Zero Hour

communications.

Thankfully, she noticed that almost all the problems from the previous twelve hours had been cleared up. All except one.

She eased over to a console upon which the designation REGION 15 had been marked. Region 15 included most of the Southern Ocean beneath Australia and what NUMA termed Antarctic Zone 1.

“What’s the story with Orion?” she asked the specialist.

“No data for the last hour,” he replied. “But it’s been up and down like that for the past two days.”

“Are you getting data from Dorado and Gemini?”

The technician tapped away at the keys and received a positive answer. “We lost them for a while too,” he said. “But we have clean links to both ships now.”

That raised the supervisor’s sense of doubt. She reached over and tapped the F5 key on the technician’s computer. It brought up a map, which included the Orion’s last-known position.

“She is a lot farther south than the other ships, but the solar activity has backed off considerably. We should be getting a signal. Have you received any radio calls?”

“They’re on a ‘run silent’ protocol,” the specialist reminded her.

“Who’s on board?”

“Austin and Zavala.”

Ms. Conry sighed. “Those two are bad enough about reporting in to begin with. Who put the run silent order on?”

“Came from Dirk Pitt himself.”

The vast majority of NUMA’s work went off without any type of conflict, at least nothing greater than the usual bureaucratic rigmarole found throughout the world. But right from the beginning, the organization had been willing to tangle with those who were up to no good in one way or another. If a “no contact,” “run silent,” or “monitor and track only” order was in place, it usually meant that a delicate or outright-secret assignment was in the works. That ship or team was not to be disturbed or contacted in any way that might risk alerting other parties to its presence.

Satellite communications gave them a way around that. The bursts could be coded and then sent and received without giving a ship’s position away like radio broadcasts could if they were intercepted. But if the satellites were being interfered with by a solar storm, it left the distant ships, and the supervisors who were supposed to keep track of them, in the dark.

“Anything unusual in their last transmission?”

The specialist shook his head. “All data was normal when the link was broken. There was no sign of trouble. Nor has Orion’s emergency beacon been activated.”

The emergency beacons were automatic, designed to go off when a ship sank even if there was no one around to activate them. But Bernadette Conry recalled at least one instance of a ship going down so fast that the beacon never had a chance to send out a message.

“What’s the weather report?”

“Nothing to write home about,” he said. “Westerly swell, five to six feet. Moderate-sized storm forming about five hundred miles from their last-known position.”

Not bad weather at all, she thought. And it was Austin and Zavala. “Keep an eye out for any change,” she said. “I’m going to let the Director know we’ve lost their telemetry.”

* * *

Dirk Pitt nodded at the report. He had a sense that something was wrong. That feeling was reinforced by the next call, which came in from Hiram Yaeger.

“The NSA just sent me a new batch of data,” Yaeger explained. “They picked up a large neutrino burst just over an hour ago. It was detected in the Orion’s general vicinity.”

“That’s not good,” Pitt said.

“Why?”

“She’s gone dark,” Pitt replied. “We lost contact with her an hour ago, just as they were about to activate the zero-point detector. Either she’s suffered a massive failure or worse. Either way, our only hope of finding Thero is that the other ships can get their detectors online in a hurry.”

Yaeger was silent for a moment. “I don’t know if that’s such a good idea,” he said finally.

“Why?”

“None of us really understand how the sensor works,” Yaeger said. “And this zero-point energy is like a genie in a bottle, a moody genie at that. The simulations I’ve run do not yield consistent results. Considering that fact, it’s slightly possible, however unlikely, that the sensor itself interacted with the zero-point field and either shut all systems on the Orion down or caused a more catastrophic event.”

Pitt considered the possibility before responding. “That’s not what you’re really concerned with, is it?”

“No,” Yaeger replied. “More likely, the sensor gave away their position somehow. And if Thero knew he was being monitored…”

“He would respond,” Pitt said.

“Precisely,” Yaeger said. “And if he has the power to split a continent in half, attacking a small ship would be like swatting a fly.”

Pitt thought of the Orion’s crew, there were thirty-nine men and women aboard that ship, including some of his closest friends. “Why wouldn’t she warn us?” he wondered aloud. “If there was a possibility of this, why wouldn’t Ms. Anderson make us aware of it?”

“No idea,” Yaeger said. “But I’d say we have to leave those sensors off.”

“It’s not that simple,” Pitt said. “We have a job to do and we’re running out of time.”

“I wasn’t aware we were on any particular clock.”

“A new letter has arrived,” Pitt explained. “Bradshaw from the ASIO sent it over, even used e-mail. I’ll forward it to you. Thero claims he’s waited long enough. He promises to strike Australia as the sun rises over Sydney two days from now. He’s calling the moment zero hour.”

Yaeger remained silent.

“I need answers and I need them fast, Hiram. Right now, those detectors are the only way of finding Thero. I need to know if they’re safe. And if they aren’t, I need you to find me another way to locate him before this zero hour hits. Or, better yet, a way to stop it from hitting even if he makes his move.”

“I’ll do everything I can,” Yaeger said. “So far, we’ve identified a strange sequence to these energy bursts. According to Ms. Anderson’s research, they create a type of three-dimensional wave, somewhat like a bubble. Perhaps we can figure out some way to stop that bubble from forming. Or a way to collapse it once it does.”

“Let me know as soon as you have more.”

Yaeger acknowledged him, and Pitt hung up. He hesitated for only a second before deciding to dial the communications room.

He spoke quickly. “Ms. Conry, please attempt to contact Orion by any means at your disposal. If you hear nothing from them, alert Dorado and Gemini. Transmit the Orion’s last-known position to them and order them to begin search-and-rescue operations.”

“Anything else?”

Pitt gave one more order. “Advise the other ships not to activate the new sensors they’ve been working on. Not under any circumstances, unless further ordered by me.”

As he hung up the phone, his second line buzzed. It was Vice President Sandecker. His voice was distorted by a shrill electronic hum. It sounded like he was airborne.

“There’s going to be a marine Black Hawk on your roof in four minutes,” Sandecker said. “I need you to be on it.”

“I’m a little busy right now,” Pitt replied.

“I know,” Sandecker said. “Hiram’s been busting the NSA’s chops to release more data on Tesla. When they didn’t give in, he hacked their computer system to liberate a few extra files. Knowing Hiram, he wouldn’t do that without your orders.”

Pitt figured they’d get caught, just not this quickly. “I may have given him the impression I’d look the other way,” he said, “but they shouldn’t be holding back on us. Not at a time like this.”