Sea of Greed

“We got another call,” Austin replied. “One of your lifeboats is hung up, I’m going to knock them free.”

Cox was glad to hear that at least some of the men were alive, but he doubted Austin’s chances to reach them.

With that, Austin grabbed the hatch and shouted to Zavala, “I’ll be on the south side. Don’t forget to come back and get me.”

“And lose all that poker money you owe me?” Zavala said. “Not a chance.”

The hatch slammed shut, the wheel spun and locked tight and the submersible backed away from the edge of the oil rig, turning as it went and then submerging beneath a wall of fire.

To Cox’s surprise, the water itself was lit up all around with multiple columns of fire. The flames didn’t start at the surface, they were burning all the way down as far as the eye could see.

“It makes no sense,” Cox said. “Fire shouldn’t be down in the water. It just shouldn’t be down here.”

Cox couldn’t know it but Joe Zavala was thinking the exact same thing.

6

NUMA VESSEL RALEIGH

CAPTAIN BROOKS stood on the Raleigh’s bridge as the windows slowly blackened from soot and the paint began to blister on the outer edge of the hull. They’d sailed in through the first waves of fire, cutting a path like an icebreaker in the Arctic, but as they neared the Alpha Star platform the flames became impenetrable, forty feet high, half hidden in the black smoke.

They’d stopped two hundred yards from the shattered rig, deployed the submarine and spent twenty intense minutes waiting and blasting at the water around them with the ship’s firefighting hoses. When the heat became too much for the men on the deck, the nozzles were locked in place and left on full blast. The result was a bubble of safety in the middle of the firestorm with an outside temperature approaching two hundred degrees.

Brooks looked on as the ship’s executive officer used the mast cameras to search for Kurt and Joe.

“They’re ten minutes late already,” the executive officer said.

Brooks didn’t respond. Instead, he turned the windscreen wipers on to scrape away the grime that was slowly blocking their view. It wasn’t much help, smearing everything. “Any sign of them on the cameras?”

“Nothing on either wavelength.”

“They’re probably keeping below the surface,” Brooks said. “Use the sonar array. Angle it directly to port.”

The executive officer switched to a second control panel and powered up the bow-mounted sonar emitter, which was contained in a bulbous housing beneath the front of the ship. At the touch of a button, it began sending pulsed sonar signals in a wide band, sweeping the turbulent waters between the Raleigh and the imperiled drilling platform.

“There must be something wrong with the sonar,” the XO said. “The readout is distorted.”

Brooks looked over at the sonar display. He saw a pixelated image with areas of gray and black, other sections of the image were clean, including an area showing wreckage on the bottom. “It’s not the sonar unit, it’s the water. Or more accurately the bubbles in the water, those are walls of gas coming up from below.”

The radio squawked before the XO could reply. “Raleigh, this is Zavala,” a cheery voice announced. “We’re on the surface fifty feet from your stern. Ready to unload survivors.”

Brooks grabbed the microphone. “Great job,” he said. “How many did you find?”

“Five,” Joe replied. “But we’re not done yet.”

The hell you aren’t, Brooks thought. “I’m putting a stop to the risks being taken. Sit tight, we’ll haul you aboard.”

“Negative,” Joe said. “I have to go back.”

“The safety of the ship and crew takes priority at this point.”

Joe did not relent. “If we leave now, you’ll be leaving one of the crew behind. Kurt went for the lifeboat. He’ll be waiting for a pickup.”

Brooks turned his eyes to the wreckage of the oil rig. The part of the rig housing the control center had broken off slowly and sunk. The rest stood tall, engulfed in flames, like a proud tree in a forest fire. Equipment and pieces of the structure were falling from up high, weaker materials bending and melting in the heat, dropping from the structure like meteors.

Austin’s reputation may have preceded him, but Brooks now thought Kurt had to be certifiably crazy. “If Kurt lives through this, I’m ordering him to have a full psych eval,” he grunted. “Get the survivors on board and go look for him. We’re pulling the ship back at least half a mile.”

“We’ll meet you out there,” Joe promised. “I’m approaching the lower cargo hatch. Send some of the crew to open it and get these people inside. As soon as they’re off the sub, I’m going back.”

7

ALPHA STAR PLATFORM, LOWER LEVELS