David Golemon - Leviathan

Several men started speaking at once while the president sat in his chair looking at the sonar display.

"This object was verified by a depth chart graph showing the keel of Columbia raised eight feet in depth as whatever this thing is passed beneath her — and that is substantiated. So with this strange blip on sonar, coupled with the massive water displacement, there's little doubt we have one hell of a problem out there," Fuqua added.

Far beneath Nellis Air Force Base, the conference room was silent. The events the department heads had been witness to while attached to the department would never allow for surprise at any one thing they were shown. Unlike the military and intelligence people at the White House, they were at least accustomed to holding their opinions until all the details could be brought out into the open. As Niles watched the Group, he saw Virginia Pollock was deep in thought, biting her lower lip.

"I don't believe anything can travel that fast," the president said from the White House.

"Columbia is due home this afternoon, sir. We have a team on standby ready to board her and take that sonar system apart. But as it stands right now, we may have something in the sea that will prevent us from securing the sea lanes," Fuqua answered, returning to his seat as the lights came up.

"Okay, thank you. Get me the information as soon as you can. I have a phone meeting with the president of China in fifteen minutes, so excuse me for now, gentlemen."

After everyone had left, the president picked up the phone and hit a small button.

"So, Bookworm, what do you think of that?"

Niles Compton looked around, embarrassed at the use of the president's nickname for him. There were smiles all around as the department heads started gathering their notes to leave. Niles quickly snapped his fingers and got Everett's attention, gesturing him back down into his seat.

"What I think is irrelevant at this point. If the navy is worried, it doesn't do much to spark confidence in myself, especially as weak as we are at the moment."

"You have people out there that can outthink anyone I have. Get someone on this and find out if history says we may have a problem here. Technology like this couldn't have sprung up overnight. The research for it may be somewhere in your vast files."

"Already on it," Niles answered.

"I hate using you as a crutch here, Niles, but — well, do your thing for me. Now, how's the Group doing?" the president asked with concern.

"Losing Jack and his people — well, we were never really geared for these kinds of losses, but we're moving on."

"Okay, Mr. Director, I have to go and speak with the Chinese about their destroyed sub."

"Yes, sir," Niles said as he terminated the call and turned toward Everett. "You seem to be someplace other than here, Captain."

"Is it that obvious?" he asked as he rubbed his tired eyes.

"Are you getting any sleep?" Alice Hamilton, the director's assistant since 1945, asked.

Virginia didn't say anything as she looked down at her notepad.

"Have you spoken with Sarah since she went home?" Alice asked.

Everett smiled at Alice's question. She always knew how to get directly to the point, and did it with a modicum of grandmotherly censure that didn't make you feel like a thief of her time.

"She'll heal. She is tougher than she thinks — hell, we all are."

Niles nodded his head, and then brought the team back to the business at hand.

"Virginia, get some expertise on naval functions from Captain Everett, and also start investigating these clean nukes. Somewhere in our files we have information on those who have come close to making such weapons. Not much, but that's where we'll start."

Niles saw Virginia nod her head once, but she remained silent as she took her notepad and left without acknowledging anyone.

Second Lieutenant Sarah McIntire sat in her darkened bedroom and stared at the wall. She absentmindedly reached up with her right hand and lightly rubbed her shoulder, which was still in a sling. The music she was listening to was as dark as her room, and her thoughts. The Moody Blues had been one of Jack's favorites, and Sarah now found that she couldn't get enough, particularly of the dark melody emanating from the small speakers in the corner. "Nights in White Satin," their most haunting song, sank deep into Sarah's soul and burned itself into her psyche.

A single tear built in her left eye and then slowly traveled down her cheek as she absently wiped it away. She was still weak from the bullet she had taken in the battle for the sunken city of Atlantis, and she knew that because of losing Jack, her recovery was lagging.

The door opened and her mother, not hesitating as she had done the past week, stepped inside, flipping on the light switch. Her next move made Sarah wake up as the stereo was turned off abruptly.

"From what you told me of this fella Jack, I don't think he would care for you sittin' here in the dark, moping around and feeling sorry for yourself. You need to get up and work some of this despair out of your system."

Sarah looked up at her mother. The woman was almost an older version of Sarah herself. Short at five feet, and with the same dark hair, only eight inches longer. She was thin and had none of the Arkansas homemaker demeanor about her. She faced her daughter with hands on hips and a frown on her pretty face.

"You tell me, is this any way for an officer in the army to act? I'm sure soldiers have lost friends before. Are you something special — the rules don't apply to you?"

Sarah looked from her mother to the far wall of her room, which hadn't changed one bit since she left home after joining the army six years before.

"Did it hurt you when Daddy left us?" Sarah asked, not able to look into her mother's eyes.

Becky McIntire half-smiled, sad attempt though it was, and then sat on the edge of Sarah's small bed.

"Oh, I hurt something fierce. Having you was what kept me from straying from the course of your upbringing. Without you, I doubt I would have been much good to myself. You were all I had." She smiled and touched her daughter's leg. "But you? Why, your letters to me tell of the people you work with, the way they all respect you, and the way you explained Jack in those letters, well, let's just say he didn't leave you like your daddy left me, honey. He was taken — and that is a world of difference. You know the folks you work with are hurtin' too. Maybe they need you back there at your base — just maybe they need help from you to make sense of this. You go on and hurt, but sooner or later you're going to get up out of that chair and do what your colonel expects of you."

"And what is that, Mother?" Sarah asked, knowing her mom's humor was about to be exposed for the first time in the week she had been home.

"To get your ass out into my garden and do some weeding, of course! Or get on a plane and go back to work. They need you more than I do."

For the first time since she awoke to find Jack Collins gone from her life, Sarah smiled, and then cried hard with her head in her mother's lap.

The next morning, Sarah boarded a plane bound for McCarran Airport in Las Vegas. She needed the men and women there because now she knew she could never heal without them. Second Lieutenant Sarah McIntire, with her arm still in a sling, was going home to heal among her friends at the Event Group.

The room was dark and the man still slept his unnatural sleep. The doctor sat at his desk watching the comatose patient's breathing, and became worried at its shallowness. He heard the door to the infirmary open and then silently close with a pneumatic hiss. He knew who stood just inside the doorway, tucked into the shadows.