “In these pages, you will find the true culprit of this sordid tale. One of murder and international interference from an unknown entity inside your government. It seems even Captain Kreshenko had his doubts about your Colonel Salkukoff’s motives and his disposition to the well-being and safety of his own citizens.”

“That logbook is also Russian state property. Second Captain Dishlakov has once again proven his disloyalty. It is a crime to turn this or any Russian naval logbook over to any Western power.”

“I gave the logbook to the admiral.”

All eyes went to Henri Farbeaux, who stood from his chair. Jack and Everett were caught off guard. Ryan silently whistled under his breath.

“I removed it from the captain’s quarters the night he was murdered by this man.”

“Once a thief, always a thief. Isn’t that right, Colonel Farbeaux? Believe me, your actions in this matter have been discussed at the highest levels of our government,” Vassick said as he brushed at nonexistent lint on his pant leg. The other Russians remained silent.

Henri, instead of answering to his charge, merely smiled and half bowed to his Russian accuser.

“Regardless, as the corresponding international agreements on salvage, this logbook is now the property of The Hague, where it will be entered into evidence for our forthcoming fight over the rights of the sea and salvage.”

Vassick huffed and smiled. “I gather you have not received information from your outer naval pickets of our intent to regain that which is ours. One of the more powerful Russian fleets in years is sitting on your doorstep with the intention of either escorting Simbirsk back home, or, in the failure of that, sinking her and any other vessel that is making the attempt to steal her.”

“Threats at this late date, Doctor? Do you think NATO will allow that fleet to get anywhere near this group?”

Jack didn’t care for the way this confrontation was heading. The threats of war erupting over this ancient experiment were getting out of hand. He felt powerless to stop it.

“We will retake our property, Admiral,” Vassick repeated, reinforcing the standoff.

Again, a US Marine entered the hangar deck and made his way to Captain McAvoy and handed him a message flimsy. The captain read it once and then twice. His brows rose, and then he handed the flimsy to the admiral, who also took his time reading it. He folded the message and then nodded at the marine, who left abruptly. Almost simultaneously, two marines brought in two more folding chairs and placed them directly in front of the Russian contingent.

“Gentlemen, with the exception of Colonel Collins, Captain Everett, Colonel Farbeaux, and Second Captain Dishlakov, would you please excuse us?” The admiral looked taken back for some reason. Jack and Carl exchanged looks that said they were just as confused as Admiral Andersson, who rose with the others and followed Captain McAvoy from the closed-off section of the hangar deck. Overhead, the ominous sound of F-18 Hornets and F-35 fighters being launched into the sky rumbled in the cavernous hangar. Suddenly, it was Jack, Carl, Henri, and Dishlakov sitting alone with the Russians. The room was silent except for what sounded like increased activity on the flight deck high above them.

The hatchway opened once more, and then two marines appeared and, with little effort involved, assisted a wheelchair-bound man over the hatch coming. The small, dark-haired man nodded his thanks and then rolled into the room.

Again, Jack and Carl exchanged looks of confusion as Dr. Xavier Morales rolled to a stop in front of the Russian contingent.

The room was silent as the next two people entered. Jack felt his jaw muscles seize up as he saw his own director, Niles Compton, with cane in hand as he stepped into the hangar. Then he was followed by none other than Virginia Pollock. Both went to the chairs that had been placed for them. All three faced the Russian contingent. The director was dressed in a plain blue suit and Virginia in a pantsuit that held for the viewer nothing but a business impression. Xavier was dressed in simple slacks and even had a tie on. Crooked, Jack saw, but a tie nonetheless.

Vassick smiled and then turned to his companions and said something in Russian. The others nodded. The first marine to have entered returned with a large-screen monitor absconded from the admiral’s quarters. He placed it on a steel rolling table and then left the hangar. The room became deathly silent as everyone, including Jack, Carl, Henri, and even the Russians, was confused at this sudden change of personnel onto this politically charged stage. Jack didn’t know it, but the three people had flown supersonic over the continental United States and then transferred to four of the navy’s newest jump jets, the F-35, and again flew supersonic to get out here to the North Atlantic.

Virginia stunned and silenced the Russians by saying something in their native tongue to their guests. They saw Vassick raise a brow and then nod his head in agreement to something she said. Niles remained silent as he studied his counterpart across from him.

“Yes, Doctor, we can speak English, if that is what you prefer. We know your Drs. Compton and Morales do not speak our language, and we do so need their input in the upcoming matters.”

Virginia nodded and then went silent as both groups observed the other. It was Niles who cleared his throat and then placed his small case on the steel deck.

“You seem to know all about us, Dr. Vassick.”

“For years, Dr. Compton, it has been my duty to learn such things. Perhaps you have a particular understanding of that?”

Compton said nothing. Instead he looked with his one good eye at the men before him.

“I am here at the authorization of the president of the United States, who has tasked me with the duties we will describe here in a few minutes. May I ask, sir, who you represent?”

Vassick smiled as the game began. “Of course. I am here representing the rights of the Russian people and that of our shared heritage. Thus, we want our property back.”

Niles exchanged looks with Xavier, who rolled a few feet closer to the Russian contingent.

“You do, as my director says, know an awful lot about us. But we also have learned quite a lot about you, sir. For instance, we have discovered that you are operating without the knowledge of your highest levels of government. We know that you have been doing so since the fall of 1941. We also know that you and a select group of individuals have committed high treason right under the noses of the Soviet and Russian governments.”

“And of course, Dr. Morales, you have indisputable proof of this?”

“Not at all. It is mere conjecture and circumstantial.”

“I suspect this comes from that magnificent computing system your group employs. Bravo on your guesswork. This system”—he stopped and leaned over as one of his aids spoke to him in Russian—“ah, yes, Europa. As I was saying, without evidence and actual proof of anything, you cannot harm us. As we”—again the irritating smile—“cannot prove beyond a doubt that your group exists. So here we are, Doctor, both entities standing and shouting to the winds.”

Morales smiled in return. “What is your goal?”

“Why, to protect our citizens and our heritage. Just as your group proclaims in its charter.”

Niles cleared his throat and then faced down Vassick. Jack leaned forward in his chair. He knew Dr. Compton took the secrecy of the Group very seriously and the knowledge that their secret was now out in the open, at least to these people, and now he was playing a hidden card that Jack himself could not figure out.

“We can sit here and rattle sabers all day long, but that will get us into nothing but open warfare. And that, sir, is one battle you cannot allow to happen. That would take too much explaining to your real government, not this hidden society you claim is running things. As Dr. Morales said a moment ago, sir, we also know quite a bit about you.”

“Please continue, Dr. Compton.”

“As it stands, your influence with the Russian military is expansive and supported from within your tight circle of confidants. But you still work with a hidden agenda, whereas we do not. We work under the auspices of the United States government, as I’m sure you know.”

Jack watched as Xavier wheeled over to the monitor and turned it on. He used a small laptop that looked strangely like the small Europa link lost by them. He hit a few buttons, and the face of an aged man came into focus. Morales nodded at Niles.

“Sir, we now have a guess as to who it is you answer for. This group is called the Northstar Committee.”

“A group I am not familiar with,” Vassick said as his face remained neutral.

“Well, as I said, everything we have is circumstantial. I’m sure that this fact will be a big relief to the rest of your associates. But we did get evidence that the methods used in your efforts to steal the phase shift information were flawed. You left fingerprints at the scene. The radioactive material from the breeder reactor, as you know, is identifiable and was indeed stolen from the Hanford research facility in 1943.”

“Your point in this matter is?”

“That the phase shift engine is the sole property of the United States government, and we wish it returned. It makes no matter that the system is installed inside Russian state property or not. Our science along with your own can find the nuclear fingerprint inside the phase shift engine on board Simbirsk. Now, we can make this an issue in the world court, or you can admit to your theft right here and now.”

Jack smelled that old familiar odor of rat once more. He didn’t know what it was Niles was playing at, but he did suspect that Compton was running one of the biggest bluffs of his life.

“Admit? I am not in one of your courts of law, Doctor. I do say this and always have. Your department is very resourceful at recovery — items of history and items of information. But as I said, this is all hearsay and speculation. The Northstar Committee has always been a rumor, one that has been shot down by most conspiracy theorists within our borders. I will say this: every premier, every president since the days of the old Soviet Union, has investigated these claims, and they have always fallen far short of that rumor. Oh, even now they still suspect, but even if proven, there is nothing that can be done about it. We control the Russian military, and the funny thing is, Doctor, they have no idea.”

Niles turned away from the Russian and looked directly at Second Captain Dishlakov. “Sir, on behalf of the president of the United States, we offer you asylum in our country.”

Dishlakov stood and nodded. He looked from Compton to Jack and then to Vassick.

“I thank you for the offer,” he said in Russian, which was translated by Virginia to Niles and the others. “But I am not a coward. My people must learn the truth about these arrogant and dangerous men. I cannot accept your gracious offer.” He sat back down, and he again looked Jack’s way, and he could only nod in understanding. He would do the same thing if it were him.

“Again, you are wasting your time. You will not win this battle. You have”—Vassick looked at his gold wristwatch—“exactly thirty minutes to comply with our request, or we can settle things militarily. This point is up to you.”

“As you said, your power is derived from secrecy of your hidden group. That you would control all aspects of your government through your committee members. Well, it may not be that secret any longer. Your little speech has been viewed by a colleague of yours who is now an interested party to your committee’s deceit since 1941.”

At this point, Xavier Morales rolled his old-fashioned wheelchair over to the monitor and then flipped a switch, and a blank screen came up. Then Xavier typed information into the laptop he had installed on the arm of his chair. He turned in his wheelchair and nodded at Niles.

“Second Captain Dishlakov, your refusal to assist these men and your refusal to seek asylum will not go unnoticed. I assume you will still be alive in the coming months and years as your government figures out what it is they have to do about this rogue element within the sanctity of your national borders. The US government is bowing out of this situation by order of our president.”

“That is most wise,” Vassick said as his intense gaze fell on the Russian captain.

Jack and the others saw the faintest hint of a smile curl at the director’s mouth.

“Mr. President, are you there?” Niles said as he turned to the monitor.

“So, now you think we will bow to your president, Doctor? What makes you think this?” Vassick said with the smile still on his face. “We know that he is powerless to pursue any remedy for my group of patriots.”

“Who said anything about our president?”

“Uh-oh,” Carl said loud enough to be heard. Jack only smiled as the bluff came full circle in a confused mess that Compton would have to explain to simple soldiers like he and Carl.

The color drained from the face of Dr. Vassick as the screen came to full-color life.

The face of Russian president Vladimir Putin was there live for all to see. He was sitting next to a man they all assumed was an English-speaking interpreter. But Jack figured rightly that he hadn’t needed one for what it was he had just heard confessed to. The Russian ruler said something in a calm voice, and then the man sitting next to him spoke.

“I am indeed here, Doctor. Your president was very forthright in insisting I join this meeting.”

“Did you understand all that was discussed here, sir?” Compton continued, with his one good eye never leaving his counterpart.

Vassick lost that arrogant smile of his as he realized for the first time in his committee’s history they had admitted to their treason in full view of Russian authority.

“Yes, I believe we have serious internal discussions we will have to have on state security matters. I have made the appropriate arrangements with your navy, and our response, I understand, has arrived aboard your carrier.” The interpreter became silent as Putin, a man despised in the Western circles of government, stared into the screen.

Jack realized that a plan had been formulated between himself and Lord James Durnsford, the bow-tied little Brit who knew more than anyone in the world as far as secret government agencies went. Collins smiled and shook his head as he reminded himself never to allow the best bluffer in the world in the stubby form of one Niles Compton into their weekly poker game. He looked at the seated Russian agent Salkukoff and winked at him. The man turned away angrily, as his plans had been illuminated by the most powerful spotlight in the world.

There was the sound of the hatchway being opened, and the same marine stepped aside to allow men in blue battle camouflage to enter. Jack and Carl knew them to be Russian marines. What was amazing was the fact that the US Marine security detail allowed them to keep their sidearms aboard one of the most protected ships in the entire world—Nimitz.

The ten very large Russian naval marines marched straight to the seated Russians. With Vladimir Putin still watching with an intense gaze, the marines took them into custody.

Vassick smiled as he was stood up and handcuffed. He remained silent as he was escorted out.

They saw Salkukoff stand up as if he were the next to be taken, but the marines merely walked past him and out of the hangar deck. It was Second Captain Dishlakov who stopped in front of Salkukoff, and then it was his turn to smile as he simply walked out.

All eyes went to the large screen of the monitor as the interpreter spoke. “My president wishes to express his gratitude for your assistance in this matter and wishes you to pass the same along to your president. This issue will be taken up with trusted members of our politburo, and appropriate measures will be taken. As for the apparatus in your possession, according to official Soviet records, the Simbirsk was lost with all hands in the summer of 1945. So, it is our opinion that this ship is not Russian state property, and our government has authorized its destruction if that is the will of your salvage team. We expect a proper outcome to this matter and thus will discuss it no further as long as the appropriate measures are taken immediately. Good day, gentlemen.”

The monitor again went blank as the stoic face of the Russian president vanished.

Jack and the others stood and shook hands with Niles, Xavier, and Virginia.

“You are going to have to explain all of this when we get home,” Jack said as he smiled and faced the Group.

Niles smiled and looked deeply into Jack’s eyes. “That’s need to know, Colonel, need to know.”

The Russian-made helicopter left the flight deck of the Nimitz and sped toward the waiting Russian battle fleet miles away. Vassick was angry as he sat with his fellows and then gestured angrily toward the marines watching them. Second Captain Dishlakov’s eyes widened when Vassick held out his cuffed hands and the marine removed not only his but the also the restraints of the other members of his group. Vassick angrily gestured toward a man in civilian dress who had not been aboard the carrier. The black-suited man handed over a laptop.

“Second Captain Dishlakov, you may want to witness this.”

Two Russian marines harshly stood the Russian officer and pushed him to the opposite side of the helicopter. Dishlakov watched as a connection was made. The face of Vladimir Putin was there and smiling.

“Are you hearing me, Gregor?” Vassick said into the microphone on the laptop.

“Yes, and I guess you’re lucky we were, my old friend. They had me in a television interview for three hours with a silly woman reporter from Germany. I almost didn’t make it in time.”

“Well, you did good, old friend. You go and finish your interview now.”

“Okay, you old Bolshevik, see you when you get home to Siberia.”

The laptop went blank.

Vassick smiled at Second Captain Dishlakov as he handed the laptop back to his man.

“Yes, the dawning of knowledge is sometimes rather startling, is it not?”

“I don’t understand.”

“You and many billions of others around the globe, Second Captain. Let’s just say that most people do not know that our great President Putin ever had a brother, much less a twin brother. A twin that our illustrious former KGB operative tried to hide from the rest of the world for over forty-eight years. I would say that he came in handy after we discovered the hiding place our president had buried him under.”

“What of the real president?” Dishlakov asked, not believing what it was he was hearing.

“Oh, Vladimir had a chemically induced heart attack seven years ago. Very sad. But he was a stupid man who thought he had the brainpower to take on those far more intelligent than himself. People you may have even met on your little adventure. This is the reason why our old Russian history of acting first without thinking has come to an end.”

Two men, also dressed in black suits, sat beside Dishlakov, one on each side.

“I am to be murdered now?” he asked bravely.

“Murdered?” Vassick chuckled. “My friend, you will become one of the true messengers of our new system of government. Very valuable indeed. No, you will make it home alive.”

“No matter what you do to me, my crew performed bravely, and they do not deserve to die.”

“My dear man, do you think us entirely without empathy or pride in what your crew and the brave Captain Kreshenko executed in the most hostile of worlds? No, your crew will go down in Russian history as the very men who began our new revolution.”

“And Captain Kreshenko’s legacy is what?”

“The same, my boy. He will be remembered with honor, as you all will. Yes, we have our disagreements with certain military leaders — Kreshenko was one of them.” Vassick took a deep breath. “You see, young man, there will be certain… citizens and professional military associates who cannot accompany the new Russia to where it is we are going.”

Before Second Captain Dishlakov knew what was happening, the man to his right plunged the syringe into the thigh of Dishlakov. As his eyes fluttered shut, his last vision was of the portly man smiling at him.

Vassick took a deep breath and then leaned back against the aluminum body of the helicopter.

“It’s a shame we had to lose Salkukoff; he was a very respected member of our society. He will be missed.” He again sighed. “But then we all have to make sacrifices for what is to come. Let us go home; we have many things to discuss and plan.”

An hour later, the Simbirsk was cast free of her towline from Ticonderoga, and the USS Houston moved away from the Nimitz battle group to a safe distance. Jack, Carl, Charlie Ellenshaw, Jason Ryan, and Will Mendenhall, along with Niles Compton, Virginia Pollock, and Xavier Morales, who was looking around the massive carrier with a child’s wonderment, gathered at the fantail of Nimitz watching the seas to the north. They were soon joined by Henri Farbeaux, who stood next to them.

“Get it done?” Jack asked.

Henri looked at his wristwatch and nodded. “In exactly one minute, my obligation to you and your president will be fulfilled, Colonel.” He looked at Niles, and the director nodded in agreement.

Their attention was drawn to the distant conning tower of the Houston as she paced the battle group three miles away. Unable to submerge with the damage she had sustained, she was still able to fulfill this one last task.

Henri tapped his watch as he looked up. “It’s time.”

In the distance, they saw Simbirsk as she bobbed in the calm seas. The Russian relic sat upon the sea proudly as she awaited her fate.

On the conning tower of the Houston, Captain Thorne looked through his binoculars and then leaned over and spoke into the intercom.

“Weapons, are you ready?”

“Aye, Skipper,” came the reply.

“Fire one!”

“Tube one, weapons release.”

“Fire two!”

“Tube two fired electrically. All weaps running hot, straight, and normal.”

“Conn, run the live feed to all compartments. This is for Shiloh and Peter the Great. We all deserve this.”

“Aye.”

Captain Thorne resumed his watch as his torpedoes sped to their intended target.

Three miles away on the battle bridge of the Russian battle cruiser once thought lost to the world, Colonel Salkukoff waited. His handcuffed hands were secured to the wheel of the navigation station, so he had a good view of his fate as the American Mark 48 torpedoes reached the hull. He cursed Henri Farbeaux for his last words to him.

“Remember the Ukraine, for this is the reason why I am sending you straight to hell.”

The members of the Event Group watched as the Mark 48s had done what the phase shift and Nazi submarines could not do. The explosions occurred separately. One weapon detonated below her keel and the other directly into the hull below the engine spaces. The resulting fireball could be seen by every ship in the battle group. They watched until the battle cruiser sank in two sections for the three-mile fall to her final resting place.

Jack slapped Henri Farbeaux on the back, as his orders had indeed been fulfilled. It was Virginia of all people who spoke up.

“Now, can I ask where that gruff bastard of mine is?”

“Right behind you,” Carl said with the largest smile Virginia or the others had ever seen the captain have.

Stepping onto the covered fantail came Charlie Ellenshaw and Jenks. The master chief was holding two small girls, and the others clung to his pant leg as if it were a maypole.

Virginia lost her own smile very fast.