Ancients

battle stations and awaited the arrival of their brothers of the modern U.S. Navy.

A thousand yards from the stern of the Arizona, the Coalition assault team split into two groups. They would strike the old ship from two sides. One team of twenty-five would follow the Americans inside and strike there, and the other element would hit the SEAL security team in the waters surrounding the dead battleship. Then they would wait and take anyone who might escape the bowels of the vessel. The few men left on the memorial were not their concern. They would hit and hit hard and be away before the Pearl Harbor U.S. Marine contingent could react.

Everett watched as the captain's cabin finally came into view. It had seemed like a mile when it had been only thirty-five feet of dark passageway. The door to the cabin was wide open, and as they watched, a small blue- finned fish swam out as if curious at his nighttime company.

As the only diver who new approximately what it was they were searching for, Carl would be one of only six allowed into the cabin of Franklin Van Valkenburg, who had been the commander of the USS Arizona.

As the initial team entered the cabin, Everett was shocked to see that the closet with the remains of uniforms still hanging. The sea had not eaten them as it had so many of the other things onboard. Carl hoped that the sea life had left them in respect to the ship's captain.

Everett continued looking around as the others went to the main bulkhead that separated the cabin from the next space. As he looked over the stateroom, he saw the phone off its hook, and then before he knew it two more yellow dye markers rose from the deck; two more bodies here. Who were they? It was a known fact that the captain had made it to his command bridge, had been seen there moments before the destruction of his ship. Therefore, who these men could have been was a mystery.

The rest of the captain's cabin was losing its fight with the waters of the harbor. The rich paneling that had covered the steel-encased room was all but gone.

Everett recalled that Martha and Carmichael had said that Van Valkenburg had been one of them. However, unlike Martha and Carmichael, he had done his duty to the human race, as well as to Keeler's brother.

A bright light suddenly filled the dark cabin. Carl had to turn away as the cutting torch flared brightly as the Mudzoos went to work on the small safe.

As he looked away, he saw the round porthole, one of the only ones he had observed not covered by a protective steel hatching. A form suddenly crossed the murky glass. It was only momentary, but he was sure that it was someone in the water outside the hull. He turned back to the cutting, unnerved by the dark figure he had seen outside the porthole. Then he reassured himself that it must have been one of the SEALs in the water. However, he could not help but have a momentary SEAL-trained reaction that something was not right about the blurry figure he had seen, and that something kept playing on the fringes of his mind.

The battle outside the Arizona started before SEAL Team Four knew it was upon them. The black-suited and -helmeted assault element of the Coalition fired their first volley from thirty yards away through the darkness of the harbor. Before the SEALs could respond, three of their team were down. There had been no warning from above by the rangers monitoring the laser fence that guarded the site.

The team leader, a chief petty officer named 'Breeches' Jones, was a wily veteran of many Persian Gulf excursions. The one thing that no SEAL team had ever done in their storied history was fight an actual undersea battle. He quickly saw the dark figures ahead of him branch out as his remaining four men returned fire at the advancing group. He raised his M1A1-56 dart rifle and rapidly fired six of the tungsten steel projectiles at the closest of the attackers. Two of the darts struck home and the dark-suited figures became still and started to sink.

The chief then saw at least twenty more bad guys swim out of the murk toward the outnumbered SEALs. The attackers were armed with the same weapons the SEALs had, and Jones saw that his only choice was to make for the superstructure of the Arizona and swim over to the protection of the far side. He saw two of his men break over the top. Then they quickly returned and were waving him back. The route was cut off by more attackers.

Suddenly, the routine security operation had turned into a life-or-death struggle and Jones's team was losing.

Inside the captain's cabin, Everett was still thinking about the figure he had seen through the porthole. Then what he had seen finally dawned on him. No, not what he had seen, but what he had failed to see. He would regret not acting fast enough for years afterward. There had not been any air bubbles trailing behind the blurred figure he had briefly viewed. Everyone on the dive was using standard diving equipment because when you were diving on a dangerous wreck, air bubbles could be used to let a team member know that you were in trouble. Just as he started to move and warn his companions, the safe door popped free of its hinges.

As Everett moved forward quickly to let the salvage divers know they were not alone, two of the deadly darts struck one of the navy divers from the companionway. Carl made it to the four other men and started pushing them in the opposite direction; he was gesturing and waving them away when three more darts sliced their way through the water and struck three of the salvage divers.

The remaining team members needed no more coaxing to turn and swim to the passage opposite the main companionway. Everett, thinking about what he was there for, quickly reached into the open safe and felt around until he pulled out an old plastic-covered map and chart case. He hurriedly dropped them into the silt and then felt around the safe again. He felt something spongy at first and then underneath it was hard and rectangular. He pulled it free just as a steel dart pinged off the door frame of the safe. He did not stop to see who had almost killed him; instead, he kicked out with his fins and made to follow the rest.

The attackers charged the captain's cabin in pursuit. One diver saw the map case lying half buried in the silt. He reached down, claimed the case, and then kicked his fins to follow his team.

Jack had seen the UDT team away for a well-deserved rest and was walking along the memorial deck when he suddenly saw emergency flares start to glow below the waterline. Bright yellow dye markers then started reaching the surface. He did not hesitate as he reached for his radio and depressed the Talk key; this time the signal was two short and one long. At that moment, he heard sharp cracks start peppering the concrete memorial. Small-caliber silenced rounds started chewing up the radio, map table, and other equipment. Two bullets struck the assistant interior secretary and he fell dead three feet from Jack as he hit the wooden deck.

'Are you armed?' he called out to two prone park rangers.

'No!' one said as he covered his head.

'Great!' Collins said under his breath as he pulled a 9-millimeter automatic from his coat. Only five minutes before, the UDT had left the memorial for to take a break.

Before they knew what was happening, a rubber Zodiac assault boat with its loud outboard motor bumped the memorial and three men poked their heads through the slats, giving them a good view of the interior. One of these smashed the tinted glass and started to climb in. Collins took quick aim and fired one round. His aim was true and the attacker's head jerked back, then the man fell backward through the slatted opening.

'You two, get to the far end and into the water and get the hell out!'

The two park rangers rose. One fell immediately as five bullets stitched his backside. He fell into the other man and they both went down. Jack started to crawl in the prone position toward the fallen men as twenty more rounds plunked into the wooden flooring beside his head. He rolled quickly and on instinct let loose three rounds in the direction of the gunfire, and an attacker in black Nomex clothing fell from the side of the memorial.

Just as Collins turned back to the rangers, he saw three of the attackers rise from the opposite side and step onto the platform. He aimed and fired, striking the first man in the groin, doubling him over. Then one of the other two emptied a magazine of bullets into the ranger who was lying helpless at their feet.

'Damn,' Jack said as he started to roll on the hard deck, turning over and over, giving very little for anyone to aim at until his body slammed against the harbor-side wall of the white-painted memorial. He turned and fired five times into the thirty-foot-high window and watched as the tinted glass exploded inward. Then, with three shots over his shoulder, Jack rolled into the oil-laced water of the harbor.

The memorial had been lost to the enemy just as the upper deck of the Arizona had been quickly overwhelmed.

The five remaining SEALs dived into the first opening they could, the empty barbette of number-three gun mount. The gaping hole was where one of the fourteen-inch mounts had been located. It had been removed shortly after the attack on December 7, then relocated to the coastal defense battery on Oahu. As the five SEALs dived