Hawk blocked out their conversation, trusting his mates to do their jobs, and flipped open the compartment where he’d stashed his weapon. He pulled the German UMP-45 from the box, checking the action and breech on reflex, and turned back to the rear of the boat as he automatically shouldered the weapon.
The tactical light lit off as his finger swept across the trigger, illuminating the sea just beyond the boat, and Hawk did something he had never done in his life, especially since joining the SEALs.
He froze.
Against all training, against his instincts, and against everything he’d ever considered himself to be, Hawk froze as his eyes slowly began to range upward, drawn inexorably to the column of…something that was rising from the ocean. It was only a few yards away, as thick around as the entire freaking boat he was in, and he felt his jaw slacken as he took it in. It towered above them, waving slightly like some monstrous vine hanging from a tree. Only it was hanging up, and it was far too large to be any kind of vine or plant or any other damn thing he could think of. His weapon slumped for a moment as he started, and nothing else seemed to exist for him just then.
Then the moment passed and Hawk’s eyes widened as the thing began to topple.
“Holyyyy…,” he said slowly, barely suppressing the insane urge to scream Timber! “Shit! Evac the boat! Now, now, now…”
The men behind him swung around, guns lining up as they opened fire, but it was far too little and far too late. A few threw themselves aside in time as the enormous limb crashed down into the boat, splintering fiberglass and destroying metal as it drove the small military Zodiac below the waves.
“What are they shooting at?!”
“I don’t know, Captain!” The beleaguered response came from a harried lieutenant. “There’s nothing on radar!”
“Stealth ship?” Izerman asked instantly. The Chinese were rumored to be developing something along those lines, but they weren’t supposed to be anywhere near either the British or American programs, and he was pretty sure neither of them had ships in the open water yet.
“If it is, it’s the tightest stealthing imaginable, sir!”
“Sonar! Submerged contacts?”
“We’ve got…something, Cap,” the sonar operator confirmed, but his tone was decidedly uncertain.
“I need more details!”
“I don’t have any! There’s something out there, but it’s like nothing I’ve ever seen before.”
Izerman growled, pushing his way over to the station to take a look at the contact himself. He saw in an instant what the mate was talking about — the screen contact faded in and out, looking more like a living being than any submarine he’d ever come across.
The closest thing the captain could connect it with was a pod of whales he’d once tracked along the Alaskan coast. Even that wasn’t a match, though, and he was as flabbergasted as his man.
“Target a hundred yards behind the team,” he ordered, turning back to the weapons station. “Put a warning shot out there.”
“Aye, sir.”
Out on deck the five-inch Mark 45 came to life, pivoting to bear on the distant target as the Fitzgerald surged under military power toward its wayward SEAL team. The gun roared out, flash lighting the deck and sea for a moment, sending its deadly payload down range.
“Someone get me the team on the goddamned radio already!”
Hawk surged to the surface, gasping for air as he turned in the water and looked for others. Part of the team’s boat was bobbing a short distance away, a segment of the inflated rubber section, and he quickly swam over and hooked an arm on it as he pulled his UMP up and shook water out of the barrel.
“AJ?!” he called out. “Rankin! Mercer!”
A splash of water caused him to pivot hard, bringing the UMP around, and its light fell on the terrified face of the Chinese national whom they’d extracted. Hawk didn’t have time for the man, so he just grabbed him with one arm, practically throwing him up over the floating rubber section.
“Hold on, and keep quiet!” he ordered as he turned away.
“Hawk!”
Eddie Rankin was swimming in his direction, pulling a body along with him. “Gimme a hand, Hawk. It’s the boss.”
Hawk swore, but reached out and helped his friend and classmate pull AJ up to the floating part of the wreck. Between them they managed to manhandle the unconscious SEAL onto it, next to the Chinese national, who looked like he was in shock. Hawk checked the commander’s pulse and closed his eyes for a moment, shaking his head when he opened them and saw Rankin looking his way.
“Jesus,” Rankin swore. Then after a moment he hissed, “What the hell was that thing?”
“No idea,” Hawk replied, gritting his teeth as he looked around. “You see anything?”
“Not a damn thing. You think it’s gone?”
“It followed us from China — hell no, it ain’t gone.”
A whistling sound broke through the air just then, and the two SEALs paled.
“Incoming!” Hawk shouted.
The shot was beyond their position, obviously, because they’d heard the sound of the incoming freight train, but both men threw themselves as far as they could onto the wreckage to get out of the water before the round went off, just in case it was closer than they thought.
The roar came from well past their position, however, and they didn’t even feel a rain of water come down on them, so they both breathed easier for a moment. Hawk craned his neck, looking around, and was the first to spot the source.
“It’s the Fitzgerald!” he called out. “She’s here!”
“It’s about frickin’ time!”
Hawk fished around in his web gear for a moment, then pulled out a flare and popped it off against the wreckage. As it lit up, he waved it as high as he could get it, hoping to hell that someone was looking in their direction.
“Flare in the water!”
Commander Sanderson’s call lit a fire under several people on the bridge, and Captain Izerman rose to his feet.
“Send out the Seahawk, and pick up any survivors.”
“Aye, Captain!” Sanderson said resolutely.
Izerman looked around grimly. “Have we got any clue as to what’s going on out there?”
Silence answered the question, though not at all to the captain’s liking. He shook his head, his face set in grim rigor. “Fine. Get the helo in the air, and all hands stand ready for antisubmarine drills.”
“Aye, sir,” came the reply from one of his men.
The only thing Izerman felt relatively confident of was the fact that there was something out there. SEAL teams didn’t go shooting up empty patches of ocean while on mission. While they were on leave, it might be a different story, but never on mission. If they had been shooting up the water for no reason, well, they weren’t going to be SEALs for much longer.
“ETA to target location?”
“Ten minutes, sir,” the sonar operator responded.
Izerman nodded, forcing himself to settle in for the wait. Less than a minute later the beat of helo blades could be heard in the command deck, and those inside could see the LAMPS-III CH-60S flashing lights as it flew past the bridge and out into the night.
“Someone had better tell me what’s going on here sometime soon, or I’m going to lose it,” Izerman growled, eyes staring out into the dark as his mind tried to make sense of the insane situation.
There was an uncomfortable silence in the wake of his comment, and it stretched out until a warning sound came from the sonar station.
“Now what?”