“Now, as to your concern about sabotage, let me just remind you that the security around this complex is airtight. No one in their right mind would dare try to challenge us here. I’d just like to see someone try to smuggle a weapon the likes of an electromagnetic railgun into this valley. Even if such a newfangled gadget were indeed operational, it would need an extremely powerful energy source to activate it. And that’s not even taking into consideration such a device’s huge, bulky size. No, Doc, I’m afraid this one I’m just not going to buy.”
Well aware of the reason for the professional soldier’s natural recalcitrance, the civilian offered him a new idea.
“What do you think about the possibility that the threat we’re facing is not a ground-based one? Isn’t it possible that a naval vessel could have been adapted to carry a weapon such as a railgun?
Powered by a nuclear reactor, such a device could have deadly capabilities.”
“Next you’ll be telling me that it’s loaded on the back of that Soviet sub that’s rumored to be in these waters,” returned Lansford lightly.
“Why not?” retorted Richard.
“Such a vessel would serve as the ideal platform!”
The lieutenant colonel merely shook his head.
“Easy does it, Doc. I hear you, but it’s still not registering. I must admit that your idea could have some merit, and that it should be explored in the future, but as for right now, it just doesn’t apply.
There’s no way that I can stop this launch on a mere hunch. You wouldn’t believe the pressure that we’ve been fielding from Washington to get the Condor skyward. I’m not about to be the one who’s going to call the President to cancel this launch because of a slight possibility that something might go wrong.
That’s just not how it works at this stage of the game.”
Taking this as his final word, Richard knew that he had failed. Not willing to waste any more effort in vain, he shrugged his shoulders and turned back toward the launch-control center.
Behind him, Lansford was most aware of his disappointed guest’s sullen expression and rushed to catch up with him. Forced to increase the length of his steps to keep up with the Nose researcher’s full stride, Lansford spoke out between breaths.
“I’ll tell you what, Doc, since you’re so set on this thing, I’ll go halfway with you. As soon as I get back to the control room, I’ll ring Bill Rose, our security chief. We’ve got a good three and a half hours left until launch, so there’s plenty of time to initiate a complete sweep of the area. We’ll even send out the choppers to patrol the coastline, to make certain that there are no bogy submarines prowling in the waters there. What do you say to that?”
Taking these remarks as the conciliatory gestures they were meant to be, Richard didn’t even bother responding. Increasing his pace, he decided that only one vessel could save the Condor now. Turning off the path to head directly toward the parking lot, he prayed that he would find the U.S.S. Razorback still moored at Port Arguello.
At 090 °Commander Philip Exeter was seated at the head of the wardroom table. Dressed in a clean pair of khakis, he had an ice bag set on his right knee.
Contentedly sipping on a cup of coffee, the senior officer studied a chart of the course that they would be undertaking once they left Arguello. Seated opposite him was his XO. Patrick Benton was reading a well-worn copy of the latest issue of The Submarine Review while chewing on the stem of his favorite pipe.
Both men hardly looked up when Lieutenant Scott Willingham entered the wardroom and approached the captain’s side.
“Sir, the boat is ready to get underway.”
Still deep in his study of the chart, Exeter responded, “Very good. Lieutenant. What’s the status of the Marlin?”
Willingham was quick to answer.
“The DSRV is secured in its transfer skirt. Commander Pierce and his crew are presently topside, doublechecking the mount in preparation for our embarkation.”
“Good,” returned the captain, who only now looked up into the alert eyes of the young lieutenant.
“Please let the commander know that we’ll be sitting on the surface until we reach our release point.
They’re more than welcome to join us for breakfast once we get under way.”
“Aye, aye, sir,” responded Willingham as he continued on toward the access trunk that was located on the other side of the officers’ staterooms.
While the junior lieutenant began his way up the ladder that would take him topside, Patrick Benton put down the copy of the magazine he had been reading. After removing his pipe from his lips, he asked, “How far will we be taking the Marlin out this time?”
Exeter readjusted his weight and seemed to wince when this movement caused him to jerk his injured limb.
“Ah, damn this knee anyway! I’m sorry, Pat. I guess I’m just not used to being handicapped yet. To answer your question, it’s been decided to drop them along that portion of the debris field that lies closest to shore. It seems now that they’ve got their nose cone, the powers that be want to take a look at what’s left of the Titan’s engines.”
“I sure bet that tidal wave shifted that debris field some,” reflected the XO.
“I still can’t get over how it seemed to lead the Marlin right down to that nose cone. I would have sure liked to see their, faces when they chanced upon that temple, or whatever it was.
Talk about the hand of fate. It was almost as if this whole thing was meant to happen this way.”
“Don’t get metaphysical with me. Pat,” said Exeter, his face in a grin.
Before the XO could respond, the comm line rang out. Patrick Benton reached over and picked it up.
“XO here… Yeah, the captain’s still in the wardroom…. Hold on, and I’ll see what he has to say.”
Holding his hand over the transmitter, he looked up.
“Captain, it’s Lieutenant Willingham. It seems there’s some hotshot from Nose topside. His name is Dr. Richard Fuller, and he says that it’s urgent that he has a word with you before we put to sea.”
Checking his watch, Exeter responded, “We’ve got a couple of minutes yet. Check his ID and then send him down.”
After relaying this information, the XO hung up the receiver and sat back in the booth.
“I wonder what this is all about.”
“Commander Pierce mentioned something about flying over here from Hawaii with some scientist who’s giving the Air Force a hand with the salvage operation. I’ll bet you this is the guy.”
Exeter took another sip of coffee, and was in the process of carefully readjusting his ice pack when a tall, tanned, blond-haired civilian rounded the corner and entered the wardroom.
“Dr. Fuller, I presume. Good morning, I’m Commander Philip Exeter, and this is my Executive Officer, Patrick Benton. Welcome aboard the Razorback.
Please sit down. Can we get you a cup of coffee?”
Nodding that this would be most welcome, Richard exchanged handshakes with the officers and took a seat on the captain’s right.
“You don’t know how good it was to see this vessel still tied up here when I got down to the docks,” remarked Richard, who accepted the mug of coffee that the galley mate soon served him.
“I was afraid that you would have already gone to sea.”
“As it turned out, you just caught us in time,” replied the Captain.
“I understand that you’re with Nose. We’re stationed in San Diego ourselves. You wouldn’t happen to know a Dr. Roselle over there, would you?”
“I sure do,” returned Richard.
“He’s my boss.”