TICONDEROGA-CLASS AEGIS MISSILE CRUISER USS SHILOH
Jack, Carl, Ryan, Henri Farbeaux, and a weary Captain Ezra Johnson watched from the darkened CIC far beneath the main deck of the heavy cruiser. They spied the activity on the wide-screen monitor on the bulkhead. Other members of the CIC teams were monitoring radar and sonar, but they watched the activity on the monitor, as did the officers.
The drone was flying high over Peter the Great. Most of the sailors were still settling in from their evening with the islanders. The night watch had been posted, and the crew, for the most part, went belowdecks for some well-earned sleep. Jack smiled when he saw that a lot of the Russian boys were wearing traditional United States Navy headgear. The reason for the covert flight was an attempt to spy on Salkukoff and his commandos. As the propeller-driven drone circled Peter the Great, they saw nothing of the colonel.
Captain Johnson patted the shoulder of the drone’s remote control specialist. “Bring her back home, Jenkins. We’re not going to see anything that bastard doesn’t want us to see.”
“Aye, sir,” the young man said as he input the correct orders into the remote system. The drone would fly back and land softly in the water next to Shiloh, where she would be recovered and recharged.
“Well, that was a bust,” Ryan said as he rubbed his eyes.
“Captain, we’re picking up something strange on the horizon,” young Seaman Jenkins said as he pointed to the large monitor. “We have a bright glow to the south.”
“Adjust angle of turn and bring the camera up.”
The drone turned, and instead of overflying Shiloh, she pointed her nose camera toward Compton’s Reef.
“What the hell?” Johnson said as he took a tentative step closer to the large monitor, as if getting closer to it he could actually see more detail. What the high-definition camera system told him and the others was that Compton’s Reef was burning.
Jack and the others were out of CIC in a flash. All sleepiness and weariness were now gone. As they hit the steps leading up, the general quarters alarm sounded throughout Shiloh.
“All hands, man rescue stations. All sea rescue elements to their stations; this is no drill. I repeat, no drill. Man rescue craft!”
Jack and his men gained the main deck, and all they could see was the Shiloh’s powerful searchlights probing the seas between herself and the island. Even Peter the Great was in the process of launching rescue crews in whaleboats.
“Marine strike team report to boat ramp six.”
“Let’s go,” Jack said as he started making for the stern, where the marine unit would be launched. “Carl, radio the Royal Marines stationed on Simbirsk. They are to hold station at any cost. Tell them to keep their heads on a swivel, as this could be a ruse of some kind.”
“Got it, Jack,” Everett said as he raised the radio and made the call.
* * *
Altogether, there were three Zodiacs filled with the marine strike team assembled on Shiloh. They were closely followed by the Russian complement of shipboard marines in their larger whaleboats. There were no less than a hundred fighting men moving toward the burning island, along with the other Zodiacs filled with corpsmen and damage control specialists from Shiloh.
As their boats struck the brown-colored sand, they heard the screaming coming from the village at the center of the island. The two varying marine elements broke into two groups with the Russians going to the left and the American marines to the right. They moved quickly as the screams of the islanders became louder. The flames reached far above the coconut trees and palms. The flaming tendrils reached out for the setting moon.
As Jack broke into the open, he couldn’t believe what it was he was seeing. The creatures, the Wasakoo, as Salkukoff had informed them, were running from hut to hut, setting them aflame. Their long spears were dispatching those women and children who were too slow to move. Curved swords were slicing into women and children alike. Warriors from the village were putting up a brave fight, but Jack could see they were losing badly. Collins aimed his nine millimeter and shot the closest of the green-skinned creatures. The tentacled giant turned with a loud, screaming hiss and started toward Jack just as fifteen M4 automatic weapons opened fire beside him.
Farbeaux and Carl broke into the clearing and came face-to-face with one of the Wasakoo. The beast had a spear in hand, poised to throw, and in one of the eight tentacles it had circling its neck, it held a pearl-handled bone knife. Farbeaux and Carl both fired their handguns at the same instant.
The Russian marines opened fire from the opposite end of the village as they caught those Wasakoo who were now in flight in the open. The shots slowly dwindled down as the attackers were quickly dispatched. Jack swallowed hard and then reached for the radio.
“Captain, Collins here, over.”
“Johnson, go.”
“Captain, we need the rest of the medics and more medical supplies ASAP, over.”
“We were watching from the drone. I’ve already dispatched additional medical and rescue teams. I informed Captain Kreshenko. He’s also sending what he can. Oh, shit. Those green fish bastards are escaping on the western side of the island. No, never mind. The Russian marines just saw to it they aren’t going anywhere.”
“Thank you, Captain,” Jack said as he replaced his radio.
Charlie and Jenks were late arriving, as no one waited for them to enter one of the landing craft. As they advanced slowly into the clearing, they saw the devastation. The bodies of the very people they had just shared a feast with were spread throughout the clearing. Their homes were in flames, and Russian and American sailors were doing all they could to not only secure the area but to assist the wounded and dying. The anger among the young sailors and marines of both nations was palpable as one dead child or woman after the other was turned over and examined. The gifts that had been given to the islanders were strewn throughout the shattered village.
“Did we cause this?” Charlie asked as he leaned over and felt for a pulse of a young boy who had the entry wound of one of the large spear points in his back. He lowered his head when he found the child lifeless.
“No, Doc, we didn’t,” Jenks said as he sadly faced the destroyed village and its people. His eyes fell on the men of the community. They had died bravely, as they all had weapons in their hands. He shook his head and wondered if Charlie was right after all. These people had lived here for how many thousands of years and hadn’t been wiped out by this aggressor species before this, so why now? He spit and tossed his dead cigar away, no longer wanting that small simple pleasure.
* * *
Collins found Farbeaux, Everett, and Ryan standing by one of the bodies of the fishermen who had brought them the bounty they had just consumed. It was the elder of the village lying there with his throat slashed and a spear in his side. He was dead, and Jack Collins cursed himself for not thinking about posting some form of security detail for these innocent people.
“Jack, you’d better take a look at this,” Carl said as he stood from his kneeling position.
Collins slowly walked over, and he was joined by a stunned Master Chief Jenks and a tearful Charlie Ellenshaw. Carl tossed something, and Jack caught it in the dwindling moonlight. He held the object up and examined it in the flames. His eyes narrowed as he looked at it.
“This one was wearing it,” Carl said as he kicked out at the still form at his feet. The tentacles around the creature’s head moved, but it was only a nerve reaction. The long, thick muscled appendages moved and then settled.
The object that was removed from the lifeless body was nothing more than a canvas pouch with a long strap attached. Jack held it up closer to the fires and saw the Russian writing on it. He tossed it to Henri, who was fluent in Cyrillic writing.
Henri looked up after a quick examination and raised his eyebrows in confusion.
“What is it?” Ryan asked as Henri handed the canvas bag to him.
“What did it say?” Charlie asked as he pried his eyes away from the slaughter around him.
“Rostov-on-Don.”
“What is that?” Ryan asked as he gave the bag back to Henri.
“It’s a city in southern Russia.” Jack turned and saw Kreshenko coming onto the scene accompanied by six Russian marines. Of Salkukoff and his black-clad killers, there was no sign. Kreshenko’s face held the visage of a man shocked beyond measure at the carnage around him. Collins took the carrying bag from an angry Henri Farbeaux and approached the captain and tossed him the bag.
“Can you explain this? It was found on one of the aquatic creatures. He was wearing it.”
“Rostov-on-Don,” he read aloud, loud enough that his accompanying marines all looked pale in the firelight.
“I cannot,” Kreshenko said. “This does not make sense to me.”
“Do you think someone in your company might know?” Jack asked, not allowing Kreshenko to know his anger was close to being out of control.
The captain slapped the bag into a marine’s hands and then nodded and turned and quickly left the village that had turned into a massacre site.
Jack turned and nodded for everyone to help and assist the medical teams as best as they could. He pulled Henri aside.
“Why would a bag with the name of an obscure Russian city be on one of those creatures?”
“I don’t know, Colonel. Perhaps it was taken from Simbirsk on one of her magical appearances into this world, just like the book Treasure Island.”
Jack nodded and started to turn away.
“What are you thinking, Colonel?”
Collins stopped and turned.
“I would conclude that you were probably right, Henri, with one exception: the Russians, nor anyone else during the ’40s, had a little-known invention called Velcro.”
Farbeaux watched Jack walk away to assist the dead and the dying and shook his head.
“Yes, I could see how that places a big hole right in the middle of that theory.”