Deep Fathom

Perseus fled. A finger of fire spat from the array.

“Oh crap!”

Jack straightened in his seat. The nearest canyon lay too far away. His sonar picked up the incoming torpedo as it sped toward him. He found himself leaning forward, as if that would increase his speed. “Move it…”

Laughter sounded over his radio. “Adios, asshole!”

Jack realized he would never make the canyon. He searched for other options and spotted a large boulder resting on the seamount’s summit. Slamming the left pedal, he dove at a steep angle toward it.

“Suicide, Jack? At least die with honor!”

Jack’s gaze flickered between the speeding torpedo and the oncoming collision. He bit his lip, calculating. At the last moment, he blew out his ballast tanks and gunned his thrusters. The nose end of his sub slammed into the silty bottom in front of the boulder — and bounced.

With the increased buoyancy, the tiny vessel flipped over the boulder, like a gymnast flying over a vaulting horse.

But the torpedo couldn’t.

The huge rock burst under the Nautilus. The blast shoved up the sub’s stern, peppering its underside with shards. Jack whooped, riding the concussion while sucking up new ballast. The shock wave shoved him right over the edge of the canyon.

He dove, dropping like a lead weight straight into the next chute.

Near the bottom, he angled out, skimming along the seabed. Relief and excitement mixed, but it was short- lived. The dark waters above him soon grew lighter as David pursued, closing in with his faster sub.

Jack examined his sonar readings. A strange shadow showed up ahead. He kept his lamps lit, unsure what was coming.

He needed a place to hide — and soon!

Sliding around a slight curve in the canyon, he spotted the anomaly. An arch of rock spanned the chute, a high bridge of thin stone.

He glided under it. It was too small to hide him, but it gave him an idea. He slowed and settled to the silty bottom.

It was time to even the odds.

Situation Room, White House

Lawrence Nafe stood before the computerized strategy map glowing on the rear wall of the White House’s Situation Room. Behind him were gathered the Joint Chiefs, the Cabinet, and the Secret Service.

On the map, the tiny island of Okinawa glowed red.

Destroyed. Hundreds of thousands killed in a blinding flash.

His Secretary of Defense spoke behind him. “We need to choose a target, Mr. President. Retaliation must be swift and severe.”

Nafe stepped away from the map and turned around. “Beijing.”

The men around the table stared.

“Burn it to the bedrock.”

8:55 A.M., Perseus

On his belly in the sub’s sleek pod, David sped around a curve. Sweat ran down his face, into his nose and mouth. He didn’t bother wiping it away. He dared not release his grip on the controls. A heads-up display glowed across the poly-acrylic nose cone. Sonar lines were superimposed over the view of the real terrain.

Circling around the bend, David spotted his quarry. He smiled. So the bastard hadn’t escaped the blast unharmed.

Under an arch of stone, Jack’s darkened sub limped and teetered, clearly compromised. David watched as the desperate man fought to get his sub moving, sand and silt choking up, but with no success. His sub continued to founder.

Like a fledgling with an injured wing.

“Having problems?” he radioed over.

“Go fuck yourself!”

David grinned. He lowered the Perseus, adjusting his lights to illuminate the interior of the other sub’s dome.

Inside, he saw Jack struggling.

Excited, David lifted his sub and angled over his enemy. As he glided under the arch, he adjusted the Perseus’s lights, keeping the focus on his trapped enemy. It gave him a thrill to see Jack fighting frantically for his life. As David passed directly over the damaged sub, the two adversaries faced each other.

Jack glanced up at him, while David grinned down.

That close, David saw no fear in Jack’s eyes, only satisfaction. Jack lifted a hand and flipped him off — then the Nautilus blasted straight up.

Caught off guard, David couldn’t get out of the way in time. The two vessels collided. David’s chin cracked against the pod. He bit the tip of his tongue. Stars flared across his vision; blood filled his mouth.

For a moment Jack’s dome ground against David’s nose cone. Both men lay within an arm’s reach of the other, yet remained untouchable.

Jack grinned up at him. “Time to even the odds, you bastard.”

David glanced to his sonar array. He suddenly understood the trap — but a fraction too late.

The top of the Perseus struck the stone arch overhead. David swore a litany of curses. With a screech of titanium, the torpedo array struck the unyielding rock. One of the minitorpedoes ignited, shooting down the canyon and exploding against a distant cliff face. The remainder of the array broke off and tumbled away.

His trap sprung, Jack’s sub sank away. “As you said…adios!” The Nautilus dove forward, aiming for the sheltering cloud cast up by the stray torpedo’s explosion.

Spitting blood, David flicked a switch. “No you don’t, asshole.”

9:04 A.M., Nautilus

Jack’s grin disappeared as the Nautilus suddenly lurched under him. He jerked hard in his harness as the sub’s progress was halted in mid-dive.

Twisting around, he saw the Perseus had latched onto his sub’s frame with a single manipulator arm, its pincers clamped tight. David was not letting him run. The titanium arm tugged; metal screeched.

Warning lights flashed red across Jack’s computer screen. He was snagged and trapped. Caught from behind, his own sub’s manipulator arms could not fight back.

Titanium continued to protest as the pincers on David’s sub crushed and tore. The computer flickered. The carbon dioxide scrubbers went silent. David had clamped the main power line. This was not good.

Thinking fast, he dove toward the bottom, taking on ballast, dragging the Navy’s sub behind him, meanwhile beginning to circle during the descent. Flashing on his xenon headlight, Jack aimed at the mangled torpedo array on the seabed floor. His lights dimmed as the Nautilus’s power line was crimped. He ignored it, concentrating on his goal.

When he was close enough, Jack reached to the controls for his own sub’s manipulator arms. He extended the right arm and grabbed one of the discarded torpedoes resting on the seabed.

By now David realized the danger. The Nautilus was jostled as David shook the vessel.

Rattled, Jack bobbled and dropped the torpedo, but he deftly snatched it back up with his other manipulator arm. Before he lost it again, Jack wound back the arm and whipped it forward, lobbing the torpedo against the base of the stone arch.

The blast blew out the support. The stone arch broke, falling toward them.

As Jack had hoped, David was not willing to risk his own skin. He freed the Nautilus, spinning away. But Jack spun the other way and grabbed the Perseus’s back frame, turning the tables, catching the shark by its tail.

“Leaving so soon?” he asked.