“Terry?”
“What?”
“Strip, unless you want to wear wet clothes.”
Cahill made a rapid pile of his uniform and underwear, which he handed to Johnson. He then cracked open the door before letting the water push it wide enough for him to slip through.
His steps in the flowing stream reminded him of rolling river rapids. He waded forward against the slight incline and cringed in the coolness. The Aegean Sea’s warmth fell short of the air temperature, and his body adjusted with a mild shiver.
A look forward showed the tactical control room’s bulkhead with an artificial concavity. He stopped and realized how flimsy the wall of metal might be that separated him from infinite water. The flow and spray from cracks around the door exacerbated his fear.
“Come on, Terry,” Johnson said.
The hefty veteran shouldered a plank and lowered it in the water. Turning, Cahill saw men closing the rear door and then fishing for a buttress against which they could secure the ten-foot-long beam Johnson had released.
A sailor lifted his hands from the fake lake that swirled around his knees and claimed victory in having found a good spot to prop the beam against a console’s base.
The man waded upward, grabbed the board, and aimed it forward. Another sailor grabbed a shorter piece and held it against the door. A third pressed a wooden wedge into the gap between the pieces.
“Wrap the wedge in place,” Johnson said.
As a sailor unraveled twine around the joint, Johnson lifted a rubber mat and stuffed it into a rift around the door. Water sprayed Cahill’s face, and he tasted salt.
“Are you sure that’s helping?” he asked.
“What?” Johnson asked.
Cahill yelled over the echoing water.
“Are you sure that helps?”
“Yes. Now drive a wedge in there gently to hold it in place. Don’t hit too hard, or you could screw up the door.”
Cahill tapped a rubber mallet against a wooden wedge until he felt snug resistance. Then Johnson removed his hands, and the rubber held.
“Other side,” Johnson said.
The sailor ducked under the shored beam, half-swimming to the door’s other side. Cahill followed, stifling a yelp as he dipped his chest into the water.
With his veteran, he repeated the tactic of wedging a rubberized mat into a rift.
“Now give me your mallet and a wedge,” Johnson said.
Appreciative of the veteran’s experience, Cahill obeyed. The sailor tapped bare wood into a smaller gap, and then he repeated the action on a final fissure between the door and the frame.
“That’s good,” Johnson said. “That should slow it down enough.”
The flow and spray continued, though abated.
“That’s it then,” Cahill said. “Let’s get to the back of the compartment and see if the pump can keep up.”
The naked men began shivering but avoided touching each other as they grouped near the exit.
“You three, out,” Cahill said. “I’ll stay with Johnson in case we need to do more work.”
A stream flowed out the open door, aiding the men’s departure. As Johnson helped the men seal the exit behind them, Cahill reached for a sound-powered phone.
“Liam here.”
“It’s Terry. We’ve got shoring in place on the door and stuffed some wood and rubber into the gaps around the frame. Can you see anything yet about our weight getting lighter?”
“Not yet. Give it a few minutes.”
“I’m standing naked in here with Johnson. Can you hurry?”
“Sorry, mate. It takes as long as it takes.”
He started shivering as he hung up.
“Getting cold?” Johnson asked.
“A little. You know your way around flooding. Have you had to do this for real before?”
“No, but I taught damage control for three years.”
“That explains it.”
“Don’t worry, Terry. We got ahead of this. The water level will go down. Give Liam time to verify it. Or you can just watch the water level for yourself against that weld line over there.”
He pointed at the far wall.
“I noticed,” Cahill said. “But there’s an illusion of the water level dropping because we opened the door and a lot rushed out.”
“Right, but it’s gone down even further after that. Just a bit.”
“I hope so.”
“Call him and find out. I’m tired of standing here naked.”
Cahill phoned Walker.
“Are we keeping pace?” he asked
“Yes,” Walker said. “The trim pump’s outpacing the flooding now. We have control of our buoyancy.”
“Excellent.”
“Do you want to send the rover out to inspect the damage?” Walker asked.
“Yes,” Cahill said. “Send it while we’re moving slow.”
He replaced the phone to its cradle and reached for the door.
“You first,” he said.
After following Johnson out of the room, he shut the door behind him. In the dryness of berthing, he reached for a towel and dried himself. Aware of his nakedness, he hurried to dress himself.
He walked the long distance to the port engine room where he leaned over a monitor, and he grabbed a phone.
“What can you see?” he asked.
“The rover’s in position,” Walker said. “I’ll send the video feed to you.”
The display showed underwater lights from a tethered submersible robot illuminating what invoked thoughts of a shipwreck. But the torn and twisted steel were the remnants of the bow section once attached to the watertight bulkhead of the Goliath’s port tactical control center.
“That’s a cleaner break than I’d thought,” Cahill said.
“Agreed. The weight of whatever was left hanging after the explosion must have ripped it off rather neatly.”
“I’ve seen enough. Stow the rover and get us back to four knots. Let’s try to slip out of this sea unnoticed.”
CHAPTER 15
Floros raised his head and pressed his palms into the charting table. As he straightened his back, multiple thoughts dizzied him.
The Hydra’s commander seemed to read his mind.
“It could be bottomed,” he said. “The water’s shallow enough.”
“Or it could be destroyed,” Floros said. “Or it could be sneaking away while its crew laughs at us. We won’t know until we find the Goliath, whether it’s broken in half or in fighting shape.”
“We heard the weapon detonate. We hit it. What else could it have been?”
“Knowing the luck this pirate crew’s supposedly seen, God himself may have protected them.”
The commander leaned towards Floros.
“They’re not giants, sir. They can be beaten. The evidence suggests that we already have.”
“Perhaps we’ve beaten the Goliath and perhaps not. Regardless, I hold myself responsible to assure it pays its debt of justice. And if I had my way, I’d also take the same responsibility for the submarines that attacked our tankers. They attacked my nation, and I want them all.”
“They attacked while you were busy defending the oil rig.”
“Our activity around that rig is looking more like something these vandals keyed upon in the timing of their attacks. It’s as if they knew our fleet would be focused on the oil rig before they planned their attacks.”
“It’s possible, sir. It’s starting to look like several nations have conspired against us.”
“Sadly so, but I believe we’ve weathered the worst.”
“Perhaps, sir. What do you want to do next?”
Options buzzed in Floros’ head, and he forced himself to pick one.
“I’m going to hunt the Goliath as if it still lives. I’ll sink it twice if need be.”