A New World: Storm Page 2

  Leonard listens to the tale, throwing in a question here and there, but mostly hearing Azarov out. Asking about the other two submarines that were out on patrol, Azarov states that he hasn’t heard from them and assumes they are still operational somewhere. Leonard then describes their situation and most of their story, leaving out details about Jack and completely forgoing any mention of the Jefferson City. Any tension left between them dissipates as they tell nearly identical tales. Somehow, although once on opposite sides of the board, they feel a bond forming like only sailors can. Their shared experiences forge a kinship of sorts. Leonard, on a whim and going with a gut instinct, informs Azarov that he and the Maine are heading to one of their bases on the western seaboard to replenish their supplies.

  “We are in need of supply, too,” Azarov comments.

  “I will need to check with the captain of the Maine, but, given the changes in the world, perhaps you could travel with us,” Leonard offers.

  “Maybe we make those first changes together, yes?”

  “I hope so, Captain…I hope so.”

  Making their way back to the top deck, Leonard has Franklin radio the Santa Fe, which is drifting alongside a short distance away. He has the XO send two active pings, hopefully sending a message to the Maine and Jefferson City that all is okay. Standing on the rolling deck, Leonard observes a disturbance in the choppy seas as the Maine surfaces off the rear starboard quarter. Shortly thereafter, the Jefferson City breaks the surface a little over a half mile away, directly astern. Both boats had crept close in order to engage the Gepard from minimal distance.

  “Ah, Captain. Very clever,” Azarov states from near Leonard’s shoulder upon seeing the Jefferson City surface. “We never heard them.”

  Leonard merely shrugs at his concealment that there were three of them. It doesn’t appear to create any tension though as, if the other captains agree, they are now traveling together. Maybe not as a team just yet, but definitely as survivors in a world with a vastly reduced population and filled with night runners.

  The meeting of the three captains is tenser than the tête-á-tête between Leonard and Azarov. They decide to meet on the Santa Fe even though the Maine has more room, Captain Jorgenson being hesitant about bringing the Russian captain onboard his vessel. After introductions were made, they asked Azarov for some time to talk among themselves, making him and his two escorts as comfortable as possible within the confines of the cramped sub.

  “We need to make this as quick as possible. I’m not comfortable with us hanging just below the surface. We’re open to MAD detection,” Jorgenson states, referring to the rogue group out there somewhere. “And without a clue as to their capabilities, we need to conclude this one way or another and get some additional water over our heads.”

  “Agreed,” Leonard responds, and proceeds with a quick recap of Azarov’s story.

  “What do we do about the two other Russian boats out there, let alone the others? We can’t discount the Chinese, Iranian, and others that may have survived,” Castagne mentions.

  “With regards to the other Russians, in my opinion, that would be one reason for having the Gepard join us. It will reduce our chances of a violent confrontation should we run into them. If we travel with speed, anyone else we chance upon will pick us up on their passive array. If they identify the Gepard in a group with us, hopefully they’ll draw the appropriate conclusion,” Leonard replies.

  “That may be, but it will also increase our chances of being found by others. Who knows what that will bring?” Jorgenson says.

  Missile boat captains are inherently more cautious, Leonard thinks. And with just cause. Against an attack boat, they aren’t as maneuverable and don’t have the firepower.

  “If we motor with the Jefferson City and the Santa Fe in the rear, anyone we come across will see that we represent a substantial amount of firepower and will be hesitant about engaging. If it comes to a fight, they may get one of us, but against three fast attack boats, they’ll know it will be at a high cost. We have the best boats under the water and the best crews. Any enemy captain will know he’s sunk before the first shot is fired. With a box pattern and with our two attack boats in the rear, we’ll be able to maneuver so that we can bracket anyone approaching,” Castagne comments.

  “It’s a risk regardless of which direction we take. It’s a matter of which one is the lesser. We can’t forget about the rogue group either,” Leonard states.

  “Exactly why we need to make a decision and get the fuck out of here,” Jorgenson responds.

  “It’s not that I don’t trust him,” Jorgenson begins, referring to Azarov. “If they were going to try something, it would already be over except for the groans of bulkheads collapsing. It’s just hard to shake old habits.”

  Castagne nods his head in agreement. “We’re definitely dealing with something far outside of what we’re used to. I, for one, am not sure what we should be doing. My thoughts are based on a world that no longer really exists and, if I were to be honest, I’m feeling a little lost.”

  “The safety of our crew and boats come first. Even more so now. Our mission has changed. It’s no longer one of protecting our shores, but one of survival. We just need to decide how that is best accomplished,” Leonard says. “If it’s any comfort, I’m feeling a touch lost as well. We’re in a new world with different rules. Our patterns of thought may be based on old habits, but the Russian sitting in the other room is proof that things have changed.”

  The room silences as each captain becomes absorbed in his own thoughts. Leonard barely feels the heat from the coffee cup sitting on the table, nestled between his hands. To him, there isn’t any doubt about adding the Gepard to their group, but each of them must sort out that out in their own way. Having already made up his mind, his thoughts drift to the group who attempted to communicate some days ago, and sent them orders to destroy Walker’s compound.

  He’s not sure exactly what their capabilities might be, other than having the ability to communicate and their being in possession of the codes, albeit older ones. So far, nothing has materialized beyond those initial messages. Like encountering the Gepard, he feels that if they were going to do something else, or had the capability to do so, they would have already. That doesn’t mean they won’t, it’s just that, if they had hostile intentions, and could, his feeling is that it would have already come about. However, it’s a variable that is hanging over their heads and one he’s not comfortable with. With this line of thought running through his mind, he wonders briefly how Captain Walker is faring.

  “Well, gentlemen. Time’s wasting and we’re just sitting on our asses. We might as well be launching flares so everyone can see us. What’s our decision?” Jorgenson asks, breaking the silence.

  Although Leonard technically outranks the other two captains in seniority, the other two have sailed together longer and he feels like the newcomer. However, they are all captains of their respective ships; all basically equal.

  In the end, it’s not a difficult choice. They unanimously agree to include Gepard and its crew on their expedition. What happens after they resupply is another story altogether. But they’ll decide that when the time arrives. Azarov reenters the room, takes a seat, and is handed a cup of coffee so dark that it’s close to ebony.

  “I apologize for the wait,” Leonard says to Azarov.

  “Is no matter,” Azarov replies.

  Leonard relates their thoughts about the inclusion of the Gepard as they make their way to resupply. Azarov nods as if he expected nothing less. The talk turns to their formation and what to do if they encounter a contact. They discuss defensive and attack plans, covering their maneuvers from all angles and depths.

  Should they encounter anyone on their journey, they’ll initiate contact in the same manner as they did the Gepard. The boat that makes initial contact will depend on what nationality they encounter. If other Russian subs cross their path, the Gepard will initiate as the other boats go silent. If the
Chinese should be encountered, it is agreed that the Santa Fe should initiate, relations between the Chinese and Americans having been marginally better than those with the Russians.

  They go through communications and eventually, considering the language differences, agree that one of the signalmen from the Santa Fe should accompany the Gepard. A sailor appears at the doorway and catches Leonard’s attention. Waving him in, the sailor leans down to Leonard and whispers in his ear. Hearing the message, Leonard’s eyes widen.

  “When did this happen?”

  “Moments ago, sir. I rushed down as soon as it came in,” the sailor answers.

  “Problems?” Jorgenson asks, seeing Leonard’s reaction.

  “I don’t know. Excuse me a moment, gentlemen,” Leonard replies, rising.

  Leonard makes his way through the narrow passageways, ducking under hatches as he follows the sailor to the small communications center. Picking up the microphone, he asks the sailor on watch, “Are they still on?”

  “Aye, sir.”

  “This is Captain Leonard,” he says, pressing the transmit button.

  Leonard is wary that the rogue group may be monitoring the comm channels, whether coded or not. Walker had mentioned that the satcomms had most likely been shut down by the group and that was why they hadn’t been able to communicate. Hearing that there was someone attempting to call them via that method surprised Leonard, especially seeing that person was Walker himself.

  Several seconds pass, due to the nature of satellite communications, before a response is heard. “Leonard, it’s nice to establish contact again. I have what I hope is uplifting news,” Walker begins.

  Walker recaps his encounter with the rogue group, confirming the prior information regarding their intents and purposes. He informs Leonard of the escalating threat from the night runners to the north of their compound, ending with his discovery of the satellite and nanobots. “There’s more, but that’s it in a nutshell.”

  Leonard, in turn, shares the story of San Diego and ends with the discovery of the other submarines, including their recent encounter with the Alpha.

  A longer pause. “I’m sorry,” is Walker’s only reply.

  They establish set times to keep in contact, either through the current comm channel or via the sat phone. Wishing each other luck, they end their communication.

  Leonard lingers in the small confines of the comm center, digesting the information from Walker. The good news is that there isn’t a need to worry about the rogue group anymore. Leonard feels a release of tension he didn’t even know he was holding. For him, and the others, that was a major threat. He knows the night runners remain a danger to Walker and his compound, but that doesn’t really affect Leonard and his crew as much. It’s not that he doesn’t feel for Walker, it’s just that Leonard has enough worries of his own. Returning to the mess room, Leonard sits with the other captains, who give him questioning looks.

  “That was Captain Walker, the man I told you about with the compound in Washington,” Leonard states. “Apparently we now have our satellite communication restored.”

  He relays the gist of the conversation, that the rogue group has been eliminated. He also says that the night runners are leaving the Seattle area and pouring out of the city into the surrounding areas.

  “Well, that’s the best fucking news I’ve heard since this whole thing started,” Castagne exclaims.

  “Will that be a problem with our resupply?” Jorgenson asks.

  “It shouldn’t, as Bangor is far from the city with large expanses of water separating the two,” Leonard answers. “That doesn’t mean we won’t have problems gathering supplies, just not from them.”

  “Who is this person? And what is this group you speak of?” Azarov chimes in.

  The three American captains look at each other, wondering how much they want to tell the Russian. With a sigh, Leonard tells him of the group and what Walker found out.

  Azarov listens to the story with an amazed expression. Leonard finishes and the room falls silent. Castagne and Jorgenson have heard it before, but the retelling doesn’t make it any less dramatic. To a person, they are amazed that such a thing could happen.

  “And that man eliminated a group such as this on his own?” Azarov asks.

  “Well, him and the soldiers with him,” Leonard answers.

  “That is a good man, then, no?”

  “Yes. I believe so.”

  The meeting over, signals are sent to the other boats, who surface to receive their respective captains. Even though they are free from the threat of the rogue group, there are still other enemies who can do them harm. They’ve been in position for too long and it’s time to get underway. Even though it will slow their progress, they will travel submerged. It will provide for better acoustics with which to identify anyone they come across. Plus, it just makes them all a little more comfortable to be in their familiar domain. On a signal from Leonard, they vanish beneath the waves and set a course to the Northeast and Bangor.

  Someone at the Door

  A flash of understanding rises in me. “So, correct me if I’m wrong: With a flick of the switch, we could get rid of two-thirds of the night runners?”

  “That’s what I’m saying. It’s theoretically possible. However, we can’t communicate with the satellite. The technicians say they’ve been working on it since they arrived. It has been their number one priority but, to date, they haven’t been able to transmit to it,” Harold responds.

  “Work on it. There hasn’t ever been anything more important in all of your life.”

  Leaving Harold to his toys, I have one of the technicians patch me into a satellite UHF relay to Cabela’s. I’m sure Frank has just about paced a hole in the floor worrying about what has become of us and the possibility of a counter-strike against the compound.

  Kathy answers the radio. There are a few moments of confused radio chatter until I manage to explain that there’s a satellite delay when using a satellite for communication. Once we get that ironed out, she fetches Frank. I inform him of our situation but I’m not able to give him our arrival time.

  “There are things we need to work out on our end, the least of which is what to do with almost three hundred prisoners,” I state.

  “What are your thoughts?” he asks.

  “I haven’t the foggiest idea.”

  “Good luck with that. Bannerman asked me to tell you that bringing in that many more will make this place almost standing room only,” Frank says. “Although having more in camp will also be helpful.”

  “Copy that. I’m not sure what we’ll do with them. This place is operational and I’m contemplating leaving Harold in place with a team or two to work on the satellite. He says that we may be able to install a relay station at the camp. Anyway, we have a few things we’ll have to sort out before heading back,” I comment.

  “Okay, Jack. There’s nothing new on the front here. We’ll see you when you return,” he says.

  On a whim, I make another effort to contact Leonard. With no small amount of surprise, I’m able to raise the Santa Fe. Although I know what caused our communication blackout with them, it’s still surprising to hear them answer. I’m sure our story isn’t nearly as shocking as his. The news of San Diego is disturbing.

  That would explain the smoke on the horizon, I think, listening to Leonard.

  I didn’t even think about the nukes that may still be floating around the world. There may not be a lot of people around that have the knowledge to use them – or many people, period – but the fact that they ran into a missile sub doesn’t make me all that comfortable. If there’s one of ours running around, there are bound to be others out there, too. And the Russians, well, that is a surprise. At least, it's a variable I hadn't considered.

  With them heading to Bangor, we keep our conversation short, only summarizing experiences and bringing each other up to date. We wish each other good luck and close with the times and modes set for further communications. I
quickly call Frank again, letting him know about Leonard and what happened to San Diego.

  With a sigh, I lean over the desktop in front of me and put my head down, exhausted. The news from Leonard has made me even more tired and there is still much to do before we can go home. I’m also stalling because I wasn’t lying when I told Frank that I don’t have the slightest idea of what to do with the three hundred people under guard in the vehicle bay. If it were up to me, I would go find a cot and lie down. The long night, coming off an intense adrenaline rush, the news about the satellite, the whole thing with Nahmer, night runners in the hundreds of thousands poised north of our compound, and a hard upcoming decision leaves me without any energy.

  Even with the constant chatter and hammering of keyboards within the command center, I almost reach a blissful state of unconsciousness when I hear a voice behind me.

  “Jack?” Lynn asks.

  “Go away,” I groan.

  “I’m not going to do that. You of all people should know that,” she says.

  “I’ll pay you,” I say, my head still resting on my arms.

  “That will cost more than you can afford.”

  “Why are you still here? I was doing perfectly well examining the structural integrity of this desk,” I say.

  “We still have things to do here, Jack, and I want to get home.”

  Without raising my head, I turn to look at her. She is standing with her hands on her hips, looking down at me. That is never a good sign. I know she’s just as tired as I am – we all are, but I just want to collect my gold watch, fly my middle finger at the whole mess, and walk off to do nothing at all.

  Surely they can make some decisions themselves and just let me rest, I think.

  However, that would be the exact wrong thing to say. That would get me my rest though, just not in a desired manner. Unconscious and sleeping is much different than, well, just unconscious.