|
Patterson cinched up his restraints, and looking
puzzled, said, "This is odd. Langley gave no indication of any
rocky weather out here." His fingers played over the control touch-screen.
He glanced at the monitor on his right. "Barometric pressure's
stable. No. Wait, it's starting to inch down. Satellite view shows no
defined storm. Just a confused dense mass of clouds
centered over Kraken's last reported position. Looks like lightning, too. This
is weird. This mess didn't exist until just a minute ago." |
Ahead of them, a
shaft of lightning suddenly leapt between murky clouds and lit the now seething
mass from within. Seconds later, thunder bashed the Flying
Sub.
Harlow was past all pretense
of nonchalance. Nerves on edge, he spoke louder in order to be
heard over the howl of the storm and the roar of the Flying
Sub's increasingly noisy engines. "Are we going to turn back or
risk going in there? The Flying Sub's not capable of getting on top
of this, is it?" |
|
| Patterson
cracked a reassuring smile and leaned toward him, raising his voice.
"Think about it, Bill. I know you landlubber security boys don't get
to play much with these flying submarines, but, well, it's a submarine
too, you know. Hang on, we're about to get wet." He looked out
at the storm. "Err . . .wetter," he said, an
afterthought.
Increasingly heavy
rain lashed the Flying Sub as Patterson played the controls. The pitch of
racing engines rose and fell as constant computer corrections kept them as
stable as ship's systems allowed. The yellow streak that was FS-1 dropped
into a precipitous dive, losing altitude rapidly. They plummeted through
turbulent murk as globs of lighting erupted around them. Patterson wanted out
of the storm as quickly as possible. In a purposely even voice he called
out, "We're about fifteen seconds from hitting the deck, Bill. Relax your
body if you can. These restraints are designed to absorb the shock."
The Flying Sub arrowed
downward through what seemed like deafening night. Harlow protested
over the loud whine of the engines, "I think my stomach's on the
ceiling!"
|
|
|
FS-1's computer system automatically adjusted the engines to
attain entry speed as they approached the wind-whipped
waters. Following a sudden rush of deceleration, they pierced the ocean's
surface at a steep angle. Harlow let out a long yell like
someone just going over the top on a roller coaster. The scream
of the storm was abruptly gone and the whine of the engines
dropped to a comfortable level. Seconds after impact, they were leveled
off one hundred feet below the surface on a southerly
heading at 20 knots.
Harlow let out a whoop. "Wow! Now that was a
rush!" |
Excerpted from "The Nemesis
Syndrome" |
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