Day by Day Armageddon: Shattered Hourglass (36 page)

Three hard knocks on the door announced their presence at the SCIF. After a moment of scrutiny through the glass, the door was unlocked and they stepped inside. The security display was not in place to prevent
uncleared
persons from entering the classified nerve center of the boat as much as it was to prevent
infected
persons from entry. All secure areas required a visual check for signs of infection before entry was permitted.

Monday cleared his throat, gesturing Kil and Saien to the table. “Over here.”

At the table were Captain Larsen, the boat’s chaplain, Rex, Rico, Commie, and Commander Monday. A large map was laid out on the table.

Monday began the briefing immediately. “We are roughly sixteen hours to go time with a hard start of ten hundred GMT tomorrow.
Aurora
will be on station for six hours to cover ingress and egress and we’ll have the portable UAVs up as well, but the captain will not allow them to follow you to the facility. He’ll explain in a bit. Of course, time will be tight, you’ll need to be swift inside.”

“Besides recovery of
Zero,
is there anything else we need to know or look out for?” Rex asked.

Monday hesitated for a moment before turning to Larsen. “Sir, we got authorization to break the seal on the mission files?”

“Yes, we were authorized the instant we entered Chinese waters. Go ahead,” Larsen responded.

Monday spun the alpha dial on the safe; after an audible click, he stepped aside for Larsen to spin the bravo. No one person had full access to the container that held certain launch codes and other critical files.

Larsen cranked the handle and pulled the drawer open, revealing light to things that rarely saw it.

“Okay, let’s take seats.”

With room for only six at the war table, Commie stood behind Larsen. The captain broke the seal on the document pouch and pulled a stack of documents from where they had sat since some time before
Virginia
left Panamanian waters.

“Okay, most of you think you know generally where the facility lies. In saying that, I’ll pass this satellite shot around the room.
Virginia
is currently
here
.” Larsen pointed to the mouth of a river on the westernmost portion of the Bohai. “The facility actually lies in the Tianjin region just southeast of the Beijing region. I apologize for the deception but if the boat was taken siege, I couldn’t risk a breach. No one onboard, besides those in this room, knows the true and exact location of the facility. This is why the UAVs can’t accompany you to the doors. We have no choice but to remain surfaced during the operation so that we can remain in contact with you as well as maintain data link with the Scan Eagle birds. The birds will be protecting the submarine, watching for threats while you ingress. Questions so far?” Larsen asked, scanning around the table.

Kil raised his hand. “What about the nearby-airfield-and-stealing-a-Chinese-helicopter part of the plan?”

“That was a necessary deception to deceive those not privy to the fact that you would be assaulting a facility elsewhere than Beijing. The Tianjin region is less populated and as you can see, the facility is only five miles inland from the river,” Larsen answered.

Rico elbowed Rex, not wanting to ask the question himself.

“Okay, I’ll ask. Sir, how are we getting upriver? It seems pretty snaky and easy to get lost in the dark. Lots of shanty river docks and other things around in that satellite image. The RHIB will be noisy and draw attention from both sides. Could cause trouble. We don’t have GPS anymore, and it’ll be tough to pick the right beach.”

“Yes, which is why we are taking
Virginia
upriver. We’ll be so close to the riverbank you can hand paddle the RHIB in if you want, or even swim, but I wouldn’t advise it. Topside watch reports bodies in the water. A lot of ’em, and some still moving. Our inertials navigate solely by internal laser gyros, and are not dependent on outside GPS signals. We’ll be within a centimeter of optimal landfall. We will also have our top sonar operator sitting at his station to assist in navigating
Virginia
through the shallows.”

“What are we going after, really?” said Kil.

Larsen flipped a few pages into the mission documents, stopping on a photograph taken off angle and seemingly in secret. “This is
Zero,
or what the Chinese codenamed as CHANG. Pass this around.”

The photo depicted something encased up to its neck in a block of glacial ice. It wore a suit made of some type of alloy. Its face could not be seen through the helmet visor. The only indication that it still moved was the odd contorted positions of its hands, partially protruding from the block of ice.

“The helmet, it’s still on. They didn’t remove it?” asked Kil.

Larsen responded quickly, “No, they didn’t, or at least they didn’t until the Chinese president ordered them to do so. We think that order was issued early December of last year according to the NSA intercepts we were able to recover. The timing is of course impeccable. We can’t prove it, but the COG believes that the anomaly started when CHANG’s suit integrity was compromised by the Chinese. I think you all know the rest of the story, in 3D.”

“So we make it to the facility, get inside, and find this thing. Then what?” Rex said.

“You disable it and bring it back to the boat. We freeze it in the modified torpedo tube we’ve prepared, and transport it back to COG scientists,” replied Larsen.

“With all due respect, but no fucking way,” said Kil. “You want me to bring that thing back to this boat, still kicking, and then make it my roommate all the way back home? I’m not so sure I know what that thing you call CHANG really is, but I can tell you this: I had to assault an overrun coast guard cutter during my tenure as Hotel 23 military commander. Just three radiated undead managed to take that cutter down. At least on the cutter, the survivors could have escaped overboard. If we have an outbreak on-board this boat, there’s nowhere to hide. What makes you think this is a good idea?”

“These are orders from the highest authority. Directly from the top and we will follow them,” Larsen asserted calmly but firmly.

“I’ve been hearing a lot of talk about the COG. Who and where are they, really?” Kil said.

“The Continuity of Government program, as it exists today, was established long before you or me. They reside at a facility colloquially known as Pentagon Two and have been calling the strategic shots since the president was killed and the nukes were dropped. Collectively they hold all the power and authority of the executive branch, meaning they have legal authority over the military and subsequently over you, Commander.”

“Say for a moment I humor you and we find this CHANG, or whatever
it
is. How the hell are we going to disable it? Hundred-mile-an-hour tape? Foul language? The only thing that has ever worked against them is a bullet through the brain. They can’t be tamed; they can’t be reasoned with. They are walking viruses that only want to infect and keep infecting,” Kil ranted, knowing he was losing steam with Larsen.

“We took delivery of a few items from the COG before you all arrived from the carrier. Monday, go get the gun.”

After a few moments, Commander Monday returned with a large apparatus that looked more like a flamethrower.

“This is a Swarm Control Foam Gun, or SCFG. The gun has
two nozzles that shoot two different chemicals that actuate when they hit the air and mix. Within seconds the compound hardens to concrete characteristics. You shoot CHANG with this and he’ll be immobilized. We’ll chisel the foam down to fit him in the modified torpedo tube. Something bad happens and we just shoot his ass into the ocean like a giant extraterrestrial turd. No fuss, and we let the sharks take care of him,” Monday said, setting the instructions down on the table.

Kil instantly noticed the format of the type font and the way it was presented on waterproof paper. “Where did they get this gun?” he asked suspiciously.

“We didn’t inquire. Why?” Larsen asked.

“No reason—just curious, sir.”

“Oh, now you want to
sir
me after raising hell and being insubordinate?”

“How would you act in my situation,
sir
?”

“That is why I let it slide and haven’t had you locked in the reefer or torpedo tube or court-martialed.”

Kil could tell that Larsen wasn’t really serious, but still let on as if the words had the desired effect.

“CHANG isn’t the only objective,” Larsen added. “You’re also going after these.” He pointed to a photo of clear, cube-shaped objects. “These are what we might call hard disks. Commie knows more. Go ahead.”

“Yes, sir. These are storage devices—they store sub-nano laser-etched data in three dimensions inside the cubes. They can hold many times more information in one cube than exists in our entire human history. There may be more than one of them. The Chinese likely never knew what they were and didn’t have the luxury of decades to research and develop a primitive reading device.”

“I ain’t complaining about it because they look pretty light to hump back, at least lighter and less dangerous than that CHANG thing, but what’s the point in bringing them back?” Rex asked.

“There may be information about the anomaly on the cube,” Commie responded. “We probably won’t be able to read all of it but hopefully we might be able to read enough quadrants to get a head start on a vaccine or something similar.”

Kil repositioned the op area chart in front of him, making it
the focus prop of his next point. He traced his words on the chart as he spoke. “Let’s recap this, shall we? We are going to take this submarine ten miles up that shallow river; the four of us will paddle the RHIB to the shore here, and then hump five miles inland. Then we’re going to somehow gain access to the facility, find the creature, blast it with that bullshit foam gun, and get back to the boat carrying a twenty-thousand-year-old alien on our backs without getting eaten by a few billion undead Chinese. Did I miss anything?”

“The data cubes,” Commie timidly reminded, a safe distance from Kil.

Larsen waited a few seconds until the snickers subsided and the tension dropped before retorting. “Well, when you put it that way, it doesn’t sound very promising, but you’re leaving out a few key details. One, we are a considerable distance from Beijing, in an area that was less populated before the outbreak and did not sustain nuclear attack. Two, we will have
Aurora
providing overhead support, passing the chessboard layout to you. Three, you are only ten miles round trip on foot. That is if you don’t commandeer transport along the way, which would be advisable. Four, you will be well provisioned with C4 and detonators to get around the facility’s security measures. Hell, the doors may be unlocked for all we know.”

“Thanks for the clarity, Captain. Rex, I think the four of us need to study the mission documents and establish who does what and when. Then we’ll need to get our gear ready and rack out for a few hours before we hit the beach tomorrow. It’s still your team; me and Saien are only advisors,” Kil said.

“Yeah, I hear you. All that sounds about right, but I was hoping you’d go senior officer on me and try to take charge of the team so I could embarrass you with my superior knowledge and experience,” Rex said.

“You can’t always get what you want, Rex. It’s your show.” Kil wasn’t joking.

•   •   •

The four men discussed tactics, burning the evening oil on details like who would drive the RHIB, who would debark first, etc. They
discussed the pace and initial compass heading they would take to the facility. They went over tactical radio frequencies in terms of primary, secondary, and tertiary in the event they lost comms. Rico drew the shortest straw on carrying the bulky foam gun, but seemed happy at the opportunity of being the one that would get to use it on CHANG. Larsen, Commie, and Monday excused themselves about an hour into the team’s planning phase, giving Kil the window he needed.

“Okay, we may not have long until they get back. I have a friend back on the carrier that sent a few coded messages to me before we lost comms. He couldn’t send much but did say that COG scientists ran experiments on the other ones we were briefed about. He said that they were strong and resistant to small arms. I know I’ll be carrying that LaRue 7.62, which should punch through just about anything we come across, but we might need some cocktails. Any progress, Saien?”

“Already on it. I made some friends onboard. We will have them with us when we depart,” Saien assured.

“Questions?” Kil gestured to Rex and Rico. “Okay, cool. Rico, bring that toy foam gun to the armory so you can read up on it while we get our real guns ready. I guess the next step is to load mags and soak our guns in lube. I’m runnin’ mine wet—don’t need a malfunction tomorrow.”

“Amen,” Rex agreed.

The four headed to the armory to choose swords before entering the dragon’s maw.

Failure,
Admiral Goettleman said to himself. The five recent attempts to secure the critical communications areas of the ship had resulted in heavy casualties. The undead were tearing the crew apart. Outbreaks were spreading like wildfire and were only narrowly quelled by bullets to the brain. Many creatures were simply being shoved over the side, dropping over seventy feet into the Gulf of Mexico.

A very drastic last-ditch effort was now underway to retake the ship.

“Make your speed thirty knots hold heading to Naval Air Station Key West!” Admiral Goettleman commanded the officer of the deck. From the bridge, he could see Key West rising off the ship’s bow. Activating the 5MC system, he cleared his throat. “On the flight deck, this is the admiral speaking. Strike teams, man your access hatches and light lockers, be advised we are increasing speed to thirty-five knots, and are currently seventeen miles from impact, closing on Naval Air Station Key West. All hands above and those below brace for impact on my mark, that is all.”