ATLANTIS

We've got activity in the Angkor Gate!

CHAPTER SIXTEEN 

“The navy and air force are detouring ships and planes around the Bermuda Triangle,” Foreman said into the satellite phone mike. 

“This thing keeps growing like it is,” Patricia Conner’s voice was tight with an undercurrent of forced control, “they’re going to have a hard time keeping this under wraps. The Bermuda Triangle Gate will hit the coast of Florida in six hours.” 

Foreman rubbed his head. He didn’t know who this woman was, but he had been living with the nightmare of the Gates for over sixty years all by himself. “The Japanese are getting ready to go public. They’re forcing their fishing fleet away from the expanding Devil’s Sea Gate, but it’s a huge logistical problem. The fishermen want an explanation.” Foreman gave a bitter laugh. “The irony is that even if they go public they still don’t have an explanation.” 

Connors came back with, “Looking at my map and the propagation charts, some of these Gates are going to be killing people soon. The radiation levels are high enough.” 

Foreman let out a deep breath. “I know, but there’s nothing--” he paused as another light flickered on his console. “I’ll have to get back to you,” he said. 

“We’ve got activity in the Angkor Gate!” Conners yelled before he could cut the connection. “A surge of radioactivity on the eastern side!” 

“Hold on,” Foreman said as he flipped open a new circuit. 

“Talk,” he ordered. 

A voice echoed out of the speaker and Foreman recognized the pitch as the distinct one coming from a submerged submarine transmitting on ULF, ultra-low frequency through water. 

“This is Captain Rogers from the Wyoming. We have a situation here.” 

* * *

Rogers ignored Commander Sills’ look at his last radio transmission. A ‘situation’ was understating current events. Alarms were sounding and the crew was racing to battle stations. 

“I’ll hook you into our ops center,” Rogers said. “I’m a little busy to give you a blow by blow right now.” Rogers reached down and flipped a switch. 

“Come hard right at flank speed,” Rogers ordered his helmsman. 

“Aye-aye, sir. Hard right at flank.” 

Rogers looked at Sills. “Sit-rep?” 

Sills was watching a gauge. “External radiation climbing.” 

Rogers glanced down at the radiation badge clipped to his shirt front. “Power, chief!” he yelled at the petty officer in charge of driving the sub. 

“We’re at max speed, sir.” 

“Status?” he asked Sills. 

“External radiation still climbing, sir. Way beyond safety limits.” 

“Damn!” Rogers looked back at Sills. The executive officer was shaking his head. “It’s through red, sir.” 

Rogers closed his eyes. He reached down and peeled back the tape on his badge. The line underneath was red. Everyone in the control room was staring at him. Rogers picked up the mike connecting him to Foreman. “We’re red. From stem to stern. One hundred percent casualties. We just aren’t dead yet, but we will be.” 

Foreman listened to Rogers’ report. There was nothing he could say. He was startled when a voice came out of the speaker; he had forgotten he’d kept the link to the NSA open.