Trident Force

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Carlos Coccoli inhaled his cigarette in long, slow drags as he leaned over the safety railing and looked twelve stories down into Graving Dock Number Three. Behind him, half a mile and two security fences away, lay the industrial northeast of Rio de Janeiro. In front lay the wide, dark waters of the Baia de Guanabara.

Despite the late hour, the blue-white glare of the Xenon floods lighted the hole with the intensity of the tropical noon sun. He studied the dock’s gray-black concrete sides; the various cave-like mezzanines and work platforms built into those gray-black sides; the puddles of black water that glistened on the dock floor and the row of keel blacks lined up along the bottom about a hundred feet from the far wall. The dock was over twelve hundred feet long and over five hundred wide. Built to accept all but the most insanely large ships. It was so big, thought Carlos, that it had made Aurora Australis, the ship that had occupied it up till a few hours before, look like a toy. They could easily have fit three Auroras in there.

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