A Drop in the Ocean

by James Cooke

Once the cargo had disappeared below deck, the three soldiers were duly winched back on board the Sikorsky which then climbed away and headed back to Marion Island.

  Trent smiled smugly at Captain Gustav.

  ‘Okay, Captain Gustav I think we’re all done here. I want to thank you again for your cooperation in this matter. I shall be leaving shortly; my pickup will be here soon. There’s no need to see me off.’ Trent said, offering to shake the hand of Captain Gustav.

  Captain Gustav frowned in confusion.

  ‘But I thought you were going to accompany the cargo? As I said before, we have a room for you.’

  Trent shook his head.

  ‘Thank you, Captain, but that really won’t be necessary.’

  Captain Gustav shook Trent’s hand.

  ‘Very well Lieutenant Trent. How do we contact you if there’s a problem?’

  ‘There’s no need to worry about that, Captain, we’ll be watching you all the way to Guam; eyes in the sky, so to speak.’ Trent replied bluntly as he exited the bridge.

  A short while afterwards, Rodriguez entered the bridge.

  ‘Sir, the American has just left the ship. What are our orders now?’

  Captain Gustav, head down, was deep in thought.

  ‘Very strange, I’m not at all happy with this Rodriguez, but I have my orders. Plot a course for Guam and be ready to leave at o-six hundred hours. I’ll be in my quarters catching up with some sleep.’

  ‘Very well sir I’ll take care of things. I hope you get some sleep, sir.’ Rodriguez replied, sarcastically.

  Captain Gustav eyed Rodriguez, disbelieving his sincerity. He still harboured doubts about the first Officer before leaving the bridge for his cabin.

  Beneath the bow’s cargo deck, the alien spaceship sat atop fifteen feet of crushed iron-ore, covered in a loose-fitting tarpaulin. The spaceship consisted of eight spherical chambers, arranged in a cuboid structure interconnected with large diameter tubes. The spheres were approximately twenty feet in diameter and of a metallic grey colouring without any discernible markings. The interconnecting tubes were roughly five feet in diameter and of a similar appearance. Inside the spaceship, a complex array of technology far beyond anything man had ever created, was already in activation from the time it left the helipad. Luminescent green lights flashed along the internal walls in intricate patterns like a bioluminescent deep-sea creature. The alien being that had piloted the spaceship to Earth, and who had since lain in stasis sleep; was now fully awake, thanks to the unwanted helicopter flight and the rough handling the spaceship, since it was removed the Island. The alien noticed that some of the egg-shaped terraforming devices that it had been carrying had been disturbed and were now loosely rolling about in motion with the Berge Vanga.

  This unusual activity hadn’t gone unnoticed by other members of the Berge Vanga’s crew. This sort of thing just didn’t happen on any ordinary voyage. Able seamen Alonso and Ramos had been alerted by the sound of the incoming Sikorsky, slowly made their way from the ships quarters at the stern to the bow using the lower deck service corridors to avoid detection by the ship's officers. They were bored and naturally curious. This was exciting and warranted further investigation. Besides, ducking and diving, keeping an eye out for the officers, was all part of the fun.

  At o-six hundred hours, the ships fog horn sounded once, the anchors were weighed, and the rumble of several tonnes of chains resonated loudly throughout the ship. As the ship headed away from Marion Island, Alonso and Ramos continued to creep along the service corridor to take a closer inspection of the new cargo.

  ‘Hey Ramos, not so fast. Are you sure we should be doing this?’ Alonso asked, worried that he could lose his job over this.

  ‘Don’t worry, my little friend, no one will know. We’ll just take a quick peek and then get back, okay?’ Ramos replied.

  The Berge Vanga was now ten miles to the east of Marion and running at twenty knots.

  ‘Alonso, we’ll need to get down to the lower engineering deck to reach the bow cargo bays, are you with me on this my friend?’ asked Ramos.

  The two shipmates descended another two decks further down into the bowels of the ship. Progress through the more confined passages became slower, with barely enough lighting to make their way through the narrow walkways and low ceilings littered with piping, valves and ladder racked cable trays. They eventually reached the bow cargo bay and made their way up the open checker plate staircase.

  ‘Alonso, over there, look you can get in through that manway, it should be above the level of the ore.’ Ramos said.

  Alonso glanced at Ramos with a confused frown, ‘Are you serious, you expect me to fit through that two-foot manway!’

  ‘Sure, you can Alonso, It’ll be no problem, besides you know I’ve got a dodgy back.’ Ramos replied.

  ‘Bad back, my ass. I don’t believe you, Ramos. You’re skinny, and I’m the fat one, in case you hadn’t noticed.’ Alonso replied.

  Ramos smiled, knowing full well that Alonso was right.

  ‘Okay, fair enough. How about if I go in first and help pull you through, and I have a great idea that’ll make it much easier,’ Ramos said.

  Alonso rolled his eyes, ‘Okay, but this had better be good.’

  ‘Alonso, trust me, this will work. Just take your shirt off and rub some of that grease over there in the tin, all over your body; well not literally everywhere, but you know what I mean. You’ll be well lubricated, which should make it much easier to squeeze through,’ Ramos explained.

  The very thought of it made Alonso pull a strange face.

  ‘Mary mother of god, I don’t believe you, Ramos. You want me to grease myself up like a basted pig!’ Alonso replied.

  Ramos tried hard not to laugh and nodded. Alonso shook his head but conceded that Ramos’s idea might actually help and set off smearing engineering grease all over his abdomen.

  ‘Come on then, let’s get it over with. This had better be worth it Ramos, and by the way, this goes no further than the two us, you got that?’

  ‘Absolutely my friend, it never happened.’ Ramos replied, stifling a giggle.

  Ramos could hardly control himself and wished he had taken a camera with him, but that would have been too cruel. He thought that whatever happens, it would make a great story to tell his grandchildren in years to come. He opened the circular manway hatch and peered in. After a few seconds, his eyesight adjusted to the darkness, and he could just about see the top of the ore, which ended about three feet below the hatch. This was perfect as it meant that they would be able to climb back out once they’d gone inside. Ramos shone his torch into the dark cargo bay and tried to make out the contents. Suddenly, he stepped backwards banging the top of his head in the process, ‘Holy crap,’ Ramos exclaimed.

  Alonso became even more anxious.

  ‘Ramos quit fooling around, what it is?’

  ‘Believe me, I’m not fooling with you, my friend.'

  ‘Okay then, what is it Ramos, what did you see?’

  ‘There’s something in there moving. I don’t know what it is, but I’m going to get a better view. Are you still with me?’ Ramos asked.

  Alonso sighed deeply.

  ‘Very well, you go first.’ Alonso replied.

  Ramos rubbed his bruised head and climbed through the manway; once entirely inside, he beckoned Alonso to follow him.

  Alonso had already given it some thought and decided to go in backward, legs first and face down. He used his hands to push his body through, but his lubricated midriff soon filled the circular manway. He yelled at Ramos, ‘Alonso, grab my ankles and pull as hard as you can,’ hoping the grease would do its job. Ramos laid his torch down, and grabbed the sides of Alonso’s belt, pulling as hard as he could. Slowly, inch by inch, Alonso was excreted into the cargo bay. Covered in dust impregnated grease, he resembled a manic coal miner. He scrambled to his feet and switched on his torch. There was a strong smell from the ore, in the dusty and smoky air. Flicking the torch bea
m around, he soon spotted Ramos standing just a few feet away beckoning to him frantically, waving with one hand while pointing the other towards the centre of the cargo bay.

  ‘Alonso, over there do you see it?’

  Alonso shone his torch over to where Ramos indicated and gasped.

  ‘Whoa, what the hell is that Ramos? I don’t think we should go any closer, my friend.’

  ‘Don’t chicken out on me now Alonso.’ Ramos replied.

  Ramos moved closer to the thing, the thing he didn’t know was a spacecraft from another world. He reached out and rubbed his hand over the surface.

  ‘This is so weird Alonso, see it’s quite warm to touch and there, in those tubes, I can see a faint glow.’

  Alonso joined Ramos and smoothed his hands on one of the spheres.

  ‘This is very strange Ramos. Wait a minute, I think I can feel a gap here. It seems to run all the way around. Perhaps this is where it opens?’

  ‘Yes, I see it, Alonso. Quick, give me your knife.’

  Ramos stuck the tip of Alonso’s knife into the gap between the two halves of the sphere and applied as much leverage as he could. The cheap blade snapped and cut Ramos’s hand.

  ‘Fuck, what is this piece of shit Alonso?’

  ‘Hey, don’t blame me. It was your idea.’

  The two shipmates were arguing when without warning, the sphere lit up and pulsed in a soft green light.

  ‘Oh shit, now look at what have you gone and done Ramos. I think it’s time we got the hell out of here.’ Alonso said.

  ‘I think you may be right my friend, I don’t like the look of this either. C’mon let’s get the fuck out of here.’

  Without hesitating, Alonso and Ramos made their way back to the manway. By the time they reached the manway, Alonso had overtaken Ramos and was about to climb back out.

  ‘Wait a minute Alonso, if you get stuck, we’re both trapped in here. I’ll go first, yeah, then I can pull you out again. Doesn’t that make sense?’ Ramos said.

  Alonso sighed, reluctantly he had to admit, Ramos had a point.

  ‘Okay, okay, go. Just make sure you get me out.’

  Having climbed out of the cargo bay through the manway, Ramos beckoned Alonso to follow him, which he did, only this time he had the sense to climb out head first. Just as Ramos had feared, Alonso’s rotund girth soon plugged the manway. He was now well and truly stuck. Ramos grabbed Alonso’s hand’s and pulled him by with all his might. Alonso cried out in pain, fearing Ramos might just pull his arms out of joint. They both stopped what they were doing when they heard a loud clicking sound from within the cargo bay and glanced at each other for answers.

  ‘Did you hear that Ramos, what the fuck was it?’

  The clicking sound grew louder and was now accompanied by the sound of crushed ore being trodden on by something. Alonso’s eyes wide opened like bottomless pits, full of raw, primaeval fear; he whimpered.

  ‘For fuck's sake Ramos, get me out of here, pull harder for god's sake. Don’t leave me stuck here like this.’

  Just as Ramos braced himself to get a better grip around Alonso’s greasy wrists, Alonso suddenly screamed out as something grabbed his leg inside the cargo bay.

  ‘Oh my god Ramos, there’s definitely something in here. Whatever it is, the fucking thing has just grabbed my leg.’

  Ramos was by now scared for Alonso’s life, a sense of fight or flight kicked in.

  He swore never to leave his friend, and with teeth gritted, he pulled even harder, with one foot braced against the outer cargo bay wall. Alonso was dragged slowly through the manway like a giant sausage emerging from its manufacturing machine, crashing unceremoniously onto the checker plate floor below. Ramos fell backwards as Alonso popped out. Alonso sat up, brushed himself off, then caught sight of something in the manway, something not human.

  ‘Look, Ramos, for god’s sake close the manway,’ screamed Alonso.

  Ramos leapt to the manway, grabbed the heavy circular manway hatch and swung it to the closed position, ready to be locked. But has he did, a thin, long-fingered green hand like that of a giant frog, reached outwards, trying to resist the hatchway door from being closed. Within the darkness of the cargo bay, Ramos could see the ship's lighting being reflecting back at him within two large glassy eyes staring straight at him. Ramos screamed in horror, ‘Alonso, quick help me, push.’

  Between them, they managed to fully close the manway door shut and turn the lever to lock it closed. There was a chilling shriek like nothing they had ever heard before. The green arm was crushed below an elbow, leaving the hand still moving. Alonso and Ramos instinctively stepped back, shaking with adrenaline, with mouths wide open, their hearts throbbing.

  The strange clicking sound seemed to have stopped, which allowed Alonso and Ramos to calm down enough to talk again. They both knew that whatever it was, they shouldn’t have been anywhere near it, had they followed orders. Ramos was the first to come to his senses. ‘Alonso come on man, let’s get the fuck back to our quarters and lay low. If anyone asks - we deny all knowledge, agreed?’

  Alonso didn’t need convincing any further. Soon they were re-tracing their steps back to their quarters, covered in dirt, grease and ore dust. Alonso bled from several lacerations on his lower legs, limped awkwardly along the passageway. As they made their way back, little did they comprehend the sequence of events that would now unfold. The alien, whose arm was still trapped in the manway door, had not only been rudely awakened by the loss of integrity of one of the spaceship’s spheres, but had come to find itself in a very strange environment, just to have its arm crushed and trapped in a manway that could only be opened from the outside.

  The alien calculated what would happen if it remained confined and found later by other humans. If previous encounters with humans were anything to go by, it knew that the odds of being released alive were very low. Without being able to free its arm, the alien concluded that once found, the captors would invariably imprison him and furthermore, carry out experimentation upon him. Not only that, but his captors would no doubt carry out reverse engineering on their spaceship technology; something that he could not allow under any circumstances. Death or more precisely, the complete disintegration of himself and his spaceship, leaving absolutely nothing but deconstructed molecules, was the only option available. Having made the decision, the alien concentrated on the remote activation trigger. Slowly the alpha waves built up within the alien's brain. The remote activation trigger within the spaceship was pre-programmed to detect the crew's individual brain wave’s, and when a certain intensity was reached, it activated the self-destruct mechanism.

  The mechanism was designed to activate a quantum explosion, which would create a one-hundred-meter sphere of plasma at a temperature of five thousand degrees Celsius. The plasmasphere would instantly vaporise everything in its confinement into component atoms.

  The brilliant white-hot light of the sphere shone through the darkness of the moonless night sky, with the intensity of a small nuclear weapon. This caught the attention of first Officer Rodriguez standing on watch on the bridge, at the stern end of the ship, who immediately sent for Captain Gustav. The plasmasphere grew in diameter and intensity, its heat vaporising everything into free atoms, mostly iron, copper, and carbon.

  Where there had once been ship and iron ore, now was just a spherical empty space. As the plasmasphere grew in diameter, it enveloped the bulkheads, followed by the cargo deck floor until it finally consumed the outer layer of the ship’s hull. When the plasmasphere finished utilising its super dense quark fuel source, in less than a minute, the expansion and intensity of the sphere stopped, before contracting down a single point. When it could contract no further, it emitted one last enormous pulse of light equal to that emitted by a ten-kiloton nuclear weapon. Within seconds the ocean flooded in, reclaiming the spherical void the plasma had created and left behind. Tens of thousands of gallons of seawater rapidly filled the spherical void. The remaining heat was suffici
ent to vaporise the inrushing seawater into superheated steam, explosively ripping apart the remaining structure of the ship.

  The bow of the Berge Vanga was catastrophically destroyed. Bulkhead after bulkhead collapsed as hundreds of tonnes of sea-water roared through the remainder of the ship. Within seconds, the Berge Vanga was listing at an unnatural angle. Captain Gustav could see that the Berge Vanga was doomed, she was going down. He issued a mayday call and gave orders for the entire crew to abandon ship using the lifeboats, while there was still a chance. By now, the Vanga was listing at twenty degrees below the horizon as more and more sea water smashed its way through what was left of the ship.

  This created enormous stresses within the remaining undamaged hull, enough for it to yield beyond a point of no return, causing her to break into two halves at her midpoint. The two halves of the ship slowly upended and began their final descent into three miles of ocean. Captain Gustav knew that everyone was going to die. He remained on the bridge clinging to the helm, and thought of his wife and children, ‘Goodbye my darlings, I love you all so much,’ he said, with tears in his eyes. Seconds later, the two halves of the MS Berge Vanga and her entire crew, slipped peacefully beneath the mighty waves of the cold, deep Indian Ocean, down into the abyss, never to be seen again.

  Chapter 7

  In September 1979, high above the Earth’s atmosphere, the Vela 6911 satellite passed over the South Pole heading north along the forty-degree east line of longitude. It was built in the late sixties by the TRW Corporation of the United States, and its purpose was to detect the characteristic double flashes of nuclear weapon detonations, as part of an ongoing program to monitor the implementation of the SALT I Treaty of 1972. By sheer coincidence, the satellite happened to be in sight of the MS Berge Vanga, just before she disappeared.

  The satellite’s silicon photodiode sensors detected and recorded the light flash generated by the alien thermo-plasma bomb. Later, when the satellite’s data was analysed by a covert team at the Los Alamos Scientific Laboratory in New Mexico, the picture it took was interpreted as an indication of an atomic weapon detonation. A report was written and immediately classified. Eventually, this report was passed to John Westlake of the Special Operations Group, in itself, a secret department within the CIA.