Chapter 32
Elana picked up on the vibe. “Okay, something is definitely going on. What is it?”
“You need to get off the boat,” I said.
“Not until you tell me what’s up. Somebody deleted the nav history. That’s totally bizarre and against protocol.” Elana squinted at me, putting it all together. “What did they find out there?”
I shared another glance with Jack.
“Did they find a UFO? Oh, my God. That’s it, isn’t it? There’s an alien spaceship at the bottom of the ocean, and some covert government agency wants you to retrieve it. It all makes sense. That’s why they killed Weyland.”
“You have an active imagination,” I said.
Flynn climbed into the sub to see what all the hubbub was about. “Did somebody say UFO?”
“There’s no UFO,” I assured.
“You know, you’re going to need help.”
“There’s no UFO.”
He gave me a doubtful look. “Look, I’ve seen that movie. It doesn’t end well for anyone.”
“Would you escort this lovely lady off the sub?” I asked Flynn.
Elana scowled at me.
“We’re running out of time.”
"Okay, okay, I'm going. You two be careful out there."
She climbed out of her seat, then took the ladder to the top hatch.
Flynn was right behind her. Once she was off the sub, he pulled the hatch down and sealed us in.
With a grin on his face, he said, "I'm going with you. You’re gonna need someone to man the umbilical if you dive to recover anything from that UFO.
We might have to fight space aliens underwater. "
"I'm telling you, there's no UFO."
“Right, right, of course,” he said with a wink. “Classified.”
In truth, we could use a third hand. And Flynn was the only person on the habitat I trusted.
"Flynn, what you see on this trip stays between us,” I said.
With an eager grin, he gave me a salute. “You can count on me, sir. I can keep a secret.”
I took the helm and submerged the Triton. We cruised out of the habitat and headed into the abyss. Floodlights slashed the darkness as I navigated toward the location Conroy had given me. The current tossed the tiny sub around, the storm raging above. It was like flying through bumpy air.
With an average speed of 3.5 knots per hour, we reached the estimated site in a little under an hour. There was nothing but a void, and the sonar showed nothing on the bottom.
I continued on, moving over a ledge on the sea floor. The bottom began to slope, and I followed the terrain into the abyss. We submerged deeper, from 300 feet to 325 to 350.
Then 400.
“What’s the test depth of this thing?” I asked.
“Operating depth is 1,250 meters,” Flynn said. “Test depth is 2,500 meters. She’s got plenty of room to run.”
We weren’t going to get anywhere near a hull implosion at this depth unless there was structural damage to the pressure hull.
We followed the slope, descending to about 500 feet. That's when the floodlights raked across a black metallic structure. The massive attack submarine was barely a blip on the sonar. The angle of the slope minimized its signature.
I navigated the mini-sub along the starboard side of the submarine. The behemoth lay on the ocean floor at a slight angle, the sail at 45°.
A gaping fracture in the pressure hull amidships sealed the submarine‘s fate. There were no survivors on board. The ship had made a fast, one-way trip to the bottom.
"That's no UFO," Flynn said.
"Told you," I replied.
The movie star frowned. "I was getting excited there for a moment.”
"Believe me, there's enough for you to get excited about."
The giant submarine dwarfed our mini-sub. The 24 vertical launch tubes carried enough SLBMs to decimate every major metropolitan area in the United States.
The Silent Dragon was nuclear Armageddon at the flip of a switch.
We continued along the length of the boat, heading aft.
The vessel had traditional screws as well as the hydrodynamic thrusters that propelled the attack submarine through the water in near silence.
But the thrusters still gave off a recognizable signature.
The real prize was the Quantum Noise-Canceling Array at the stern.
Several pyramid-shaped nodes incorporated into the anechoic tile at the stern canceled mechanical noise and cavitation by generating precise counter-phased waves, making the massive vessel virtually silent.
It shared a similar principle to noise-canceling headphones.
Nothing was ever truly silent, but this system brought the sub below the threshold of detection—at least for now.
"I'm thinking Weyland and the others found the sub by accident," Jack said. "He planned on reporting it when he returned to the habitat. Trask had other ideas. He wanted the technology. This would be worth billions. Why hand it over to the government when you can sell it to them?”
JD hit the nail on the head.
"They killed him to keep him silent," I said.
Flynn frowned and shook his head. "I never liked those two.”
I navigated the Triton around the stern of the Silent Dragon and used the mini-sub’s high-resolution cameras to photograph the quantum array.
I took video and circled the entire sub, getting a full look at the vessel.
Once that was complete, we returned to the stern and examined the quantum array again.
"What the hell is it?" Flynn asked.
“It’s a submarine,” I said flatly.
“I can see it’s a submarine. What are the knobby things?”
"It's better if you don't ask," I said.
I climbed out of the pilot's chair and moved aft to the lockout chamber.
“Where are you going?” Flynn asked.
“Out there to retrieve the QNCA.”
“QNCA?”
“Quantum Noise Canceling Array. Like I said. Don’t ask questions. You’re going to act as bellman for the dive.”
“Hell, I want to go with you.”
“Sorry. You’re staying aboard, managing gas and comms.”
JD took the helm. Flynn and I sealed ourselves in the lockout chamber. It functioned as a dry, pressurized diving bell.
I suited up in a dry suit and helmet, then attached my umbilical support.
Flynn twisted the bottom hatch and opened it. After we went through the safety checks, I climbed through the hatch into the inky water. Flynn would stay in the lockout trunk, feeding my umbilical.
With a satchel of tools in hand, I marched across the sea floor to the Silent Dragon.