During the night, they had received a message from Naval Intelligence that some twenty boats had departed Seattle, San Francisco, Los Angeles, and San Diego, all on headings that would intersect his position. Several of the boats were painted in the Greenpeace scheme, and NI’s analysis was that Mark Jacobs had called them out.
The Arienne had moved away from the Orion after retrieving the passenger they had sent over earlier in the morning, but they were still matching the speed of the incongruous fleet. Mahan and Fletcher were a half-mile off to either side of the California. An old tugboat, obviously belonging to Marine Visions because of its color scheme, was stationed astern of the research ship.
The intercom buzzed and Commander George Quicken answered it while Harris continued his pacing of the bridge. He knew his back-and-forth journey was getting on the nerves of his subordinates.
Quicken turned to him, “Captain, we’ve detected a large explosion on the seabed.”
“Nature?”
“Unknown, sir.”
The petty officer on the helm interrupted, “Captain, the Orion is on the move.”
Harris spun around and saw that the vessel had indeed picked up speed. She was climbing a long swell, with the froth produced by her propellers spreading out behind her.
“Commander, we’ll want to stay with her. Notify our escorts.”
“Aye, aye, sir.
Harris took Quicken’s place at the intercom and buzzed the communications compartment.
“Sir?”
“Priority message to CINCPAC. Explosion of undetermined origin on seafloor — get the coordinates from the Combat Information Center. Orion apparently enroute to position, Task Force 36 following. Paragraph two. Submersible still not recovered and may be involved in explosion. Paragraph three. No further contacts with addition vessels. Paragraph four. Urgently request response to message, eleven-dash-nineteen. Get that right off, please.”
“Aye, aye, sir.”
The deck of the bridge tilted slightly as the cruiser got underway. Harris crossed to stand next to Quicken.
“What do you make of it, George?”
“I hate working in the dark, sir. Obviously, whatever is taking place is at extreme depth, or the powers-that-be would have sent a submarine to play guard dog. I’m assuming that we were sent originally to watch over the Orion, but that she’s now in disfavor.”
“Bit of a see-saw, George?”
“I’ve tried to never question my orders,” Quicken said, “but sometimes I think naughty thoughts about politicians and admirals.”
“You and me both,” Harris told him. “How strong was this event?”
“It was quite impressive, Captain. It would take a hell of a load of conventional weapons to produce the shock wave we picked up.”
“You don’t suppose Research and Development is conducting some secret weapons program? Perhaps out of sync with one treaty or another?”
“I really don’t know, sir. Do you really think this could be nuclear?”
“Possible, isn’t it?”
“I suppose so,” Quicken said.
“And accidents happen. That submersible could be vapor right now, drifting to the surface.”
Paul Deride had stayed close to the control center for the last several hours, awaiting word on the test hole. Penny had gone to the deck above, to take a nap. She said these things were routine by now.
They weren’t routine for him, though. This was the first project on which they had used nuclear mining techniques, and he had never been present during an operational blast. That was Penny’s job.
Dorsey, on board FC-9, had reported a successful detonation at three minutes after nine. He was now making a circuit of the area prior to collecting samples, and he had said it would take some time because he was in rough terrain, at the top of a mesa. To get to the bottom, he had to drive some sixteen miles over torturous seabed.
Deride tried to imagine what the seafloor looked like over there, but had difficulty doing so. Their equipment was not capable of transmitting video from the subs or floor crawlers to the sea station. Because he so detested being subsurface, he had never taken an intense interest in what it looked like, beyond the fifty or so feet surrounding the habitat since it was visible on the overhead video camera. Penny was the one who loved this kind of high-technology, high-risk exploration and really reveled in it. He was content to give the orders and let others take care of the tasks.
“AG-4, Dorsey,” the transponder blurted over the speaker system.
Bert Conroy was monitoring the console, and Deride grabbed a castered chair and slid it across the carpeted deck to sit down next to him.
“AG-4,” Conroy said. “What you got, Jim?”
“That submersible? I can’t see it, but I’ve got it on the sonar.”
“What’s the condition? Can you tell?”
“Not from my image. She’s about three hundred feet above the ridge, drifting slowly upward. I don’t detect any noise, either from motors or the interior. You want to bring Sydney in to look her over?”
Conroy looked to his boss.
Deride said, “Let’s get on about our business. Right now, that means collect the samples.”
Camden’s injunction was no longer necessary, and that was all right with Deride. Cheaper, that way.
Brande said, “I think I’m going to bill Hampstead for the cost of all our replacement electronics.”
“Why not send a nicely overstated statement to Deride?” Dokey asked.
“He won’t be able to write the check when I’m done with him, Okey.”
“Valid argument.”
Brande was shaken, but was trying not to give it away. He was disoriented, frightened, and totally aware of the unwelcome silence of the capsule. The air was stale, dry, and it tasted funny.
He reached back in the darkness, found Otsuka’s hands clutching her knees, and squeezed them lightly. She was shivering almost uncontrollably.
“We’re doing all right, Kim,” he said.
“Of course,” she said. It came out squeaky. Her teeth were chattering.
“Are you hurt?”
“B-bruises. Everywhere.”
“Okey?”
“Most of my pieces are in the right place, Chief. By my watch, if I remember the time, and if the damned thing’s working, I was blacked out for at least twenty minutes.”
“Same here.”
“I think we went completely upside down,” Dokey said. “Like a big bowling ball. I wouldn’t have thought it was possible to turn this hummer over.”
“It is my firm belief,” Brande said, “that the detonation took place on top of the ridge. We were pretty well protected from the direct blast.”
“How much is pretty well?” Dokey asked.
“Good question.”
It was completely black inside the pressure hull. They had no instrument panel lights, and the exterior floodlights had also been extinguished. The monitor screens were dark. When he had first come to, Brande had been first of all surprised that he was breathing, then amazed that he was sitting more or less upright in his seat.
“Any idea where we are, Okey?”
“I think we’re on ascent, but the rest is a blank. You ready to try the systems?”
“Let’s do. I wish we had a flashlight.”
“J-just a minute,” Otsuka said.
He heard her fumbling around with her clothing, and then a small stab of light erupted from the back seat.
“Wonderful, Kim.”
She handed him the small penlight, and he slowly worked its beam around the interior. There was no obvious damage. Bits of mud and dust from the flooring could be found lodged in odd places. The wrappers from their box lunches were spread around, also.