Unscheduled Arrival

UnscheduledArrival

Mike Barbuti

Writers Club Press

San Jose New York Lincoln Shanghai

Unscheduled Arrival

All Rights Reserved © 2000 by Michael Barbuti

No part of this book may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, graphic, electronic, or mechanical, including photocopying, recording, taping, or by any information storage or retrieval system, without the permission in writing from the publisher.

Writers Club Press an imprint of iUniverse.com, Inc.

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ISBN: 0-595-14999-5

ISBN: 1-469-70812-4 (ebook)

Printed in the United States of America

Contents

DEDICATION

CHAPTER 1

CHAPTER 2

CHAPTER 3

CHAPTER 4

CHAPTER 5

CHAPTER 6

CHAPTER 7

CHAPTER 8

CHAPTER 9

CHAPTER ΙΟ

CHAPTER 11

CHAPTER 12

CHAPTER 13

EPILOGUE

ABOUT THE AUTHOR

DEDICATION

To my parents and family for their eternal love and understanding. To Rita (my rock) Joan (my sounding board) and all those for whom the world’s oceans are not simply a highway to traverse, but a goddess to worship.

CHAPTER 1

The ocean was even smoother, calmer and more beautiful than he thought it would be. Edward had never even been on a boat before, let alone a big cruise ship like this one, unless you count the time he and his brother canoed down the stream behind their father’s old house in Pennsylvania. But that didn’t really count, he thought, as he stood on the deck of the Serenade, one of the nicest cruise ships ever built, at least that’s what the brochure said and for once he agreed with the sales material he read.

It had not been an easy choice, but he promised Samantha that he would take her on a second honeymoon that she would never forget and he meant it. She deserved it after thirty years of being the best wife he ever had. Of course she was also the only wife he ever had but he often liked to refer to her as his first wife, especially at parties, to amuse some of the guys But they mostly knew of his sense of humor and a few of them still laughed at it. The trip was expensive too, but he knew that the one thing Sam wanted most in life was a cruise to Europe and now, here they were.

Of course he didn’t really know exactly where they were, only that they were somewhere in the North Atlantic, that they had left New York early yesterday and they should be in Norway tomorrow, no, the day after, he was having a little trouble remembering. It must be because of the wine. He rarely drank but Sam wanted to try an expensive wine with dinner and nothing was to good for this trip. He’d only had two glasses, or was it three? Oh well, it didn’t matter, he certainly wasn’t going to be driving anywhere for a while so he felt no harm in getting a little drunk, just a little. Now it was getting chilly, the sun had been gone for hours and he was leaning on the starboard railing enjoying the smooth ride, star-filled sky and brisk wind.

He barely noticed someone walking up behind him. Hello sailor, came a familiar voice.

He turned to see Samantha standing there looking him up and down and trying to do her best Mae West impersonation. Ah, yes. Hello my dear, he responded in his best possible W.C. Fields voice. They both laughed as she walked up to the railing and snuggled up next to him to stay warm. It had been nice in the dining room and she had returned to their cabin to hang up her coat, not thinking she would need it for their stroll.

The water’s beautiful isn’t it? she said softly.

It sure is, he whispered to her, so, how do you like the cruise so far?

Mmmmm…,she purred, it’s everything I dreamed it would be. I can’t wait ‘til we get to Europe though. This was such a surprise, thank you sweetie, as she gave him a kiss.

Anything for my little girl, he replied. She often got a kick out of being called his little girl and the drinks she had earlier, with dinner, only made her enjoy it that much more.

Boy, I’ll bet you can see every star in the heavens out here, he said as he stretched his back, which was still a little stiff from sitting so long at dinner.

You sure can, I never knew there were this many.

And how about that moon..

Sure is romantic, she said slyly and in her most seductive voice. He turned to her, smiled and leaned over to give her a big kiss when he was suddenly blinded.

What was that? he said quickly as he recoiled. His first thought was that someone had taken a flash picture of the two of them, but he knew that couldn’t be the case because the flash came from over the water.

My God that was bright, she exclaimed.

As they both looked out over the water another flash went off. This one wasn’t as bright though and was followed by a bright streak moving through the sky and heading down toward the water, Wow was all they could say. Having never seen anything they could relate it to they were both in awe. Then, when it got closer to the water, they could see a large bright fireball at the point of it and suddenly it was gone without a sound.

My goodness, Sam exclaimed, her voice a whisper, what was that?

I don’t know, but it sure was bright.

Did it hit the water?

I don’t know, I don’t think so, he responded.

Well what happened to it? she was getting louder now.

Beats the hell out of me. Maybe it was a plane or something, he barely finished the sentence when they both heard a small commotion on deck and looked around to see several other people leaning over the railing pointing out over the water to where the light disappeared. They seemed to be as amazed as the two of them were at the sight of so bright a light on such a quiet evening.

Where did it hit? a young man was asking several people at the railing, but no one could tell him where or even if it hit. All they could say was that it moved quickly and then was gone without a sound.

Up on the starboard wing-bridge, Second Officer Collins was using his binoculars to try and pinpoint the location where he thought the object might have hit the water, but as he scanned the horizon he could see nothing. His first impression was about the same as several of the other passengers, that it might have been a plane. He didn’t see the first flash, only the second, but he did follow it down after that.

Radar, any contacts, he yelled.

No sir, Ensign Terri replied, Surface and air radars are all clear.

Thinking about the speed of it’s decent, he was now leaning a little more toward a meteor than a plane, but he had better play it safe just to be sure. He had heard that some military aircraft could fall at incredible speeds if they malfunctioned in the air. Turning back toward the bridge he ordered that the Captain be notified and then walked over to the satellite navigation console to check the exact position of the ship. Not knowing how far away the object hit, he would have to guess it’s impact point, but he was pretty sure he wouldn’t be too far off.

After jotting down the reading, he headed for the intercom that connects the bridge with the communication center, picking up the telephone he punched in his three digit code to let the operator know it was him, com center, came the swift reply.

Communications, take this down, we’ve spotted an object that we believe may have hit the water somewhere in the area of 27o 22’ W, 58o 35’ N., we’re not sure what it is so you better alert Keflavik, they might want to dispatch Air-Sea-Rescue to check it out.

Will do Lieutenant, came the response.

Thanks, was his reply and he hung up the phone and returned to the wing bridge to see if he could spot anything else.

Captain on the bridge, came the familiar announcement and he thought, good, now I can get the bosses opinion.

Hey, look at that, said Phil as he pointed to a small pen that marked the rotating drum on the seismograph.

Yeah…I wonder what the hell that is…? said one of his partners at The British Geological Institute. In the four years they had been working together at Cambridge, they had seen several images scratched onto the big drum in the middle of the cluttered room, but most of them start out small and either get larger fairy quickly, or just stay small and rumble until they die. Not this one.

That’s weird, Phil said softly, It’s almost like some dude just kicked the ground and then took off.

No shit, said Katie, who was pulling the late shift again with Phil, I better call Dr. Stone and see what he wants to do about it, she said and went to the small desk at one end of the room to use the telephone.

OK, I’ll keep an eye on the meter in case it jumps again, but there was no additional movement, it can’t be volcanic, he said to himself or there would be a lot more action on the needle. Even a nuclear bomb detonation would have some residual seismic wave, but the needle was dead.

Stone wants me to call some of the other centers, Katie yelled from the desk, any additional activity?

Nothing. Flat as my grandma’s chest,

Katie smiled and pushed the two button phone code that automatically dialed the seismic center in Dublin. It took a long time for someone to answer but when they did, they confirmed what she and Phil had seen.

Whatever it is, Dublin picked it up too, she yelled.

It might be a meteor or comet or something, but even that should leave an echo, he yelled back, check with the Americans and the Japanese, maybe we can pinpoint this thing. He then walked to the big map on one of the walls of the room and stuck a pin in the location of his University. This would show that he had registered the movement and wrote, in small letters point six one, which would show it’s strength on his seismograph.

New York got it too, point three two, Katie yelled as she was hanging up from one call and punching in the numbers of another. He picked up another pin, pushed it into the map at New York City and wrote down .32.

After a few more calls and four more pins, they had enough information to pinpoint the epicenter of the disturbance. Phil took out his calculator, punched in a few numbers and then picked up a pencil, ruler and compass and starting drawing lines on the big map. After a few seconds he said, bingo and put a big black dot in the North Atlantic,

south and slightly west of Iceland. Katie was watching intently until the phone rang and she rushed over to pick it up.

It’s Dr. Stone, he wants to know what we found out.

Tell him that whatever it was occurred on the ocean floor about 500 kilometers south of Iceland, Phil replied. Katie had turned and was already talking to Dr. Stone when Phil said, we better call Iceland and see what they have. This sure is strange.

If there was one thing Captain Mike Flank hated, it was these unknown search and rescue calls. In the two years he had been stationed at Keflavik Airfield, in Iceland, he had probably been out on only about a dozen but that was way to many. As he and his co-pilot climbed into the cockpit of their new SV-22 Osprey, he wasn’t sure if he hated the wasted time more, or the fear that he might actually find a crashed plane with hundreds of bodies floating around out there. At least the sun was coming up. That would make the search a lot easier.

What is it this time? asked Lieutenant Fazzi.

Report says some cruise ship south of us spotted something going down a few hours ago, Mike replied

How far out?

Looks like a couple hundred miles. At least we got a decent fix this time, not another psycho UFO report, they were both glad for that. Too many times someone would call up North Atlantic Rescue and tell them that they saw something fall from the sky and tell them only that it was somewhere in the Atlantic Ocean.

All right, lets get up there, Mike said as the two men strapped themselves into their plane.

The engines started up and the big bird rolled to the end of the runway and was up in no time. One of the things Captain Flank liked about the SV-22 was that it was so easy to fly, a lot easier than the old flying boats that he had trained in. Too bad there weren’t more of them, they were perfect for rescue at sea. SV-22’s had a greater range, better speed and larger capacity than any helicopter and with one big engine on each wing that could be rotated straight up so the plane could hover just like a helicopter, they were a dream come true. But the Osprey program had run into funding problems in the US Congress and had been cut way back. Now he was flying one of the few in active service.

As they headed South and passed over the tip of Iceland, Captain Flank was sure glad this wasn’t winter. The North Atlantic storms could really hamper any rescue efforts during the cold arctic winters but the summers up here actually weren’t too bad. No where near what he thought they would be before he was assigned here.

It’s been almost an hour; we should be there any minute now, boss, Lieutenant Fazzi said, cruising at 400 knots it didn’t take long to arrive at a possible rescue site.

All right, lets get down on the deck and see if we can spot anything, Captain Flank said as he pushed the steering yoke forward and the plane quickly responded by dropping in altitude.

1,500 feet, Fazzi responded and the plane leveled.

You know the routine, keep you eyes open Joe,

Yes sir, Lieutenant Fazzi was talking to him but already scanning the horizon from side to side. Occasionally he would think he spotted something and raise his binoculars to get a better look, but it was nothing. The morning light can often play tricks on the eyes as it reflects off the glare of the ocean.

Anything? Captain Flank broke the silence as he continued to steer the plane in large circles over the suspected area.

Nada, How long we been up?

Captain Flank looked at his watch Almost two hours now. We’ll give it another hour then head back,

Sounds good to me. I’m getting hungry, Joe usually packed himself a lunch when he was on patrol, but this alert had come up to suddenly.

Say again base, Captain Flank said.

What? Fazzi said as he turned thinking that the captain was speaking to him. Only then did he notice that the captain had his hand pressed to the ear piece of his headset and was obviously talking to Keflavik dispatch.

Copy that. We could sure use it base. Thanks.

What’s up?

Looks like we’re going to get a little help on this one. Dispatch said there’s a P3-Orion on a training mission in the area. The US Navy has agreed to let it help us search for any wreckage for a while.

Help us cover more area but I’m starting to think it’s a waste of time anyway. I checked the board before we left and there were no commercial planes reported missing and there aren’t a hell of a lot of private planes that can come this far out.

Yea I know, but there may be something to the report. You know the old saying.

Yea…Yea…well that’s what we get paid for.

How much farther to the reported crash area, Edwards? Lieutenant Commander Murdoch was on the intercom to his navigator, whose station was about twenty feet behind him in the huge P-3 Orion. As one of the largest planes in the Navy, the Orion was also one of the oldest and one of the most important. As a converted DC-3 airliner, it had a range over 5000 miles and with it’s new equipment, was considered by most experts to be the best sub hunter in the entire world.

We should be there in about five minutes sir, Specialist Edwards was carefully studying the readout from his computer screen. It was giving him the exact position of his plane relative to all land masses and displaying the search area that the Osprey had already covered.

Murdoch was familiar with his plane and crew, but a little apprehensive about conducting a surface search for wreckage. After all, his Orion was designed to hunt for and kill submarines not surface ships. Although it was equipped with a surface-search radar, it would not be able to detect anything as small as floating debris from a downed plane.

As Murdoch was logging in the fuel consumption figures, he heard a crackling in his headphones, it was Ensign Burke, his Anti-Submarine Warfare officer.

ASW to Captain.

Go ahead Burke.

Sir, do you know if we have any subs in the area?

That’s negative Burke, the entire North Atlantic is clear. Why?

NATO have anything deep in this area, sir?

Negative and all reports from Russia and CIS show that this area is clean. What you got?

We just passed over a level seven MAD reading sir.

You sure about that Burke? It’s not that Murdoch doubted his ASW officer but a level seven reading is almost never encountered over the North Atlantic. Only a large submarine would report such a high reading on the Magnetic Anomaly Detector.

Positive sir. I’ll reset, do you want to make another pass?

That’s affirmative, Murdoch checked his compass heading then turned the huge plane around in a big circle and headed back directly over his previous course.

There it is again, sir, He heard Burke blurt out over the headphones.

Give me a position on it. We’ll circle and drop a buoy, Murdoch was both confused and interested. He knew that he would have received word if the Russians or the Commonwealth of Independent States had any subs in the area. maybe it was a rogue British or French sub?

Coordinates punched in Commander, Burke’s voice was clear and precise, he also knew this could be something.

Murdoch checked his flight screen. It was displaying the coordinates Burke had just input. He turned the lumbering aircraft again and flew directly over the position displayed.

It’s all yours Burke, Murdoch radioed to his ASW officer.

Buoy away, Burke radioed back as he pushed a button on his console that dropped a small tube about three feet long from it’s container on the bottom of the Orion. The buoy dropped down and landed in the water at the precise coordinates the strange readings came from.

Whatever it is, it isn’t moving. Passive sonar isn’t picking up anything. Switching to active, Burke radioed back to Murdoch.

As the small cylinder began to sink into the Atlantic, three small tail fins popped out from it’s top and it started pinging the area