“Sir,” Clay continued, “a lot of our information to date suggests there may be other possibilities here, and not all necessarily dangerous.”
“Which means what?” Stevas chided from across the table. “We give them the benefit of the doubt?”
Neither Langford nor Clay even bothered to look at Stevas. Instead they kept their attention on the President. “Not the benefit of the doubt sir, just time to gather more information and make the best decision possible.”
“Alright,” said the President. “Then get me some more information.”
“Yes sir,” Langford replied.
“I presume you’re referring to this remote sub of yours?” he asked.
Langford nodded. “We think it may hold significantly more information on it.”
“Do we know where it is?” the President asked.
Langford looked at Clay who nodded. “Yes sir.”
The President leaned forward again onto the table, leveling his gaze directly at Clay. “Then go get it!”
27
The K-955 submersible was the smallest and fastest submarine in the Navy. Designed primarily for research and recovery, the small craft housed a maximum of four people which left two empty seats behind Clay and Caesare. Together inside, they ran through a complete systems check. The water from outside sloshed up over the forward window while they bobbed back and forth on the surface of the Caribbean Sea.
Several miles from where they were hoping to find the Triton II was as far as Captain Emerson was willing to get with the Pathfinder. He could not believe it when he read his instructions from the Pentagon that Clay and Caesare were headed back out. Emerson and his crew barely had time to accept the transfer of the K-955 from a sister ship before the helicopter dropped the two men back onto his foredeck. He greeted them by simply shaking his head.
Navy SEALs, including ex-SEALs, had a reputation for being a little crazy. Clay expected they had just that reputation in Emerson’s mind. He looked to his right where Caesare was holding a manual up and verifying the locations of the various instruments. “How does your side look?”
Caesare shrugged. “Good. Pretty straight forward actually.” He looked to the left side. “How about you?”
Clay nodded. “Not bad.” He gripped the control stick in front of him. “Stick will take a little getting used to.”
“We’ve got,” Caesare looked back over his shoulder at a digital read-out behind them, “a full charge which should give us about a twenty to thirty mile range.” He looked forward again. “We also have full oxygen which should last well beyond that, especially without two more sets of lungs behind us. I think we’re about ready.”
Clay reached up and tested the hatch seal by trying to turn the large metal wheel. He then moved the microphone on his headset closer to his mouth. “Pathfinder, this is ‘Saint Bernard.’”
“Go ahead Saint Bernard,” came Tay’s voice through their headphones.
“We are checked out and ready to launch,” Clay said.
“Roger that. Release at will.”
With a quick nod, Clay reached up to a large red handle above them and wrapped his hand through. “Releasing now,” he said and pulled down hard. There was only a slight dip when the sub detached from the arm, since it was already floating on the surface under its own buoyancy. The sub began to roll to the right just as Caesare engaged the main motor, giving it instant propulsion and causing the roll to correct itself. As the small sub surged forward, the waves that were lapping across the front, bubbled window suddenly rushed up and over the top causing the front to dip slightly. Clay kept his right hand on the stick and slowly inched it forward increasing their speed. He then lowered the small flaps on the tail which increased their dive angle, and the K-955 smoothly slipped below the surface.
“Feels good,” remarked Clay.
“Good,” said Caesare, looking down as his notebook. “We need a heading of 131 degrees.”
Clay turned until the directional indicator matched.
“At this rate,” continued Caesare, “we should reach the bottom in about eight minutes.”
The bottom of the Caribbean Sea, or at least this part of it, was rather boring. As many of the coral reefs passed beneath them, so did vast stretches of white fields of sand. Past ninety feet deep, Caesare activated the ultra-bright LEDs ringing the front of the sub so they could see further in front of them. The K-955 skimmed over several shelves which dropped below into patches of dark coral and more of the large fields of sand.
Thirty minutes later something appeared on the small green screen in front of Caesare. “Looks like we have a large object a few degrees off to port. About three hundred yards ahead.”
Clay gave a gentle turn and inched off the throttle, allowing the sub to slow. He continued forward at a reduced speed and eased up completely as the object got closer and closer to the center of Caesare’s screen.
“Just about on it…” he said slowly. “Okay, reverse throttle and stop.”
The tiny sub slowed to a gentle stop. Both men looked forward through the small bubble, peering closely at the sandy bottom. Several patches of green plant life poked up and were scattered randomly around them. They slowly waved back and forth in the ocean’s gentle current. Clay gave the stick a tiny tap and inched the craft forward.
Caesare stretched to look out to the side. “We should be right on top of it.”
“I see something,” said Clay. “He dipped the front forward and pushed a button which forced a strong burst of current out from just beneath the sub’s belly. The current pushed a large amount of sand and soil away but caused a cloud to temporarily envelop the area. They waited patiently as it dispersed. Just below them was a very large and rusted metal anchor.”
“Crap.” Caesare leaned back in his seat. “We’re oh for four.”
“Well on the bright side at least the Triton should be easy to spot,” Clay said. “Even if it drove itself head first into the sand it should still be sticking out like a sore thumb.”
“What a relief,” Caesare said sarcastically as he wiped off some condensation from the window in front of him. “You know-” he was suddenly cut off when their sub rocked from side to side. “What was that?”
Clay shook his head. “I don’t know.” He leaned forward and looked out the window at the brightly lit sand.
“Are we in a cross current?”
Clay frowned. “At this depth, I doubt it.” Outside the sub, the sand remained still. The small cloud created by the sub a few minutes earlier had almost completely settled. Their sub rocked again, harder.
“Whoa!” Caesare said bracing himself against the side window and ceiling of the sub. He and Clay looked at each other. “Are you sure?”
Clay was puzzled. He grabbed the handle of the forward exterior light and rotated it around in front of them. He spotted some coral ahead and inched the sub forward. The sub glided to within fifty feet of coral reef covered by a variety of plant life, some of which were long tendril shaped flutes jutting up from the rock base. “Look.”
Caesare followed his gaze through the front window and out to the plants beyond. “They’re barely moving.”
“Exactly.”
“Strange.” Caesare looked out the side window and back behind them. Maybe we’re in some kind of channel. He turned back around when the small green screen beeped again. Another object was showing on the radar like screen. “Got another one. Could this be lucky number five?”