the crewman at the weapons station along the port side. 'Why all of them, son.' 'Sir, Blue Two and Blue Three approaching our position and awaiting orders.' Captain Farway: 'Weapons officer, coordinate targeting assignments with Blue Two and Blue Three.' 'Aye, sir!' 'I want every one of these damned things blown to bits.' But the Captain wondered if they had enough torpedoes to do the job.
The Weapons officer began a series of intense conversations with the other two submarines, assigning fields of fire and timing. When the conversation concluded he reported, 'Sir, Blue Two and Three are moving to firing positions. Attack will commence in two minutes. Mark 48 heavies in the tubes.'
The subs split off in different directions to encircle the massive field of incubating beasts. They faced no resistance. If any defensive weapons existed, Jorge Stone's takeover of the complex had rendered them useless.
'Sir! Request permission to engage.'
Captain Farway eased into his command chair and gave the Weapons Officer the permission he sought: 'Granted. Good hunting.'
The submarine shuddered as the first volley of sophisticated 'fish' sped away from torpedo tubes on either side of the Barracuda. Below, on the second of the boat's two decks, crewmen operated the automatic loaders to replenish the tubes as fast as possible.
The deadly weapons streaked through the water and into the rows of white embryos. Additional torpedoes entered the zone from the other subs.
Farway's fish hit first, detonating against one of the mushroom-like centerpieces and also into one of the bulbs. A shock wave traveled the waters and shook the boat, as did a scream. The beasts of The Order's legions may not be truly alive, but as the torpedoes aborted their growth they cried like wounded animals.
More torpedoes. More explosions. More shrieks. As the sacs disintegrated, pieces of the partially-grown machines inside floated off. Farway saw clawed hands and limbs the size of a bus; armored plating that sunk to the bottom and gelatinous clouds dispersing from the blasts. 'Torpedo away!' 'Hit!' 'Reload!'
And so the process repeated for an hour as the three Barracudas drained their supply of munitions. Yet nearly half the field remained. Captain Farway realized they could not finish the job on their own. 'Helm, hard about. Comm, signal all commands to follow. We're heading to the surface for reinforcements.' The trio of attack subs headed off, leaving behind piles of gore, shattered bulbs, severed umbilical cords, and half an army. — 'Fire!'
The Excalibur shook. Two blobs of energy shot from its front under carriage. A shining burst of color brightened the night around the island like alien lightning as the belly boppers discharged and blasted into The Order's island. Chunks of the complex erupted from the center of the rock facade.
Brett Stanton reported, 'Re-charge to twenty percent…twenty-five percent…' while Jon surveyed the damage below from the 'brain' module through a night vision scope. The initial assault cut a gorge in the middle of the thing. He saw fluids spraying from cut arteries and flickering lights.
'Forty percent…forty-five percent…'
Jon knew this would go on all night. He would fire, recharge, fire, and recharge again. The process would repeat until he melted away the floating complex as well as the growing invasion force on the seabed below.
Much like Trevor's mind. How much had Voggoth's machine melted away? The Emperor remained silent in his quarters watched over by his wife and child. He showed no reaction to any stimulus. The possibility existed that he would never return to normal.
'Seventy percent…seventy-five percent…'
Either way, Jon knew he had a job to do. He would finish destroying the fake island and then wipe out what the subs had failed to destroy on the ocean floor. Then he would dispatch Eagles to search for any similar facilities. If he found them, they would be destroyed, too.
Eventually, he would return to Washington and confront Godfrey and his conspirators. Perhaps the evidence of Trevor's survival would be enough to convince Hoth that his orders were illegal. Perhaps he could rally the military, free Shep from captivity, and overwhelm the I.S. units in DC. 'Belly Boppers re-charged one-hundred percent.' 'Fire.' — Ashley rested in a chair near Trevor's bed. At first, the periodic rocking of the Excalibur from its bombardment kept her from sleeping. As the firing continued well into the night, her exhaustion overcame the shudders and jolts and she fell asleep with her son snoozing a few feet away on the couch.
She lost track of time, of course. She did not know that she slept not only until dawn, but well into the early morning. She did not know that the island that had served as a prison and torture chamber for her husband and son had disintegrated into pieces and that the field of soldiers growing on the seabed suffered a similar fate. She did not know that Jon Brewer dispatched his compliment of Eagle transports to search the waters for hundreds of miles in all directions for any additional threats.
But she did know that something had changed. She felt herself pulled from sleep by watching eyes. As she woke, she saw JB standing on the far side of Trevor's bed, staring at a ball of sheets. In a groggy voice she asked, 'J…JB? W-what is it?' JB pointed to an empty bed. 'Father has gone away.'
28. Wild Things
'And when he came to the place where the wild things are
They roared their terrible roars and gnashed their terrible teeth
And rolled their terrible eyes and showed their terrible claws
'till Max said, 'Be Still!' and tamed them with the magic trick…'
– Maurice Sendak, Where the Wild Things Are
Ashley-with her son in tow-burst onto the bridge to report the disappearance of her husband only to find the crew in the midst of a different crisis.
Woody Ross had taken over as 'brain' but Jon Brewer hovered nearby leaning over a console alongside Brett Stanton. Jon's wife Lori stood near the entranceway holding two cups of coffee that she had obviously brought to her husband as an end-of-shift gift. Alas she, too, found herself caught in the emergency.
Ross transmitted, 'Scout Four, respond.'
'What's his position?'
Stanton answered Brewer, 'Northwest of us by about two hundred miles. Now, no, wait he's making like a bat out of hell for the coast.'
Ashley's head swiveled from side to side, her eyes wide, trying to find a voice to alert the crew of a much more pressing matter than an Eagle in duress. Lori, apparently, mistook her expression for confusion and explained, 'They just received a mayday from one of the scout ships. Now it's flying off without a word.'
JB calmly pointed out, 'It's father, mommy. He took the ship.'
Jon, Stanton, Lori, and the rest of the bridge crew heard the boy's words over the commotion. His voice had a way about it.
'Wow, um JB, what are you saying?' Jon asked with a tone that suggested a newfound respect for the child. The lack of defenses at The Order's complex made him believe that- perhaps — the eight year old boy had, in fact, killed off Voggoth's minions. Ashley answered, 'We both fell asleep. Sometime early this morning…I don't know…we woke up and Trevor was gone.' 'What do you mean gone? He couldn't even move before!' 'Jon, wait,' Lori interrupted. 'Could he have stowed away on that scout ship?' Stanton said, 'It left about an hour ago. Depends on the last time you folks saw him tucked in.'
Jon shook his head. 'There's no way he could make it into a hangar area unseen. Not with all the…all the…' Jon stopped himself. Under normal circumstances security guards, technicians, and pilots would certainly have spied an intruder in the hangar bays. In contrast, with his current skeleton crew it would be more likely that no one would be the wiser. 'Brett, which bay did Scout Seven depart from?' A pause. An answer: 'Level Four Bay Two.' 'Brett, call up the security cameras form Level Four Bay Two.'
Before the words left Jon's lips a monitor on the console presented what the motion sensitive cameras had recorded outside the entranceway to Bay Two. After a second of searching, the grainy image showed a figure dressed in a short sleeve gray shirt, black sweat pants, and sneakers shamble from the hallway and into the hangar area.
