"I couldn't begin to estimate the advances this science would have made if it wasn't checked. You think we're dealing with the same people who built this?"
"Why not? It makes sense. The fact that they destroyed a link to their past is convincing enough, but seeing this--"
"From looking at the outside in, Colonel, the notes on this investigation really had nothing to say. At least nothing stands out that would make them want this artifact destroyed."
Everett and Jack turned and looked at Mendenhall. They never remembered the new lieutenant using such a long sentence before.
"What?" Will asked, wondering what it was he had said wrong.
"You're right, Lieutenant, that's all," Collins answered. "What were they afraid of us uncovering from this boat?"
Everett and Mendenhall were as perplexed as Jack.
"Whatever it is, it's in this file, and in this wreck. Either something found during the original forensics on the artifact in nineteen sixty-seven, or something we may find now. So, we need someone combing through the file, and we need another workup on the remains."
"And hope it all wasn't burned to hell."
Jack slapped the file into Mendenhall's chest. "Right, Lieutenant. You have your job. Grab anyone you need, form any team, and get me an answer."
Will took the file and almost dropped it in the dirty water; his expression said that the order would be hard to complete.
"Yes, sir.... Can I have any doc or professor I want?"
"Yes, just grab them and go. We need answers, Lieutenant, so get it done."
LEVIATHAN , THREE HUNDRED
MILES OFF THE NORTHERN COAST
OF VENEZUELA
The first officer climbed the spiral staircase slowly, making his way into the observation lounge on the lowest deck of the conning tower. He knocked, opened the hatch to the captain's private suite, and saw her sitting in the large, high-backed chair, staring silently out of the thirty-five-by-twenty-foot port window at the passing sea outside of the pressure hull.
"Captain, I am sorry to disturb you, but I thought you would want to know that you were right in what the presidents of the United States and Venezuela would try to do. We have confirmed the sailing orders of four crude oil tankers from Portsmouth this morning. They have Royal Navy escort, with at least one Trafalgar class submarine shadowing them."
"Venezuela?"
"Two tankers with Chinese and Venezuelan escort vessels," Samuels answered, looking away from the captain as he did. When he looked back up, he could tell the captain was thinking with eyes closed, as was the custom for the master of Leviathan.
"Will we allow them passage, as you wished to do this morning?"
As he watched she opened her eyes, and the first officer saw that at the moment she wasn't medicated. Her eyes were clear and full of fire--hate-filled and angry.
The captain stood in the green-tinted sea reflection mixed with the darkness, and then stepped from the raised platform. She stepped slowly to the large rounded window and held a gloved hand to the thick glass, then leaned against it with a sigh.
"Captain, are you all right? Would you like the doctor to--?"
"The planned attack is ready?"
"Yes, Captain, but your orders were to avoid any further bloodshed."
"I have a change of orders for you. You will target the warships only. Leave the tankers, they are to go on their way unmolested. I suspect a small deceit, at least on the British and American side of the board. I also do not want one Chinese or British warship, or the Americans if they join them, to ever see port again. Loss of life be damned." The captain slapped at the glass and then took a step back. "They are testing the wrong person, James; explain to them in no uncertain terms how Leviathancan be in two places at one time."
"Perhaps we can meet with our guests first.... I mean, Captain, we have the time; these vessels will take a week or more to reach their destinations. We could avoid the loss of life while we explain why we have taken actions in the Gulf of Mexico."
"Mr. Samuels, we need fortitude in doing what needs to be done. We are not fighting for ourselves. There has been too much loss of sea life in the Med to lose what we have in the gulf. Now, please, do as I command."
The first officer bowed his head. "Yes, Captain."
"James, you have never hesitated in following my orders before now. Perhaps you had better explain your hesitancy in this instance."
The first officer paused at the large hatchway, then slowly turned.
"I will never question your orders, Captain. However, you're countermanding everything you laid out before we sailed. I am wondering if maybe you're not telling me something--your health, the sessions with the doctor? And why is Sergeant Tyler present at most of these appointments?"
The face never turned from the window, but he could see that the captain's eyes were closed and she was biting her lower lip. For the life of him, he could swear she was in conflict deep within herself.
"I ... I don't recall meeting with the ..."
The words stopped as she turned and made her way back to the large chair, signaling an end to his questioning.
"I will report on the attack as soon as we have long-range damage assessment, Captain."
He waited for a response, but when none came he slowly left the private control room.
As the captain sat with eyes closed, she tried to remember the last medical session with the ship's surgeon, but she couldn't recall anything through the pain of her current headache. She remembered the early morning visits to the sickbay to check on Colonel Collins--those moments were clear, as she remembered forming her plans. If these other sessions had happened, why was Sergeant Tyler present? If he was, she must get an explanation as to why.
Niles heard the knock on the door just as Henri Farbeaux stepped from the bathroom, looked at him, and saw he made no move to answer it. He tossed the towel he was drying his hands on over his shoulder and opened the door.
"Excuse me, gentlemen. Our captain has asked that you join the first officer in the command center," a young-faced officer said, stepping aside and allowing the senator, Alice, and Virginia to step by him. "The others are ready to go, as you can see."
Niles, resplendent in his issued red jumpsuit, walked past Farbeaux and out into the companionway.
"Colonel?"
"I think I'll stay."
The officer kept his politeness. "The captain has informed us since you are an uninvited guest onboard, you are highly expendable, so please, Colonel, come with us."
Henri smiled, pulled his jumper top up, and bowed. "Your power of persuasion has moved me. I must thank your captain in person."
"You'll have that chance very soon, sir." The officer closed the door, the polite smile gone when he knew they could not see.
As they were shown to a rail overlooking the control center--the very brain of Leviathan--they were stunned. With the dimensions of a basketball court, it coursed with a pulse that was electric. At least sixty technicians operated stations that were unrecognizable to anyone but a science-fiction aficionado. There were large-screen monitors and 3-D displays of their surroundings. The tech stations were bathed in dim lighting of greens, blues, and reds. Sonar stations, weapons, environmental control--but that was as far as Niles and his knowledge went. The other stations were as much a mystery to him as the origins of this vessel. There were holograms showing the status of missilelike weapons and torpedoes. An even larger hologram, which showed the distinctive shape of Leviathanas she sliced through the sea underneath the surface, took up what they thought was the navigation platform. The navigation console was like a cartoon, animated and accurate in every detail.