Sea Station Umbra Read online

  Sea Station

  Umbra

  John Paul Cater

  All rights reserved.

  Copyright © 2016 by John P. Cater

  No part of this book may be reproduced or transmitted in any form

  or by any means, electronic, or mechanical,

  including recording, photocopying or by any information retrieval

  or storage system, without permission

  in writing from the author.

  This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, businesses, places, events and

  incidents are either the products of the author’s imagination or used in a fictitious manner.

  Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, or actual events is purely coincidental.

  ACKNOWLEDGEMENTS

  I wish to thank my good friends and fellow authors Tom Johnson and his wife Ginger of pulp fiction fame for taking time from their busy writing and reviewing schedule to read and comment on this story as it developed in my mind and gradually bled from my fingers into words on paper.

  Another high-five goes to the Jesh Art Studio of Fiverr for his visual rendition of a beautiful cover for this book that created several settings in the story. Without that image, guiding my thoughts much of this story would be just words rather than the textual imagery it offers.

  Finally, last and foremost, I want to thank my lovely wife Jaye for tolerating the time I spend creating and writing books, satisfying some inner drive for creative expression I still can’t quite understand. Possibly her unconditional love and unfailing support drives me forward as I try to impress her but that has yet to happen. Maybe next time.

  To my precious wife Jaye who again patiently tolerated

  my mental ventures from her life. Still I drift away into new stories.

  I love you with all my heart even though I’m not always there (but I am).

  TABLE OF CONTENTS

  Chapter 1. O’Dark Thirty

  Chapter 2. Operation Deep Force

  Chapter 3. Rendezvous

  Chapter 4. Devil’s in the Details

  Chapter 5. Trip to Nowhere

  Chapter 6. Hangar 405

  Chapter 7. The ‘Building’

  Chapter 8. Briefing for Z

  Chapter 9. Discovery One

  Chapter 10. The Midnight Zone

  Chapter 11. The Vault

  Chapter 12. SeaPod 2 Recovery

  Chapter 13. Monopole

  Chapter 14. Starboard Side Out

  Chapter 15. The Whale-Ship

  Chapter 16. The Dragon Returns

  Chapter 17. Code Deep Black

  Chapter 18. Dali Actualized

  Chapter 19. The Visitor

  Chapter 20. Jonas Silkwood

  Chapter 21. Voices

  Chapter 22. Tilt

  Chapter 23. Mayday

  Chapter 24. Breakaway

  Chapter 25. Water on the Mountain

  APPENDIX

  1.) Spec Sheet: Sea Station Umbra

  [TOP SECRET SCI UMBRA-Z (NOFORN)]

  2.) Sea Station Umbra Science Staff

  [TS SCI UMBRA-ZX (NOFORN)]

  3.) Sea Station Umbra Support Crew

  [TS SCI UMBRA (NOFORN)]

  4.) ABOUT THE AUTHOR

  Chapter 1. O’Dark Thirty

  It was four a.m. on a Monday morning June 13, 2016, when the bedside phone rang. I clicked on the lamp, squinted at the clock then picked up the phone. Seeing Unknown Caller I rejected the call. Four hours remained until work started and there was no need for anyone much less an overseas telemarketer to call me this early. Seconds later, it rang again.

  Lindy my bride of barely six months roused from her sound sleep and growled:

  “Answer it. Matt. It has to be an overseas call. Tell them to go away. We don’t want whatever it is they’re selling.”

  Now normally she’s a doll of a woman; men swoon over her television news-anchor reports all day long but when she awakens it’s Katy bar the door. My best option was to appease her back to sleep. And, since the phone ID again listed Unknown Caller I decided it best to answer the call and give them a piece of my mind if they spoke English.

  “Hello. What in the hell do you want? It’s four in the morning here in California,” I grumbled winking at my wife.

  The usual automatic pause then several clicks followed before a voice spoke.

  “And it’s seven in the morning here in Florida. Good morning, Mr. Cross.”

  I had received calls at o’dark thirty before and they usually spelled trouble; the most recent came back in February when a Navy captain named Norton dragged me into a psychotic pi-day bomber’s world. Although it was dangerous as hell and I almost died twice my part in solving that crime saved California from nuclear annihilation and netted me over a million dollars in pay. Not again I thought. Surely, it can’t be as bad as the last time.

  “Good morning, sir. To whom am I speaking?” I asked finally realizing it probably wasn’t a telemarketer: there was no accent.

  “My name is not important, Mr. Cross. My mission for you is. Do you know of my friend U.S. Navy Captain Tim Broward?”

  “Yes I do. sir. I was aboard the RV/X Trident Tine under his command several months ago. Nice fellow. I really like him. The Navy did well putting him there.”

  “How was your experience with him?”

  “I told him if I’d have been on his ship during my Navy tour, I’d probably still be in his Navy.”

  “Yes, Mr. Cross, that’s what he said. He also told me that you’re the best underwater expert he’s ever seen in his long Navy career. Now I can understand your reluctance to re-up but we need your expertise again. This time in a similar capacity but with greater responsibility, more risk, and stranger circumstances.”

  My first instinct was to say no but it sounded mysterious. It drew me in.

  “I’ll need more information, sir.”

  “Mr. Cross, unlike your last involvement with the government this is not a civil matter. I can tell you no more over an unsecure phone line. Do you have a scrambler line at work where we can talk?”

  “Yes sir. Carlos, my boss, put one in one shortly after my last contract. He didn’t like being out of the loop so he added it for future work. You can call me there later today.”

  “Well he was smart to do that. I have the number for MBORC. I’ll call you around noon your time. Will that work?”

  “Yes. I look forward to your call, sir. Have a good morning.”

  As the unknown caller clicked off Lindy opened an eye, looked at me, and mumbled:

  “What is it now? Another one of your secret jaunts? How long are you going to be gone this time?”

  It melted my heart when she asked but she was beginning to realize that I was obsessed with my work. She would always come second.

  Looking into her gorgeous sleepy blue eyes pleading for an answer, I couldn’t say. But I suspected for quite a while. Scrambled calls usually meant covert activities and those led to prolonged periods away from home in unmentionable locations.

  I kissed her forehead gently and said, “I- I just don’t know, honey. He didn’t say, but he’s supposed to call me back at noon today and tell me more. On the scrambled work phone.”

  “Well who is he anyway? Jake from State Farm?”

  I couldn’t help but laugh at her waking sarcasm.

  “No one I know but he knew of my previous work. I guess I’m getting a reputation around the Navy as a modern Jacques Clouseau.”

  “Well goody for you, Inspector, but I think you mean Cousteau,” she scoffed. “Anyway is it going to pay us another million dollars? We haven’t even used up the last one yet. We’ve got a new car, a new house with a big screen TV, and new furniture. Do we really need m
ore?” she asked with tears welling in her eyes.

  “I just can’t stand to have you gone, honey. I miss you so much. I’d throw it all away in a minute to have you stay home with me.”

  Sharing her emotion, I was up against a wall. Her words ripped at my heart. Fighting back tears myself I wondered if we really needed more money or was it just another of my self-indulgent ego trips? Of course had I told her that I saved southern California from nuclear devastation during my last ‘secret jaunt’ she might have understood. But I couldn’t talk about it; that covert operation was hush-hush from start to finish.

  “It’s not just about the money, doll,” I answered. “I won’t accept a job unless I can help humanity: do something for our world no one else can do. Kinda like when I was in the Navy before I met you, I loved serving my country. I guess I still do.”

  She leaned up and kissed me. “Well, Matt Cross, you’re a good man. I guess I’ll let you slide again. Just wake me up when it’s over.”

  With that, she laid her head back on her pillow and resumed her soft snoring.

  Chapter 2. Operation Deep Force

  That morning after arriving at work, I found the news had preceded me. There on my desk was a handwritten note from my boss: Matt, see me when you arrive. It was curt: no pleasantries or anything. Just a short impersonal request. That usually meant he was pissed about something.

  My walk down the long hallway to his office brought curious stares and murmured whispers from my coworkers. Everyone seemed to know but me. Wondering what I had done wrong my mind churned but found nothing to regret. It had to be the phone call but how could they have known so fast?

  His door was open so I walked in.

  Looking out the window, he spun in his chair to face me.

  “Come in, Matt,” he said.

  I loved Carlos. He was a jovial straight-laced businessman who treated his staff like family. Although he was brash, a few pounds overweight, and his thinning brown hair was over-dyed he would give us the shirt off his back if we asked.

  Analyzing the tone in his voice, I relaxed realizing it was not his angry one. I sat down in the chair across the desk from him.

  “What’s up, boss?”

  He paused clearing his throat before speaking.

  “I assume you got a call at some ungodly hour this morning as did I.”

  “Yes sir, I did. Caller wouldn’t identify himself though.”

  “You know why, don’t you?”

  “No not really. I’ve talked to a lot of navy people and they all told me their names.”

  He motioned to the hallway.

  “Matt, you may have noticed a little more attention out there this morning. True?”

  “Yes, I did. At first I checked my socks and then my shoes to make sure they all matched. Then I thought I might have had my shirt on inside out. I really had a guilt trip walking down here. Why is that?”

  “The red phone rang ten minutes before you walked in. That’s why.”

  “Your new secure phone line?”

  “Yes exactly. First time it’s made a sound since it was installed. People rushed out into the hall to see what was happening. Thought it was a fire alarm. Turns out it has quite a distinctive ring, like a chain saw on cocaine.”

  That mental image tickled me. I couldn’t stop chuckling but I continued, “Was the call for me?”

  “No. For me. But about you,” he snickered. Even he was caught up in his metaphor.

  Leaning forward in my chair I asked, “May I ask what was said?”

  He paused in thought for a moment then sighed loudly and opened a small notebook from his desk.

  “Matt, I’ve noticed a change in you since your honeymoon. Not a bad one but more of an interesting one. It’s affecting your performance.”

  Sweat formed on my forehead and I felt my face redden with heat. Not one to accept criticism gracefully I could feel the hairs on my neck prickle.

  Before I spoke, I sighed trying to control my temper.

  “Yes sir, what have I done now?”

  “Matt, you’ve been with us what… six years now?”

  “That’s about right.”

  “You came to us as a tenderfoot straight from the Navy. Back then, I wondered several times if we should keep you on. You plodded along following orders as well as you could but not much more.”

  I nodded grimacing ready for the next shoe to drop.

  “Matt, calm down. I’m just getting started here,” he said glinting a smile.

  “Yes sir.” More relaxed, feigning a grin, I armed my defenses. Carlos was a man of few words who usually saved them for reprimands.

  “Now since your marriage last year you’ve given us nothing but stellar performances. You’ve just suddenly gotten smarter. Why is that? Have you been taking online courses? Attending college somewhere? If so I need to know for your promotion file”

  “No, just wising up I guess, but Lindy’s gonna love your compliment. Knowing her she’ll swear she did it herself,” I said chuckling so forcefully my breath rolled a pencil across his desk. I was glad the tone of the meeting had changed; I was ready to walk out.

  Smiling, he carefully moved the pencil back into place.

  “The bravery and persistence you exhibited during the Fogner case brought nothing but praise from everyone you worked with in the Navy. Everyone! Even the Orange County Sheriff’s Office couldn’t say enough good things about your expertise in solving that heinous crime. Of course the DHS said you were worth every penny of their two-million dollar contract.”

  “Thank you for sharing that, Carlos, but what does all this have to do with the chain-saw phone call?” As usual, my impatience got the best of me. Sometimes my words just came out unfiltered and I hated it.

  “In due time, Matt,” he said holding up a hand. “Now as I was saying you’re rising in the company and bringing us more business with your work so I want to reward you for that. As of today I’m promoting you to Technical Vice President of MBORC a prestigious title with lots of responsibilities.”

  He reached into a drawer then handed me a short stack of business cards reading Matthew M. Cross, Technical VP, Mid-Bay Ocean Research Corporation, Moss Landing, CA 95039.

  “How’s that for a promotion?”

  Blushing with humility I answered, “Well thank you, sir. I’m overly honored. And, yes, I’ll accept your offer.” Even though I had just accepted I knew there was more. He just hadn’t reached that part yet.

  “Of course, you’ll get a fifty percent pay raise but I don’t really expect that you’ll need it.”

  “Oh? How’s that, sir?”

  “Matt you’ve just broken into the black ops community. Congratulations on that. There’s tons of unaccountable Government money there.”

  “Really? I don’t understand.”

  He glanced at his notebook.

  “That scrambled call was from a Vice Admiral Sam Greenfield. I’d never heard of him.”

  Shaking my head I agreed, “Me neither.”

  “Anyway he called from a U.S. Government agency: a black ops group. They can’t identify themselves because they don’t exist. In fact, in his group he doesn’t exist. I’m not even sure his real name’s Greenfield.”

  “I’ve been around that once before. During my SeaCrawler dives at Point Mugu I remember a location deep in the Pacific they called Poseidon’s Palace. We were told it didn’t exist. Must have been a black-ops thing. You think?”

  “Well, Matt, you know that we deal with all kinds of government agencies and corporations in our marine salvage and recovery work. I’ve always assumed many were black ops agencies operating under commercial cover. That’s the way the undersea world is: you don’t know anything’s down there until you bump into it and they don’t want to be bumped into.”

  “Never thought of it that way, but you’re right.”

  Fidgeting the rolling pencil, he continued, “I’m not going to lie to you, Matt, they need your help with an incident… a b
ig incident. He called me to okay your involvement with them. Faxed me a classified request for proposal too.”

  “What did you tell them?”

  “I said okay. Then he told me if I would create a salvage contract for them he’d sign and accept it.”

  “Salvage? That’s just a glorified trash collector job. Why would they need me for that?”

  “It’s a cover contract, Matt. Understand?”

  His body language intimidated me. He sat up straight in his chair and glared into my eyes.

  “Any more details?” I asked, not sure if I liked being a bargaining pawn.

  “The contract’s for 6.5 million dollars. They’re hand delivering it today. They need you now, Matt.”

  I gulped loudly wondering what I was getting into.

  “They’ve just performed an in-depth background security check on you which you passed with flying colors.”

  “I have noticed some back-suited men visiting my neighborhood over the past week. Is that what they were doing?”

  “Yes, probably.”

  “Without my permission?” I asked. I sat with my arms folded feeling as if I had been betrayed. I hated when things involved me behind my back.

  “Yes, Matt, that’s the way they do it. Surprise visits so you can’t warn anyone.”

  “Well that’s just bullshit, Carlos!” Feeling that my privacy had been invaded I stood and paced in front of Carlos’ desk.

  His eyes widened at my anger.

  “Now calm down, Matt. Sit,” he said. “As our new Tech VP you’ll need that security clearance. Almost every manmade object deeper than a thousand feet is classified one way or another. Unless it’s a wreck and then it could still be classified.”

  At his insistence, I sat back in the chair still smoldering.

  “Well I had a clearance in the Fogner case. Lived in secrecy for weeks aboard the Trident Tine. What happened to that?”

  “That was a low-level Secret clearance, Matt. Remember you’re moving into the big time now with the black ops missions. Greenfield told me you’re required to have a TSCW clearance for this mission.”