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He was looking over his shoulder, back the way they had come. “We can’t make it to the fissure. Not in time.” He turned to them. “We’re trapped down here.”
42
January 24, 5:18P.M.NZDT
Pacific Ocean, six hundred miles NE of Auckland
Monk took in the view from the bridge of theTitan X. The only sign of the battle two hours before was a flotsam of debris: sections of broken boats, orange jackets that still held dead bodies, life preservers that had failed in their duty. Oil barrels rolled in the chop. Pools of petrol burned in patches.
The largest of the latter was a flaming lake. It marked where theDayangxihad sunk. The wreckage was continuing to leak fuel, feeding the funeral pyre above. There were no such markers for the sites where the hunter-killer sub and the amphibious LCAC had gone down.
A gruff complaint announced Kowalski’s arrival. “Screw that. I don’t care who’s on the bridge. I’m not putting out my cigar.”
Monk turned as the big man marched in, trailed by redolent smoke. He was flanked by Jarrah, the head of security. They both carried assault rifles and holstered sidearms.
“How are our guests?” Monk called over.
“All tucked into their beds,” Kowalski said. “Sweet as can be.”
The new captain of theTitan Xcalled from the helm. “How many total?” William Byrd asked.
“Eighteen,” Jarrah answered crisply. “That should be all of them.”
“We crammed them into the two brigs,” Kowalski added. “It’s tight quarters, but better than a long walk down a short plank.”
Monk shook his head. They had rounded up the last of the Chinese soldiers. The injured had been moved to the ship’s medical ward, where they were handcuffed and under guard. Their treatment was better than they deserved—more of their comrades floated out in the water. But Monk had held off recovering the bodies.
And for good reason.
He stared out the windows. Several drones circled the flaming lake. They were still guarding the waters where theDayangxihad gone down. No doubt the ocean’s depths were similarly patrolled.
Monk feared sending out any of their boats to retrieve the dead. He didn’t want to attract the attention of those automated weapons. They likely remained on target, but he wasn’t taking any chances. It was one of the reasons he had kept theTitan Xat its current position.
To wait out the enemy.
Monk pictured the VTOL drone that he had watched land on the LCAC to recharge. With the base ship sunk, the drones would eventually lose power. Once everything was quiet, he would entertain moving.
Kowalski had informed him that there were a couple dozen people alive on the wreckage ofTitan Station Up. They would have to wait. The safety of the hundred-plus aboard the yacht was his priority.
Plus, four others.
Monk stared down at his toes.
Not much I can do for them.
He crossed to the sonar station. “How do things look down there?” he asked the bridge tech.
Byrd joined him.
“The seaquake seems to be quieting,” the man said. “There are some continuing tremors, but they’re not as violent.”
“And the fissure?” Byrd asked.
“According to the sonar, it’s nearly closed up.” He swallowed and turned to them. “I’ve still not heard anything from theCormorant.”
Monk scowled. “Captain Tse is down there, too. Her bathyscaphe is armed. Keep a close watch for her. We don’t want her ambushing us.”
The tech nodded. “Will do.”
