David Golemon - Ancients

As she trailed her team, she was happy to see no trace of them as they swam south from the Utah . They were using special rebreather units that allowed no telltale air bubbles to escape the completely closed-loop systems. Dahlia then moved her glasses to watch a special three-man team on Ford Island, not far from the Arizona . The image was in a sickly green ambient light, but she was clearly able to see one man as he reached for his radio. She smiled as she heard three distinct clicks transmitted. The three men had successfully severed the electrical cable that supplied power to the underwater sound and laser-fence security system guarding the Arizona from treasure hunters and souvenir seekers.

"Now, bring me my retirement," she said as she adjusted her view to the memorial; she was satisfied as she watched the four men remaining on the observation deck.

Except for the pain-in-the-ass Colonel Collins, whom she knew to be one of the most formidable men she had ever seen, the men did not look like much of a threat. She and her small five-man team should have no trouble removing them from the surface equation.

Jack Collins looked at the names of the dead on the memorial and thought about how they had died. A surprise it had been, sudden and unexpected. Jack had always hoped never to lose anything as valuable as his men's lives in battle, but he was also wise enough to know that was one wish never granted to a leader. All one could do was be vigilant and try never to be surprised as the brave men on the Arizona had been. He turned away from the names and looked out on the harbor lights and Honolulu glimmering in the distance.

He raised his radio and depressed the Send button three times. Then he heard a return three clicks and was satisfied that his own surprise was ready.

Everett was the fifth in line as they passed over the Arizona 's forward number-one turret. Although he had expected to see it, the scene was still something out of a ghostly dream as the handheld lights they used played over the rifled barrels. Marine growth had done nothing to diminish the menacing opening where at one time, long ago, one-and-a-half-ton shells had exploded out of the massive guns.

As they approached the starboard gangway next to the old bridge tower that navy salvagers had cut away almost sixty-five years before, the water seemed to become even blacker, giving every man on the excursion the chills.

The eight SEALs relieved the UDT element and Everett watched as they slowly made their way to the surface. The SEALs, armed with UPPs (underwater-pressurized projectiles) took up station patrolling the waters outside the great warship. The weapons they carried were multibarreled spear guns that could rapid-fire fifteen ten-inch-long darts at anything threatening the team.

Even in her deteriorating condition, the Arizona was still something to behold. Her dark skin was alive with marine life, and as he slid a hand along her starboard railing, Carl knew that she was truly still alive in more ways than one. With well over three-quarters of her crew still inside, how could she be anything else.

In the blackness of the harbor waters, a gaping maw slowly came into view in the dim lights ahead, and the gangway quickly followed that. The steel steps that led belowdecks were still intact and, if it had not been for the rust, looked as if men had used them just that morning.

The lead ranger went in first after attaching a nylon cord to the railing. The others followed slowly at five-foot intervals. Everett felt the minute pressure build as they descended into the darkness that led to the second deck of one of the most famous ships in history.

As they traveled down the passage, Ranger Chavez dropped a small dive marker about fifteen feet in and then turned to face the men following him. The Mudzoos knew what was happening, but Carl was curious as the yellow-green dye marker rose into the water of the passageway as if it were a ghost. Someone tapped Everett from behind. A navy salvage man had seen the questioning look on his face, so he had written something on his plastic board with grease pencil.

" Arizona crewman in the silt," it said.

Everett personally could have gone all night without knowing that, but he knew that they had to be warned, so as not to disturb the area. He knew why diving on the Arizona was limited to personnel of the U.S. Navy and the National Parks Service only.

As he passed over the yellow-green marker, out of respect, he looked straight ahead and not down at the thick bed of silt where one of the Arizona's boys lay. Carl was then startled when he looked ahead of him and saw at least twenty more of the markers rising like small ghostly signals. He realized then that they were inside a most hallowed place.

Ahead, Everett knew, the rest of the Arizona crew lay where they had fallen at battle stations and awaited the arrival of their brothers of the modern U.S. Navy.

A thousand yards from the stern of the Arizona, the Coalition assault team split into two groups. They would strike the old ship from two sides. One team of twenty-five would follow the Americans inside and strike there, and the other element would hit the SEAL security team in the waters surrounding the dead battleship. Then they would wait and take anyone who might escape the bowels of the vessel. The few men left on the memorial were not their concern. They would hit and hit hard and be away before the Pearl Harbor U.S. Marine contingent could react.

Everett watched as the captain's cabin finally came into view. It had seemed like a mile when it had been only thirty-five feet of dark passageway. The door to the cabin was wide open, and as they watched, a small blue-finned fish swam out as if curious at his nighttime company.

As the only diver who new approximately what it was they were searching for, Carl would be one of only six allowed into the cabin of Franklin Van Valkenburg, who had been the commander of the USS Arizona.

As the initial team entered the cabin, Everett was shocked to see that the closet with the remains of uniforms still hanging. The sea had not eaten them as it had so many of the other things onboard. Carl hoped that the sea life had left them in respect to the ship's captain.

Everett continued looking around as the others went to the main bulkhead that separated the cabin from the next space. As he looked over the stateroom, he saw the phone off its hook, and then before he knew it two more yellow dye markers rose from the deck; two more bodies here. Who were they? It was a known fact that the captain had made it to his command bridge, had been seen there moments before the destruction of his ship. Therefore, who these men could have been was a mystery.

The rest of the captain's cabin was losing its fight with the waters of the harbor. The rich paneling that had covered the steel-encased room was all but gone.

Everett recalled that Martha and Carmichael had said that Van Valkenburg had been one of them . However, unlike Martha and Carmichael, he had done his duty to the human race, as well as to Keeler's brother.

A bright light suddenly filled the dark cabin. Carl had to turn away as the cutting torch flared brightly as the Mudzoos went to work on the small safe.

As he looked away, he saw the round porthole, one of the only ones he had observed not covered by a protective steel hatching. A form suddenly crossed the murky glass. It was only momentary, but he was sure that it was someone in the water outside the hull. He turned back to the cutting, unnerved by the dark figure he had seen outside the porthole. Then he reassured himself that it must have been one of the SEALs in the water. However, he could not help but have a momentary SEAL-trained reaction that something was not right about the blurry figure he had seen, and that something kept playing on the fringes of his mind.