“Where in the world are we?”
“I think the question is, what world are we in?” Jack turned away just as Ryan walked up to report.
“Thirty-seven dead. I haven’t had the time to count uniforms. But rest assured it’s most everyone.”
Jack patted Jason on the shoulder and then pointed to the island off their port beam.
“What the f—”
“You’re a navy man. Ever seen an island like that before?”
“No. The mountain alone is far too big for any island I’ve ever seen outside of Hawaii. It looks like a dormant volcano. What in the hell happened, and where are we?”
Before any answers could be thought about, it was Charlie Ellenshaw who stepped free of the wheelhouse with his mouth agape. He stuttered, and when he found no voice, he just pointed.
Jack, Salkukoff, and Ryan both turned and saw the most stunning sight any of them had seen since their nightmare had begun. The setting early morning moon was still visible on the horizon. Only it wasn’t exactly the moon they all remembered. The moon, which they had all stared at, kissed girls under, and marveled at her power and beauty, was still there, only it was now just a battered and smashed rock in space. Its white surface was broken into millions of smaller pieces, with the largest of these at its center. The rubble revolved around the ancient disk and spread out across the sky in a long tail of utter destruction. The moon had been smashed into gravel for the most part and looked as if the gravitational forces were turning it into a Saturn-like ring system around the largest section of the old moon.
“Colonel, may I suggest we get your Master Chief Jenks and my learned Professor Gervais down below and shut down that damn power plant before we go somewhere else we don’t really want to be?”
Jack didn’t answer, as he spied something that eased his mind somewhat. He pointed with a small smile on his face.
The USS Shiloh was breathing once again. Her engines sprang to life, and the roiling of white water churning at her stern told Jack they were once again under power.
“They’re signaling, Colonel,” Ryan said as he eased the binoculars from Jack’s hand.
Across the distance of a mile, Collins, Charlie Ellenshaw, and Salkukoff saw the flashing signal lamp from the starboard bridge wing of Shiloh.
“Will come about for assistance. Pulse shielding of most electronics worked as designed. Weapons system down. Communications down. Casualties heavy.” Ryan turned and faced the colonel. “They’re asking if we need medical assistance.” Jack only nodded, and Jason said he would get Carl to pass it along. Collins was as content as Charlie to stare at the comforting sight of the Aegis cruiser making her wide turn in the deep purple of this strange sea.
“She’s also reporting that all contact with the Houston has been lost.” Ryan lowered the field glasses and faced the colonel. He sadly handed the glasses back and then slowly walked away to help Jenks and Henri.
Jack watched the naval aviator and knew he was feeling the loss of the Dutch and American sailors on both vessels. Navy men took losses of ships very seriously.
As he turned back, Collins knew that De Zeven and Houston might not be the last to be lost. With one last look up at the shattered moon, Jack put his arm around crazy Charlie Ellenshaw, and then they went belowdecks.
“Let’s see if this Russian bucket has any of that American coffee we gave to Comrade Stalin back in the day.”
Ellenshaw smiled, agreeing that it would be nice to do a normal thing like drinking coffee.
As for Salkukoff, his eyes and field glasses were raised in an entirely different direction. They were trained toward the north and the line of smoke that rose from the violet-colored sea beyond the visible horizon. He only hoped it was his one remaining surface asset that he could count on.
He could only hope that Peter the Great was out there somewhere so he wouldn’t have to use his ace in the hole.
Three hours later, Shiloh was tied up alongside Simbirsk. No fewer than ten lines held the two ships mated together as the grisly task of collecting the bodies continued. Several corpsmen from Shiloh made the horrid task of removing the bodies from the deck where they had melted into the pliant steel. Three of these medical corpsmen were women, and Jack was proud that they were the only three who did not continuously vomit at their tasteless task.
Jack was watching the crew of Shiloh as they slid the remains of the Seahawk helicopter from the fantail of Shiloh, where it hit the water and then vanished. Collins felt his eyes slowly closing as the sounds of men and women working coupled with the soft lapping of the strange seas against the hulls of the two ships worked to relax him for the briefest of moments. The days without sleep were getting their revenge. He felt the tap on his shoulder. He turned.
“Thought you could use some of this,” Master Chief Jenks said as he handed Jack a clear glass cup of hot coffee. “Damn Russians don’t have real mugs on this tub, just tea glasses.”
Jack smiled as he accepted the coffee. “When we get back, we’ll file an official protest with the Russian government.”
Jenks nodded. He then faced the island five miles away and sipped coffee.
“Any theories or opinions?” Jack asked.
“Not a one, Colonel. But I do wish Ginny could see this ocean and that island. Be a good honeymoon spot if it weren’t for the circumstances.”
Collins lowered the coffee and fixed Jenks with a funny look. “I think you’ve got it bad, Master Chief. Imagine that the Big Bad Wolf has fallen hard for Little Red Riding Hood.”
“Ah, it’s nothing like that.” Jenks tossed out the black coffee with a grimace on his face. Then he faced Jack. “Yeah, I guess it is like that.”
Collins smiled and then nodded, finally realizing that the old crew-cut navy man actually was a human being.
“As for opinions and theories, I think you have to ask the nerd king about those. He has a far better grasp on that than I do.”
“Charlie?” Jack asked, frowning at the taste of the burned coffee.
“He says we are not on Earth anymore — at least our Earth.”
“Is that right?” Jack asked. The theory seemed to fit what they had witnessed thus far. He frowned again and then thought the better part of valor was to not drink any more of the seventy-year-old coffee, or at least coffee that was brewed inside a death ship. He handed Jenks the glass when he spied Captain Johnson on deck below them supervising the aviation fuel cleanup. He picked up the bullhorn.
“How is the chow over there?” he called out.
Johnson turned and saw the colonel for the first time. He waved and then accepted his own bullhorn. He raised it to his lips.
“The mess was the first thing we got up and running. You know the navy can’t function without coffee and a sandwich to shove down their necks.”