The entire crew was on board, every member having passed the scrutiny of Adrienne Howard and her associates following a thorough investigation by the FBI. The passengers – scientists, underwater experts, and electronic specialists – would be flown to the ship at sea in another ten to fourteen days. Until then their cabins stood empty.
Not even the genius of Franklin Richards would enable the Neptune to sail on her mission across the Pacific until she had undergone at least the minimum trials, so an entire new procedure had been devised. She would spend a week and a half in the protected waters of the shipyard harbour, where various operations would be simulated. Most adjustments would be made in the harbour, and only if necessary would she be taken back into drydock.
The day was overcast, and not even the workmen who had built the 42,000 ton ship were on hand, their absence breaking another tradition. No bands played, and only a small group of people gathered on the platform built at her prow. The only woman, Marie Richards, was unobtrusively dressed. Three admirals were present in civilian attire, and even their aides had been excluded. The Director of the Corporation had wanted to come from Washington, but had been dissuaded by. Porter, who had pointed out that he might be recognized, and that his presence might be regarded as significant.
Franklin Richards remained in his office until the last possible moment, attending to routine business, but a quarter of an hour before he was due to join his wife and the admirals he received a telephone call from the President of the United States. The call came in on a private line rather than through the shipyard switchboard, but the conversation was guarded.
‘I just called to wish you and your ship Godspeed, Frank,’ the President said. ‘I hope you find enough coal deposits and oil fields in the sea to help us break the back of this energy crisis.’
‘We’ll try our best, Mr President,’ Richards said.
‘Do I understand correctly that the Neptune won’t slide down ways?’
‘That’s right, sir. We carry our own generator and cranes for underwater coal exploration purposes, and we don’t want any of our equipment jarred out of place if the ship smashes into the side of the ways. So we’re using a special system I’ve devised. We’ll force sea water into the drydock, and the Neptune will float out by herself.’
‘Very clever. Good luck to you, Frank.’
‘I hope to be in Washington for a day or two before our expedition sails, Mr President.’
‘Good! Give me advance notice, and bring your charming wife with you. We’d be delighted to see both of you before you take off.’
‘Thank you, Mr President, I’ll let you know.’ Richards rang off, and, as it was time to leave, he went to the parking lot and drove alone to the launching area.
Most of the roads in the vicinity were closed, and Corporation agents were strategically stationed in the heights to ensure that no tourists or other unwanted visitors might witness the event by accident. Or otherwise.
Porter and Adrienne surveyed the scene from the bridge of the Neptune.
Their subordinates were everywhere in the yard, in the surrounding neighbourhood and in several harmless-looking fishing boats in the harbour, so the launching was as private as security precautions could make it. Unknown to anyone else, including the ship’s officers, a dozen members of the crew were actually Corporation undercover agents. No one would pry today, either deliberately or inadvertently, and there would be no leaks of information.
But the task that faced Captain Humphries and his staff was overwhelming, and the atmosphere was tense. Most ships, even those built in wartime, were tested at sea in trials that lasted anywhere from a week to a month. Because of her extraordinary mission the Neptune would be denied that privilege, and any errors in construction would have to be unearthed by unorthodox means, any tune-ups she needed would have to be discerned by subtle methods.
The bridge was automated, with a dial-filled console showing the duty officer all he needed to know to aid navigation. Sensitive needles told him the wind pressure, the running of the sea, his precise location and the direction in which the vessel was moving, The radarscopes indicated the presence of other ships within a radius of ten miles, and a third, a sophisticated over-the-horizon radar, alerted him to the approach by sea or air of an object as far as forty miles away. Nearby, too, was a master board, a duplicate of the instruments used in the chief engineer’s office below, that told at a glance the second-by-second performance of the engines.
The Neptune was even equipped with two sets of Denny-Brown stabilizers, fins that could be extended in foul weather and retracted in fair weather. They were intended to hold the ship steady, reducing both her rolling and pitching when the seas were rough, and customarily were employed only on luxury passenger liners. So much of the Neptune’s unique equipment required special handling, however, that Franklin Richards had taken the precaution of installing the stabilizers to protect her.
The wheel could be operated manually, to be sure, but it was automated, too, so the ship’s course could be pre-set by pushbutton controls, with a mini-computer making compensations for variations in the wind and strength of the sea. The five petty officers who served as helmsmen had taken courses at a computer school to prepare them for their present task.
In spite of the tensions the bridge was quiet. Captain Humphries stood at the control panel, and looked out through the plate glass windows that gave him a more than 180° view. The executive officer, a Navy commander on leave, was stationed beside the engineering instrument board, and the first lieutenant took up his post at the radar screens.
A junior officer was on duty at the telephone switchboard, and when a light set in the bulkhead in front of him turned red, he became active. ‘The chief engineer’s compliments, sir. All preparations below are completed.’
‘Very good, Mr Blake,’ Captain Humphries said. ‘Instruct the engineering division to stand by.’
‘Aye aye, sir.’ The young officer repeated the orders.
Through the windows those on the bridge could see Franklin Richards join the group on the platform.
Porter and Adrienne moved into the open on the starboard ‘flying wing’, an extension of the bridge, so they could hear the proceedings.
Richards pulled a switch that slowly raised the metal plates at either side of the drydock, and the sea rushed in, the water level rising swiftly as the panels ascended to a height of about ten feet.
Within moments, or so it seemed, the twin screw propellers were covered by the surging, foaming water.
Captain Humphries picked up a red telephone that connected him with the chief engineer. *You may commence operations,’ he said.
The power was turned on, the bridge began to vibrate slightly and the Neptune came to life.
The Captain smiled. ‘You may notify the sponsor.’
A lieutenant went to the port flying bridge and signalled to a small group of officers and men behind him. The task could have been performed by telephone, but at this solemn moment the old traditions were being observed.
The American flag began to ascend the mainmast, with a blue and white Richards pennant below it.
The water continued to rise, and soon the ship would be afloat.
Marie Richards took hold of a bottle of champagne attached to a long ribbon. ‘I christen you Neptune,’
she said in a clear voice that carried to the flying wings. ‘May Almighty God protect you and your crew, and may you succeed in your work.’