David Golemon - Leviathan

Twenty miles offshore the great monster rose from the sea to expose her conning tower and the large rudder fins at her stern — the tower so tall that if viewed it would have looked as if a mountain suddenly rose from the roiling sea. The great beast's interior electronics recorded wind conditions and temperature variants from the sea and outlying land coordinates, without a soul having to be exposed to the air. The gleaming black hull glistened in what remained of the morning sun and blue sky, which was quickly becoming cloud-laden and threatening rain. The darkening skies nearly matched the countenance of the giant vessel's captain, as the attack area was surveyed on monitors in the main control center and the conning tower overlooking the scene of devastation.

The captain stood, walked to the spiral staircase that wound its way upward through the skyscraper-sized conning tower, and then opened the hatch to the private observation suite. Once there the captain examined the waters outside the three-foot-thick, twenty-five-foot-diameter port viewing window sitting just above the waves that hit harmlessly against the vessel's sonar-absorbing hull.

As the captain scanned the now-calm sea, a body floated by, bobbing in the gentle swell. The captain's eyes closed as the body struck the hull and then continued, spinning and dipping in the sea. The dead had been a woman, dressed in civilian clothes, indicating she might have been one of the Greenpeace volunteers from the unintentionally destroyed Atlantic Avenger . The captain looked away just as orders were shouted below to get under way, and the burned and mangled body mercifully vanished from sight.

"Captain, we have a submerged contact at twenty kilometers and closing — possible submarine close-aboard. Computer says there is a ninety-three percent possibility it is a Los Angeles class attack boat. We will have her prop signature momentarily."

The captain continued to stare at the now-s till waters where three ships and a submarine had once been. Then the deep blue eyes closed as three mushroom shaped clouds slowly rose from the west, indicating their attack there had concluded.

The war those fools sought had begun in the violent way all wars start, and the winner upon this new battlefront would be no nation that currently held power in the world. The winner would be life itself.

"Take her down to two thousand feet. As we clear the continental shelf, bring her up to seventy-five knots, on a heading to our next objective. It is neither the time nor the place to confront the U.S. Navy. They'll have other concerns very soon."

"Aye, Captain."

With that, the giant vessel slipped under the waves and silently departed the attack zone specifically chosen two years before this dark day, just after the announcement of the day that oil operations were to commence at the damnable facility.

The captain moved away from the thick acrylic window, using a control on the chair behind to close the clamshell titanium cover, and then slowly made for the control room. "Please send the surgeon to my cabin."

"Aye, Captain," the first officer said as he snapped his fingers at the bridge security officer and pointed aft, sending him to collect the doctor.

Around the fully holographic control center of the giant beast, the crew looked upon their captain with admiration and dedication.

The most amazing machine in the history of the world was brought up to her cruising speed, and then silently started making her way south.

On the surface above, only smoldering debris marked the spot where the giant vessel had been only moments before. The captain of this strange submarine knew that soon the sea would heal itself, and the sea life there would return to normal, never to be placed in danger by humankind again.

The United States fast-attack nuclear submarine USS Columbia was shallow as she attempted to gather readings from the air and water surrounding the boat. Then the large sub went back into deep water to evaluate their readings.

The Los Angeles class submarine had been on maneuvers with one of the newest Ohio-class missile boats, USS Maine (SSBN 741) while they conducted DSEM (Deep Submergence Evasive Maneuvering), a new drill thought up by COMSUBLANT (Commander, Submarine Force, U.S. Atlantic Fleet).

The Columbia , normally based in Hawaii, had recently finished a scheduled refit at Newport News, Virginia, at the general dynamics facility. From there she was ordered to conduct operations with Maine on her return trip back around the Horn of South America. The drill suddenly halted when the waters fifty kilometers to the south erupted in sound. While the Maine went deep and evacuated the area for security reasons, the Columbia went south at flank speed to investigate the war noises emanating somewhere off the coastline of Venezuela.

Captain John Lofgren watched the readings on the infrared detectors and frowned. He turned to his first officer, Lt. Commander Richard Green, and shook his head.

"Whatever happened up there, it was hot as hell. The water temperature is twenty degrees above normal. Moreover, what were those strange noises prior to all hell breaking loose? They weren't any torpedo sounds I've ever heard before."

"We have confirmation, Captain," the chief of the boat called out. "We have elevated but still low radiation readings on the surface. Computers still say nuclear detonation, probably light in yield."

"We're also picking up elevated levels of airborne contaminate coming in from the west," a second tech called from his station.

"What in the hell is going on?" Lofgren asked as he returned to control. "Dick, we have to get this off to COMSUBLANT — let's get Columbia up to periscope depth."

Captain Lofgren was holding the set of headphones to his ears as he listened inside of the BQQ-5E sonar suite.

"I still don't hear a thing," he said to his sonar team.

"It's there, Captain, five miles outside of the target area. Just as we were approaching station it passed right beneath us," Petty Officer John Cleary said as he adjusted the volume control to the captain's headset.

"Tell me again what in the hell it's supposed to be I'm listening for?"

The young petty officer seemed lost for words again as he looked from his captain to the first officer standing just inside the curtain of the sonar station.

"It's like… like… a pressure wave of some kind, and it's moving extremely fast. The only thing that can cause something like that is a large object moving through the sea. We hear the same thing with whales, only on a smaller scale."

"I just don't hear it."

"How fast did you say it was moving again?" the first officer asked.

This time the operator looked at his training partner, who had also failed to hear the strange noise. He swallowed, then looked at the two officers.

"About seventy-six knots. I measured the speed of the pressure wave against our static location."

Lofgren removed the headphones and looked at the operator, but Cleary kept his eyes straight ahead, not flinching away from his captain's questioning look.

"Captain, it went to almost eighty knots speed after I detected it, and at the moment it passed beneath us I felt the boat…" He stopped, knowing the explanation would sound too amazing to believe.

"Felt the boat what?"

"I have the computer and depth track on paper to back me on this, Captain."

Lofgren didn't say anything as he waited.

"Columbia actually rose in depth by eight feet as water under our keel was displaced by whatever it was that plowed beneath us when we came into the affected area." The sonar man pulled a graph and showed it to the two officers. "One minute we're at three hundred and three feet of depth, the next we went to two hundred and ninety-five — a difference of eight feet. Something monstrous passed beneath our keel at that exact time. What could move a Los Angeles class boat by that much depth from that far away?"