The Centurion’s cybersoldiers over-ran most countries in a matter of only a few short hours. By accessing each soldier’s implanted interface computer chip, the Centurion easily took control of them. Entire armies went to their knees screaming in pain, with their hands up to their heads. It was either submit to the Centurion – or die. Very few chose to die. Those who did were the very ones who would be most likely to fight the Centurion’s world conquest anyway. So, for them to die with their head exploding was just a very graphic way of showing to the rest of the world’s military what would happen to them too, if they should ever dare to resist.
But, on the nuclear submarine USS Olympic, the crew was protected by the seawater above them. Cruising just below periscope depth of thirty-five meters, it only felt like an angry bee was inside their heads. Captain Jasson was just taking a sip of his morning coffee, when the buzzing started. But, unlike the normal sort of alert that it heralded, it was stronger, and more persistent. He put his hand up to his temple, and noticed that the entire bridge personnel was doing the exact same thing – but there was no accompanying message. Something was happening.
“Is anyone getting a message?” He called out, pressing vainly his right temple several times to clear his interface brain chip.
“No Sir,” his executive officer said.
“Nothing Sir,” one of the helmsmen called out.
“Emergency dive,” Captain Jasson ordered. “Make depth two-hundred meters.”
“Two-hundred meters, aye.”
“What is this?” Captain Jasson leaned over to Commander Roberts his executive officer. “Do you know what’s going on?”
“No Sir,” Roberts shook his head, and worked his jaw like he was trying to clear a hangover from the night before. “Have no idea.”
“One-hundred and fifty meters,” the diving officer called out.
“It’s getting less now isn’t it?” Jasson said, shaking his head, and working his jaw like Commander Roberts.
“Yes Sir. I think it is.”
“It has to be something from above – an attack of some kind.”
“You think that’s it is – an attack I mean?”
“Have no choice but to assume it is until we can rule it out.” Captain Jasson reached for the old time intership PA. “Attention all hands,” he announced. “Obviously we are experiencing an anomaly of some sort with our implants. If anyone has received an alert message of any kind report to the bridge immediately. Do not. I repeat – do not activate, or use your interface chip at this time. All alerts from me or the bridge will be over this PA system until we find out what is happening. Damage control parties report all damage, and status to the bridge. Out.”
“Depth two-hundred meters, Sir,” the diving officer announced.
“Very well. Is anyone still experiencing their computer interface chip buzzing? Mine has finally ceased.”
Several voices from around the bridge called out.
“Mine too Sir.”
“I’m good here.”
“Mine’s clear.”
“Very well,” Jasson said. “Keep depth at two-hundred meters.” He turned to Commander Roberts. “So, let’s get the doctor up here and …”
“Sir?” The weapons officer called out in alarm. “My board just lit up like a Christmas tree!”
“What?”
“Sir, all the nuclear missiles are preparing to emergency fire!”
Captain Jasson, and Commander Roberts rushed over to the firing solution computer.
“That’s not possible!”
“I know Sir – but it’s happening!”
“Well shut it down! Sound general quarters, general quarters!”
“General quarters aye.”
“I can’t shut it down. It’s locked up!”
“Missile launch in fifteen seconds, Sir!” Roberts pointed at the readout.
“Damn! Pull the plug!”
“Sir?”
“You heard me! Pull the emergency shutoff plug for the CPU!”
“It’ll wipe the entire ship’s memory and hard drive.”
“Better than killing eighty-million people in ten seconds! Pull it!”
The weapon’s officer threw himself to the floor on his back, and reached up under the console.
“A screw driver! A screw driver!” he shouted holding out his hand. “Somebody give me a goddamned screw driver!”
“Five seconds!”
“Here’s one!” The electrician’s mate stood up from his station, and threw a screwdriver across the room. Captain Jasson caught it in one hand, and smoothly passed it to the weapon’s officer outstretched hand. Jasson stood up.
“Emergency surface!” He pointed at the diving officer. “Blow to the roof! Now!”
Immediately both helmsmen pulled the diving planes back as hard as they could, and the USS Olympic’s compressed air flushed out the diving tanks. The submarine shuddered. Captain Jasson, and the rest of the crew held on while the deck rose up sharply.
“Sir!” Commander Roberts said. “If those missiles launch now – the compressed air won’t be able to push the missiles out clear of the launching tubes! Those rocket engines will fire, and incinerate the ship!”
“You got a better idea that doesn’t involve starting WWIII? Then now’s the damned time!”
“Ah – ha!” The weapon’s officer called out triumphantly. “I did it! We’re safe!”
“No, we’re not!” Commander Roberts pointed at the computer screen. “They’re launching anyway!”
“Oh no,” Captain Jasson said quietly, hanging on to a bulkhead.
“Sir! I think …” Commander Roberts began to say, but he never got a chance. All twelve nuclear missiles launched simultaneously. Even without the ship’s thirty-seven degree angle toward the surface, the hull of the ship was never designed for all twelve rocket engines to ignite at once. The USS Olympic imploded as the rocket engines penetrated the pressure hull, and the incredible pressures instantly crushed the ship like an eggshell.
It would have brought little comfort to Captain Jasson, and the rest of the Olympic’s crew to know that they were only one of several nuclear submarines from around the world to be destroyed in such a way. There was nothing that Captain Jasson – or any other human for that matter – could have done to save themselves, or their ship.
The Centurion had it all planned out to the very last detail.
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