Topic: Sub: Ep 7/10 | |
---|---|
Edited by
tudoravenger
on
Sun 05/20/12 07:57 AM
|
|
Senator Bradley and his wife had taken a month off their busy Washington life, to go cruising upon their luxury yacht Freedom.
They had left Durban and intended to port at Cape Town completely ignoring the raging ocean around the Cape of Good Hope. This place had been feared by sailors for centuries, and with good reason. Far too many vessels had vanished, or been smashed to pieces upon the sharp rocky outcropping. “How are we doing Norman?” “We should be there Catherine in about another year.” She wandered from the luxury galley and entered the wheelhouse. “The Southern Ocean seems calm today.” “A bit too calm for my liking dear. I would at least like a bit of swell.” “What? And make me seasick again. No thanks.” The bow ploughed on as a mist began to rise from the ocean surface. “This is more like it,” Norman commented. “Now we can really sail.” The mist rapidly grew thicker and the swell arrived as if to please him. “How you doing dear?” “Alright so far I guess.” A dark shape began to appear six points off their port bow and the senator gazed in wonder. “I’ll have to steer to starboard my dear. This chap may not see us.” As he swung the heavy wheel, his wife pointed. “That’s a strange vessel. What do you make of it?” The senator gazed through the gloom and saw the high rigging, the huge sails, and the tall masts of a vessel from times of old. “Must be the replica of a 1740 ship my dear. What it s doing out here though beats me.” As it approached his port side, a dark figure appeared upon their prow. “Who’s that?” his wife asked. “No one can get on board. You take the wheel and I’ll go and find out.” He left the wheelhouse and approached the strange apparition with reasonable apprehension. “Who the hell are you?” As the figure stepped forward, the senator saw the old pirate uniform, the blazing black beard, and the sharpened cutlass. “You can’t be real...” The cutlass swung and his astonished head rolled into the ocean. “Norman?” His wife watched as the figure approached the wheelhouse. “Whoever you are stay away. I am armed.” The figure stopped at the open door as she stared in mounting disbelief. “Get off this ship!” The figure simply grinned and swung at her thrice. The blade sliced through her arm upon the first stroke. The second took an ear off, whilst the third pierced her heart. As she collapsed, the figure turned to vapour. ... The sub was nearing the African coast at the outer limit of its patrol area when the communications officer barked. “Flash message from Pacific Command.” Wilma glanced at him. “Read it out com.” “Proceed at once to grid reference D 20/E30/H30. Locate Senator Bradley and his wife. Message ends.” “Now we do rescue missions?” Vanderhofen asked. “We do whatever the brass asks of us number two.” She turned toward the electronic map and studied the map coordinates. “That’s a pretty large area sir. It runs from Durban to Cape Town.” Vanderhofen shook his head. “Which means the Cape of Good Hope.” She smiled at him. “You know the legend too I take it.” He nodded. “Who doesn’t know the story of the Flying Dutchman. A crazed captain being caught in a massive storm and crying out, that he would rather be damned than fail to round the horn. The story goes that he was damned to spend eternity trying to round it.” “An old wives tale my boy. Set course for the cape and rise to two hundred.” The sleek dark vessel slowly rose through the depths as the miles closed in. “Periscope depth,” she called. Peering through the viewfinder, she swung the periscope around. “Nothing seems to be here... Hold on one second. Turn four degrees to port.” As the bow swung in the required direction, a drifting vessel came into view. “Bingo,” she muttered. “All hands prepare to surface and break out the dinghy.” The great vessel rose into the air and as the water drained off, Vanderhofen and a small team clambered upon the deck. “Lucky for us the ocean is calm,” he muttered. “Get the dinghy in the drink and we’ll check her out.” The submariners rowed quickly and were soon upon the drifting vessel. As they reached the deck a crewman muttered, “There doesn’t appear to be anyone home sir.” “We don’t want another Marie Celeste on our hands. Check everywhere. Even under the bunks.” Vanderhofen walked toward the small wheelhouse and gazing in stopped dead. “Crewmen!” As they came running he pointed. “Seems as though we have found his wife at least. Carry out a full search then we will carry her aboard.” The actual search was soon completed and the unhappy second in command helped to carry the body into the waiting dinghy. Once aboard the sub, she was taken to the medical area. “I’ve radioed the location to Cape Town coastguard,” Wilma said. “She was chopped up captain,” Vanderhofen said. “A true professional did that.” “You think Somali pirates did this?” “I don’t know mam. We are well beyond their operational area.” She agreed. “I’ll see what the doc has to say. You take the con.” As she left, he said wearily, “Prepare to dive. Bow planes down ten.” The doctor gazed at the body with a look of surprise upon his normally placid face. “What do you think?” “Well mam, the missing arm, and ear are indicative of sword wounds. As is the strike to the chest.” “That’s rather old fashioned surely.” “So you would think. Yet there she is.” “I certainly cannot dispute that doc. Our government ain’t going to be too pleased either.” She left him to it and returned to the command area. “Depth one hundred mam,” the helmsman reported. “Where do you want to take her?” Vanderhofen asked. Wilma thought it over. “Durban is close enough. We should make for there.” The sub swung onto its new course, as a thick mist drifted over the calm surface. A sudden clanking upon the surface of the vessel made everyone look up. “We may be encountering debris mam,” Vanderhofen suggested. “Sonar, do you have anything?” “No mam.” The clanking came again. “That is ruddy peculiar,” she muttered. A sudden thump almost made her jump. “I’ve had enough of this lark,” she muttered. “Surface.” As soon as the bow cleared, Wilma stepped onto the conning tower and gazed around. “Apart from a thick mist there is nothing here.” She was just about to scramble down the ladder, when a dark figure appeared upon the bow. Wilma gazed at it with some surprise. Hitting the intercom she called out, “Vanderhofen come up here.” When he arrived, she pointed. “Please tell me that I haven’t lost my marbles.” “It certainly looks real mam. That’s an old Dutch pirate uniform.” “How can he be here though?” Vanderhofen shook his head. “Old wives tale or not,” Wilma muttered. “We cannot have him standing here.” The dark figure took a solitary step forward. “That’s a cutlass mam. Remember the wounds?” “Of course I do. Take us down two hundred. The quicker we leave this place the better.” After sealing the hatch the sub dived beneath the waves as the two puzzled officers exchanged glances. “Anything on sonar yet?” “No mam. Just as before.” A sudden clanking was quickly followed by a second and third. “It’s heading for the stern mam,” the second officer informed her. She activated the com. “Reactor room, any noise down your end?” Murray swiftly replied. “It certainly is noisy mam. What is it?” “We have no idea. I’m coming down.” She dashed through the boat and raced into the reactor room. The loud clanking continued overhead. “This is really getting spooky,” she commented. Thrice more the clanking was heard, until it suddenly stopped. Moments later a dark form stepped through a control panel. The astonished second engineer simply gaped. The cutlass swung savagely and he crashed to the floor. Wilma reacted calmly to this unexpected development. “Get your men out of here now.” “You chaps follow me,” Murray said. Wilma active the com and said, “All hands intruder alert reactor room. Security team on the double.” She watched as the silent pirate walked around the bleeding corpse simply smiling. “Whoever or whatever you are, you are not welcome here.” Four armed men dashed through the open bulkhead and stopped. “I warn you again,” Wilma said. “Have it your way then. Open fire.” The security team drew their pistols and fired a series of shots at the strange figure. As each bullet struck however, it simply passed through and embedded itself within the wall. “Cease fire.” “What do we do mam?” She shook her head. “On this occasion I’m open to suggestions.” The figure swung the cutlass and seemed to march towards them. “Everyone out,” she said. As the last man reached safety, Wilma scrambled through and sealed the bulkhead door. “I really don’t think that will stop him,” she muttered. The crew backed away as the loud clanking resumed once more. “This is Vanderhofen. Everyone alright back there.” Wilma took the com and replied sternly, “Of course not. We lost an engineer. That pirate of yours has taken control of the reactor room.” “We should surface mam,” the second in command pointed out. “No we don’t. Continue our current heading. Not even a bloodthirsty ghost is going to stop this vessel.” “Aye mam.” Wilma glanced at the chief engineer and asked, “Can he do any damage in there?” Murray nodded. “With that cutlass he could easily wreck the controls mam. Then we would really be in trouble.” The clanking came again but this time it was a little weaker. “What’s he up to?” “Judging by the sound mam, I’d say he was heading for the screw turbine.” Wilma became alarmed. “That’s our lifeline. He can’t touch that.” “I have an idea mam,” engineer Murray said. “Out with it then.” “Iron has always been the traditional enemy of evil. If one of us could pierce him with it...” As she mulled this over, the faint clanking stopped. “He’s entered the turbine hall mam,” Murray whispered. “Go and get the crowbar.” He nodded as Captain Harris began pacing the missile room. When he returned she took it from him. “Let me do it mam.” “Captain’s prerogative Murray. Once I’m through reseal.” She found herself creeping across the reactor floor, inching toward the important hall. The turbine drove the four exterior screws that propelled the vessel through the dark ocean depths. If that went, they would not live very long. When she entered, her eyes fell upon the huge spinning shaft. “At least you are okay.” She glanced around, but their visitor was nowhere to be seen. As she stepped forward, he re-emerged through the turbine itself and advanced toward her. “I hope your fencing skills are as rusty as my own mate.” The cutlass swung and Wilma ducked. “You’ll have to do better than that,” she muttered. Backing toward a metal grill, she watched as it swung again. She threw herself across the floor, rolling until she sprang up again. The infuriated spectre swung around and advanced quickly. The cutlass rose and swished down toward her head. Wilma brought the crowbar up sharply and the metal clanged loudly as the blade struck. A blinding flash of light occurred as the energy was discharged violently, hurtling the captain across the vibrating floor. ... “No I don’t want jelly.” “I think she is coming around now,” the doctor muttered. “How long...?” “Twenty minutes mam.” “Has he...” “Gone you mean?” Vanderhofen asked. “He certainly has.” She tried to focus upon the bandaged hands but quickly gave up. “You have light burns that’s all,” the doctor assured her. She tried to sit up but Vanderhofen restrained her. “The doc has given you a week off mam.” She shook her head. “He can’t do that...” “Oh yes I can mam. On medical matters, I outrank you. I could off course have you restrained.” Vanderhofen glared at him. “That won’t be necessary.” Wilma groaned and whispered, “Suppose you are in charge then captain.” He nodded. “Yes mam.” |
|
|