Kraken Rising

CHAPTER 8

Five-star General Marcus Chilton entered the room with James Carter, the Secretary of Defense. They spoke softly for several seconds, and then Chilton shook the man’s hand before they broke apart and Carter took his seat. Chilton nodded to the other members already around the long table — General Walt O’Gorman’s bulldog expression didn’t flicker. He sat with other armed forces generals, chiefs of staff, and a smattering of other senior politicians.

His staff sergeant, Jim Harker, mouthed the word, ready, to him. Chilton nodded and placed a hand on the back of his chair and remained standing. “Ladies and gentlemen, a collision of events is occurring.”

The table quietened, all eyes on him. “Many of you remember the experimental submarine, code named Sea Shadow, that disappeared in the Southern Ocean, along the edge of the South Sandwich Trench in 2008. The miniaturized submarine had an innovative electric drive and high-energy reactor plant and was as close to invisible and soundless as a sub can get. Inexplicably, it was lost with all hands, and never found.”

He looked at the faces around the table, everyone was hanging onto his words. “Never found, perhaps until now. As long as the submarine is intact and has power, it will continue to call to us.” He looked at each person in the room again. Secretary of Defense James Carter nodded imperceptibly, and Chilton continued, “Well, we have recently detected what we believe to be our missing submarine calling to us.”

There were murmurs and then a round of applause. Chilton held up one large hand.

“That was the good news.” He smiled without mirth. “So, here’s where it gets messy. The signal was found buried among other old data, and it was detected coming from approximately 2.25 miles below the Antarctic ice and rock — from Area 24.”

Frowns, and then rushed voices. Chilton held up a hand again. “It sounds impossible, I know. All our submarines have a coded emergency beacon running on an undisclosed frequency. Its unique call signature is as identifiable as a fingerprint — and it’s ours all right.” He exhaled. “And how is it possible? Damned if I know. We have theories, none of them verifiable… from here.”

“Is a salvage mission being organized?” General Steve Warneke asked evenly.

“Yes, and it seems not just by us. At 0800 hours EST, the Chinese Luyang III class destroyer, the Kunming, entered the Southern Ocean. It is fully armed, and has refused to state what its purpose is, or to even respond to international hailing.”

He picked up a remote and clicked it once. It brought up the Chinese base on the edge of the Antarctic. “This is the Xuě Lóng Base. We expect it is the anticipated destination, and is situated only three miles from Area 24.”

“Oh shit, you think they’re making a run for the sub?” a senator asked, leaning forward in his chair. “They heard the signal as well?”

“I believe so,” Chilton said evenly and moved to the next image. The screen now showed a sea of white, with a few flat roofs poking up from the snow. The camp was in a basin valley, and there were a few small mountain shoulders crowded in behind it.

“Bill Monroe took a little trip over there a few hours back for a look-see. He reported a couple of helicopter loads of personnel arriving. He said the size and the way some of them moved made him think they were serious military. Interestingly, no people were rotated out.”

“How many does that base hold?”

“About two dozen… mostly engineers, science staff, and a few standard soldiers. Now there is easily that many packed in there. Way too many people to inhabit the base. Above ground, that is,” Chilton said, lifting the remote again.

He clicked and the next image shown was taken from a high altitude satellite. “We knew they were mining, but kinda makes you wonder what else they’ve been up to. Our Aussie friends had picked up quite a bit of chatter that abruptly shut down about a week ago — the radio and comm. sets were still functioning, and open, but nothing was being transmitted — they simply stopped talking. Beijing is understandably frustrated.” He shrugged. “If it was our base, and they went dark, I’d want to know what happened as well.”

“They all disappeared?” General Warneke’s brows raised.

Chilton tilted his large head. “From above ground anyway. So…”

He clicked again. This time the images were stratigraphic sonar images that peeled back the surface layers, one after the other — the snow, the ice, then the rock. “Now we can see what they were up to: serious mining.” The next image was a computer model of an interpretation of all the sonar readings represented as a 3D graphic. It showed tunnels leading out, and down, for many miles. “They’re digging — mining, or building deep fortifications. Whatever it is, their actions are expressly disallowed under the International Antarctic Treaty of ’59.” He shrugged. “Doesn’t matter, but what does is, we believe they’ve detected the sub’s signal, determined what it is, and have decided to investigate.”

He tapped some more keys, increased the range and depth of the sonar mapping. Hundreds of miles of tunnels and cave systems were shown like dark threads, leading to the massive dark mass of an underground lake.

“Reaches all the way to the Area 24 quarantine zone. I think they broke into one of the natural caves. Had to, they were already close.” Chilton waved the image away and turned. “I don’t care if they have a birthday party down there, or a funeral.” He rolled massive shoulders and sat down. “But they’ve dropped soldiers onto the ice, and now they’re going to plant a warship down there.” He clasped his big fingers together. He turned to James Carter, waiting.

“Talk to them,” Carter said. “Get someone on the line right now. Before we bump chests, let’s see what they have to say.” The secretary of defense tapped his knuckles on the table. “Then we can decide on what comes next.”

“I’ve tried,” Chilton said.

“Then try again; I want to hear,” Carter responded quickly.

Chilton nodded and swung around to Jim Harker. “Jim, get me General Banguuo in at the Central Military Commission. Patch it through right here, right now. He’s a straight shooter, and someone who won’t hide behind protocol.”

Harker stood and called through on a small secure line. Chilton waited, looking up at the screen. It still showed the tunnel systems under the Chinese base that extended towards Area 24. In the center of the large table, a black disk with a speaker in the top crackled for a moment. There were some clicks, and then an educated, relaxed voice came through.

“General Chilton, this is a pleasure to talk to you again. How long has it been?” General Banguuo seemed to be barely holding the smile embedded in his words.

“Long time, General.” Chilton leaned forward. “The last summit was nearly three years ago now.”

Banguuo grunted. “Only three? Hmm, and now, here you are again.”

Chilton noticed that there was no surprise in the man’s tone. “General Banguuo, you’re a very busy man, so am I, so let’s get right to it.” Chilton stared straight ahead. “Why is the Kunming in the Southern Ocean?”

“Simply supporting our citizens.” The answer was too quick.

“You don’t need a Luyang III class destroyer for that, General. Or twenty Special Forces soldiers dropped onto the ice. We would be happy to extend our own resources from our base at McMurdo, if you feel you need more support. Just ask.”

“There is no Chinese Special Forces on the ice. And I think your base at McMurdo has done enough.” There was no warmth in the response.

Chilton frowned. “I caution you about placing your navy in that area. Maybe we should come and join you — lend support — make it an international effort. Make sure other people down in that region don’t see a warship as being… provocative.”

“Provocative?” Banguuo sounded like he growled. “What is in Area 24? What is so valuable that it is worth making our people disappear over? These are the things that are seen as provocative, General Chilton. These are the things that lead to… a dark place. We should all think very clearly.”

Chilton’s frown deepened. “Area 24 is a contamination zone, to be avoided. That warning is for everyone — us included.”

“But you enter it. And we now know that you have been intruding on our Antarctic bases territory. We also have sophisticated satellites, General. Following your intrusion, our people are missing, but you warn us to stay away from our own base.”

Chilton held up a hand to the secretary of defense, stopping him from interrupting. He knew Banguuo, and could sense the tension in his voice.

“General, believe me, I don’t know what you’re talking about. We don’t know anything about your people. As for Area 24, it is off limits to everyone — because of contamination. Please stay out of that area, for your own good.”

“Now you threaten us? You overestimate your global authority.” Banguuo’s voice rose in pitch.

Chilton waited, feeling the tension in the air, like it was adding weight to the atmosphere. He wondered who else was in the room with the Chinese general.

“General Banguuo, we don’t — ”

“I suggest, General Chilton…” The strange new voice that had come onto the line was nasally and cutting. “If anyone should stay out of the Southern Ocean, for their own good, it is you.”

The line went dead. It felt like all the oxygen had been sucked from the room.

“Who the hell was that?” Chilton finally asked.

“That…” James Carter exhaled, “… was a damned nightmare, and why your man acted like he had a rod up his ass. It was Mr. Chung Wanlin, both the Minister of National Defense and Biological Research, and also a fervent nationalist.”

Chilton sat back slowly as General O’Gorman leaned forward, one fist clasped in the other. “Did he just threaten us?” He snorted. “Stay out of international waters?” He smiled to Chilton. “When it comes to those type of messages, I don’t hear too good. You, Marcus?”

Chilton smiled. “Well, kinda just makes me all the more interested. I’ve dispatched a Seawolf down for a little look-see. It’ll be there in a few days.”

“I’ll need to brief the president. He’s not going to like it,” Carter said.

“He’s going to like it less if we get pushed out of the Southern Pacific.” O’Gorman’s expression was flat. “Or if they get their hands on our leading edge submarine technology.”

“And what do we do if they fire on us?” Carter turned to him.

“Sink ’em — we’ve got the firepower to take ’em to school.” O’Gorman’s smile had little warmth.

“Or they sink us.” Chilton stood and paced for a moment. “As a kid I remember watching this great boxer called Jersey Joe Walcott — best boxer alive. He took on this flash new kid who was small, with a short reach, and had this funny way of moving around the ring. His name was Rocky Marciano. Walcott had the height, the reach, and the experience. Then Marciano stopped his funny way of moving, planted his legs, and caught Jersey Joe off guard with a big surprise uppercut — sank him — game over.” Chilton came around the table. “Either way, we sink them, or they sink us, it could mean all out war.” He paced again. The room was now silent, watching him. “We need to get in front of them. If they’ve got a path to our sub, then I want to use it — with or without an invitation.” He stopped moving. “I need more time and more options.” He turned, searching for one man, and finding him.

“That means you’re up, Jack.”

Colonel Jack Hammerson, who was seated at the back of the room, stood, saluted, and left without a word.

Jack “Hammer” Hammerson skimmed through the reports and images, stopping at the signal analysis of the buried pulse. Naval Comm-Sec had identified the unique frequency signature as that belonging to an experimental sub that vanished in 2008, and Naval Command wanted it back, or obliterated — either was fine with Hammerson. But first they wanted line-of-sight confirmation… and that’s where he came in.

Hammerson knew the location well — Area 24 — a labyrinth of caves leading down to a primordial world. It was his office that had recommended designating it an international forbidden zone. He knew there was absolutely nothing else down there that could send a signal of any shape or form. Hammerson had sent a team there five years ago. Of the twenty men and women that went in, only three walked out. The reports from the survivors told of a place that was alien to a human being, as if they had set foot on Mars… except perhaps a thousand times more hostile. Humans didn’t belong down in those cave systems.

Hammerson had no idea how an American submarine had found its way in there. But he was damned sure that the question about the crew’s likelihood of survival should be answered with a conclusive deceased. Whether command realized it or not, he knew his job was not rescue, but location, confirmation, and probably destruction of the American asset — nothing more, nothing less.

Chilton needed to thread a team in there. Enter the Chinese Antarctic base, locate their tunnel system, and then use it to find the submarine. If at all possible, they were to minimize lethal action against the Chinese nationals. Hammerson snorted — like the PLA were going to let them just walk in there. He knew they’d be fighting the Chinese all the way to hell, and given their recent attack on Aimee Weir’s house, that might be just how he’d like it to be.

Hammerson sighed, dropping the folder. The other complication was that by the time they got there, managed to work their way in, and down the shaft, the Chinese would be days in front — way too much ground given. He needed another option. Something a lot faster and more direct.

Hammerson opened another folder, covering other nations’ work on the frozen continent. He stopped at the British section — Project Ellsworth. It was one of theirs. The funding company, GBR, was a US military research arm.

Jack Hammerson refamiliarized himself with the project and personnel, and then sat back. Looks like we’ve got an elevator, he thought, and smiled as he lifted his phone.