Second Sunrise

The PacEx stood out against the wind swept horizon like a carnival in the country, its multi-colored lights flickering in the rain, its hull barely visible against the obsidian backdrop. The ship heaved and its bow crashed down as the heavy seas tossed the PacEx about with ease.

            Rough as the seas were, the ship rode with grace compared to the leviathan surfacing nearby. Even though the Ozeki was one of the largest submarines afloat, its dual hulls were still encapsulated in a nearly circular cocoon, which was no more stable on the surface than a log riding the currents of a river in the Yukon. Her silhouette was masked by the weather, hiding the severe rolling of the platform and the activity beginning on her deck.

            “Move! Move! Move!” yelled Osamu Toki, as he reached down and literally dragged his men through the hatch. Several men staggered toward the bow, removed the lightweight composite hatch cover, and carefully pulled out the Kevlar covered framework of the inflatable boat. One slip on the curved upper deck of the sub in such severe weather, and survival would be unlikely. The motor was passed up through the hatch and attached to the stern of the craft by two of the men. Another removed a length of black hose, attaching one end to the quick-coupling on the inflatable boat and the other end to the matching coupling inside the sub’s storage compartment. He reached inside, twisted a lever and compressed air hissed into the flexible body of the attack boat. In an instant, the small inflatable was transformed from a darkly draped skeleton into a sleek craft capable of riding the worst waves without sinking.

            “The boat is ready, sir!” announced the second in command, as the assault team, nearly invisible in their dark fighting fatigues, rapidly stowed the equipment and secured the composite cover.

            “Very well!” the commander yelled. He turned into the briny wind, white foam lapping at his feet. “Pass up the weapons! Quickly! Move it! Now!” he ordered, shouting through the hatch of the submarine to the men standing below. Within seconds, Toki’s five ninja were on the rolling deck of the sub, fully outfitted, and standing beside the boat waiting. Toki looked back into the sub and saluted, “Secure the hatch!”

            He nodded to his men and they responded; soon the small boat was bobbing in the seas beside the sub with the attack team on board, their automatic weapons suspended over their shoulders. The pilot sat at the stern, and with the push of a finger, started the electrically operated motor. Their leader stood on the deck watching. After a nod from the pilot that all was ready, he tossed the line to the man in the front of the boat and climbed in.

            Seconds later, they were crashing through the crests of the waves, silently stalking the unsuspecting prey in front of them. Behind them, the monstrous form of the Ozeki slid silently below the waves to await their return.

The trench transformed before Chad. The benign region he had been flying over erupted into a deep canyon. The sonar displayed the steepness of the canyon walls. The vertical slope of the wall on his port side was increasing at a faster rate than the wall to starboard; yet both were converging rapidly, creating a huge mouth, waiting to swallow the Cormorant...and him.

            “Turning into the Grand Canyon down here,” Chad stated matter-of-factly, keeping his eyes locked onto the sonar display as he guided the Cormorant along the left side of the chasm.

            He watched closely as the wall on the port side became vertical. Its jagged edges protruded menacingly into the illumination cast by the wing lights. The bottom of the deep subsea trench appeared to run at a constant width of about 100 yards for some distance ahead.

Chad admired the ruggedness of the scene that flashed by on his left as he nudged the controls. The vehicle was handling perfectly...too perfectly for Chad.

            Oh, what the hell. It’s no different than flying in the Sierras. He moved several meters away from the left side of the canyon, then pushed his left hand forward, increasing the thrust to 100 percent. As he pulled back on the stick in his right hand, the Cormorant climbed up the side of the wall. When the altitude indicator registered one hundred feet, he twisted his right hand sharply back and to the right.

            “Yeeee haaah,” Chad yelled, as the liquid world rolled before him. His body, rigidly locked into the vehicle’s cradle, barely moved as the Cormorant barrel-rolled and dove to his right, back toward the bottom in the middle of the canyon.

“What the hell!” Bill shouted as Chad’s yell echoed through the control room. Rob watched a mask of concern sweep across Bill’s face as the frantic man whirled toward the status indicators. “What’s going wrong!” Bill stared at the displays. The readings from the Cormorant’s onboard sensors told the tale.

            “Jesus! He’s just barrel-rolled that damn thing. Is he nuts? You can’t do that in a subsea canyon. He’s going to crash it!” Bill leaped from his seat and threw both arms in the air as if h