Black Wind (44 page)

57

P
HYSICALLY SURVIVING A LAUNCH
on board the
Odyssey
was not impossible. When a rocket was fired, the main thrust was directed beneath the platform at ignition. The
Odyssey
had been constructed as a reusable launch platform, and, in fact, had already withstood more than a dozen launches. The deck, hangar, crew compartment, and pilothouse were all built to withstand the fiery heat and exhaust generated from a powerful rocket launch. What a human inhabitant was not likely to survive, however, was the noxious fumes that engulfed the platform at blastoff. A massive billow of exhaust from the spent kerosene and liquid oxygen fuel all but buried the
Odyssey
in a thick cloud of smoke for several minutes after liftoff, smothering the breathable air in the vicinity of the platform.

But that was of little concern to Pitt as he jumped off the elevator and raced out a back door of the hangar. He had no interest in hanging around the platform when the Zenit was lit off. Instead, he was hell-bent on making it to the bright red submersible he saw bobbing in the water from the pilothouse window. Like a contestant running a timed obstacle course, Pitt ran, jumped, and hurdled his way across the platform to the corner column support and sprinted down the steps to the water's edge. In their haste to evacuate the platform, Tongju and his men had not thought it necessary to let adrift the NUMA sub. Pitt was thankful to find her still tied to the column steps as he exhaustedly reached the water's edge.

Untying the line, he jumped aboard and scrambled down the
Badger
's top hatch, sealing it closed behind him. In seconds, he had activated the submersible's power systems and opened the ballast tank for submersion. Engaging the throttles, he quickly maneuvered away from the
Odyssey
's forward column and proceeded down the interior length of the platform before positioning the submersible for the task at hand. Holding the submersible steady, Pitt activated the controls to the bow-mounted coring device and, with just minutes to spare, prayed that his cockamamie plan would work.

*  *  *

T
HE
K
OREAN
launch team aboard the
Koguryo
watched the video screen with curiosity as the silver blimp touched down on the
Odyssey
's helipad and the crew of the platform jammed into the gondola. Kim grimaced with anger but noted that Tongju remained calm.

“We should have killed the crew and destroyed that airship when we had the opportunity,” Kim hissed as they watched the
Icarus
lurch off the platform. An alternate camera was turned toward the blimp, showing the airship fight for altitude before turning out to sea. Tongju nodded toward the video image with assurance.

“She is overloaded and unable to make speed. We shall easily catch and destroy her after the launch,” he said quietly to Kim.

His eyes returned to the launch countdown and the noisy jabber of the engineers within the control center. The room was a flurry of activity and pressure as the final minutes drew to a close. Ling stood nearby, reviewing the output from a series of launch vehicle assessments. Beads of sweat rolled from his forehead in tense anticipation despite the cool temperature of the air-conditioned bay.

For Ling, there was every reason to be nervous. In the world of space vehicle delivery, there was an astounding rate of mortality. He knew all too well that roughly one in ten satellite launches ended in failure, and that the fault could come from a thousand and one sources. Failure of the rocket at launch was still not an uncommon occurrence, though most satellite losses were due to deploying the payload in an incorrect orbit. The short, suborbital flight of the mission at hand eliminated a great deal of the problematic issues associated with most rocket flights, but the risk of a catastrophic launch failure never went away.

Ling breathed easier as he digested the latest status updates. All critical systems appeared operational. There was nothing to indicate that the trustworthy Zenit rocket would not fire off in its usual dependable manner. With less than five minutes to go, he turned to Tongju and spoke with a glimmer of confidence.

“There will be no launch holds. The countdown will proceed unimpeded.”

Their attention turned to the image of the rocket on the video screen in its last minutes before takeoff. Despite the multitude of studious eyes converged on the image of the rocket and platform, no one in the room noticed the tiny movement at the periphery of the picture. Only the camera saw as a dark-haired man ran to the edge of the platform and scrambled out of sight down the corner column stairwell.

*  *  *

P
ITT HAD
wasted no time in engaging the full set of thrusters that powered the
Badger
. Though he knew it was the worst possible place to be, he quickly guided the submersible down the underbelly length of the platform and maneuvered the vehicle to a stop alongside the rear starboard support column. Directly above him was the recessed launchpad flame deflector, which would route the titanic blast of the Zenit's thrust toward the sea at liftoff.

Pitt turned the nose of the submersible until it was aimed at the column, then backed away from the rotund support leg as he submerged the vessel to a depth of fifteen feet. Using a set of manipulator controls, he lowered the huge coring probe until it stretched perfectly horizontal in front of the submarine's prow, protruding like a medieval jousting lance. Pitt braced his feet against the metal deck plate and muttered, “Okay,
Badger
, let's see your bite,” as he jammed the throttles to
FULL FORWARD.

The shiny red submersible clawed its way through the water, quickly gaining speed over the short distance to the column. Pushed by the full weight and force of the submersible, the coring probe slammed into the side of the massive steel column with a bang. Pitt held his breath as he was jolted forward and continued to slide ahead until the nose of the submersible slapped against the column. Rammed to a halt, he quickly threw the thrusters in reverse and peered through the surging bubbles as the submersible backed away from the column. A metallic grating sound echoed back at him as the probe was drawn roughly off the column. Through the murky and turbulent water, he caught a glimpse of the coring probe jutting intact off the bow and he exhaled in relief. As Pitt had hoped, the momentum of the speedy submersible had driven the tip of the coring probe cleanly through the side of the support column, opening an eight-inch-diameter hole.

Pitt felt a little like Ezra Lee on the
Turtle
. The Revolutionary War volunteer had attempted to sink a British warship in David Bushnell's small wooden submarine by drilling a hole in the side and attaching a mine. Though the attempt failed, the
Turtle
would be remembered in history as the first submarine ever used in combat. With the benefit of propulsion, Pitt backed the
Badger
away twenty feet and adjusted his depth slightly, then reversed the thrusters and charged into the column again. Once more, the probe tore through the outer wall of the column, leaving a neat round hole for the seawater to pour into.

Though abjectly crude, Pitt's mad ploy had an element of simple genius to it. He calculated that if there was no way to stop the rocket from lifting off, then, perhaps, there was a way to change its intended destination. By creating an imbalance in the platform, he might at least angle the rocket off its intended flight path. On such a short flight, the rocket's guidance system would not have sufficient time to fully correct the deviation and could miss its intended target by miles. And there was no doubt that the Achilles' heel of the platform at launch were the rear support columns. With the rocket standing vertically at the extreme rear edge of the platform, the
Odyssey
had to maintain a careful balance to handle the uneven weight distribution across the entire platform. An active trim-and-heel system utilized ballast tanks in the columns and pontoons to maintain stability, managed by six large ballast pumps. By flooding the rear support columns, there was a chance of destabilizing the launch deck. For Pitt, it would be a desperate race against the ballast pumps to create a material imbalance.

Like a passenger on a carnival ride gone amok, Pitt was violently thrown about the submersible as he rammed into the column time and time again. Electronic equipment was jarred from its mounts, crashing and flying about his feet with each impact. The nose section of the submersible soon became battered after repeated collisions with the column wall and small rivulets of salt water began streaming into the interior through the damaged seams. But none of this mattered to Pitt. The risk to himself and the submersible was the last concern on his mind as the seconds to launch ticked down. One more time, he flung the force of the submersible against the support column, poking a hole in its surface like a rampant mosquito, the jab not drawing blood but letting in a flood of water.

After more than a dozen strikes at the starboard column, Pitt spun the leaking
Badger
around and raced toward the rear port support. Glancing at his Doxa watch, he calculated there was less than two minutes before liftoff. With a towering crash, he slammed into the other support column, driving the probe to its base and further crumbling the nose of the submersible. More water began leaking into the interior but Pitt ignored it. With salt water sloshing around his feet, he calmly reversed thrust and backed away for another stab at the column. As he lined up for another assault, he wondered if his actions were the futile gesture of an underwater Don Quixote charging at an errant windmill.

Unknown to Pitt, his very first blow on the starboard support column had activated one of the ballast pumps. As the number of holes and the amount of inrushing water increased, additional pumps were activated, until all six pumps were engaged. The pumps operated at the base of the columns, which were already submerged some forty feet under the water. While the automated ballast system easily kept each pontoon level with one another side by side, there was only limited means of maintaining balance fore and aft. With the water level rising rapidly in the stern support columns, it didn't take long before Pitt's drilling overwhelmed the rear ballast pumps. The sinking stern of the platform created a programming dilemma for the automated stabilization system. Under normal conditions, the trim-and-heel system would compensate the aft list by flooding the forward compartments and lowering the overall platform depth. But the platform was in launch position and had already been flooded to launching depth. Ballasting the platform lower, the computer knew, risked damaging the low-hanging thrust deflectors. In a handful of nanoseconds, the computer program reviewed its software logic for priority actions. The results came back unambiguous. During a designated launch countdown, the stabilization system was to maintain launch depth as its first priority. The sinking aft columns would be ignored.

58

A
BOARD THE
K
OGURYO
, a red warning light began blinking in the launch control room with less than two minutes to go. A bespectacled engineer studied the platform stabilization warning for a moment, then jotted down some notations and briskly stepped over to Ling.

“Mr. Ling, we have a platform stabilization warning,” he reported.

“What is the deviation?” Ling asked hurriedly.

“An aft list of three degrees.”

“That is inconsequential,” he replied, brushing off the engineer. Turning to Tongju, who stood at his side, he said, “A list of five degrees or less is no cause for concern.”

Tongju could almost taste the results of the launch now. There could be no turning back now.

“Do not halt the launch for any reason,” he hissed at Ling in a low voice. The chief engineer gritted his teeth and nodded, then stared nervously at the waiting rocket that stood shimmering on the video screen.

*  *  *

T
HE INTERIOR
of the
Badger
was a jumbled mess of tools, computer parts, and interior pieces that sloshed back and forth across the floor with each jerk of the sub. Pitt remained oblivious to the carnage as he rammed the submersible against the platform column for the umpteenth time. Seawater slapped at his calves as he braced himself for yet another collision, listening for the warning bam of the core probe as it punched into the column side. Thrown harshly forward at impact, he detected the smell of burned wiring as yet another electrical component shorted out from saltwater immersion. Pitt's hammering had turned the submersible into a shattered hulk of its former self. The rounded exterior bow had been pounded nearly flat, its coating of glittery red paint roughly scraped away from the repeated blows. The coring probe was bent and twisted like a piece of licorice and barely clung to the
Badger
by a pair of mangled brace supports. Inside, the lights flickered, the water level rose, and the propulsion motors began dying one by one. Pitt could feel the life ebbing from the submersible as he listened to the groans and gurgles of the flailing machine. As he tried to reverse the thrusters and back away from the column, a new sound struck his ears. It was a deep rushing noise emanating far above his head.

*  *  *

T
O THE
casual observer, the first sign of an imminent rocket blast off the Sea Launch platform is the roaring rush of fresh water as it is pumped into the deluge system. At T-5 seconds, a veritable flood of dampening water is released into the flame trench positioned beneath the launchpad. The effect of the massive water dousing is to lessen the thrust exhaust effects to the platform, and, more important, minimize potential acoustic damage to the payload from the maelstrom at launch.

At T-3 seconds, the Zenit rocket begins groaning and stirring as its internal mechanisms are activated and the massive rocket comes to life. Inside its metal skin, a high-speed turbine pump begins force-feeding the volatile liquid propellant through an injector into the rocket engine's four combustion chambers. Inside each chamber, an igniter is activated, detonating the propellant in what amounts to a controlled explosion. The exhaust from the fiery detonation, seeking the path of least resistance, comes blasting out of each chamber through a constricted nozzle at the base of the rocket. The power of thrust is generated by the purged exhaust, enabling the Zenit rocket to defy the force of gravity and lift itself off the launchpad.

But the final three seconds of countdown are all critical. In those brief few seconds, onboard computer systems quickly monitor the engine start-up, checking propellant mixture, flow rates, ignition temperature, and a host of other mechanical readings affecting engine burn. If a significant deviation is discovered in any of the engine parameters, the automated control system takes over, shutting down the engine and scrubbing the launch. A reinitialization of the entire launch process is then required, which may take upward of five days before another launch can be attempted.

Ling ignored the video screen of the Zenit at the launch tower and instead stared at a computer display of critical measurements as the final seconds of the launch countdown ticked toward zero. At T-1 second, a row of green lights burst onto the screen and Ling allowed himself a slight breath of relief.

“We have main engine thrust up!” he shouted aloud as the display told him the computers were ramping up the rocket's RD-171 engine to maximum launch thrust. Every eye in the room turned to the video screen as the propellant floodgates were opened and the fuel burst through the rocket's engine in a torrent. For a long second, the rocket sat still on the pad as the fiery exhaust burst from its nozzles, the flames licking the water deluge and spraying a thick cloud of white smoke beneath the platform. Then, with a burgeoning burst of power, the Zenit surged up off the pad. The launch tower clamps fell away as the white rocket, erupting with 1.8 million pounds of thrust, climbed up past the tower and into the sky with a blinding glare and deafening roar.

A cheer rang through the launch control center as the engineers watched the Zenit rise successfully off the platform. Ling broke into a broad smile as the rocket climbed higher, grinning good-naturedly at Tongju. Kang's henchman simply nodded back in satisfaction.

At the far side of the bay, the bespectacled engineer who monitored the platform continued to stare mesmerized at the video image of the rocket as it climbed into the crisp blue sky. Oblivious to him was the computation on his computer monitor, which showed that the platform stabilization deviation had continued to rise, creeping past fifteen degrees in the last seconds prior to launch.

*  *  *

F
IFTEEN FEET
beneath the water's surface, Pitt's ears were bleeding from the acoustical barrage. What started with the sound of a distant freight train had rumbled into the bombardment of a thousand erupting volcanoes as the Zenit's engine reached full thrust. The deafening sound, Pitt knew, was only a warning of the real savagery to come. The building force of the rocket's exhaust was deflected into the flame trench, where thousands of gallons of water dampened the inferno. The blasting force of the exhaust was little repressed, however, gathering into a steaming cloud of fury that proceeded past the deflectors to the open sea below the platform, where it pounded the water like a sledgehammer.

Positioned almost directly beneath the launchpad, the
Badger
was pummeled like a small toy, surging twenty feet down in a blast of bubbles and vapor. Pitt felt as if he were trapped in a washing machine as the submersible was tossed violently about. The seams of the vessel twisted and groaned from the force of the surge and the interior lights flickered from the shaking. A loose battery pack bounced off Pitt's head, gashing his temple as the submersible nearly turned turtle in the bellowing turbulence. Shaking off the blow, he discovered a new worry when he braced a hand against the bulkhead during a side roll. To his surprise, the bulkhead was searing hot. He quickly pulled his hand away, cursing as he shook it in the air to cool. A sickening thought drew over him as he felt a heavy mist of sweat dripping down his forehead and realized the water sloshing at his feet was rapidly warming. The rocket's exhaust was creating a boiling tempest around him, which might poach him alive before the rocket cleared the platform.

A second, more powerful surge stuck the submersible as the rocket's full thrust came to bear. The force of the current pushed the
Badger
charging through the water in a contorted angle, nearly on its side. Pitt clung to the controls for balance, unable to see ahead through the turbulent water, which offered no visibility. Had he an inkling where the submersible was headed, he might have braced himself for the impact. But the collision came without warning.

Ripping with the surge like a raft down the Colorado River, the submersible tore head-on into the side of the
Odyssey
's flooded port pontoon. A metallic clap thundered through the water as the submersible smacked against the immovable hull. Pitt was jerked from the pilot's seat and flung against the forward bulkhead amid a rain of loosened electronic debris as the interior lights fell black and a series of hissing sounds erupted throughout the compartment. A grinding noise told Pitt that the
Badger
was sliding along the pontoon until another clang erupted and the submersible tilted over to one side and jerked to a sudden stop. As Pitt collected his senses, he realized that the submersible was wedged against the platform hull from the force of the rushing water, perhaps entangled in one of the pontoon's drive propellers. Turned on its side against the huge pontoon, there was no way that Pitt could open the entry hatch, dare he try to flood the interior and escape to the surface. With a sickening awe, he realized that if he wasn't soon baked alive he would face a swift death by drowning trapped inside the leaking submersible.