FROM THE DEPTHS
"ETA is fifteen minutes to the designated coordinates, sir," the frogman said to his commander, via the radio communications relay built into their scuba masks - as they swam a hundred fathoms beneath sea level in the Atlantic Ocean, thirty miles off the Bermuda coast, on the western region of the United States.
The commander nodded, indicating his response. Around him was his mercenary unit - ex-Navy SEAL's and marines - hired for a mission to transport nuclear weaponry underwater to a client. Despite the danger of depression and severe oxygenation of air bubbles in the blood after long periods of exposure to the pressures of being underwater, he thought this was best way to complete his mission. He thought the risks were worth it – fifty millions dollars was a lot of money and so did his men. They were highly trained in low and high pressure depths and were fully prepared for anything.
He looked at his watch, illuminating the face, with the press of a button on the side, in an indigo green glow, and saw that they had been swimming for two hours. He checked the hanging oxygen indicator to his regulator tank and saw that the mixture was of an optimum level. Then he looked back at the two nuclear tipped missiles carried on a small portable sea-ray surround by his men in black wetsuits and gear and produced a thin smile.
Their client was waiting for the merchandise in a fully, self-sustained underwater eco facility. They were almost home free – but that's what made him nervous. Things always went arye near the end.
Drake Luxen had been in love with the sea ever since he was five years old, living in Scotland, in the Highlands. Born to a rich family, he studied hard and moved to the United States, and joined the military. Years later, he was chosen to be a SEAL, after trying out and earning top marks in every field. But a few years later, he had a falling out with U.S. policy and went A.W.O.L. to pursue his own interests. He gathered a unit of loyal men who he serviced with and who shared his views of the world and together they formed a coalition, and a terrorist network that spanned the globe. Several odd jobs later, he was called on by this client – whom wanted to remain nameless – and was hired to steal and transport nuclear weapons to an undisclosed location. Stealing the weapon was easy, delivering it would be the difficult part. All he was given were the coordinates. The drop-off zone was somewhere deep in the Atlantic Ocean.
The atmosphere was surreal and spooky, the water was murky and dense, but the darkness did not scare him. And neither did the sea creatures that swam and inhabited it. As they moved through the water, a sonic frequency tone vibrated 200 meters in every direction repelling any animal that came within its barrier. So, they were safe from sudden attacks by sharks or other advantageous animal.
"Detecting something on the radar, Commander," the same frogman who spoke earlier, said; the radar emanating a green indigo glow for him to see in the darkness. "A large force: 2,000 meters and closing."
The frogman swam up to him and showed him the green hand-held radar screen, and the series of white blips approaching their location. Drake Luxen mentally sighed, but he was not surprised. "It must be the U.S. Coast Guard unit from Bimini Eco-Base," Drake Luxen said. "It took them long enough. They must have picked us up on satellite relay using subterranean, underwater calibration. With technology today, there's no place you can hide on this planet where someone else can't find you." He pushed the radar away. "Ready your weapons, Lieutenant, and prepare to repel the enemy."
The lieutenant swam back to alert the others, as Luxen grabbed the speargun that he had attached to a shoulder strap strapped to his back and brought it to front. But he was ready for them, and if the enemy thought they were going to stop him from completing his mission and picking up 50 million dollars, they were sadly mistaken.