by JB Sanders
Tucker shook his head. “I guess I’m just not used to a multi-million dollar salvage and research operation being a cover.”
Tyler gave him an arch look. “Who do you think invented expensive cover operations, anyway?”
This time, when they stepped into Dr. Harding’s shipboard laboratory, she not only looked up from her sonar prints, she immediately acknowledged their presence.
“Mr. Conrad, Mr. Merriwether. Thank you for coming.”
Tyler nodded. “Dr. Harding, I understand you have some news?”
She smiled. “I have several pieces of news.” She pulled a plot out from under the display table, and unrolled it with a flick of her wrist. “First, this.”
Glen moved closer to look at the plot. It was covered with a lot of squiggly lines. Along one strip of the plot, there were about seven rectangular shapes that Glen guessed were along the sea floor.
“What are we looking at?” Tyler turned his head to the side. “Also, didn’t we buy you some fancy 3D imaging computers that show you the topography on a computer screen?”
Dr. Harding made an indelicate noise. “Those things. Do you know who programmed them? Former students of mine. I have to admit to a degree of culpability there — I should have failed them. The assumptions they make and the set of calculations they use are …” She grimaced and waved that complaint away. “In any event, I prefer to see everything at once, in a large space like this. I can see more detail and I can see more at once.”
Tyler nodded. “Very well. And what does this plot tell you?”
“That piracy is still alive and well in the modern world.” She pointed to the rectangular shapes. “These are modern-day ships which have been intentionally sunk, in the same general place, and in a way that anyone with a sonar plot would understand.”
Tyler’s eyebrows shot up and he regarded the plot silently for a moment.
Glen spoke quietly. “Skulls on sticks.”
Dr. Harding smiled, though it wasn’t with a lot of humor. “Yes, quite. Someone has been up to some very nasty business.”
Glen had a thought which chilled him. “Where exactly is this ship’s graveyard?”
“We’re floating near it now. Our search sweep took us directly over it this morning and we called you right away.”
Tyler frowned slightly. “That could be a problem. James?”
Their head of security nodded and stepped out of the room. Dr. Harding looked slightly confused.
“Problem?”
Tyler gestured. “Probably nothing, but we like to be prepared. What was your other piece of news?”
“Ah! This is far more promising for our expedition.” She unrolled another plot over the top of the first. “Here and here,” she pointed to more squiggly lines which meant nothing to Glen. “You can see evidence of what appears to be a seventeenth century wreck, or at least the prow, and possibly one of the masts.”
“I’ll have to take your word for it.” Tyler tilted his head and then back, trying to make sense of the funny lines. “What’s the next step?”
“We’ll send down a remote, take some high resolution photos, video, and perhaps push a jet of water at something that looks interesting. If we do find anything, we’ll begin dive operations. It’ll take about a day—“
There came an almost explosive hissing, as if a valve had let loose a steam overload. Then there was a staccato burst of sound, almost like fireworks, but more raw.
“What the fuck was that?!” Tucker looked perplexed and mildly alarmed. “That sounded like machine-gun fire.”
“That was the Centurion automated ship defense system kicking off. And any moment—“ Tyler put his hands over his ears.
An alarm sounded, quite loud. It went on for several seconds and then off.
“—The general quarters alarm will go off. It means someone fired a missile at us and it was shot down.”
“How do you know?” Tucker asked.
“We were lucky, we didn’t even feel the ship rock. If we hadn’t been lucky, we wouldn’t be having this conversation.” Tyler glanced around. “We should move over to that wall, and probably sit on the floor.”
They sat. Dr. Harding had dragged along one of the plots and was re-examining it, scribbling notes.
“So… just out of curiosity, where did you get ahold of military-grade missile defense systems and then why did you think to mount them on your research ship?” Tucker seemed to be coming down from his earlier freak out.
“One of my weapon-making groups makes the Centurion. And I’m a little protective of my people.” Tyler regarded Tucker with some concern. “You ok? I know this is a little exciting for a desk jockey.”
“It’s kind of exhilarating. I’ve never experienced ship-to-ship weapons in person.”
“Me either.” Tyler shrugged. “I gotta say, not all that impress—“
There was another burst of sound, and then a very large explosion. The whole ship shook. Shards of glass from the room’s sole window shot past overhead. Smoke poured into the room. The electric lighting — and all the electronic equipment around them — went out, and emergency lights kicked in.
A second later, the sprinkler system engaged and water mist filled the room like a thin fog. Kevin got everyone up and out through a door deeper into the interior of the ship. They gathered in an interior small mess.
Glen gave Tyler an irritated look. “You just had to say that, didn’t you?”
Tyler looked sheepish and shrugged. “I forgot rule number one.”
Tucker’s confusion danced across his face. “What?”
Dr. Harding regarded them sardonically. “Never give fate a straight line.”
***
Some minutes later, James stepped in. He looked grim.
“All clear. Our subs boarded and detained the people responsible.”
“Anyone hurt?” Tyler looked anxious.
James shook his head. “Not seriously. Some minor burns and cuts from shrapnel. We were lucky.”
“Subs? You mean our navy is here already?” Tucker said.
James shook his head silently.
Tyler grinned. “My subs. My security team.” Tyler frowned in sudden thought. “Although where were they as that ship was creeping up on us…?”
James’ forehead creased slightly. “The boat looked like a normal fishing vessel and they were casting nets, right up until a guy leaned out the wheelhouse with a shoulder-fired rocket. Nothing will get that close again.”
“I’d be really upset, if you weren’t the one who said to put those crazy anti-rocket things on our research ship.” Tyler shook his head in wonder. “We’d be dead if it weren’t for that. How bad was the damage to the ship?”
James exhaled. “The port side of the ship has mild to severe damage, all of it above the water line. I’ve got our backup vessel on the way. Should be here in about two hours. We can evacuate everyone to that and get back to port.”
Tyler nodded. “Good. I think the cover provided by our treasure hunting is becoming a little too hot for the moment. Sorry, Dr. Harding. I’ll provide hotels for you and your people until things are a little safer.”
“Understood, Mr. Conrad. Besides, I can do my analysis of the data from my luxury hotel suite just as well as aboard ship.” Dr. Harding left.
“Can we go back to the point in the story where you own subs?” Tucker’s eyebrows had migrated halfway up his forehead.
Tyler shrugged. “They’re cheaper if you buy them in bulk.”
Tucker made an inarticulate noise. “Bulk? How many is ‘bulk’??”
“Need to know, buddy. Need to know.” Tyler clapped Tucker on the shoulder consolingly. “What authorities are we calling? British Navy, I assume?”
James agreed. “Yes, sir. The HMS Fife is en route.”
Tyler beamed. “Alright! We’ll have Bertie for dinner tonight!” Tyler did a little jig.
Tucker mouthed “Bertie?” over Tyler’s head to Glen.
“Fri
end of ours who’s doing a tour in the Royal Navy. We didn’t know precisely where the Fife was stationed, so this is a nice surprise.” Glen cleared his throat. “Um, James, I assume you warned them about our subs?”
James nodded. “Didn’t want them to be surprised.”
Tyler led them out, two-stepping a little in delight.
***
Captain Stross met them as they excited the launch and boarded the HMS Fife. He’d invited Tyler aboard for a tour, after the pirates had been safely locked away.
The Captain was a severe man in his late fifties. He looked like he’d been carved out of steel, and then been lightly dusted with a tanned finish. He and his crew wore their dress whites, which Glen thought was a nice touch for a mid-sea visit.
“Lord Conrad, welcome aboard Her Majesty’s Ship Fife.” Captain Stross extended his hand.
Tyler shook. “Thank you, Captain. It’s very good of you to take the time to give us this tour. Glen and I really appreciate it.”
Captain Stross gave Tyler a curt nod. “Not at all, milord. Standard policy. Mr. Merriwether.” Stross extended his hand to Glen.
Glen shook. “Very fine type twenty-three frigate you have here, Captain. It looks like it just sailed out of dry dock on her maiden voyage.”
Stross looked just slightly taken aback. “Thank you, Mr. Merriwether. I didn’t realize you were a sailor.”
Glen smiled. “Medieval historian, actually, but I dabble in ships.” Glen turned and pointed at their sailing ship, which Patterson had sailed out to meet them. “That’s mine. The Black Douglas.”
“And a very fine schooner she is, too.” Captain Stross turned back to Tyler. “Let me introduce my officers. This is Lieutenant MacGregor, my executive officer. This my Chief Engineer, CPO Thorpe. Our medic, PO Wells. Our radio operator, LS York. And our navigator, Lieutenant Webb.”
Tyler dutifully shook hands with each crew member, politely murmuring hello, and acting as if he’d never met Leading Seaman, LS York, also known as Prince Albert, son of the Duke of York. Or Bertie, to his friends.
Bertie had let them know before shipping out that he was going to try to be as incognito as possible during his duty tour and asked that they not blow his cover.
Tyler gestured at James and Kevin. “My chief of security, James Harroway. Former US Navy SEAL. And Kevin Simmons, former US Army Ranger.”
“Good to meet you, gentlemen. Now, Lord Conrad, if you and your husband would like to come this way, I can show off my ship a little.”
***
The tour wasn’t exhaustive, but it was kind of interesting. For Tyler, anyway. For Glen it was like being in an all-metal candy store and he asked a lot of questions.
At the end of the tour, they came to a short set of stairs which quite obviously led up to the bridge. Here the Captain stopped.
“Well, I hope you enjoyed the tour, Lord Conrad, Mr. Merriwether?” The Captain’s face hadn’t betrayed much of an expression the entire tour, and it didn’t start now.
Glen turned on his surprised face. “Really? We don’t get to see the bridge or the radio room? I was looking forward to those.”
Captain Stross shook his head. “I’m sorry, Mr. Merriwether, but there are some areas of the ship which are kept secret from the public. Sensitive equipment, and all that.”
Tyler smiled. “Oh, you mean that new Panopticon 32 radar system you just got fitted with?”
This statement actually caused Captain Stross to have an expression: mild shock, followed by slight anger. “How do you know about that?”
Tyler sighed. “One of my companies makes the system, Captain Stross. I was at the demonstration they gave to the Admiralty and saw the list of ships it would be tested on. I hope it’s treating you well. That sideband oscillator thingy certainly sounded interesting on paper. I couldn’t talk them out of that stupid name though but there you are.”
“It … it has remarkably fine precision, and the … oscillator thingy, as you put it, makes our radar line-of-sight far better in heavy weather than I’ve ever seen.”
“Excellent!” Tyler grinned. “It’s always nice to hear that my people are doing good work.”
“I suppose, if you promise not to ah, push any buttons, we might give you a brief view of the bridge.” Stross cast an eye over Glen, James, and Kevin.
“We’ll be on our best behavior.” Tyler said.
After a glance around the bridge, which looked more like something out of the space shuttle, the Captain led them out on deck.
“Now, if you’d do us the honor, Lord Conrad, Mr. Merriwether, we’d like to have you to dinner.”
Tyler rolled back and forth on his heals. “Actually, Captain, if it isn’t too much trouble, I’d like to invite you and your officers to dine with me on board the Black Douglas. And I’d like to send over some of the jambalaya that my chef has created especially for the rest of your crew.”
Captain Stross considered this a moment. “That’s a fine offer, Lord Conrad. Thank you, we’d be much obliged.”
***
Glen and Captain Patterson gave Stross just as complete a tour of the Black Douglas as they’d gotten on the Fife. Which meant they left out the security room, and the extremely secret features of the mess with its anti-eavesdropping systems. But there was still plenty to show off.
Stross was particularly taken with the solar-weave sails, capable of charging their battery bank during most days under sail, and he murmured several complimentary things about the state of the wood- and brass-work. Glen was quite pleased. Captain Patterson was, as ever, reserved, but seemed to almost smile several times.
When they reached the lounge, Tyler was just reaching the climax of a particularly funny story involving the New York City hockey team they played on whenever they were in town.
“—So just as casually as you please, he reaches into his glove and drops the puck on the ice!”
The group of British sailors laughed uproariously. Even though Glen was pretty certain Bertie had heard this particular story once or twice before, he laughed along with his fellow officers.
Tyler came over and handed Glen a drink. “Captains! What can I get you two to drink?”
“Ah, it’s Commander when I’m not on my own vessel and especially when I’m on someone else’s.” Stross nodded at Patterson. Then Stross shook his head. “Nothing for me, thank you, Lord Conrad. I have an early watch. Perhaps club soda?”
“My usual, please.” Patterson gave Tyler a nod.
Tyler made the drinks appear by magic or perhaps he’d had Captain Patterson’s mai tai handy.
“So what do you think of my ship?” Glen sipped his own Dark & Stormy and looked at Stross.
“Very fine vessel. Surprisingly modern, too. I noticed my own share of secret technologies aboard.” Stross raised an eyebrow.
Patterson, Glen, and Tyler all looked suitably innocent.
“So, how about that cricket team?” Tyler said, with forced cheer.
“Oh, and before we sit down to dinner, could I have a private word with you three?” Stross nodded at the door leading to the deck.
“Sure.” Tyler turned back to the sailors and the three members of his security force who would be joining them for dinner. “Hey everyone, hold down the fort for a minute, we’ll be right back.”
Once the four of them were up on deck, Stross pulled out a sheet of paper and passed it to Captain Patterson.
“Captain, this is an official request to second my radio officer to your crew for ‘special training’ on advanced equipment.” Stross frowned. “Not only are you getting one of my better techies … but I’d ask you to take special care of His Highness.”
“Will do, Commander.” Patterson read the paper carefully, then handed it to Tyler. “I’m sure he’ll be a valuable addition to my crew.”
“If I didn’t know LS York better, I’d suspect this was some high-level ploy to get him onto your ship to party around the Caribbean.”
Tyler shook his h
ead. “We’re using a prototype of something that the Admiralty is keen to install fleet-wide. Having a trained radio operator use it will be a nice early field test.” Tyler handed the paper back to Patterson and then grinned. “But having Bertie around will be kind of fun.”
***
The deck of the ship was dimly lit by their running lights and the strip lighting tastefully built into a few places in the decking for safety. Mid-sea at night and with clear weather, the stars shone down brightly, providing a nightclub feel to the Black Douglas.
The club feel was further enhanced by the terrifically fine rum Glen and Tyler served up.
After dinner, the British sailors had packed off to their own ship, more than one tottering. The night had been very pleasant, the sailors quite good company — especially once Tyler got them to unwind a little. Even Commander Stross had seemed to have a nice time.
The only mild hiccup to the evening was when LS York had stayed behind. His companions gave him a bit of friendly ribbing on the “extra duties”, miming raising a drink, and the “hard time” he’d have, all of them but Stross demonstrating by laying back in the dinghy and snoring.
Once the dinghy was away, Bertie turned to Tyler.
“Ok, what grand scheme am I getting sucked into?”
Tyler beamed at him. “What makes you think I’m pulling you into one of my plans?”
“Because I’m here, and you’re a stickler for doing things the right way, if you can. You’d never pull me into a special duty unless you actually mean to use me for something big.”
Glen snorted. “It’s a good thing your family doesn’t catch on. With your brains, they’d be putting you in charge of something.”
Tyler twirled his brandy snifter in agreement.
Bertie sighed. “Don’t I know it. Now cough it up, as I believe you Americans say.”
Tyler sighed. “Here’s the thing, Bertie, you’ll have to keep this completely under your hat — don’t worry, I’ll get you a hat — until pretty much doomsday. We’ve got a joint operation going on and it’s down to just a very select few who know what the real deal is.”
