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CHAPTER 15

Turkey Economic Exclusive Zone, Black Sea

Friday

2:30 p.m. Turkey Time (TRT)

7:30 a.m. Eastern Time


The very large mobile oil platform was an exact replica of the ones that Dorman’s offshore holding shell companies had gifted the Turkish government. It had been part of the deal. Six multibillion-dollar rigs with one of them to be left alone for Dorman’s uses. The rig was there “officially” for “experimental purposes” and under the protection of the Turkish Navy. The mammoth construction of steel sat on two giant submerged pontoons underneath either side. The gray metallic pontoons rested mostly beneath the water and were only visible when the water was smooth and clear underneath. Only when the waves got high could you actually see them break the surface.

Connected to those submerged pontoons, on each end of each of them, were giant iron oxide red metal upright cylinders that led up to the first level square metal deck. From the water surface upward to the underside of the deck level was a large construction-grade elevator that also had a ladder running up its side. The ladder had a yellow metal cylindrical safety gridwork around it all the way up. Parked at the bottom was a sleek, black, twenty-meter-long monohull speedboat that was only a slight exaggeration to describe as no bigger than a flea to a dog.

On one side of the deck was an extension off the main square deck marked with green paint and lights as a helicopter pad. Around the periphery of the first deck were white metal buildings with windows evenly spaced. These buildings had been fashioned from metal cargo shipping containers and were stacked three levels high. The containers were easily brought onboard the rig using cargo ships for delivery and the cranes onboard. The containers were bolted and welded together with metal I-beams for support creating what appeared as a floating cityscape three stories high. They housed crew, equipment, and other interior spaces such as the galley.

Three white-and-red-painted metal crane towers spanned from each of the sides of the platform adjacent and farthest from the side with the helicopter pad. There were numerous yellow and red lights flashing continuously across and around the platform. Blue naval and aviation lights lit each corner, edge, and top of the structure. There was a strange architectural cacophony of gridwork, structure, and containers, with the occasional large window thrown in, making it look more like something from a science fiction thriller movie than an offshore oil rig.

In the very center of the platform stood a singular gantry tower that was different from a typical oil-drilling tower. This tower was slightly off-center and had a metal girder arm that extended about four-fifths the way up from the apex. At the apex sat a white painted room about the size of a single railroad car with large windows on all sides—the command tower. There was a flurry of activity about the upper deck surface of the vessel nearest the large gantry tower. The three cranes each manipulated large metal tubing into place about the tower and connected that to the large tank standing on a tower just behind the main one. The tank had the appearance of a city water tower painted white.

Georgia Stinson stood atop the pinnacle command tower, holding on to a safety hand railing of the opened window, overseeing the work that was currently below her by a good twenty meters. The work was slowing but building closer and closer to her height with a calamitous synchronicity of clanking, banging, welding, and other construction sounds, including workers shouting at one another in various languages. And, of course, there was always the ever-present sound of the sea. In the distance she could see the beige-and-white, one-hundred-meter yacht approaching. It wouldn’t be long before it was there and they could move to the next phase of integration.

“Ms. Georgia, the cryo team is reporting a problem with one of the pumps on the LOX—liquid oxygen—flow line. There is a back pressure that is not supposed to be there,” reported her chief systems engineer for the rig from a few paces behind. She could sense him moving closer by the shuffling of his work boots across the decking. As he carefully approached, she could tell he wouldn’t look outward in the direction of the vast openness and the height of the tower.

“One of these days, Ziheer, I will break you of this silly agoraphobia. A strange place to work for a man with such an affliction. Look out there! Openness as far as the eye can see!” Georgia turned to face him. The ocean breeze fluttered her shoulder-length dark black hair in wild wisps, with several locks of her bangs falling over her virtual glasses. She shook her head and tapped at the window controls, bringing the high-impact-proof glass back down into place. The servos whined against the wind load briefly as they pulled the tinted bulletproof glass down, darkening the sunlight. The room quieted as the window seals schlurrrpped together. Georgia turned to face the engineer but was distracted by the younger, bearded man to her left. He manned the communications station. She had forgotten his name.

“Ma’am, the yacht has asked for permission to approach and dock.”

“Yes, I heard that. Bring them in underneath on the starboard dock. Tell them I’ll meet them there. And let me know as soon as the cryo ship approaches. We have to start filling that tank as soon as we possibly can.”

“Yes, ma’am.”

“ETA till docking?”

“Fifteen minutes or so.”

“Alright, that gives us time to get to the cryo level. Lead the way, Ziheer.” She held her left hand out toward the elevator doors, the only doors leading to the tower.

“Dr. Xi,” Georgia greeted the physicist and nuclear missile engineer as he carefully crossed the gangplank. “I hope your voyage wasn’t too rough.”

“The first couple of days were terrible, just damnable. But sometime last night the weather broke completely and the waves subsided. It was pleasant from there,” Sing told her.

“I’m glad you are better. Waves and wind aren’t really a problem here due to the size of the platform. So you should feel and be better here,” Georgia said. “The payloads are almost ready?”

“Not quite. I need some extra hands, as I was promised.”

“The hands are here and ready for your direction. We could not wait for them to ready themselves as our colleagues needed the helicopter abruptly. Sorry you had to wait until you were here.” Vladimir and Michael got priority over everything and had taken the only helicopter available to the operation at the moment. She could have sent them on the speedboat, but that was her default escape system. It wasn’t going anywhere without her in it.

“Yes, I understand that. Michael and Vlad should have gotten back to Kazakhstan by now. We’ll hear about that soon enough.” Sing nodded in understanding. “I have one completed warhead ready for integration. With the techs, they should be able to follow my work and we can move much faster.”

“The techs will be here any moment now, along with the aerospace chassis.”

“Yes, that is the next step. Any word on our window?”

“We are less than ninety hours out. We’ll start pumping the LOX up to the holding tank very soon. Once we start that our window has an opening limit. Then, of course, there are orbital mechanics to deal with.”

“Any cushion on that?” Sing asked her.

“Not much, so don’t waste time talking to me.”

“Understood. When will you start actually stacking the rocket?”

“If we follow the launch procedures, we have to start stacking within the next thirty-two hours. At that time, we are possibly vulnerable to overhead eyes. If they have reason to look, which they should not.” Georgia turned as the dock elevator clanked down into place and opened. The large metal framework outer gate doors with the black-and-yellow caution paint slid open. The top half moved upward and the bottom downward into the floor. Then the actual elevator doors opened side to side. The very large elevator was filled with a half dozen people, some in lab gear, others dressed normally for an oil rig. They were all standing peripherally around a large pallet jack with several crates stacked on top of one another.

“Not a lot of time,” Sing said with a raised eyebrow.

“We’ve had several years to prepare,” Georgia replied.

“Yes, but time seems to crunch in on you as you approach the endgame.”

“Endgame? I think your description is flawed. This is merely the beginning, Dr. Xi. Merely the beginning!”


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Framed