Ground Zero (The X-Files) (22 page)
Just then Bear Dooley came blustering out of the low door in the beehive blockhouse, blinking his eyes into the wind that tossed his long hair and white-shot beard into wild disarray around his face. His eyes fixed on the two FBI agents, and his expression gathered a fury equal to the storm brewing around them. He had obviously been stewing about their arrival for some time.
“I don’t know how you two got the authorization 197
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to come to this restricted testing site, Agents Mulder and Scully. I can’t question it, and I can’t send you home right now—unfortunately.” He planted his hands on his hips. “But get this straight from the start: stay out of the way. We’re busy. We have a test to run and a device to set off early tomorrow morning. I do
not
have time to babysit a couple of feds in suits.”
“I haven’t needed a babysitter in at least four years,”
Mulder said dryly.
“Mr. Dooley,” Scully said, “we apologize for coming out here in the middle of your preparations. Trust me, I would’ve preferred to have all our questions answered back in California. But since you and your entire team disappeared without notifying us, we had no other choice.”
Mulder said, “And you didn’t exactly overwhelm me with information when I did talk to you.”
“Whatever,” Dooley said in complete dismissal. He turned away from them and extended a flapping sheaf of papers toward Captain Ives. “New weather projection from overhead satellite feeds,” he said. “Exactly as expected. The hurricane center is only two hundred miles out, and it’s big enough that there’s no chance it’ll miss us. No chance at all. We’re in luck—Enika is going to be whomped tomorrow morning.”
“We’re in luck?” Mulder repeated.
Ives scanned the satellite projection and nodded. “I concur.”
“Wait a minute,” Mulder said. “First things first. Where is this nuclear device? Is it in one of the crates we flew out with, or is it already set up here in the control bunker—what?”
Dooley gave a scornful laugh. “Agent Mulder, you’re not impressing me with your expertise. The blockhouse is supposed to be
sheltered
from a 198
GROUND ZERO
nuclear blast. Therefore, the device isn’t going to be set up anywhere nearby. Logical?”
The chance to explain things seemed to calm the big engineer. “The Bright Anvil device is on the other side of the island in a lagoon. It came out on the
Dallas
from San Diego. Everything is all set up and ready to go, waiting for the storm.”
Scully spoke up. “You’ve gone to a lot of trouble to make all your preparations in secret—and you’ve taken great pains to select a deserted island that just happens to be directly in the path of a major storm system. Most people with any sense would head
away
from a typhoon. Do you have any idea how much damage a storm like that can cause?”
Dooley narrowed his eyes as if about to scold her for her stupidity, then he let out a gruff laugh. “Of
course
I do, Agent Scully. Think about it. With all the damage the hurricane is going to cause when it strikes this island…who’s going to notice a little more destruction?”
199
Enika Atoll
Friday, 5:18 P.M.
The pressure of the approaching storm felt like a psychological vise tightening down on Scully. Standing on the rough beach, she looked up at the blackening clouds at sunset, the eerie color of the storm-sickened sky.
Outside the control blockhouse, Bear Dooley, Mulder, and Captain Ives stood together in a moment of relative quiet. In the shallow lagoon in front of the blockhouse, the captain’s gig bobbed, waiting for passengers. Shielded by the hummock of reefs, the water was glassy smooth in contrast to the roiling choppiness farther out to sea. A line of breakers foamed around coral outcroppings submerged just beneath the angry waters.
One of the Bright Anvil technicians came running out of the blockhouse as Scully walked up to them. The technician looked flustered. “Captain Ives, sir, there’s an emergency message for you over the secure telephone line!” Ives looked down at the
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walkie-talkie on his hip, disconcerted that the message hadn’t come to him directly. “It’s from the
Dallas
, sir,” the technician continued. “The communications officer on the bridge wants to speak with you.”
Mulder looked directly at Bear Dooley as he spoke. “Oh boy, maybe they’re canceling the test.”
“Fat chance,” Dooley said.
“I’m sure they’d issue you a raincheck.”
Dooley just shook his head, as if wondering where Mulder got his sense of humor.
All five of them ducked inside the claustrophobic blockhouse. Scully was glad to get out of the damp wind that made her skin crawl. Captain Ives went to a phone box that had been bolted to a plywood wall inside the armored bunker.
“Ives here,” he said, then listened intently. The expression on his face quickly became grim. “What are they doing out in this weather?” He waited for an answer. “Okay, how far away?” He waited again. “And we’re the only ones within range?” He scowled. “Hold on.”
He put his hand to the headset and looked at Dooley.
“We’ve just received a distress call—a fishing boat out of Hawaii, Japanese registry. They’re in trouble from the typhoon, and the
Dallas
is the only ship in the vicinity. It’s a general mayday, but they’re requesting an urgent rescue. We can’t ignore it.”
Dooley turned red with annoyance. “I thought you said this area was cleared. Everything around Enika was supposed to be free of shipping traffic!” He fumed. “And what are those idiots doing out in this weather anyway? It’s crazy to go out in a hurricane.”
“Sure is,” Mulder said, under his breath. Ives seemed to be fighting to keep his cool in 201
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front of Dooley. “Because your people needed to keep this test so
secret
, Mr. Dooley, we weren’t allowed to send a fleet of patrol boats out to keep the waters clear. You didn’t want anyone to notice the activity. We did our best, but something could easily have slipped through—as this fishing boat apparently has. It’s a big ocean, after all.”
Dooley heaved a huge sigh and stuffed his big-knuckled hands in his jeans pockets. “I think we should just leave them out there. Those bozos will only get what they deserve for setting out without checking the weather reports.”
Ives had had enough of the discussion. “Mr. Dooley, it’s the law of the sea to attempt a rescue whenever another vessel signals a distress. It’s a law by which I live, and I have spent my entire career on ships. That doesn’t change just because of your pet project.”
“What are we going to do with the survivors once you take them aboard?” Dooley said. “You can’t let them witness the test.”
“We’ll keep them belowdecks—
if
we succeed in rescuing anybody.”
“But what if it’s a spy ship?” Dooley said. “We might not be the only people with an idea like Bright Anvil, you know. Another country could have developed the same concept.”
Scully tried not to laugh, but the bearlike physicist seemed completely serious in his suspicion.
“Yeah,” Mulder said, “if those Japanese fishermen spies see too much of Bright Anvil, they’ll start making inexpensive imitations, and you’ll be able to buy your own warhead the local electronics store.”
Dooley glared at him, but didn’t seem to know what to do with his own anger. “Well, Captain, at least find out who they are and what the hell they’re doing out here. These aren’t good fishing waters.”
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With a sigh, Captain Ives put the telephone to his mouth again. “What’s the name of the ship?” he said. “Find out their registry.” As he waited for an answer, suddenly Ives’s face turned white. “
Fukuryu Maru
,” he said. “The
Lucky
Dragon
?”
Scully put a finger on her chin, thinking. “
Lucky Dragon
,”
she said. “That sounds familiar….”
Ives spoke into the phone. “Acknowledge their transmission—tell them we’re coming to help. Prepare the
Dallas
for immediate departure.” Ives hung up, then he looked at Scully, since she had been the only one to react to the name.
“You’re thinking of another Japanese fishing boat with the same identification—the vessel that wandered too close to the Castle Bravo H-bomb detonation on Bikini in 1954. The crew received a huge dose of radiation—the incident caused quite an international scandal.”
Mulder perked up. “And now a ship with the same name is straying close to this nuclear test? That can’t be a coincidence.”
Scully quickly interrupted his train of thought. “Oh no you don’t, Mulder. Don’t even suggest that this is some…ghost ship of irradiated Japanese fishermen coming back to stop the Bright Anvil test.”
Mulder held up his hands helplessly. “I didn’t suggest any such thing, Scully. I’d say you’ve got an overactive imagination.” He frowned in feigned contemplation. “Interesting idea, though.”
She turned to Ives. “Captain, I’d like to go with you out to that fishing boat.” She looked at Mulder, asking with her eyes if he wanted to go along.
“No thanks,” he said. “I’ll stay on solid ground. I want to keep poking around here.” Mulder turned to admonish her as she and Ives headed back out into the freshening wind.
“Be sure to wear your life jacket.”
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Scully tried to stay out of the way on the bridge deck of the Navy destroyer.
Captain Ives directed the helmsman to begin accelerating away from Enika Atoll and into the storm-ragged water. The low coral island dropped away as the battleship left the labyrinth of whitecaps that marked treacherous underwater rocks. The
Dallas
headed out to sea, following their charts to where the hapless fishing boat had gotten itself into trouble.
Scully attempted to start a conversation several times, but couldn’t find the words. Ives appeared deeply troubled and preoccupied, his salt-and-pepper eyebrows crinkled together, his lips pursed and pushing up his mustache. Finally, she blurted out, “Captain Ives, you looked shocked when you heard the name of the fishing boat. How much do you know about the
Lucky Dragon
? The original one, I mean.”
He glanced over at her, setting his lips in a thin, pale line, then continued staring out the rain-streaked bridge windows of the
Dallas
, watching the rough seas. His Adam’s apple bobbed up and down once.
“I was an observer at the Castle Bravo test, Agent Scully. I witnessed a lot of the island detonations during my tour of duty as a young sailor. I was a Navy man through and through, and a lot of us ambitious young recruits sort of
‘collected’ bomb blasts in those days. We tried to get ourselves assigned to ships that were going out to observe the nukes. We thought it was fun.
“It’s an awe-inspiring sight, I can tell you that—but Castle Bravo was something else entirely, a new design, the biggest yield ever measured for a nuclear detonation. The Los Alamos scientists had
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calculated their cross sections wrong, or so I understand. The yield was supposed to be five megatons…instead, it turned out to be nearly fifteen. An explosion equivalent to fifteen million tons of TNT.
“That number doesn’t really mean anything to the human imagination, until you try to compare it. The Little Boy bomb dropped on Hiroshima was about the same as twelve point five
kilotons
of TNT. That means the blast from Castle Bravo was
twelve hundred times
as powerful as Hiroshima. Twelve hundred Hiroshima bombs all going off at once!” He shook his head. “You should have seen it. The fireball itself was four miles in diameter.”
Scully swallowed. “I’m not sure I would have wanted to. Wasn’t it dangerous to be so close?”
Ives gave a far-off smile. “A lot of us got a significant dose. This horrendous whitish substance rained down from the sky—we found out later it was calcium precipitated from the vaporized coral thrown up into the air. Obviously, the danger zone from the blast turned out to be much larger than the safe area we had calculated.”
Scully continued for him, “And this Japanese fishing boat happened to be in the wrong place at the wrong time.”
“The
Lucky Dragon
wasn’t so lucky after all,” he said.
“With a crew of twenty-three, they were trolling more than eighty nautical miles east of Bikini—a good distance, but unfortunately it was directly downwind from the fallout.
“Two weeks later the fishing boat came into home port with a sick crew. The U.S. offered radiation specialists to help treat the men, but refused to give any specifics about the content in the fallout. Somebody was afraid the Soviets could derive a bomb recipe from it. One of the fishermen died of a secondary infection.
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“Lewis Strauss, the chairman of the Atomic Energy Commission, brushed aside all responsibility and said that those fishermen had been well inside the danger zone—which I doubt very much—and that the
Lucky Dragon
was probably a Red spy ship anyway.”
“A Red spy ship?” Scully’s throat clenched in a combination of disbelief and anger. She could find nothing else to say.
“His exact words.” Captain Ives gave her a hard look with his narrowed eyes. “And so I don’t intend to let this other unlucky ship wallow out there at the mercy of deadly fallout, even if they manage to survive the typhoon.”
“But as I understand it,” Scully said, “there isn’t supposed to be any fallout from this weapon. Bright Anvil is only a small-yield device, nothing that should extend far out into the ocean.”
Ives looked at her skeptically. “Of course. And Castle Bravo was only supposed to be a third as strong as it turned out to be. I’ve learned
my
lesson, even if Mr. Dooley hasn’t. This Bright Anvil device is brand new technology—and no matter how many computer simulations the scientists run, sometimes they plain forget about secondary effects. I don’t want to take any chances.”
Scully swallowed and finally asked, “You don’t…you don’t think there’s anything supernatural about the appearance of this other
Lucky Dragon
, do you? At this specific time?”
