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Eight miles under the Pacific Ocean
Daiyu lowered her acoustic headphones and scowled upward.
“Any more updates?” Yang asked, his brow damp with sweat, his face deathly pale.
The lieutenant stared out the window. They had just dropped out of the fissure when a massive quake started. Sand, pebbles, and larger rocks continued to rain down. Several struck theQianliyanwith resounding clangs.
Yang cringed and ducked at each one.
“I’m hearing nothing from topside,” Daiyu reported. “The quake’s noise is blocking all communication.”
“Then we should blow ballast and head back up.”
Earlier, they had received a frantic message from the submarine’s commander, detailing the destruction of theDayangxi—by Captain Tse’s own weaponry. Daiyu had been awaiting further word. Anger and humiliation warred within her.
“Captain Tse,” Yang pressed her, his voice anxious.
“No.” She shook her head. “We stay on mission.”
Another large stone struck theQianliyan.
“Fuck that,” Yang blurted out.
He lunged to the row of ballast switches. He managed to flip one.Piston-driven pumps pushed water from one of the tanks. TheQianliyan’s descent slowed.
Daiyu had been expecting such a rash act, noting Yang’s growing panic. His fingers scrabbled for another switch. Daiyu swung her arm. She already had a dagger in hand—a QNL-95 knife. She stabbed the long blade into Yang’s neck.
He jerked back in shock, his hands grabbing for his throat.
She twisted the blade and blood sprayed across the sphere, soaking her uniform. Yang struggled and gasped. His body slid down the seat, as if trying to curl away from his pending death.
There would be no escape.
She held onto the hilt until Yang stopped moving. His mouth opened and closed a few more times, then stayed wide, his expression shocked.
She left the blade there and wiped her palms on her pants. She intended to complete her mission. She needed a win below to make up for her failure above.
I can still salvage this.
She knew that if she could help secure Aigua’s new weapon system, one that could change the destiny of China, the loss of a single ship would not matter.
She reached to her controls and reversed the ballast tank’s pistons. Water refilled the space. With the added weight, theQianliyandropped faster, plunging her toward her destiny.
She had no need for Yang. The submersible had plenty of eyes of its own. It was equipped with multiple detection devices: side-scanning and forward-looking sonar, a dozen underwater cameras, even space-based sensors.
She employed them now as she searched below theQianliyan.She fell swiftly toward her target, which continued to reveal its position with repeated pings. The other craft—theCormorant—had reversed course and swept up toward her.
As the two parties closed on each other, she saw no reason for further subterfuge. The enemy was toothless and unprepared. She targeted their vehicle with her acoustic system. They were close enough nowthat even the background rumble of the continuing quake could not block their communication.
She pulled the headset on and raised the microphone to her lips. “Cormorant,this is theQianliyan. Do you copy?”
She waited for a response. With only a half kilometer between them, there should be no lag time.
A voice reached her, full of wary confusion. She noted the heavy Aussie accent, marking the speaker as the vehicle’s pilot. “This is theCormorant. What are your intentions,Qianliyan? Over.”
“The People’s Liberation Army has full control of the surface,” she lied. “TheQianliyanis equipped with deep-sea weaponry. Stop your ascent. Tell us what you learned below. What you know. If we’re satisfied, you will follow us to the surface.”
“We cannot comply,Qianliyan. Your submarine has been destroyed. And—”
