The War Monsters - Part Two

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The War Monsters - Part Two; "Aftershocks"
Topic Started: Mar 28 2007, 07:16 PM (345 Views)
packmule	Mar 28 2007, 07:16 PM Post #1
Site founder - Your best nightmare Posts: 32,868 Group: Administrator(staff) Member #1 Joined: January 29, 2006 Favorite giant monster film: Gojira(1954) Favorite horror film: House Of Wax(1953) Favorite sci-fi film: 2001: A Space Odyssey(1968)	*Part Two-Aftershocks* U.S. Navy Squadron Eight Office-NAS Juneau, office of Commodore William J. Baskin Commodore William Baskin stood by his desk, burly, fifty four years old, with short sandy red hair and squinty blue eyes, holding the phone to his ear and mumbling a periodic "uh huh" as CDR Jim Powers and LCDR Clifford Mason sat in chairs directly in front of Commodore Baskin's desk. Powers shifted in his chair, the sensation of watching the Squadron Eight Commanding Officer on the phone much like being in Principal Standford's office when he was an unruly high school freshman, sent to the Principal's office after getting into a fight with another student. Baskin set the phone down and, with a grunt, eased into his chair, which creaked under the Commodore's considerable weight. Baskin rubbed his eyes. "That was the Coast Guard base CO, up at Legan Point. They lost two cutters...swept out to sea, with some duty personnel onboard," Baskin grumbled, drinking the last remnants of coffee from his mug. Powers studied the Commodore's face. Baskin looked to Powers as if he hadn't slept in a week. "Needless to say you two are wondering why I sent for you," Baskin growled in his trademark low, slightly raspy voice. "What's up sir?" CDR Powers asked quietly. "Well Jim, in the aftermath of what is shaping up to be the worst earthquake in U.S. history I've been contacted by Washington, specifically the Department Of Defense," Baskin replied. Powers looked over at LCDR Clifford Mason quickly, then back at Commodore Baskin. "Sir, are the Russians going to move on the Aleutian-" Powers started, Baskin cutting the former diver and destroyer captain off. "No Jim, nothing like that. Even with a disaster like this they'd never be so stupid as to try anything like that. No. Jim, I know you're on the beach awaiting discharge, but, well, you're being given another assignment," Baskin said clearly. "Sir, I'm glad to help out, you know that. I understand there are two MSO's still intact at Toguna, and can be embarked right now. I...thought that was why I was here. LCDR Mason, too, because you wanted us to take the undamaged minesweepers out for search and rescue," Powers said. "That's where you and Cliff here would be, if it were up to me. It's not. I've been given an order to get you two out to the Aurora," Baskin said. Powers frowned. "The Aurora, as in civilian science research ship?" the Commander said. "That's the one." Baskin answered. "I thought the Aurora was up in the Bering Sea," LCDR Mason said. Baskin nodded no. "Her movements are usually secret. It's all I can do to get updates on her positions. I usually have to contact one of our Skipjack sub commanders to run a trail on her," Baskin growled. "Sir...what's this all about? We are both surface officers, and could take out sweepers-" Powers asked, his dark eyes blinking. "I don't know Jim," Commodore Baskin stated clearly, looking CDR Powers in the eyes, and also lying through his teeth to the former destroyer captain. "When do we have to leave?" Mason asked. "In thirty minutes. You'll fly out in a helo," Baskin answered. "I'd better call Chief Doughty to help us get our gear together," Powers said, rising out of his chair. "That's already been taken care of," Commodore Baskin said. "Sir, with all due respect you sure seem in a hurry to get us the hell out of here," Jim Powers said flatly. Baskin clenched his jaw-he respected the Commander but had never liked the fact that Powers could not be intimidated by him. Rather than reply back with a hard-edged reply of his own Baskin took a breath. "It does seem that way Commander Powers. If it's any consolation this will be, no doubt, your last assignment, before leaving the Navy," Baskin said coldly. "Understood Commodore," Powers said, he and LCDR Mason saluting Commodore Baskin, then heading for the office door. "Helo pad seven. A bird will be waiting for you in twenty five minutes," Baskin said loudly. CDR Jim Powers and LCDR Clifford Mason exited Commodore Baskin's office. "Goddamnit, I'm supposed to be civilian in four days Mase, starting up my business," Powers growled in disgust as he and Mason walked down the corridor inside the Naval Air Station. "You're still Navy property Jim. Helos...I always get sick in the damn things," LCDR Mason lamented as he and Powers entered the avaitor's "ready" room, to change into flight coveralls. "Try not to throw up on me, okay?" Powers rumbled, he and Mason shedding their standard base uniforms... One hundred thirty miles off the southern coast of Alaska The U. S. Navy "Sea King" class personnel helicopter began to slow. Jim Powers reached over and tapped the pilot on the shoulder. "Is that it?" Powers shouted, the noise of the copter's rotors loud and repetitive. "That's it," the pilot answered loudly. Powers motioned to Clifford Mason, pointing downwards. Some two hundred feet below them was the 268 foot long, 6500 ton Aurora, a converted Coast Guard icebreaker and current west coast marine research ship owned by USNRI, United States Nautical Research Institute, a civilian agency that worked closely with the Department Of Defense and U.S. Navy. The Aurora pitched and rolled in the slate gray, choppy waters of the Gulf Of Alaska. "What the hell are we doing here Jim?" LCDR Clifford Mason asked in a near shout, the light-skinned black Navy officer casting CDR Jim Powers a concerned glance. "I don't know. We'd better hook up and drop down. Then we'll find out," Powers barked over the noisy whine of the Sea King's large rotors. "Commander Powers! I got a red deck from the Aurora. Too much pitch and roll! The deck's moving too much. I'm going to drop down over their helo deck. I can get to about 20 feet and that's it! You'll have to use the harness sir!" the helo pilot barked at Powers. "Okay! Move us into position and we'll use the hook!" Powers shouted back to the Sea King pilot, who nodded, maneuvering the helo's manual control stick. Within two minutes the Navy helicopter was hovering noisily, twenty feet above the small helo pad at the stern of the Aurora. Clifford Mason descended to the helo pad first, then, after the cable had returned to him, Powers grabbed the cable and harness. He gave the pilot a thumbs up hand signal and, grabbing his small pack, stepped off the copter and descended slowly, the cable around his chest and under his arms, to the deck below. Powers removed the harness,which was quickly retracted into the helicopter above them. The Sea King banked away and ascended out of sight. "Gentlemen, glad you could make it," the blond-haired man said, wearing slacks, a tie, and a dark windbreaker. "We didn't have any choice. You mind telling me who you are?" Powers asked. "David Bauer, NSA, maritime division," the blond-haired man said, quickly shaking hands with the two Navy officers. "National Security Agency. This gets better by the minute," Mason groused. "Okay Mr. Bauer. What are we doing here?" Jim Powers repeated. "Let's go below, and I'll tell you all about it, okay?" Bauer chirped. Powers looked at his black friend and Navy comrade, who shrugged. Powers and Mason picked up their sea bags and followed the civilian scientist into the empty, small helo hangar on the stern of the Aurora. Primary briefing room inside the USNRI vessel Aurora Powers drank coffee, as did Mason, as they pored over various images at the rectangular-shaped table. David Bauer studied the expressions of the two Navy officers. "The earthquake...the tidal waves, all caused by two large space rocks slamming into the ocean...seems unbelievable," LCDR Clifford Mason said, visibly startled. "It actually happens all the time, just with smaller rocks. These two were several hundred feet long, and weighed about 400,000 tons each," the blonde said, appearing beside David Bauer. "Who are you?" CDR Jim Powers asked, looking directly at the blue-eyed blonde. "Taryn Bauer, I'm David's sister," she replied. "And a scientist, like me," David Bauer added. "Where's the rest of the crew?" Mason asked, frowning. "We're operating with only a minimal crew compliment," Taryn Bauer replied. "Why?" Powers asked. The blonde removed her glasses. "The fewer that know, the better," David Bauer answered. "Know what, Mr. Bauer?" Powers asked. "That two large salvage platforms are enroute, with specially designed cables, to retrieve these space rocks," David Bauer said. " The two chunks are lodged on an isolated ridge about seven hundred feet down, and we need two experienced Navy divers to go down and set charges to free them from the ridge," Taryn Bauer added, offering a smile to Powers, who looked back at her, and appeared less than happy. "It's risky, at that depth. You should know that the Navy's had problems with charges prematurely detonating at extended depths," Powers said, visibly annoyed. "We are aware of that. We have stored away some modified charges. Shouldn't be a problem," David Bauer added quickly. "Why all the fuss about pulling these huge chunks of rock up to the surface?" LCDR Clifford Mason asked. "Because they're not solid," Taryn Bauer answered abruptly. Powers cast her a surprised look. "Not solid? Are you saying there's something inside them?" Powers asked, setting his coffee cup on the table. "Yes, that's what I'm saying." the blonde said, folding her arms across her chest. "Look, this impact happened in U.S. territorial waters. Besides, two Russian AGI's have already shown up on the edge of our radar sensors. We don't want them to beat us to the punch," David Bauer said. Powers nodded his head in disgust. "There will be two Navy destroyers here in forty eight hours to provide us security. The two salvage ships will be here tomorrow afternoon. Once the retrieval ships arrive we'll go over our plan," Taryn Bauer said. "How do you know there not solid?" Powers asked, his dark brown eyes blinking. "Because we've been picking up unusual audio from these rocks ever since we first detected them," the blonde answered tersely. "Audio signals? Mason repeated. "That's right. Taryn, they both have Top-Secret clearance. Tell them," David Bauer said quietly to his sister. "The audio signals are similar to that of oceanic biologics," she said clearly. "Biologics?" Powers repeated. Taryn Bauer nodded. "And we...obviously want to know more. Gentlemen, this is extraordinary!" David Bauer said, almost gleefully. "David, control yourself," Taryn said to her brother, sarcastically. Jim Powers leaned against the table, folding his arms. He cast a glance at Mason, then the two NSA scientists. "I don't like this," Powers said, shaking his head. The Aurora, currently maintaining station off the coast of southern Alaska in radio silence Jim Powers leaned casually against the bridge-wing rail, gazing out at the choppy waters of the Gulf Of Alaska, drinking coffee, his Navy ball cap, embroidered with �USS Vukens�, slightly cocked back atop his head. The sky was moderately overcast, and he could see few stars. The dark haired, dark eyed Navy Commander checked his watch. It was nearly 11 PM. Powers felt the Aurora gently pitch and roll under his feet. An occasional order from the watch officer to the ship's helmsman interrupted his thoughts, which had, until the last two day's events, been primarily about leaving the U.S. Navy and starting up his private fishing charter. He recollected on his career, images of sights and people he had worked with popping in and out of his mind as if they were on index cards. Jim Powers' Navy career had spanned over twenty years. He was a native Alaskan, and loved the rugged beauty of his home state. Powers was the only son of blue collar parents Thomas and Margaret Powers, who had both worked at a commercial fisheries company in Saketchewan, a small coastal town near Dutch Harbor. At eighteen he had enlisted in the U.S. Navy, in 1944. After enlisted Navy boot camp and basic instruction in San Diego-CA, Powers had entered the regular navy as a seaman, his first assignment aboard the U.S.S. Trimball, a Buckley-class destroyer escort based out of San Francisco. The Trimball spent nearly a year in the south Pacific, performing aircraft carrier escort duty and the usual anti-submarine pickets. In 1946, two years after the Second World War, Jim Powers, now a 2nd class-petty officer, was assigned to the U.S.S. Casalle, a Ricketts-class destroyer, where he served two three-year tours, and moved up in rank to Petty Officer First Class. In 1950, now a six year Navy veteran, Jim Powers entered Chief Petty Officer school, in Sacramento. After graduating from CPO school six months later he was assigned to the U.S.S. Canberra, a cruiser slated to become one of the first Navy warships fitted with missile launchers. The Canberra saw action in the Sea Of Japan during the Korean War. At war's end, in 1953, the Canberra had sailed back to San Francisco to undergo an extended overhaul in the adjacent navy shipyard. Powers, while awaiting another billet, volunteered to enter the U.S. Navy's inaugural Diving School, in late 1953. Powers graduated from the the school with honors. The surface fleet beckoned again, and Jim Powers was on the move once more in mid 1954, transferred to Hawaii, where he was promoted to Master Chief Petty Officer, serving aboard the cruiser U.S.S. Bruxton, stationed out of Pearl Harbor. While on the Bruxton Powers and several others had tested various Navy diving bells and portable underwater low-speed submersibles, to be potentially used in intelligence gathering and mine-laying operations. Always looking for a challenge Powers had applied for Officer Candidate School in early 1955. Accepted the same year, Powers was granted a leave of absence from the Bruxton in order to attend OCS at Norfolk, VA. In the fall of 1956 Jim Powers became an officer, promoted to Ensign, and returned to duty aboard the Bruxton. By 1958 Powers had been promoted to Lieutenant Commander via a program specializing in naval officers with additional specialties and/or enlisted experience. Powers spent most of 1958 as the executive officer, second-in-command, aboard the new destroyer U.S.S. Wainwright, the first of the Vukens-class, and the first destroyers in the world to include guided missiles in their standard armament of onboard weapons. In early 1961 Jim Powers, now a Commander, took command of the U.S.S. Vukens, the lead destroyer in the �Vukens� class, stationed out of San Francisco. For the most part Power's tenure as the captain of this warship was without incident and reasonably uneventful, with one major exception: the Cuban Missile Crisis of 1962. The Vukens, steaming around in the south Atlantic conducting ASW exercises with a pair of *Skipjack* attack submarines, had been hastily assigned to a flotilla being grouped off the coast of Virginia, ordered to steam south in order to initiate a blockade of Cuba. The Vukens had rendevous'd with the carrier battle group and had stared down several Russian destroyers and freighters. In December of 1963 the Vukens returned to San Francisco for an extended stay in the shipyard. Powers put in his retirement papers the same month. Powers requested and was granted a temporary transfer to Naval Air Station Juneau while his discharge papers were processed, so that he could be closer to home, which was an isolated mountain cabin in Talkeetna, north of Anchorage. Jim Powers blinked, the salty spray of seawater misting his face as the breeze picked up. Just four days short of leaving the Navy forever and...he shook his head, refusing to allow for any self-pity. Powers jammed a cigar into the corner of his mouth and lit it up. �Where's your friend?� Taryn Bauer asked, running a hand through her short straw-colored blonde hair, appearing beside the Navy officer. Powers cast her a quick glance. �He's turned in,� Powers said, looking out at over the railing. �I see. I...just got done talking with my bosses,� the thirty six year old blonde NSA scientist stated. Powers said nothing, smoking his Cuban cigar. Taryn Bauer found herself attracted to Powers, his broad shoulders, lightly muscular build, and ruggedly handsome features appealing to her, his hairy forearms and sprout of ample chest hair from under his uniform shirt adding to the already strongly masculine presence that Powers possessed. The blonde scientist was not enamored by his muted reactions to her. �We'll start tomorrow,� she said quietly. �You really think you can keep an op like this a secret?� Powers asked, looking directly at her. �We have to. Other than about, say, a hundred people, no one knows about this. You and your friend Lieutenant Commander Mason are going to be the key-we have to dislodge those rocks from those abutments in order for the retrieving cables and hydrogen balloons to be attached,� Dr. Bauer said clearly. Powers shook his head in disapproval. �All of this, just to find out what's inside two football field sized chunks of rock that fell out of the sky,� Powers growled, slinging the last bit of cold, unconsumed coffee out of his mug over the rail and lifeline. �There's something inside those two objects, Commander,� Dr. Taryn Bauer stated flatly. �You already told me that. Has it ever occurred to you that it's best to leave the damn things alone? From what I've read, and as you said, we get hit all the time. Didn't one of these things kill off the dinosaurs, millions of years ago? Powers groused, looking over Taryn Bauer's shoulder. A female Navy officer appeared behind the blonde scientist, holding a clipboard. �Excuse me, Commander, I'm Lieutenant Wescott, Naval Intelligence. Sir, one of the ship's civilian deck officers, Mr. Brackens, has come down with the flu. The ship's captain, Mr. Larssen, wanted me ask if you could help out and stand his watch tonight,� the dark-eyed brunette said clearly. �He's tired Lieutenant, and has a big day tomorrow,� Dr. Bauer said coldly, glaring at the dark-eyed, brunette Navy Intelligence officer. Lieutenant Wescott glared back at the blonde scientist, her dark brown eyes blinking as she tensed up. �I'm up for it Lieutenant. When?� Powers asked calmly, managing a small grim that seemed to put the brunette at ease. �In less than an hour. Midnight to four. I'm sorry to have to ask, but we don't have too many qualified watchstanders onboard right now,� the thirty one year old brunette intelligence officer said. �Okay. I'll get up there a little early. Pass the word to Captain Larrsen, will you?� Powers said, relighting his cigar. �Yes sir, I will. Uh...Commander, would it be alright if I...well, took a turn up there too? I've never been on the bridge of a boat...ship that is,� Wescott said. �Sure. Why not?� Powers said. The brunette intelligence officer saluted Powers, who returned her salute. �That's foolish. You'll be tired tomorrow,� Taryn Bauer said sourly. �I'll be alright Dr. Bauer,� Powers groused. Taryn Bauer lit a cigarette. �You're right Commander, � the blue-eyed blonde said flatly, pocketing her zippo lighter and smoking. �Right about what?� Powers asked. �About the dinosaurs. A rock about two miles wide hit the Gulf of Mexico tens of millions of years ago. Aside from the mountainous sized tidal waves generated by the impact there was the atmospheric disturbance that resulted in a cloud of dust that covered the Earth for years-without sunlight vegetation died. Without vegetation plant-eating dinosaurs died. Without herbivores the meat -eating dinos perished,� the blonde said. �Basically, the shit hit the fan for the dinos. I get it,� Powers said. Taryn Bauer laughed aloud. �I was told you had a sense of humor,� she said. �Opinions vary Doctor Bauer,� Powers said. �We'll have our first briefing tomorrow morning at ten,� Dr. Bauer said quietly, flicking her cigarette over the railing and into the churning waters below them as the civilian research ship plowed along at 15 knots through the choppy seas. �Goodnight Commander,� Bauer said. �Goodnight Doctor Bauer,� Powers aid, watching the blonde NSA scientist step through the pilothouse hatch, disappearing into the interior of the ship. Powers checked his watch. His impromptu watch was only thirty minutes away. He descended the bulkhead mounted steps, headed for the galley, to get a larger mug of coffee. ...Powers blinked as he stood in the pilothouse of the Aurora, wearing a heavy, Navy-issue olive-green colored jacket and gloves. The converted Navy icebreaker, now a civilian research ship, churned through three foot swells, maintaining station. �Commander Powers, I'd like to go down to my cabin for a few hours and get some sleep. Can you take over up here?� Aurora captain Nils Larssen asked, the blond, bearded, fifty-six year old rubbing his eyes. �Go ahead skipper. You look tired. Take a load off,� the bearded Navy Commander replied. �Thank you. I owe you one,� Larssen said, stepping through the hatch and disappearing into the main corridor of the ship. Powers slipped a olive-green colored toboggan cap down over his head and stepped over to the radar plot. �What are those blips, in the right hand corner, sir?� Lieutenant Wescott asked quietly, her finger tapping the corner of the circular radar scope. �Two Navy destroyers. The Cassidy and the Ricketts. They'll be here in about an hour. The big rigs are due in tomorrow,� Powers said, glancing up at the dark-eyed brunette. �You mean the salvage barges?� Wescott repeated. Powers nodded, running a gloved hand over his full, neatly trimmed beard. �They're slow and very big,� Powers said wistfully. Wescott poured two cups of coffee, handing Powers one of them. �Thanks Lieutenant,� he said. �I'd rather you call me Loren, if that's alright with you sir, at least when the brass isn't around,� the brunette intelligence officer said, managing a polite smile. �Okay Loren. Call me Jim,� Powers said. Wescott nodded with a grin. �I need to check in with the lookouts Loren,� Powers said. �I'll tag along,� the brunette chimed in, following behind Powers as the former destroyer captain meandered over to the main control panel, lifting up the walkie talkie. �Lookouts, report,� Powers said clearly. �Nothing to report starboard, sir,� a voice crackled into the talkie. �Same here. All clear to port,� another youthful voice chirped over the talkie. �Very well. Starboard lookout, be advised two contacts will be appearing on our beam in about an hour. Out.� Powers set the talkie down and glanced at the civilian helmsman, a youthful-looking black fellow. �Helm's good sir,� the black fellow said, nodding. Powers looked over at the civilian quartermaster, a bearded man in his thirties, who was hovering over the plot table, monitoring the ship's position. �Very well Mr. Robey,� Powers said, stepping out onto the starboard bridge wing. At 33 degrees Fahrenheit outside the air was cold, brisk, the wind, to his relief, surprisingly mild. Lieutenant Loren Wescott followed him out onto the bridge wing. �You a Navy lifer?� Powers asked. Wescott managed a smile. �Probably. My parents died when I was very young. Car crash. I grew up with my aunt. She lived in Seattle too,� the brunette said. �You're from Seattle?� Powers asked, sticking a cigar in his mouth and lighting it with his zippo. �I am. It's a nice place to live,� Loren Wescott replied. �You have someone back home?� Powers asked. Wescott nodded no. �Not anymore. Well, I did. Henry, my fiance, well, he was killed in '53 while in the Army. Korea,� Wescott replied. �I'm sorry,� Powers offered, smoking his cigar. �Me too. Life goes on. I wanted to join the Army, but all they wanted was nurses. I don't have the stomach for that kind of work, so I talked with a navy recruiter in '55. Nine years later, here I am, in Naval Intelligence, stationed in Washington, DC, rubbing elbows with Admirals and Senators,� Wescott said. �Who assigned you to this detail?� Powers asked. �Admiral Ballard. He works directly for the Secretary Of Defense. I'm one of his aides. It was decided I could keep a lower profile than some of my male counterparts,� Loren Wescott said clearly, removing her cap and running a hand through her thick, short dark brown hair, her hair �Pageboy� styled, one of the more popular, and allowed, hairstyles for women in the U.S. Navy. �Better put that cap back on. You might catch a cold,� Powers said with a grin. �No. These things make my scalp itch,� Wescott said. �Admiral Ballard...I've heard he's a real hardass...the hardest man in the Navy to work for this side of Rickover,� Powers said. Wescott blinked in surprise. �You've met Admiral Rickover?� she asked. �Last year at the Officer's Club in San Francisco. My ship managed to pick off one of his attack subs before it could get a bead on us during an exercise. He wasn't too pleased with that,� Powers said, sipping coffee. �Admiral Ballard is demanding, and sometimes he can be a real pain,� Wescott conceded. The dark-eyed, fair-skinned brunette yawned. �You better get some sleep. Big day ahead tomorrow,� Powers said. �You're right. I enjoyed our talk Jim. Thanks,� Loren Wescott said, walking to the pilothouse hatch, and turning back. �Are you going to miss it?� she asked Powers. �Yeah. But it's time for me to get out of it. Do something else,� Powers replied. Wescott nodded. �Maybe, when this whole thing is over...we could have dinner, see a movie,� Powers said clearly. �A date?� Wescott repeated. �A date, that is, unless you're...involved with someone,� the Navy Commander said, clearing his throat. � I'm not seeing anyone right now. Alright. I'll hold you to that,� Lieutenant Loren Wescott said with a grin. �I would expect no less from anyone who works for Admiral Robert Ballard,� Powers cracked. Loren Wescott smiled. �Good night Jim. I'll see you tomorrow,� the brunette said, disappearing inside the pilothouse. Powers smoked his cigar and turned his gaze back to the sea. �Commander Powers, we're being contacted by the destroyer Cassidy,� the civilian quartermaster barked, standing by the navigation plot table, pointing to the communication panel above the ship's helm. Powers quickly stepped into the pilothouse and took the overheard panel communication mike. �Ring up Captain Larssen. Tell him that the destroyers are making routine contact,� Powers barked at the pilothouse runner, who barked out a �yessir!", then headed down the main corridor, his boots clanging loudly on the corridor floor. �U.S. Navy destroyer Cassidy, this is the civilian research ship *Aurora. We have you on radar, five by five. Over.� Powers said clearly into the hand-held mike. Powers checked his watch. It was 0135 hours, about an hour and a half past midnight. The USNRI ship Aurora*, in the Gulf Of Alaska, early 1964
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