David Golemon - Leviathan

Alexandria opened her eyes and clenched the armrests with her hands so hard the blood drained from them. Then, as the deep lyrics of the song started to coincide with the movement of Leviathan , the giant submarine started moving forward, and the captain started to become one with the deadliness of her vessel.

Tyler tensed as Farbeaux strode to the center of the room with a fresh bottle of wine. The gun moved from Niles to the Frenchman just as the hatch wheel started turning. He allowed his eyes to move in that direction as the large double hatch opened and Virginia came through, followed by Alice.

"Do not allow the hatch to slam closed, ladies. Leviathan is at quiet stations," Tyler said as he moved his head in their direction.

Farbeaux moved like a cat. The bottle of three-hundred-year-old wine was in the air before anyone realized it. The makeshift projectile struck the big Irishman on the side of his head, dropping him immediately. Virginia reacted first as she stooped to retrieve the weapon from the sergeant's hand.

Tyler recovered faster than anyone would have believed. From his knees he backhanded Virginia, knocking her away until she fell next to the hatch. Alice, startled, reached down to help Virginia. Tyler placed his hand upon the gun as Farbeaux dived to stop him — all the while wondering why he was doing it. Niles moved to help the Frenchman.

Tyler again reacted faster than anyone. He quickly raised the weapon and fired. The round grazed Farbeaux in middive. He rolled and was struck with a sudden, flaring pain in his side above the hip. Tyler quickly adjusted his aim toward Niles and brought the director to a complete stop. The sergeant wiped the blood from his temple and then stood on shaky feet. He sluggishly stepped toward the prone Farbeaux and stood over him, the weapon aimed at his head.

"Don't… we'll not give you any more problems," Alice said, taking a step away from Virginia by the hatchway.

Sergeant Tyler smirked and then aimed once more.

The newest Virginia class fast-attack submarine in the world was honored with a very proud moniker — the USS Missouri . In fact, she was so new that she was not even scheduled to see the water until the year 2011. After the recent run of terrorism in the world, the navy had stepped up her construction, since it was clear they needed the technology at sea, not sitting in the dry docks of Groton, Connecticut. She was silent, more silent than any vessel ever built, and made to penetrate the defenses of any port city in the world.

Captain James Jefferson, a man specifically chosen for the duty as Missouri 's first commander, had fitted her out for sea with weapons delivered by supply ship from Pearl Harbor when they had rendezvoused at Midway Island. She had just finished the last leg of her sea trials, and was supposed to be headed home to Pearl, where she would officially be commissioned in three months.

Jefferson was destined to become the first black submarine commander-in-chief of the Pacific fleet (COMSUBPAC). Now however, he had his doubts if he would ever make it to that lofty position. The duty given to him at the last minute could very well be his boat's first war mission, and its last. The rumors had spread very quickly throughout the U.S. Navy, had infected the boat while in transit from Pearl, and had gotten worse with their six-hour layover at Midway. They knew they were being attached to an international line of defense, and also that they were going up against the biggest unknown in the history of the navy — a submarine with unbelievable capabilities had killed up to ten warships, and had yet to be spotted.

Jefferson stood looking at his navigation console and shook his head.

"That goddamn Chinese Akula is drifting on us again. Can't those bastards maintain their station? Hell, we won't need a supersub to take shots at us, we'll sink ourselves."

Missouri 's first officer turned away from the feed he was receiving from the sonar suite.

"He's not the only one, Captain. Now we have the Russian on our starboard drifting toward us. The Leonid had reported problems with her navigation suite earlier."

"Damn," Jefferson said as he rubbed his chin and looked closer at the line of battle. "Izzy, I want to pull out of the line and take up station to the far starboard side of this mess. The way these two Akulas are acting, the hole we leave in the line will be filled soon anyway. I'm not risking my damn boat because two captains can't keep station for a few hours."

"Good idea, Captain. Do we report to the lead boat?"

"No, I'm afraid it will only confuse Captain Nevelov if we did that. Besides, he'll never hear Missouri change places."

"Hell, we can't even hear ourselves, Captain," the first officer said as the men on watch chuckled in their agreement.

"Izzy, back us out of line, dead slow and silent as a field mouse, before we have an accident out here. Bring us to a far-right position of the battle line."

Alexandria Heirthall watched on the smaller holographic screen in front of her as the Missouri started to back away from the battle line. The computer-enhanced image from nine miles away was crystal clear, and just as confusing.

"Captain, we have aspect change on the American boat," Samuels called from the control center.

Heirthall was wondering if the Virginia class boat had possibly heard something that dictated it move out of line. She studied the picture provided by the lasers that struck each boat in the line, and enhanced it into the shape of the actual submarines. The Russian and Chinese Akulas were keeping their stations — it was only Missouri moving away. Then she smiled as her blazing blue eyes caught the reason why. The Chinese boat to her left and the Russian to her right were drifting in the swift current of the opening to the Bering Strait. She struck her intercom.

"We'll keep the attack profile. Give me a weapons status report, Commander."

"Forward tubes one through twenty are loaded with standard Mark seventy conventional warheads, Captain. Vertical tubes are empty. We are ready to fire at your command. Captain, can you pick up the phone line please?" Samuels asked.

Heirthall didn't respond. She only watched the simulation before her as the first drops of sweat appeared on her forehead and her temples. The tone in Commander Samuels's voice told her the first officer was in disagreement with her actions. As she felt the first pain-relieving effects of the Demerol she had taken, her pupils started to expand. She shook her head, confused by the doubt about her actions that had started to creep into her thought process. She closed her eyes, then reached for the phone at the side of the large command chair.

"Yes, Commander?"

"Captain, may I recommend two courses of action? We can speed by the attacking force before they even know we are here, or we can simply use our stealth and drift by."

As if to counter the medication, a sudden pain shot from the base of her neck and deep into her brain. She winced and then slowly recovered.

She lowered her chin as she examined the submarines on the screen. She imagined them to be nothing more than steel and machinery. There were no men on their decks, only computers and weapons. She closed her eyes and shut out the imaginary beat of more than nine hundred hearts. There were no eyes that watched the waterfall displays of their sonar stations, and there weren't men and boys planning Leviathan's death— only machines .

"James, have the crew stand by for extreme maneuvering, and order damage-control parties standing by in all departments." Alexandria once more sat in her chair. "Keep feeding the torpedo tubes coordinates on the enemy vessels, but for now, we don't need them." The pain was fighting off the attack of the medication.