EXOSKELETON II: Tympanum (37 page)

10

Wednesday, 10 June (7:35 a.m. EST)

Jonathan woke up slouched in a chair in the sickbay waiting room. He must’ve dozed off while they worked on Denise. He stood from his chair and looked through the small window in the surgery room door. They were gone.

He walked out of the waiting room and found a nurse who directed him to the recovery room. When he arrived, Denise was already dressed and sitting in a wheelchair next to a cot. She wore loose shorts over her bandaged right leg.

“What are you doing?” Jonathan asked. “Aren’t you supposed to – ”

“I’m not sitting in here all day,” she said. “I’m fine. Just not supposed to walk on it for a day.”

A doctor walked in and Jonathan turned to her. “Is that true?” he asked.

She nodded and smiled. “She was lucky. She was hit with two small fragments. Caused some tissue damage and a lot of bleeding, but it missed the large vessels. If she can handle the pain, she can walk on it tomorrow.”

“See?” Denise said, smiling. “You worry too much.”

“How’s the other fellow?” Jonathan asked, referring to the CIA officer that was hit in the shoulder.

The doctor smiled. “He’ll be back on the job in a few weeks,” she said and nodded towards Denise. “I’ll see her tomorrow morning. If all’s okay, she’ll be cleared to walk.”

Jonathan shrugged. “Breakfast?”

Denise nodded.

He rolled her out of the sickbay towards the mess hall. “So what’s it like being shot?” he asked.

“I’ll tell you tomorrow when the pain sets in,” she said. “Have you ever been?”

“Yes,” Jonathan replied.

Just as he was about to elaborate, Daniel and Sylvia turned the corner and joined them on their way to the mess hall.

They ate as Daniel and Sylvia got them up to speed on the beacon and the Nazi base. An hour flew by in what seemed like minutes.

Afterwards, Jonathan pushed Denise behind the others as they made their way to meet with Captain Grimes. They met in a large ready room with a rectangular table at the center.

Grimes described the recent events on the Chinese carrier.

“Crashed into the ocean immediately after takeoff,” Jonathan repeated the captain’s words, astonished.

“That happened yesterday and they haven’t attempted another launch,” Grimes added. “Seems like they haven’t ironed out all of the problems with their carriers.”

Jonathan looked to Denise on his right, and then to Daniel and Sylvia across the table. He wondered if they were thinking the same as he was: there was more to the pilot’s demise than an equipment malfunction. What was he thinking – Will had a hand in it? It was preposterous.

The captain told them that he’d keep them apprised of any new developments, and walked out. Jonathan and Denise were now up to speed regarding the beacon and the Nazi base.

“They were trying to reincarnate Hitler?” Jonathan asked, trying to keep his skepticism at bay.

“That’s what Mengele wrote in his notes,” Daniel said as he fidgeted with his hands on the table. “The idea was that, if Hitler’s soul traveled with his ashes, and they could get a soul to leave a body that was still alive, then Hitler could occupy the body – like a possession. But that’s just a side story. The beacon is the more urgent matter.”

“We need to decipher the inner two rings,” Sylvia added, and then shook her head and sighed. “Even if we had a team of experts, it could take months.”

“We need to recover Will, and get him down there,” Jonathan suggested. “He’ll have to get inside before we’ve figured it all out.”

“The Chinese would kill Thompson rather than allow us to acquire him,” Daniel argued.

“Then we’re stuck,” Denise said.

Jonathan flinched as the first officer of the
Stennis
burst into the room.

“The captain wants you to come with me,” he said.

“What’s going on?” Daniel asked.

“The Chinese carrier is on fire,” the officer replied.

“Did we attack?” Denise asked.

The young office shook his head. “I don’t know.”

Jonathan then wondered if the ship was being attacked from the inside.

11

Wednesday, 10 June (8:58 a.m. EST)

Setting the lower deck ablaze had been easier than Will had anticipated. He’d separated and ripped a hole in a fuel tank of one of the jets, spilling its contents to the floor. He’d done the same to a portable fueling vehicle, and then ignited it all with an arc-welder. Jet fuel wasn’t as easy to ignite as gasoline, but once it got going, it spread like wildfire and was difficult to extinguish. He figured at least four planes had been destroyed. His estimate increased after secondary explosions rocked the ship.

Next, he located the piston that drove the aircraft launching mechanism and punctured it, releasing a burst of high-pressure steam that could cut through flesh. Jets could no longer be launched.

He then ripped out the hydraulic hoses that actuated the lift that raised planes from the lower bay to the deck. With hydraulic fluid spraying like blood from a severed aorta, he crushed the central hydraulic cylinder, rendering the entire system nonfunctional. Now the planes couldn’t even get to the upper deck. The Chinese carrier was now just a useless platform.

He returned to his body and nearly vomited. His body sickened again from the extended separation, but he recovered more quickly this time. He was feeling better since he’d found food – canned goods – after moving from the utility closet to a storage room a few doors down. Although he’d been unable to read the cans, most had contained seafood of some kind. He’d also choked down a can of slime that he guessed was pureed sea cucumbers.

He was satisfied with the damage he’d caused to the carrier’s launch capabilities, but he wasn’t finished. His next objective was to render the carrier dead in the water – he’d destroy the propulsion system.

He was in the upper-middle part of the ship, just below the launch deck. The propulsion system would be aft and below him. It was too far for him to separate, so he’d have to move his body closer. He could tell by the noise that there was a lot of action outside – they’d be looking for a saboteur. If they were looking for a plain-clothed Caucasian, he’d be identified immediately. He had to find a way to blend in.

He separated and searched the adjacent rooms. Two doors down, he found a rack of overalls – the type mechanics wear. He unlocked the door of the room from the inside, and returned to his body. He exited the supply room, walked along the wall and into the room he’d just unlocked, and closed the door. The light was already on.

He sorted through the rack of dark blue overalls. He found one that was too large, but the remaining six or seven were too small. He slipped it on over his clothes and buttoned it. He rolled up the sleeves and cuffed the legs. It had Chinese characters embroidered on the left side of the chest. In a locker on the far wall was a box of baseball-style hats with flexible bands. He found the largest one and put it on, pulling the bill down low over his eyes. It was a good fit.

He walked out of the room into the bay where sailors rushed about with tools and fire extinguishers, responding to officers barking orders through bullhorns. Although he understood nothing of what they said, there was panic in their faces and urgency in their actions. He tried to put himself in their place: one of their fighters had recently plunged into the sea, and their capacity to launch the others had been eliminated. Worse, fires had spontaneously broken out on the lower deck. He wondered how they’d feel when their ship was dead in the water.

He weaved his way through foot traffic across the bay to the same staircase he’d climbed earlier. He descended two levels, turned left, and followed a corridor towards the rear of the ship. As the pungent odor of diesel fuel filled his nostrils, it became clear to him that the carrier did not have a nuclear reactor. When the smell was strong, he entered a room at random, and was relieved to find it vacant.

A set of three-level bunks hung from the walls on both sides of the quarters. He climbed into the upper bunk of the one on the right, lay on his back, and pulled a wool blanket over his head. After one breath he yanked the blanket back – the body odor that saturated the bedding was overwhelming. Instead, he turned on his side and faced the wall in case someone came in the room.

He knew what he was going to do, but didn’t have a plan for what to do afterwards. Eventually, he’d have to get off the ship – not an easy thing to do in the freezing seas at the bottom of the world. Once the carrier was rendered helpless, maybe Cho would hand him over to the U.S. fleet. If not, maybe he’d eliminate Cho. Maybe he’d eliminate Cho either way.

He separated, passed through the door and into the corridor, and proceeded towards the back of the ship. After passing through a few rooms, he found what he sought: giant diesel engines, two rows of three separated by a corrugated-steel walkway. A half-dozen men monitored a wall of gauges and displays, while a team of three worked on one of the six engines. Engine parts were laid out in an orderly fashion on a tarp next to the men.

Will passed through the housing of the first engine and examined its innards. It was running, its 16 pistons pounding at a blurring pace. The question was whether he should make subtle damages to the engines, or tear them to pieces. He decided on the latter.

He reached towards one of the pistons and noticed something peculiar. As he concentrated on the moving pistons,
they seemed to slow down
. As he got closer, the pistons slowed to a standstill. He grabbed one and ripped it through the cylinder. He backed out to observe the consequences of his modification.

The engine sputtered and a violent metallic grinding sound emanated from its innards. Two of the engineers rushed to the now squealing engine and then screamed at the men at the control panel, who frantically adjusted knobs and levers and finally turned off the engine.

Will turned to the other engines and performed the same operation, and did the same to the one that was undergoing repairs. After a horrid stretch of screeching and grinding that lasted about 30 seconds, all of the engines were dead. It was time for the next phase.

He located the fuel lines of the engines and tore them out, spewing diesel fuel over the floor of the engine room. He tracked the lines to a valve manifold, and then followed the main fuel line to a colossal fuel tank deep in the belly of the ship. He ripped out the main fuel supply flange from the tank. Diesel spewed out like water from a fire hydrant, quickly flooding the large room. He opened the door to the corridor, giving the rushing fuel a place to spread.

The same as with the jet fuel, he’d need something to ignite it. He looked around, but found nothing. Then it occurred to him that he’d done it before – burned something while in the separated state. The first time had been the flies in the Red Box. Just minutes later, he’d burned thousands of attacking hornets. The third time, a man had been aiming a gun at him. Will had melted the gun in the man’s hands, and then incinerated him.

He focused on a steel beam on the ceiling above the center of pooling fuel. He concentrated and summoned the anger he’d had while burning the man in the Red Box. He thought of the thug that had killed Adler in the parking garage, and how he’d dismembered the body with an electric knife. These people had no regard for life. The pipe glowed red, then orange, and then almost white before orange-white droplets fell into the diesel fuel. The first few just fizzled out, but then a large molten clump fell in and ignited the pool. It quickly spread into the corridor.

He tore the room’s half-dozen doors from their hinges – the fire would need oxygen. Black smoke billowed out of the room and into the corridor. He followed the corridor back towards his body, destroying every door that could be used to isolate the fire along the way.

He awakened in his body. The floor rumbled as men ran though the corridor outside, in the direction of the fire. He smiled as he thought about it. He’d single-handedly disabled an aircraft carrier. Every day he gained a better understanding of his powers. There could never be another like him. He wouldn’t allow it to happen.

12

Wednesday, 10 June (10:12 a.m. EST)

“Are you sure it wasn’t attacked?” Daniel asked, staring at the satellite images displayed on a large monitor. Sylvia, Jonathan, and Denise crowded behind him along with a few of the crew.

“Not by us,” Captain Grimes replied. “It’s dead in the water. Two of their smaller vessels are taking positions as tugboats.”

“How does this work to our advantage?” Daniel asked.

“Not clear,” Grimes answered. “It’s a hostage situation, not a naval battle.”

“Where are the destroyers?” Daniel asked.

“In position and standing by,” Grimes replied. “If we’re attacked, they’ll counter on the carrier.”

“Will is on that ship,” Denise said in protest.

“We’d disable the carrier rather than sink it,” Captain Grimes responded. “But it seems that has already happened.” He shook his head. “I’ve never seen a ship self-destruct like that.”

Daniel looked to Jonathan, who shrugged and raised an eyebrow. He knew they were thinking the same thing: it was Will. Maybe the Chinese took on more than they could handle.

“What are our options?” Daniel asked. “The importance of this man is becoming increasingly apparent. For Christ’s sake, he’s an American citizen being held captive on a Chinese ship.”

Captain Grimes nodded and closed his eyes for a second before responding. “We have the area contained. No vessels or aircraft have tried to enter or leave the area since Thompson was delivered,” he explained. “We have aircraft in the air right now, circling their crippled fleet like buzzards, and another carrier group is on the way.”

“Have we made any demands?” Jonathan asked.

“Not yet,” Grimes replied. “We’re getting presidential approval to make the next move.”

“We don’t have time to wait,” Daniel said.

“That Chinese carrier group has nukes,” Grimes said. “Time is a problem, but we need to be careful.”

The mention of nuclear weapons conjured up something in Daniel’s mind: Operation Blackfish. Nuclear devices had been detonated in this precise area in the 1950’s, and now the same was being threatened again. History might be repeating itself.

“Could a nuke take out the whole carrier group?” Daniel asked.

Grimes’s expression flashed with annoyance, and then to deeper thought before he responded. “Yes,” he replied. “But that would lead to all-out war.”

“Suppose the Chinese thought that it was worth all-out war,” Daniel said. “They could destroy all the ships in the area in one shot, load Thompson onto a sub, and go for the beacon.”

“That would be the biggest gamble I’ve ever heard of,” he said.

“Yes,” Daniel said. “All or nothing.”

“There’s no way they’d get Will to cooperate with them,” Denise interjected.

Jonathan nodded in agreement. “I’d be inclined to let them take him to the beacon. If there was some sort of power associated with it, he’d control it and wouldn’t help the Chinese.”

Daniel shook his head. “Too risky.”

Captain Grimes concurred. “I’ve been given orders not to let any foreign vessels near the beacon.”

A young officer entered to room and spoke. “Sir,” the young man said, “the destroyers reported that the fire on the Chinese carrier is getting out of control. Two new fires have broken out.”

“Spreading from the fuel reserves below the flight deck?” Grimes asked.

“No, sir, mid ship and lower decks,” the officer replied. “Isolated from the first.”

The officer left and Grimes turned to the others. “Unusual to have two isolated fires break out on a ship that’s not being attacked.”

Daniel had a different impression: the ship
was
being attacked.