Fighting the Silent (The Dark Sea War Chronicles Book 1)

by Bruno Martins Soares

  *

  That night, before going to bed, we had talked and laughed. We were smiling and looking at each other through the screens in each of our cabins. Then I said:

  “I love you.”

  She smiled even more. With her bright green eyes.

  “Yes?”

  “Yes,” I confirmed.

  “You know what?” She asked.

  “What?” I asked.

  “I love you too.”

  And we stood there, looking at each other like smiling idiots for a few moments. But then there was a veil of sadness between us and she said:

  “See you tomorrow.”

  And I said:

  “See you tomorrow.”

  And off we went.

  *

  “CONTACT!! Level 2, 11-and-9!! RED FLAG, SIR!”

  The probes had flashed. Flashed and showed the enemy. The Silent was right in front of us. Preparing to fire on the merchants. But I couldn’t move! I couldn’t think! Doorbos got it. He understood. And he knew what to do! He gave the orders immediately: “70-degrees starboard, Mr.Valero!! Full speed! Give her flank! Mr.Kreen! Fire when ready!! Go get her!”

  The Loghi violently turned right until she had firing solutions, and Kreen shouted:

  “ALL ODDS FIRE!”

  And then the ship trembled as the 160 missiles left her side as straight arrows flowing to the target. Then, Steld shouted:

  “TORPEDOES!”

  It had been too late. The bitch had fired before dying. And then massive explosions! We had her! We’d destroyed the bloody Silent. But there was no time for cheers. Our bow was facing the Herret.

  “COLLISION, SIR!!” That was Valero.

  “CORRECT COURSE, MR.VALERO! PORT!!” That was Doorbos.

  “What headings, Mr.Steld?!” I called. “The torpedoes! What headings!?”

  “It’s the Zelden, sir! Heading for the Zelden!”

  There wasn’t a doubt in my mind on what to do. The word came out with full confidence.

  “Intercept, Mr.Valero.”

  Valero looked at me, his eyes wide open.

  “I’m sorry, sir??”

  I faced his stare.

  “Intercept those torpedoes, Mr.Valero. Get us side by side with the Zelden. Now!”

  He did it. And then they were all looking at me. Silent. Incredulous. But they might as well be looking at a rock. Ice cold blood was flowing through my veins. There wasn’t an inch of doubt in my mind. The Zelden was full of refugees. It was our duty. I could see both torpedoes coming in, now. Closing in. And we were going to make it.

  “Gentlemen,” I said. “It’s been a pleasure serving with you.”

  And the first one hit us. It hit the bow, just below us, almost immediately destroying the 1st Hull. I had never experienced a force so violent. And then the second one hit us. I don’t even know where.

  And it all went black.

  I’m coming, Mira. I’m coming… Wait for me.

  *

  HC14 was the first convoy to ever have been subjected to a ‘shark attack’ – as it became known. From then on, that was the modus operandi of the Silent Boats, despite the apparent failure of this first trial. Several of them, sometimes three or four, sometimes more, would converge on a convoy and then would attack with vicious tactics, sometimes days in a row, picking up many merchants and escorts in this manner. For a while, this had a brutal effect and was, in fact, crippling the war effort of Webbur and Torrence. Before the tide turned… We didn’t know it at that time, but probes, missiles, and other measures were being developed in Webbur and Torrence in an unprecedented manner, with innovating speed that had not been seen until then and was never seen since. Other detection and communication devices would also play a part. In the end, we mostly beat them with superior technology development capabilities.

  The Loghi was the first ship in the war to bring down two Silent Boats in one incident. Not many, even at the end of the war, could boast the same. Her tactics when protecting HC14 were studied over and over again, months and years after the convoy reached Webbur – both because of the good decisions and the bad ones. Some of these tactics were employed by others in convoy protection in years to come and may have saved many lives.

  I’d like to believe that most of the crew of the frigate understood some of the importance of their performance, what we actually were achieving on that incredible night, even as they plunged into their deaths. But maybe that’s just optimism. And maybe I don’t even have the right to believe it.

  After all, I had just killed them…

  INTERLUDE B – s62

  “All right,” said Worf Tinnzer, with his head inside the helmet. “Do we have the targets’ ID’s confirmed?”

  “Yes, Kapt. Merchant ship Solio, 800k, and merchant ship Harvy, 700, are the first.”

  “Escort?”

  “The nearest threat is the Nyban, a Corvette. Old class. Not much firepower.”

  “All right.” Worf’s helmet showed him the enemy vessels. “Let’s not push our luck with the reactor. We get the first two merchants, and we leave.”

  “Yes, Kapt.”

  “Time, sir.”

  “All right. Increase to covert attack speed. Torpedoes?”

  “Ready, Kapt.”

  “63 is engaging, Kapt. Position A.”

  “All right. Rukt, we’re deviating. Get us on target.”

  “Yes, Kapt. Sorry, Kapt.”

  Worf rotated his chair to look at where S63 should be at that point. He had no visual on the other ship, but the friendly ID signal was pulsing a blue dot inside his helmet, so he knew where the other ship was. And also... In a strange move, an enemy ship was getting in an awkward position. It was decreasing speed and falling behind.

  ‘What is that frigate doing?’ Thought Worf.

  *

  Half an hour later, it was all over. Taking his head out of the helmet, Worf was in shock. The mission had been a success. It would be called a success by the brass, he knew it. And S62 had done her duty. It had destroyed three merchant ships. The original first and second targets and a third that had the bad luck of crossing the Silent’s crosshairs at the last minute. The Silent had fired a total of six torpedoes, all successful hits.

  Those were the good news. The bad news was that S62 was the only survivor attacker on that day. Worf couldn’t believe it, but a single frigate had been able to disintegrate two Silent before sacrificing herself to save a merchant ship. It had been an incredible feat. But more than that, what Worf witnessed firsthand was a set of intelligent tactics that would be a danger to Silent Boats all-round. Either that frigate’s captain was a genius or, if those had been standard tactics, the Axxian were in trouble.

  The crew of S62 was quiet and in shock as well. They hadn’t seen, as he’d seen, the enemy frigate in combat, but they knew S60 and S63 were gone. Yet, before Worf could come out of his stupor and say something, the intercom rang, and he picked it up.

  “What?”

  “It’s Karolu, Kapt. Permission to shut down the reactor. We’re pretty close to danger levels.”

  “Do it.”

  He put the comms back in the hanger, looked around and jumped to his feet.

  “We need a rendezvous, Urster. Set it up. The reactor won’t last. I’ll be in my cabin.”

  “Yes, Ver-Kaptin.”

  INTERLUDE C – DEAD

  “Stop. Stop,” he said softly. “What are you doing?”

  I flinched and looked at him. I had sweat dripping from my nose, and my breath was somewhat irregular. I tried to understand what he was telling me. I knew by his soft tone he wasn’t happy. He waited for my reply. I stuttered.

  “I… I was… Jump, twist, grab the head, throw.”

  He waved his head.

  “It’s not what you were doing but how you were doing it. Attitude. Your response must be instinctive, precise, determined. If you hesitate, you’re dead. You can’t be waiting for me, you have to be open and focused, or the circumstances w
ill overwhelm you. We’ve been here before. Don’t relax.”

  “But, father… We’re just training…”

  “Exactly. This is training, not a game. So get serious. Do it right.”

  “But if I do that, if I’m not careful…”

  He waved his head again.

  “Stop. Shut up. Shut up,” he said, softly. “Just do it.”

  So I did. I got serious. He attacked me like a bull, or rather like a stone thrown by a strong arm, directly at my forehead: cold, emotionless, brutal, fast, unstoppable. And I deviated. I was quick. And I jumped, and twisted, and grabbed his head, and threw him to the ground. And I was perfect. Perfect. Victorious. I smiled from ear to ear. I got up, smiling. Happy. But I had been too perfect. And he didn’t get up. His body was there, motionless, on the floor. Cold. I lost my smile in half a second.

  That’s how you lose someone. In half a second.

  EPISODE 4 – RECOVERY

  I was awake. I realized it slowly, as if reality was frozen and was unfreezing as I woke up. Slowly, I understood why I was awakening, like that, in the middle of the night. She was there. She was caressing me. Between my legs. And then she cupped my balls. She held them in her hand, for a moment. That left me no doubt I was awake.

  The hospital ward was never in the dark. There was always enough light. I looked at her. Brunette, deep blue eyes, nurse uniform, naughty smile, naughty breasts. What was she doing? She started stroking me, and I was erect. Quickly. I inhaled suddenly, inevitably. I was aware others might be awake, just beyond the thin screens she’d closed around my bed. Were they able to feel my breathing? Did she do it to them as well? I looked again. She was looking at me now. With that dirty little smile. And she was pumping. And pumping. Oh, God…

  “Don’t worry” she whispered, after a while. “I’ll clean it up.”

  She cleaned it up. I didn’t say a word. I didn’t know what to say. And then she winked at me and left.

  What had just happened? I had no idea. Still, she came back the next Thursday night. And the one after that. Soon, all I had were Thursdays. All I hanged on to was Thursdays.

  *

  Before the bed, I had been in the 0-gravity ward for several weeks. I had burns in most of my body. My right side, from the neck down, had been burned severely. I had cracked several ribs and many other bones. I had dislocated both shoulders. My face had been pierced by shrapnel on the left side, and I had broken my jaw and lost several teeth. I had a nasty scar on that left side, from my ear to my chin. I had another one on the top of my forehead, from a nasty cut.

  I had surgery. They had to reconstruct 40% of my stomach, 50% of my liver and 70% of my right kidney. My right lung had collapsed, but they had been able to get it up and running again.

  When I say I had surgery, I don’t mean how they do it now. No. Back in those days they actually cut you open. They’d pick up small sharp blades and cut you open, keep you open with a special kind of clamps and put their hands inside you, and metal and plastic things inside you. Of course you’re unconscious the whole time, still, it’s pretty barbaric by today’s standards. But that’s how they did it. And they did good work also. Every single damaged internal organ was back to 100% by the time they were done. Those Navy doctors were very good. It was incredible I survived, but it was a real miracle I was able to recover as much as I did.

  At least… my body.

  *

  For weeks I had cried out loud and shouted in the night because of nightmares. I was even violent, a couple of times. I lost the ability to speak. At first, they thought it had been the burns, but soon found out there wasn’t really anything wrong physically. I just wasn’t talking to anyone. Then they started sedating me and apathy sank in. I would stare at the ceiling all day. I had to be fed through a tube before I started accepting some liquids and soups.

  Then one day, Ploom, my old buddy from the Magnar, came to see me. He was taken aback when he first saw me. I still had bandages all over my face and head – not to mention most of my body. But he talked and talked, even if I wasn’t responding. He said he had spoken to my mother and that she was worried but happy I was alive. It had been a miracle. He said they didn’t let her come see me at the Nytar moon, where the military hospital was.

  He also spoke of the Magnar and all that was going on with my former comrades. Simmas had left, retiring from the Navy because of a medical problem and Orrey had become captain. Usually, he would have been captain of a smaller ship first, but Admiral Hedde had asked for him to stay at the helm of the flagship. That figures. Orrey was good.

  Then Ploom started talking about the war. It wasn’t going so great. Axx was piling victory after victory all over the inner solar system, and the Silent Boats were still creating havoc inside the Dark Sea and beyond.

  And then I spoke. I looked at him and spoke my first words in months:

  “Do… Do you know about the Harvy?”

  “What? The Harvy?”

  His eyes shined bright, surprised I was speaking.

  “My merchant ship. My… The Harvy.” I repeated. “Were… were there survivors?”

  “I don’t know, my friend. I don’t know. She was in your convoy? HC14? The merchants weren’t too badly hurt. Thanks to you, it seems. I can find out, if you want.”

  A figment of hope ran through my mind. But I had seen her explode. There was no hope. I knew that. There was no hope.

  “Please. And the Loghi?”

  “Your ship? The frigate? Well… Almost 90% casualties, I hear. Many wounded but many more dead. You were very lucky. I don’t think anyone else in that bridge survived. It was the head of the convoy himself, the destroyer in charge, which came back for you. That captain saved your life.”

  Yes. Saltz. But it didn’t matter. My ship, my first command, was gone. My crew was gone. 90% casualties. And my merchant cow, my baby, the Harvy, was gone. And Mirany was gone. Nothing mattered anymore. I wished I had been killed.

  But I couldn’t tell Ploom that. No. He wouldn’t understand.

  *

  One day, a high ranking officer came by, with a couple of other people. I didn’t respond to anything he said. I’m not sure I even heard him. But he awarded me three medals. The Navy Star of Honor, for my bravery in battle, the Medal of Blood, for my injuries, and the President’s Unit of Truth Medal, which was awarded to the whole crew of the Loghi – posthumously, for the most part - for having saved others.

  For a second, I looked at the officer with surprise, disgust and finally contempt. But after that, I just ignored him, and he left the boxes and the citations on the small table beside my bed. I mean: I had disregarded my orders, I had left my post, I had plunged to death hundreds or thousands of people, and they gave me medals? What were they thinking?

  Why couldn’t they simply let me die?

  *

  At first, I resisted doing physical therapy. But then I found out the punishment made me feel better. The pain was cleansing. So I would push myself much further than they would ask me. Between pain and guilt, pain was better. Between pain and sorrow, pain was better. So I was always asking for more. Always asking the nurses to send me to the gym or the pool. And it hurt. It hurt a lot. Good. Give me more.

  *

  There was this nurse called Kary Erbay. Just showed up one day, the fucker. Light brown hair, brown eyes, hard face, cold as fuck. He was a real bastard with me, and every time I did physiotherapy with him, I went further and faster than with any of the others. He was relentless. He almost didn’t speak; he just pushed me hard and let me push myself wherever I wanted. I always came back to my bed hurting badly all over.

  By this time, most of the bandages had come off, and my scars were showing on my face and body. Red and ugly. And my physical strength was increasing systematically. Still, I was pretty shaken up inside, and still didn’t mutter much more than two or three words to anyone.

  Erbay started getting the habit of sitting next to my bed when he was on a break. He would do those
number puzzles that came in magazines. He would sit by me doing those puzzles and once in a while showing them to me and asking: “What do you think? A 2 or a 5?”

  “Two.” I’d say. And he’d check I was right and say:

  “Right.”

  But I had the feeling he wasn’t really interested in me. Nor in his puzzles. He never looked at me, not into my eyes. Just analyzed the injuries once in a while. Most of the time he seemed to be observing things around him. People coming and going. He would be with me about an hour a day, and then maybe Estie, my Thursday-night brunette would pass, and he would look at her, quietly, over the magazine, and then stand up and follow her off the room. Or some other nurse would come, and he would observe her going from patient to patient. His behavior was strange, and I started to observe him as well.

  He was thirtyish, slim, strong and athletic and his eyes made me feel he had seen combat some time. Also, his walk, straight with his feet slightly pointing to the sides, made me believe he definitely had martial arts training. He was a black belt of something, no doubt. Most people would miss that about him, but I had trained eyes myself, of course. I fantasized he’d been Special Forces, or a Marine Shock Trooper – one of those special units, anyway. What the hell was he doing here? As a nurse?

  At one time, Erbay took me to physical therapy. He put me on the walking treadmill, which I still had trouble using. I was walking almost as fast as I could when he said.

  “Give me a minute.” And he left.

  I continued doing my exercise. 5 minutes, 10 minutes. I was getting tired, but there was no sign of Erbay. I was alone in the gym.

  “Hey, Erbay!” I called. Nothing.

  At 15 minutes I was getting really tired, limping and barely able to walk. I tried to stop the damn machine, but I did just the opposite: it started moving quicker. I tripped and was sent backward violently, bumping my head, with my back flat on the floor. I looked at the ceiling and mentally checked all my body. I wasn’t sure it was all intact: I hurt all over, and it was quite possible I had broken some bones. Finally, I tried to get up, but I couldn´t. I crawled to a chair, and that’s when Erbay got back and helped me get on my wheel chair.