Ripple (Breakthrough, #4)

by Michael C. Grumley

Les Gorski stared through his dark-framed glasses with a weary expression. Most of the men before him were not the normal soldiers he was used to working with––those with a grizzled toughness and the ability to endure extreme conditions.

Watching as the row of men donned their gear, Gorski turned around and glanced out over the emerald waters of the Caribbean Sea. Gorski stood firmly on an oil platform approximately one hundred miles off the island of Trinidad. All of it was nothing more than a cover, he mused. A smoke screen.

A story concocted by the U.S. Navy, in which the obsolete oil platform had experienced a technical malfunction on its way back to the scrapyard. But in reality, the Valant had been stopped precisely in its current location to conceal something discovered in the waters beneath it. Something astonishing. Something that could have been ripped straight from the pages of a conspiracy handbook.

Gorski glanced back from the rising sun, down to the large face of his wristwatch. They had to hurry. They had precious little time to find out just what they were dealing with. Before anyone else did.

Two stories above Gorski, Will Borger sat in a ratty old chair, staring at an even older CRT-style computer monitor. The quarters module of the aged oil rig left a lot to be desired, both in terms of comfort and technology. But it was good enough. At least for this mission.

Borger’s large, overweight frame remained motionless as his eyes darted to a second monitor with a live feed of the dive team below him. They were the engineers from the naval research ship Pathfinder, now anchored less than a thousand meters from the edge of the giant rig.

What they were doing had to be done quietly. With the least amount of resources possible. Not because of a lack of funding––Admiral Langford and Secretary of Defense Miller were making sure of that. It was to avoid attention. They couldn’t risk being noticed. By anyone. The official explanation for the oil rig and the Pathfinder ship was thin but just enoug...

Borger’s tired eyes returned to the first monitor, and back to one of the recordings the team had made beneath the surface. Detailed images capturing large sections of the alien ship’s dark gray hull; smooth and unblemished. So far they had only traced a small portion of the structure through the maze of coral and vegetation.

Borger crossed both arms over his large stomach, which rested beneath a loose-fitting blue and green Hawaiian shirt. His steely eyes stared at the visible portion of the hull in the underwater video.

Dozens of questions raced through his mind. Questions that couldn’t be answered. Not yet. Borger twisted slightly in the chair, causing it to squeak. The room around him remained silent, much of its faded interior paint now peeling and giving way to dozens of small patches of rust. However, the one thing Borger was extremely thankful for was the air conditioner. Although on its last leg, it was still pumping out enough cool air to keep his perspiration to a minimum.