Final Bearing by George Wallace

Author:George Wallace [Wallace, George]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Severn River Publishing
Published: 2019-01-27T16:00:00+00:00

Serge Novstad was livid. That damn mini-sub was late. Rendezvous was in one hour and the bastards still had not left port. This was going to screw up the whole schedule. He could do nothing more than sit out here and bob around. Wait for them to show up on their own sweet time. Secure channel or not, he hated having to resort to all the radio transmissions they had been slinging around already. There were some big ears out there.

He stared out the bridge window of the Helena K. The beautiful star-studded night sky was lost on him. Novstad slid the side window open a bit to let the cool breeze in. It didn’t mollify his heated temper.

He spun around sharply to face the first officer, seated in a corner at the rear of the bridge.

"Anything new?"

The short, dark man slid back the earphones and turned to face his captain.

"No, Senor. They report they are still working on the problem with the navigation system. Zibrus reports everything is loaded. As soon as Senor Sergiovski gets it to work, they will depart port and head our way."

"Damn Russians!” Novstad paced angrily across the bridge, then turned and stomped back. “Never could trust the lazy bastards! Probably forgot to turn the damn thing on."

He strode over to the GPS repeater. The screen showed a chart of the waters off the northern part of South America. He punched in the Zibrus location. A dot appeared on the screen just north of Coji mi es, Ecuador. Moving the little black roller ball, he connected the dot to the "X" marking the location of where the Helena K rode on the open Pacific. They were over two hundred kilometers due west of the small isolated Ecuadorian port.

Even if the Zibrus left port and sailed at its maximum underwater speed of seventeen kilometers-per-hour, it couldn't arrive at the rendezvous point before fifteen hours had passed. That would put them there in the middle of the afternoon, in full view of any satellites that were overhead. The choreographed plan was falling apart.

Novstad had no choice.

"Ahead full, steer course zero-nine-zero. If the stupid Russian can't come to us, we'll go to him."

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