On the far side of the Pathfinder’s stern, another light appeared in the water and slowly grew larger. Then joined by a second, until two silver dive helmets breached the surface, one after the other. Both divers glided closer without a sound, illuminating the lower portion of the ship’s metal hull with their bright lamps.
In unison, Corbin and Beene turned off their lights and leaned back, peering up and over the edge of the ship. They spotted the massive black cord coming over the side and powering the drill below them. Without a word, each soldier removed his diving helmet and let it sink back into the water, where the headgear promptly disappeared below the waves.
The loud gunfire could still be heard on deck, leaving Corbin to cautiously pull himself up the fat cord just enough to peek over the side. Then in one fell swoop, he pulled the rest of his body out of the water and disappeared.
91
No.
Captain Zhirov fixated on his screen and the live feed. He could see the flashes of the guns aboard the Pathfinder and watched as two figures dressed in black scrambled up a portside ladder. Two of Popov’s men.
But that’s not what worried him. It was that the Navy helicopter had successfully lifted off from the bow of the ship and was now in the air.
The American captain would soon conclude, if he hadn’t already, that the Russian attack team came from a submarine. And from somewhere close. If they weren’t scanning with sonar before, they certainly were now. Luckily, their systems would not be able to see Zhirov’s sub.
Which explained why his concern grew exponentially at the sight of not just the helicopter but its direction. Aircraft that did not know the location of its target typically hovered or circled the area, trying to find the enemy. But that’s not what this helicopter was doing.
After a brief pause, the giant chopper had turned… and headed straight in Zhirov’s direction.
It was impossible. They couldn’t have found him that quickly. There was simply no way their sonar systems were that effective.
However, one thing Zhirov knew, what all military commanders knew, was just how quickly a mission’s luck could change. One variable, one miscalculation, or one simple mistake could produce a string of events impacting everything following that moment. An unseen ripple effect that could change the fate of even the most well-planned mission.
A moment that Zhirov’s instincts told him had just occurred.
Without looking back, Zhirov barked two commands over his shoulder.
“Prepare to dive. And load torpedoes!”
“Aye, Captain.” The helmsman, a young man sporting only stubble for hair, nodded in response. Moments later the ballast tanks began to flood, increasing the weight of the boat, while the helmsman looked curiously at his screen. He studied it for several seconds.
“Sir. We appear to be drifting.”
“What?”
“We… are drifting, sir.”
“Drifting? Why?”
The helmsman shook his head and rechecked his instruments. “I’m not sure. All propulsion systems are off.”
“Is it a current?”
“No, sir. It’s steady.”
Zhirov’s heartbeat accelerated. Something was wrong. If they were moving, even drifting, it would eventually affect the direction of the boat. And more importantly, the aim of their torpedoes. Worse, if the drift was too great, it would require the use of their engines to correct. And engines, even those of a Ghost Sub, made some noise. As did opening torpedo tube doors.
Zhirov could now actually feel the drift. “Why? Why are we moving?!” he yelled.
His crew around him had no answer. When the helmsman spoke again, it was in a nervous tone. “It’s increasing.”
Zhirov’s eyes turned back around to the periscope feed. The U.S. helicopter was still approaching. Slowly. Intentionally. Now silhouetted by the bright glow of the Pathfinder behind it.
He had no choice. Noise be damned.
“Full power. Now! Emergency dive and open torpedo doors.”
Alison still floating a visible distance away and watching hundreds of swarming dolphins, nearly jumped when the submarine abruptly began to descend. And only moments later a deep whirring sound was heard, coupled with a large circular opening appearing on the sub’s nose.
Oh my God, they’re preparing to fire! She called into her microphone. “Lee!”
There was no answer.
“Lee!”
Still nothing.
“LEE!” she screamed.
Something had cut off her radio communication to the ship, leaving Alison floating helplessly in the dark.
92
The bridge’s starboard side door opened. Neely, Lee, and Will Borger were ushered into the room, followed by First Officer Harris. Both sides of the room were guarded by sailors, armed with similar-looking rifles.
“Sir, the sub has opened its torpedo doors!”
Captain Emerson glanced only briefly at the three before turning back to his sonar officer. They were preparing to fire.
Emerson then turned to his communications officer. “Are we ready?”
The younger man nodded. “Yes, sir. The helicopter has a fix on the sub. They’re waiting for the order to launch.”
Lee Kenwood’s expression suddenly changed. “Wait, what?”
“Quiet.”
Lee looked back and forth between Borger and Neely, then returned his focus to the captain. “Wait, you’re going to fire on the sub?”
“I said quiet!” Emerson snapped.
“You can’t fire. That’s where Alison is!”
This time Emerson paused. He looked at Lee as well as the others. He’d forgotten about Alison. She was the only one close enough to have seen the sub. An attack against the sub could easily kill her.
Dammit! Emerson thought to himself. Why was she still there? She should have moved!
Regrettably, it didn’t matter. He had only seconds to make the call and losing one life versus everyone onboard the Pathfinder was not a difficult decision. Unfortunate, yes. But not difficult. His job was to save as many lives as possible. And his ship.
“Launch the torpedo.”
93
“We’re still drifting!” The helmsman turned to Zhirov. “And we can’t correct it!”
The overhead lights aboard the Ghost Sub went out suddenly and then quickly flickered back on.
“Sir!” another officer yelled. “We’re losing power!”
“And our engines are failing!”
“Impossible!” raged Zhirov. What the hell was happening?! The room began to dim again, along with all the instrument screens. “How the hell are we losing power?!”
“I don’t know, sir!”
“Stop our descent!”
The helmsmen used the instrument pad to halt the ballast tanks and continued staring at his fading screen. “Halted, sir… but we’re still descending!”
“Then blow the goddamn things!”
The helmsman complied. A long, massive blast was heard outside as the tanks emptied. “Still sinking!”
Zhirov stared in disbelief. Were they taking on water? How could they be? There had been no impact. Christ, until only moments ago, no one even knew they were there!
“All remaining power to the engines!” he shouted. “Get us the hell out of here!”
Several hundred yards away, Tay and Lightfoot were watching in fascination as the entire wall before them began to glow more brightly — and not just the area around the drill. The glow continued to spread, beyond the section in front of them, traveling along the entire length of the alien ship’s hull. Even the areas covered in coral were now glowing.