The Maltese Incident

by Russell Moran

  We hitched a ride on a Navy cargo plane that was heading to the big Navy base in Norfolk, Virginia, which was the homeport of our ship. The Office of Naval Operations (NavOps) had picked out an experimental nuclear frigate, the USS Davidson, as the ship that would find and hopefully lead the Ocean Magic back to the present day. The only other nuclear vessels in the Navy were aircraft carriers and submarines. The Davidson, although considered experimental, was fully armed and operational, having taken its shakedown cruise already.

  As we walked up the gangway, we heard the shrill sound of the bosun’s pipe throughout the ship, followed by the announcement, “Davidson, arriving,” the traditional Navy way to announce an arriving dignitary. The captain would always be announced by the name of the ship. So that’s me—“Davidson.” I would be lying if I said that I didn’t feel nostalgia for my old Navy days. I told Meg to follow my lead with military formalities. When we got to the top of the gangway, I snapped a quick left-face and saluted the colors on the stern. Meg didn’t know how to perform a military left-or-right-face, so she just turned to her left and gave a passable salute. Then we returned the salute of Lt. Jerry Higgins, the officer of the deck. We walked onto the quarterdeck, the traditional welcoming space on a Navy ship. Lieutenant Commander Jim McAteer, my executive officer, greeted us. A couple of sailors took our bags and showed us to our room. It was a typical small officer’s room, but it had been outfitted with a double bed as I had ordered. This was not a typical Navy deployment, and everybody knew that Meg was my wife. My “sea cabin,” the room I would occupy when we were underway, could only accommodate one person. Since we’d be underway constantly, I would sleep alone in my sea cabin the whole time.

  “It’s been a long time since we haven’t slept together, honey,” Meg said.

  “That’s all the more reason we need to find the Ocean Magic fast.”

  Jim McAteer, handled most of the details of getting the ship underway because he knew the ship well, having been the commanding officer during her shakedown cruise. As soon as our last line was cast off and the ship’s horn sounded, a recording of Anchors Aweigh, the Navy theme song, played throughout the ship. Meg was standing next to me and snapped a picture.

  “I couldn’t pass up taking a photo of your face, Harry,” Meg said. “When they played Anchors Aweigh I thought I saw a tear in your eye. Tell me you don’t miss the Navy.”

  “I’ll admit I do miss it,” I said. “And the great thing about this command is that I get to serve with you next to me.”

  Just after we passed the breakwater to the ocean, Jim McAteer ordered the bosun’s pipe sounded. He then made the announcement, “Attention all hands, attention all hands, stand by for Captain Harry Fenton.”

  “Good morning everyone,” I said. “On behalf of my wife Lieutenant Meg and myself, I welcome all of you who volunteered for this mission, one of the weirdest operations the Navy has ever launched. I admire you for volunteering. You’ve heard and read what slipping through a wormhole is all about, and you know that I can’t predict what we’ll encounter. The last time Meg and I went through a wormhole we found ourselves on a dinosaur-infested island in the middle of nowhere. I don’t expect that will happen again, but I have no idea what we’ll encounter or what year we’ll find ourselves in.

  “Our job is to find the Ocean Magic and to lead her back through the wormhole to the present. We’re four hours sailing time to the wormhole. I know you have all been briefed on this, but I’ll review it again. We’ll arrive at the coordinates of the wormhole at 1400 hours, which means we’ll cross the portal in daylight. The sky will darken, and we’ll feel a rumbling along our hull. After about two minutes, daylight will return, and we will emerge on the other side of the wormhole. Your briefing papers told you that we encountered prehistoric sharks. Whether that will happen again, I don’t know. We’ll make announcements as we get close to the coordinates. XO McAteer has requested that Meg and I give a talk in the mess hall about our experiences. So, in case any of you haven’t’ heard about our trip to the past on various TV shows, we’ll be happy to answer any questions. Because we have a crew of only 75, everyone can fit in the mess hall. If you’re not on watch, please join us.”

  ***

  Meg and I had a great time recounting our 10 years in Malta Town to our crew of about-to-be time travelers. We brought with us a briefcase full of photos. We then asked if anybody had any questions.

  Chief Petty Officer, Joseph Croner raised his hand.

  “Captain, what if we can’t find the Ocean Magic? Are we going to abandon the search after a set amount of time?”

  “Chief, I’ve set a time limit of one-month of 2017 time based on our ship’s chronometer. After a month, I’m going to put it to a vote. I know that sounds strange coming from the captain of a Navy ship, but this is a unique mission. I’m not about to keep you folks away from your families indefinitely.”

  XO McAteer stood. “Captain, it’s a half hour to the wormhole coordinates.”

  “Okay everybody,” I said, “you’re about to experience the strangest trip of your lives. A couple of things to keep in mind. This is a ship of the United States Navy, and we’re all Navy people. Although our mission is to find the cruise ship, I’m treating this as a military operation, including gunnery drills. I have a reputation as a hard ass, so be prepared to work. As we approach the wormhole, I’m going to order general quarters. Because we don’t know what to expect, I want everybody at their battle stations. That is all. Carry on.”

  The shrill sound of the bosun’s pipe sounded, followed by a clanging bell, “General quarters, general quarters, all hands man your battle stations. This is not a drill. I repeat, this is not a drill.”

  Meg and I went to the bridge, along with Jim McAteer. I put a helmet on Meg’s head and cinched the strap under her chin.

  “What the hell is this for?” Meg asked.

  “We all wear helmets at our battle stations, hon—in case we go into battle. Here, put this life jacket on too.”

  Jim read the countdown over the PA system. “Zero minus 10 seconds, nine…three, two, one, we’re on the target.”

  The bright daylight disappeared, the sky became pitch black, and the hull started to rumble. After two minutes, as we expected, the daylight returned. We were…wherever the hell we were. As we had drilled, McAteer took an immediate electronic fix from our inertial navigation system. Like most ships, the Davidson had a readout monitor on the bridge that kept a running fix from both the GPS plotter and the inertial navigation tracker, also known as a dead reckoning or DR tracker, which records every movement of the ship. The GPS was inoperable, confirming our assumption that we were in a different era of time.

  The bosun’s pipe sounded again.

  “Attention all hands, attention all hands, stand by for Captain Fenton.”

  “Well, we’ve done it, people, we’ve passed through a wormhole, and you are now officially time travelers. Expect to be invited to a lot of cocktail parties. We have no idea what year we’re in, but our lack of satellites tells us that we’re in the past. We’re going to secure from general quarters in a few minutes, and then begin our hunt for the Ocean Magic.”

  “My hair’s going to be a mess,” Meg said, peering at me from under her helmet.

  “Look at it this way, Meg. Your hair’s a mess every time we make love. I think it looks cute.”

  “This is not my idea of sex, captain,” Meg whispered.

  I handed her the radio. She had practiced radio calls, so I figured she would be the voice of The USS Davidson.

  “Ocean Magic, Ocean Magic this is Navy ship USS Davidson, come in.” Meg said, sounding like a salty pro. Normally we would give our radio code name, Lima Foxtrot, but we didn’t expect any other ships besides the Ocean Magic.

  “Ocean Magic, Ocean Magic this is Navy ship USS Davidson, come in.”

  “Ocean Magic, Ocean Magic this is Navy ship USS Davidson, come in.”

  “We don’t know which way the Ocean Ma
gic went after it came through the wormhole,” I said, “and we may be out of range.”

  “Captain, this ship is equipped with the most sophisticated radio in the fleet,” Jim McAteer said. “Since both ships transmit and receive from the top of our antennas, the range can be as high as 40 nautical miles. We don’t know which way the Ocean Magic will be heading, of course, so it may be hours or days before they’re within radio range.”

  “Launch drone one, Jim,” I said.

  “Aye, aye, captain. I’ll make sure drone two is ready to fly,” McAteer said.

  The Davidson was armed with two of the most sophisticated new drones. Manufactured by Northrup Grumman, the craft can take off and land vertically and sweep into a fixed-wing contour in flight. It’s called a TERN, short for the catchy title, Tactically Exploited Reconnaissance Node. With a range of 975 miles, the drones are ideal for our search-and-rescue mission. I ordered the drone to fly at 30,000 feet, giving it a wide view of the ocean below, and hopefully, a moving cruise ship.

  After two hours of scanning the ocean, the drone picked up not one, but four ships steaming on a northeasterly course, about 10 miles from our current location. I ordered the drone pilot to drop down in altitude for a better look.

  “Do you see the insignia on the aft deck of the lead ship, captain?” Jim McAteer asked, looking at the video repeater in front of him.

  “It’s the war insignia of the Kriegsmarine, the German Navy in World War II,” I said. “I guess we know approximately what era we’re in, either the 1930s or 1940s. The ship behind the formation is a cruise ship, no doubt the Ocean Magic judging from the Royal Caribbean emblem on her foredeck. The warships include one heavy cruiser and two destroyers. I’m going to use the long-range radio with a modern frequency those German ships can’t monitor.”

  “Ocean Magic, Ocean Magic, this is the United States Navy ship, USS Davidson,” Meg said into the microphone.

  “Read you loud and clear, Davidson. This is Captain Dereck Burton of the Ocean Magic. God bless you. I can see your drone overhead from the bridge.”

  I grabbed the radio.

  “Captain Burton, this is Captain Harry Fenton of the Davidson. We took a trip through the wormhole and came looking for you folks. I guess by now you’ve figured out that you’ve traveled through time. Apparently, it didn’t occur to you to retrace your steps and cross back over the wormhole, which is exactly what we intend to do, but first I have a couple of big questions. First, what year are we in and what’s going on with those Nazi ships in front of you? Speak freely because those ships can’t monitor this radio frequency.”

  “Captain Fenton, we’re in the year 1942 and are very much at war with the bastards in front of us. Please have your drone focus on the stern of my ship and you’ll see just how much of a war we’re in.”

  “Looks like artillery damage to me, Captain Burton.”

  “That’s exactly what you’re looking at. I tried to communicate with the captain of their lead cruiser, but the son-of-a-bitch fired his guns at us without answering. 49 of our passengers have been killed. Our stern thrusters are inoperable, but our main engines are okay as well as our propellers. He then told me, through a translator, that we’re being led to Bremerhaven, about 300 miles from our current position. My ship will be impounded and all of us will be held as prisoners of war. Are you going to try to negotiate with them captain?”

  “Negotiate? That did you a hell of a lot of good. No, I’m going to teach those bastards a few lessons on modern naval warfare. Order all of you people to stay inboard and away from windows. It’s going to get nasty and noisy around here shortly.”

  I looked at Jim McAteer, my XO. His face was as white as snow. From the background I read about him, he’d never seen combat. He was about to experience it.

  “Jim, sound general quarters. Helmsman steer course 060. Engine room, this is the bridge. All engines ahead full.”

  “General quarters, general quarters, all hands man your battle stations. This is not a drill. I repeat, this is not a drill.”

  “Harry, what’s going on?” Meg asked as she donned her helmet.

  “We’re going to blow up some Nazis.”

  Meg slammed a new magazine into her 45.

  “We’ll be using some bigger ammo than that, hon. Let’s go to CIC.”

  “What’s CIC, Harry? Don’t speak jargon.”

  “It’s the Combat Information Center. It’s where we go to kill the enemy. I’m going to make an announcement to the crew.”

  “Attention all hands, attention all hands, stand by for Captain Fenton.”

  “This is Captain Fenton speaking. Well, we’ve found the Ocean Magic and we’re in the year 1942. The Ocean Magic is being escorted by three German warships, after one of the ships fired on her, killing 49 passengers. So, we find ourselves at war, and we’re about to rain hell on the Nazis. Stand by and keep your ears open for further announcements.”

  We could see the Ocean Magic and her captors on the horizon. The Nazis were about to get the surprise of their lives. I pressed the button for Battery One, the missile station where we keep our anti-ship Harpoon missiles.

  “Battery one, prepare to fire on my command. Fix your targets from the drone’s radar. Take out the first ship, a heavy cruiser, then work back but avoid the large cruise ship, which is the Ocean Magic.”

  “Battery One prepared to launch, captain.”

  “Fire one.”

  The Davidson shuddered as the Harpoon took off.

  The Harpoon anti-ship missile is 12.6 feet long, 13.5 inches in diameter, and weighs 1,523 pounds. The warhead alone weighs 488 pounds. It’s designed to penetrate the hull of an enemy vessel and detonate inside the ship. Depending on where it penetrated, one Harpoon missile can sink a ship.

  We could see the action on the video feed from the drone, which told me that our first strike was successful. The mid-section of the heavy cruiser exploded with such force, I guessed we hit the ship’s ammunition magazine. The ship sank in two parts. I ordered two more strikes against the destroyers. One of them sank immediately, and the other drifted aimlessly and then disappeared beneath the waves.

  Meg was standing next to me in CIC. She looked up at me, her helmet tilted slightly askew on her head.

  “You’re such a gentle person, Harry. I can’t believe what I just saw.”

  “I’m not gentle with the enemy, hon, and they are definitely the enemy. The commander of the Nazi flotilla made that clear by firing on a defenseless cruise ship.”

  “Ocean Magic, Ocean Magic, this is USS Davidson.”

  “Read you loud and clear, Captain Fenton. I can’t believe you sank the entire Nazi flotilla. I can see you on the horizon. Is there a fleet behind you??”

  “No, just one ship, Captain Burton, one ship with a lot of fire power. When we get close to your position, you’ll follow the Davidson to the wormhole, about 550 miles from your current location. I want you to immediately lower at least three of your passenger launches and as many life rafts as you can fit in them. There will be survivors floating around, and we want to give them a chance. After I hammer the enemy, I always throw him a lifeline. It’s only right.”

  I felt the same as I did when I took my little cousin Billy home.

  In a few minutes we closed on the Ocean Magic’s position. I told Captain Burton to position his ship 100 yards off our stern. We were set to cross the wormhole at three in the afternoon, or 1500 hours.

  Meg counted down to the wormhole spot. “Zero minus five, four, three, two, one. We’re on the target, honey, I mean Harry, I mean captain. Hey, I’m not used to this military shit.”

  We got what we expected, what we hoped for. The daylight turned dark, the hull rumbled and two minutes later we were in daylight. A quick check of our GPS told me we were back in 2017. Sailors hunched over the rails on both sides of the ship looking aft to see if the Ocean Magic made it. Perfect. She was steaming right behind us. My entire crew erupted in cheers.

  My ord
ers were to escort the ship to its dock at Port Liberty, New Jersey. I waited for the Ocean Magic to tie up. She required the assistance of two tugboats, because the artillery attack damaged her stern thrusters. At least her main engines and propellers were okay. I eased the Davidson next to the open dock behind her. The pier was packed with family and friends of both ships. My cell phone rang.

  “Harry, it’s Sarah Watson. I’m wearing a yellow suit and I’m standing lined up with your bridge. A car is waiting to take you, Meg, and LCDR McAteer to Federal Plaza for, you guessed it, a debriefing. I have another car waiting to bring Captain Burton of the Ocean Magic. Burton told me all about your actions, Harry. You’ve done it again, my friend. Mission accomplished.”

  ***

  We had just entered the conference room when the intercom sounded.

  “It’s the White House on line one, Director Watson. The president says that he wants to speak to Captain Fenton.”

  Holy shit, I thought. The president wants to speak to me?

  Meg and I walked into the hallway to take the call.

  “Yes, sir, Mr. President, Harry Fenton here.”

  “Harry, you’re quite a guy. From everything I’ve read and heard about you, you performed just as we expected. From your heroism on that destroyer in the Gulf, to your leadership of your crew and passengers when you were lost in another time, to this latest action of yours, rescuing the Ocean Magic, you have once again shown yourself to be a great American. I was going to have my chief of staff call you, but I wanted to talk to you myself. Please come to the White House next Friday, where I will award you your second Navy Cross.”

  I thought I would faint. Instead I shot off my mouth.

  “I’m honored, Mr. President, but I must say something. Except for my actions in the Navy, there’s another person without whom I could not have accomplished any of those other things. You can ask anyone involved in any of those operations and they’d agree. That would be my wife, Meghan Fenton.”