Havana Storm (Dirk Pitt 23)

“They do. Let’s see where they lead.”

Pitt accelerated forward, gliding over the tracks while startling an occasional deepwater fish.

Summer watched the sonar monitor. “Multiple targets directly ahead.”

“I see them,” Pitt said. He wasn’t looking at the sonar but at a sprinkling of lights that pierced the darkness ahead.

The seafloor gradually descended and Pitt could see that the lights were centered at the base of a bowl-shaped crater. Two large vehicles came into view, both brightly illuminated. Each was creeping across the seabed, emitting large clouds of silt out their back ends. They were deep-sea mining vehicles, operated from the surface via thick, black power cables.

“Those things are massive,” Summer said, “as large as a Greyhound bus.”

“At least we caught them in the act,” Pitt said. “Now we can find out who’s causing all the damage.”

Pitt turned off the lights of the Starfish and moved closer to the vehicles, the nearest of which was called a bulk cutter. It looked like an overgrown tractor with a giant roller for its snout.

The roller was a rotating cutting drum affixed with tungsten carbide teeth that could chew apart rocks and hardened sediment. The tracked vehicle would ingest the rubble and expel it out a large tube in back. The second vehicle, similar in size but absent the roller drum, was a collecting machine. It would follow the bulk cutter and suck up the slurry, pumping it to the surface through a thick Kevlar hose.

Pitt closed with the bulk cutter, admiring its robot efficiency as it churned across the seabed an inch at a time. Summer captured the image of the slate-colored vehicle with the onboard video camera, knowing that few manufacturers could build such a specialized machine.

Pitt was edging alongside for a better view when a bang erupted from the rear of the submersible. The Starfish drifted laterally, knocking against the side of the cutter. Pitt reversed the submersible’s thrusters, resulting in a second clang from behind.

Summer turned to peer out a small rear viewport. “It’s an ROV. It rammed us.”

“It just took out our main thruster.” Pitt toggled a pair of side thrusters to maneuver out of the way.

The submersible started to turn when another bang rang out and the Starfish was again shoved toward the bulk cutter.

“It’s intentionally pushing us toward the bulk cutter,” Summer gasped.

Pitt felt the effects through the steering yoke. The ROV had smashed into and disabled one of the remaining side thrusters. Before the ROV could strike again, Pitt pivoted the Starfish, spinning away from the bulk cutter. The ROV’s bright lights shone through the submersible’s canopy. Pitt could see it was a large, deepwater ROV, box-shaped and better than twice the size of the NUMA submersible. The vehicle came charging at them again.

Striking the Starfish’s bow off center, it again drove the weakened submersible sideways, shoving it against the bulk cutter just behind the cutter drum.

Pitt reached between their seats and pulled a grip toggle that released an emergency ballast weight. The submersible ascended at once, then came to a crashing halt.

Near the top of the bulk cutter, a large manipulator had been extended. As the Starfish collided into it, the robotic arm moved down and pinned the submersible against its side.

Pitt kicked the remaining side thruster and applied full reverse power. The Starfish just slipped from under the manipulator when the ROV came up from the side and smashed into their top. Their instrument lights flickered as the submersible keeled over.

At the same instant, the manipulator dropped down and slid through the base frame of the Starfish. Its claw grabbed onto a section of tubing and closed shut.

Pitt frantically worked the thruster controls, but they proved useless. The bulk cutter had a solid grip on them and there was nothing they could do about it.

“It’s going to ram the glass!” Summer shouted.

The ROV had repositioned itself directly in front of the Starfish and was rushing toward the acrylic viewport. At the last second, the ROV ascended, striking the top of the submersible and sliding along its roofline. The ROV then backed away, sporting a scruff of yellow paint and some dangling wires.

Pitt looked at the wires. “It’s our emergency transponder. So we can’t communicate with the surface.”

“Are they going to leave us here to die?” Summer whispered.

“Only they know the answer to that,” Pitt said, staring out the viewport.

Like an all-seeing apparition, the ROV floated before them, its lights glaring into the submersible in a blinding taunt of death.

38

We’ve lost contact with the Starfish.”