Goliath

“Conn, hangar, the prototype’s ready, but we’re still waiting for Jackson and Paniagua.”

David is seated in front of a computer terminal linked directly to the ship’s central computer, watching as a million bytes of information finish downloading from his CD.

A knock. One of the ship’s chief engineers enters his stateroom. “Sir, they’re waiting for you in the hangar.”

“Yes, yes, one minute. You did want me to fix the glitches in the system’s mainframe, didn’t you?”

“Yes, sir, but—”

“But nothing. No one touches this console while the information’s downloading, is that clear?”

“Aye, sir.”

David grabs his satchel and heads out, the chief securing the door behind them.

Gunnar releases the locks on the skid as Rocky and her father hurry into the hangar. Without giving Gunnar so much as a glance, she places the toes of her boots in the footholds of the vessel’s sleek flank and climbs up to the open hatch, lowering herself inside.

The general turns to the Chief Petty Officer standing by at the locking chamber’s main console. “Give us a moment.”

The chief moves out of earshot.

Gunnar clicks his heels together, standing at attention. General Jackson looks him over, then whispers in his ear. “How’s your hip?”

“Still sore, sir.”

“But the wound has healed sufficiently?”

“Yes, sir.”

“Then this is it. Whatever you may have done in the past, whatever is haunting you, this is your chance for redemption. Show no mercy. Kill Covah and his crew and return the Goliath to where she belongs.”

“Understood, sir.”

“God be with you.”

“Or stay out of my way.”

Bear grabs his arm, squeezing the bullet-resistant material of the carapacelike suit. “Son … watch over her. For me.”

Gunnar nods, then scales the sub and lowers himself inside.

Rocky watches him stow the OICW gun beneath the seat, then check the M-4 carbine hanging from his shoulder holster. “So? Where the hell’s David?”

“Don’t know. Wasn’t my turn to watch him.”

As if on cue, David drops feetfirst into the tight cockpit. “Sorry, boys and girls, duty called.” He reaches up and seals the dorsal fin hatch above his head, then squeezes into the copilot’s seat, squishing Rocky into the middle in the process.

The Chief Petty Officer activates a switch on his main control console. Instantly, the platform on which the Hammerhead minisub and its skid rests begins descending into a rectangular-shaped lockout chamber located beneath the decking. As the vessel drops belowdecks, a hatch closes from above, sealing it inside.

The chief turns two levers, flooding the garage-size berth beneath their feet.

Gunnar places the prototype’s control helmet on his head and activates the optical display, then adjusts the small eyepiece over his right eye so he can see. Functioning similar to that of an Apache chopper pilot’s helmet, the headgear is linked directly to the minisub’s external sensors located in the Hammerhead’s snout. An image appears in Gunnar’s right eye—the interior of the dry dock, now filling with water.

The three passengers feel the sea lift the neutrally buoyant craft away from its skid. Moments later, the outer hatch of the docking chamber opens, exposing them to the Atlantic.

Gunnar throttles up the minisub’s pump-jet propulsor and accelerates out of the Colossus.

“Wolfe, can you hear me?”

Gunnar flips the toggle switch on the ship-to-ship. “Go ahead, Commander.”

“Come to course two-seven-zero. The Goliath has detected us. She’s abandoned the Vengeance and is running at forty knots. We’ll give chase, but this is your race.”

“Understood.”

Viewing the underwater world with his right eye, the control console with his left, Gunnar presses down on the foot pedals and sends the steel Hammerhead racing after the Goliath.

David retrieves a CD from his satchel and places it into a hard drive he has rigged to the prototype’s control console. “You need to get us within—”

“I know, I know, two hundred yards. This thing better work.”

“It’ll work. just drive the boat.”

Gunnar rockets the prototype past the enormous starboard wing of the Colossus, the faster minisub racing ahead of the 610-foot behemoth doing sixty knots.

Sonar pinpoints the Goliath, three thousand yards ahead.

Two thousand yards—the minisub closing fast.

Fifteen hundred yards—the minisub passing through a stream of bubbles.

Seven hundred yards—and now Gunnar can make out a dark mass looming ahead. “I can see her … damn, she’s big.”

Three hundred yards. “I’m approaching her starboard wing.”

“Stay beneath her, or she’ll sideswipe us like a fly.”

Gunnar adjusts his course, dropping beneath the steel leviathan.

Two hundred yards. “Now, David, now!”

David activates the acoustical beacon, the high-pitched sonic clicks reverberating like dolphin-speak throughout the sea.

One hundred fifty yards—the minisub tossing within the behemoth ray’s turbulence.

“David—”

“Give it a chance.”

One hundred yards. Gunnar weaves in and out of pockets of current, struggling to keep his vessel steady.