Deadly Apparition

by G. Ernest Smith

  “What’s that?” asked a watchstander, pointing at an object on the left screen.

  Castillo brought up his screen controls and magnified the left screen. “It looks like a small cluster of ships.” He magnified again. There were about twenty ships under sail, heading toward the anchored Armada. Were they going to attack? Or were they Spanish? Hard to tell. He switched the camera to infra-red. This threw a red cast on the scene, and he could see men on the ships. They were bright white man-shaped blobs. Castillo tried to magnify again, but he was already at maximum. The men were carrying torches, small points of white light. Then there were more points of white light on the decks of the ships. The ships were being set afire!

  “It’s the fire ships!” someone said.

  “Yes, I read about this,” said Castillo. “The English sent fire ships into the Armada and caused them to break formation.”

  This buoyed them. One crewman made a clap. All smiled and leaned forward and watched the attack unfold. They were like kids at the matinee watching the cavalry arrive to rescue the settlers. The fire on each ship grew larger until they were floating bonfires, white hot images on the screen. When the ships were well ablaze and set on course, small boats carried the crews safely away. The first ship approached the Armada, and the watchstanders held their collective breaths, but they exhaled again when a small boat full of oarsmen rowed out from the Armada to meet the fire ship. The men in the boat docked with the first fire ship and did something to it. Castillo killed the infra-red display and brought back the nightvision display trying to see better. The boat rowed away and went to the next ship. There was a bright flash at the first ship, and it began to list.

  “They’re sinking the fire ships,” said a watchstander, disappointment on his face.

  It was true. Two more boats rowed out from the Armada and started placing charges on the fire ships, and one by one charges detonated and blew holes in the hulls of the fire ships and sank them. When it was over Castillo said softly, “Well, give them an A for effort.”

  Castillo impounded the video from the fire ship attack and replayed it for the rest of the crew the following morning.

  The Armada slowly got underway. It took almost two hours for them all to weigh anchor and unfurl sail. It was a very labor intense process requiring every crew member of each ship. Castillo could see men scrambling up and down ratlines into the rigging of every ship as they slowly began to make headway.

  Kansas shadowed the first crescent formation of the Armada, and once again the control room was crammed with people. The Armada seemed to travel at a speed of 5 knots. This time the skies were gray and overcast and there was a fresh wind out of the southwest again favoring the Spanish fleet. The sea was restless and rolling, but the Armada was unopposed as it moved down the English Channel until it reached Dover. When it reached the channel choke point at the Dover Straits, there was a line of ships blocking their way.

  “I think that barricade is the English fleet making their stand,” said Castillo.

  “I think it is,” agreed Taylor.

  “Let’s go up to the front of the formation to get a better view,” said Castillo. “Pilot take us down to 100 feet. Maneuvering, make turns for 25 knots.”

  “Aye sir, going down to 100.”

  “Aye sir, making turns for 25 knots.”

  In a half hour, they were looking back at the Armada’s first crescent formation as it approached the English fleet. Soon the English fleet split into two groups of about 50 ships each.

  “It’s going to be a pincer movement again,” said Tanaka.

  “I hope they have more ships somewhere,” said Lambert. “These just doesn’t seem like enough.”

  Castillo said nothing, but he agreed. This was not going to go well for the English.

  The English fleet began to pound on each end of the Spanish crescent, but there were too many ships. They weren’t making so much as a dent and several English ships took heavy damage, loosing masts and rigging. One ship’s sails began fluttering and, out of control, it drifted into the Spanish formation where it was pounded by cannon until it was nothing but a smoking mastless floating hulk with holes through it.

  Castillo took heart when he saw a Spanish ship lose a mast and turn away from the battle, but then he saw what was coming up the channel behind the battle. He magnified the view. Between ships he could see the second Spanish crescent formation coming.

  “Shit,” he said. “The Spanish are going to execute their own pincer movement. They’re going to trap the English between their two 150 ship formations.”

  “There’s no way the English can win this,” said Taylor. “They’re heavily outnumbered and outgunned.”

  They watched the brave English make their stand and get outmaneuvered and pounded by the Spanish and the mood in the control room turned heavy. The English ships began to list and smoke and some sank in the angry heaving waves. It was a hard thing to watch. Castillo gulped and looked around at crew members. Lambert was teary-eyed and her hands were balled into fists. Taylor had a moody look, more angry than sad. He heard someone sob and another one sniffle. He looked around for the British officers and finally saw them sitting next to the nav station. There was blackness in Simms’s baleful stare and disappointment in Gastmeyer’s. He turned back to watch the battered remnants of the defeated English fleet limping away.

  • • •

  That night 21 people came as a group to talk to Castillo. There were too many to comfortably fit in his state room, so he decided to take them all to the ward room. It was a tight fit in the small ward room as well. As he looked at all the anguished faces, he recognized many English: Simms, Gastmeyer, McConnell, three of the QVR people whose names he didn’t recall, the Kincaid brothers. There was also Lambert, Taylor, Tanaka, Guerrero, Chief Brown and many of the senior staff.

  “I think I know your concerns,” began Castillo, “but hear me out.” He pulled at his lower lip before launching into his argument. “Up until now our involvement with these people has been minimal. We’ve done only what we’ve had to to survive and gather intelligence. I’ve tried to keep our impact to a minimum, although some things just can’t be helped.” He caught the eye of the Kincaid brothers who looked very serious. “But if we insert ourselves into a battle with the aim of changing its outcome, that is a major impact. I can’t think of anything more influential than that. Our being here is purely by accident.”

  “But…” began Lambert.

  Castillo stopped her with an upheld hand. “We did not know, at first, whether we were in our own world or an alternate reality, but I think it’s now quite evident that we’re in a world where the Armada was intended to win this battle, and who knows what cataclysmic chain of events we might set off by changing it.”

  “Cataclysmic chain of…” sputtered Simms. “You can’t be serious!”

  “Don,” said Lambert gently. “How do you know the Armada was intended to win this battle?”

  “Because they are! Nothing is going according to our history books.”

  “But maybe we were intended to be here,” said Crystal McConnell. “Maybe it was God’s plan.” Her brown eyes were wet and her delicate mouth was trembling with emotion.

  “Don’t you believe in a God’s guiding hand?” asked Lambert.

  “Not really. Does God cause famine and disease?” asked Castillo. “Did he cause six million Jews to be exterminated in concentration camps? Where was he then?”

  “I don’t know,” snapped Simms, “but the right people won that contest in the end, didn’t they?”

  “My point is,” said Castillo, “none of us knows what God wants in any situation.”

  “So, what you’re saying is you don’t know whether God intends for the Armada to win this contest or not.” Simms crossed his arms and glared smugly.

  Castillo said nothing. How did this become an argument about God’s will?

  “There’s a lot at stake here, Don,” said Lambert. “America is very young ri
ght now. If England falls, then a lot of our culture will fall as well. The American ideals of freedom, our rights to free speech and self government. These were all first envisioned in England, Scotland and Ireland. Not Spain.”

  “As England goes, so goes the world,” intoned Simms. “It would also mean the fall of protestantism and the expansion of the Inquisition.”

  “Did you know,” said McConnell, “that your Declaration of Independence is based on the Scottish Oath of Freedom from the time of William Wallace?”

  Castillo took a deep breath. They all had good arguments. “Let me think about it.”

  “Don’t think too long,” said Simms darkly. “The Spanish are anchored at Flanders now and soon they’re going to sail up the Thames with 500 ships and 30,000 troops. We won’t be able to stop them once they enter the mouth of the river.”

  Castillo went back to his stateroom, but once again sleep eluded him. There was too much on his mind. If there really was a God, would he have ripped them all away from their families and friends and caused so much hurt. To what purpose? To fight against the Spanish Armada in a world where the English were not up to the task? It all seemed so improbable. He tossed and turned for two hours trying to find a restful position, finally giving up and getting dressed for the day. He went to the messdeck and made himself a strong cup of tea. It seemed busy for that time of night. Lambert and McConnell were both there.

  “What’s the matter? Couldn’t you sleep either?” asked Lambert.

  “No,” responded Castillo. “And you’re right. Tea is not the same thing as coffee.”

  She smiled. “You have a lot to think about, I know.”

  He looked at Lambert, then McConnell. “Yes. I have a feeling if I don’t want to act, there will be a mutiny.”

  “It’s your decision, Don,” said Lambert. “I’ll support you.”

  Castillo saw trust in her serious blue eyes. He turned to McConnell. “How about you, Crystal?”

  “I don’t know. Mason says he supports you either way, but there are some who’re questioning your leadership.”

  “You don’t have to tell me. I know who it is.”

  “They say you were affected by your ordeal with that Spaniard and are no longer fit to command.”

  “I’d better talk to some of my guys,” said Castillo. “It’s my intention to set up a base of operations somewhere in the world and then have free elections to see who we want to lead our new colony, but right now I’m still the commander and it’s my job to protect this ship and this crew. Even those not under my command. I take that responsibility very seriously.”

  • • •

  Castillo and many others watched the viewing screens in the control room all the next day. The Spanish loaded men and supplies onto their ships from the docks at Flanders. They could see men rolling barrels and field cannon and dragging boxes down the dock and leading horses, wagons and goats and loading everything an army needs onto ships and barges. They were obviously making preparations for war. After a ship was loaded, it was moved away from the pier by boats with oarsmen. Then another ship would be brought in for loading. They seemed to be well organized.

  Castillo went to his stateroom and brooded. Right now he needed counsel and the best counsel was his wife, Liz. She was smart, and she knew exactly how to distill a problem down into its basic parts and make it seem simple. He wanted badly to talk to her, but that was impossible. He liked to have pretend conversations with her and his girls. It helped him cope with his loss, and for a while, he could pretend they were still here. But that was only pretend.

  He decided to go see Norm Bloomberg. But Bloomberg did not look well at all. He looked feverish and his face was ashen.

  “Are you okay, Norm?”

  “Not really. The doc says my sugar is high. Diabetes, you know.”

  “Oh. Sorry to hear it.”

  “I’ve run out of my medication and its starting to affect my kidneys.” He smiled weakly. “You don’t suppose anybody has a dialysis machine around here, do you?”

  Castillo returned his smile. He knew this would happen eventually. Modern medicine is able to keep people leading healthy productive lives even when they have serious illnesses. Without it, we’re at the mercy of nature. We’ve come to a world that is ill equipped to handle kidney failure or coronary artery disease. Damn! He felt so helpless. How many more would fall ill to something like this and force us to stand idly by and watch.

  “You’re the smartest guy I know, Norm. I just wanted to get your thoughts on what’s going on.”

  Bloomberg seemed to perk up at this. He rolled onto his side and put down his reader. “Talk to me.”

  “The Spanish are at Flanders and they’re loading ships and barges with war supplies…cannon, powder, warhorses, food.”

  “Sounds like they’re getting ready to move against London.”

  “I’m being pressured to act.”

  “I see.”

  Castillo pulled up a chair and sat heavily down. “So…just for argument’s sake, let’s say we take out the Armada with a Tomahawk strike.”

  “Yes.”

  “What would be the down side? What might we set off unintentionally? Just brainstorming here.”

  “Well, this is extreme speculation, since we just have no way of knowing how the world might react to such a pivotal event. And we’re making some pretty big assumptions here. We’re assuming the 16th century Spain and England of this world is the same as the ones in ours. “

  “We know this England has a Tudor queen, Elizabeth, and Sir Francis Drake. I learned that much aboard the Spanish ship.”

  “Yes, and I think it would be safe to say there is an Inquisition going on in Spain. Your captor turned too quickly to torture and coercion when he wanted information. It was as second nature as breathing to him.”

  “Okay, so let’s just say for the sake of argument 16th century Spain and England from where we hail are essentially the same as the ones here.” Castillo scratched his face with his right hand. “We would be creating a watershed event in history and possibly establishing a precedent.”

  “At the least,” said Bloomberg. “The first consequence, of course, would be the enormous loss of life.”

  “Sure. As many as a hundred thousand Spanish.” Castillo turned somber. “That’s something Spain would take a long time to recover from. It would really set them back to lose that many men and ships.”

  “And…since we’re just spitballing here…it could embolden England. They may begin to believe that God has struck down their enemies. In the absence of any other explanation, it was an act of God. They could feel justified in aggressively expanding their holdings and territories and moving against enemies.”

  “They already believe God’s on their side.”

  “Yes, everybody has God on their side,” said Bloomberg thoughtfully. “That’s part of the problem, isn’t it?”

  “Could it change their national character do you think? Give them a sense of entitlement as God’s chosen?”

  “I think that ship has sailed,” said Bloomberg propping himself on an elbow and peering over the tops of his glasses. “Have you seen some of the art and literature that came out of Elizabethan England? It was rife with angelic messengers and heaven sent visions of victory and conquest.”

  “I just hate to think that we could be creating a world bully by handing them a victory like this.”

  Bloomberg rolled onto his back, wheezed loudly, then coughed. “But the impact of doing nothing could be a lot worse for the free world. Like it or not, commander, this is our world now. We’re stuck in it and you have to think about how you’re shaping this new world for our new society and our descendants.”

  “That’s what I was afraid you were going to say.” Castillo slouched down in his chair.

  When Castillo got back to his stateroom, there was an envelope slid under the door. He opened it and read the note inside:

  Commander,

  An explosive de
vice has been improvised on this ship. It will detonate at eighteen hundred hours and only I can disarm it. You will launch an attack on the Spanish ships. It must be bold and decisive! Make no mistake, commander, if you do not act, I will destroy us all. I regret such extreme measures are required to force you to do the honourable thing. You have six hours.

  “Aw, what the hell!” said Castillo.

  Chapter 13

  “I was half expecting something like this,” said Castillo.

  Taylor read the note. “You know who it’s from, don’t you?”

  “Sure. Look at the spelling of the word honourable and bold and decisive. Who do we know talks that way?”

  “What are you going to do?”

  “About him, I don’t know. But I’ve had the ship checked.”

  “Do you think he really has a bomb on board?”

  “No, Tanaka couldn’t find anything. I think it’s a bluff.” Castillo flexed the remaining fingers on his left hand and inspected them. “I don’t think Simms has it in him to kill all of us, but this just shows how desperate he is to save his mother country.”

  “I think I’d better lay it on the line for Captain Simms. He needs an ass kicking,” said Taylor.

  “No, Mase. Let me talk to him first. Let’s try honey before we use a hammer.”

  Taylor looked disappointed. “Okay.”

  “Could you find Mr. Simms and send him to me, please?”

  “Sure,” replied Taylor.

  Soon there was a rap at the door. It was a serious-looking Captain Simms.

  “Come in, Miles. Have a seat. Is it okay if I call you Miles?”