Kraken

by Eric S. Brown

  “You’re being serious?” Spraker stared at Lex.

  “I am. Who could make crap like that up?”

  “I’ve read your file, Mr. Iver. You were a horror writer, a rather popular one too, up until the last couple of years.”

  “Fame comes and goes,” Iver shrugged. “But if you’re implying that I am trying to spin this into some PR stunt for my work, you’re the one who is crazy. My wife died on that cruise liner, Commander. I watched one of those things tear her apart right in front of me.”

  “I’m sorry for your loss, but even so…”

  “Do I really expect you to believe me? Yes, I do, Commander. Someone has to do something about those things before they stumble onto another ship and have it as a follow-up course.”

  “Follow-up course? Are you being literal?”

  “The squids ate the folks aboard that ship, Commander. They were like a swarm of locusts attacking a field. No one on the Pleasure Bound stood a chance.”

  “Squids don’t climb, Mr. Iver. They don’t eat people either.”

  “These did,” Lex told Spraker.

  “So what you’re telling me, for the record, Mr. Iver, is that a swarm of mutant squids, who can climb the sides of ships and move about on land like spiders, ate everyone on board the cruise liner we picked up from?”

  “I am,” Lex answered. “You’ve got to find those things, Commander, and make sure they never get the chance to do it to another ship again.”

  “Thank you, Mr. Iver,” Commander Spraker said and rose from his seat. “My crew will see to your needs while you’re onboard. I regret to inform you though your stay with us may be longer than you might expect. We’re in the middle of an operation and not due into port for some time.”

  “Thank you, Commander,” Lex said, smiling. “I’m alive thanks to you and your crew. I think I can manage to survive however long it takes you to get me home.”

  ****

  Arron was in a spot that made it clear that he had been listening to the exchange between Mr. Iver and Spraker as the commander emerged from the briefing room.

  “Is he for real?” Arron asked.

  “Sure seems to be,” Spraker frowned.

  “Could be that the time alone, trapped below decks, on that ship drove him mad. Not to mention watching that lady splatter her brains all over the wall,” Arron suggested.

  “How do you know about that?” Spraker asked.

  “I overheard the doc telling you when he delivered his report on good Mr. Iver there.”

  “McHan isn’t a psychologist but he did give Iver a clean bill of health,” Spraker rubbed at his cheeks with the tips of the fingers of his right hand, thinking, before adding, “You sure overhear a lot.”

  “Wouldn’t be doing my job if I didn’t,” Arron chuckled.

  “I’m not about to call up Captain Marcus and tell him that a swarm of mutated squids ate the people on board that ship, Arron. Not without hard proof anyway.”

  “Should I send the squads back over? Maybe have them take a second look around now that we know what to look for? I know Page is dying to return to that ship. He refuses to believe Iver is the only survivor of a vessel that large.”

  Spraker took a moment before answering. “No. Not yet anyway. If on the highly unlikely chance Mr. Iver isn’t insane, we’d just be putting them in harm’s way. There’s no need for it at this point. I want Luke to run full sonar scans of the waters around us. Maybe he can turn up something that lends some credence to Iver’s story. Oh, and double the lookouts. I want as many eyes on the water as we can spare. Not just to try to confirm Iver’s tale, but to make sure nothing sneaks up on us like it did the Pleasure Bound.”

  “Good idea, sir,” Arron nodded. “I’ll get on that straight away.”

  “I’ll be in my ready room if you need me,” Spraker told Arron.

  Spraker headed straight to his ready room, leaving Arron to carry out his orders. He trusted Arron to get the things that needed done, done and done well. Besides, he needed time to think. The situation was well outside the realm of anything he had dealt with before. Having Captain Marcus as the CO of DESRON 22 didn’t make things any easier.

  His mood was not a good one as Spraker entered his ready room. He slammed its door behind him in an attempt to vent some of the frustration built up inside him. He knew the best option was to order the boarding party back to the Pleasure Bound, but he just couldn’t bring himself to do it. He’d sent men to their deaths before. Facing danger was part of any military officer’s job and that went double for marines. . Yet, something inside of him gnawed at his brain, telling him that Lex Iver might not be insane. If Iver’s story was true and there were real, living monsters that ate people out there in the water, there was no guarantee that Page and his men would have the firepower to deal with them. Their own disbelief, which Spraker knew would feel just as strongly as he did himself, would also put them at a disadvantage against the monsters if they turned out to be over there, waiting. There were times when a situation demanded the blood of his men, but this wasn’t one of them…yet.

  Spraker took a seat behind his desk. He wasn’t a drinker like a lot of other captains and commanders. His crew, certainly Arron, gave him a lot of flak over that fact. He was a smoker though and dug into the carton of cigarettes he kept in his desk drawer, lighting one up, as he placed an ashtray that was also tucked away in the drawer, onto his desktop. He took a long drag from his cigarette, causing its end to flare from how hard he sucked on it. The nicotine hit him like a hammer. He savored the head rush and the tension he felt eased up a bit. Spraker sat there, smoking cigarette after cigarette, as he mulled things over and tried to come up with what he was really going to tell Captain Marcus. Whatever he told Marcus, he had to do it soon.

  A rapid fire, loud knock banged on the door to his ready room startling Spraker. He ground out his cigarette in the ashtray in front of him as he called out, “What is it?”

  Arron flung open the door and rushed inside. Arron was pale as he spoke. “Sir, we’ve lost contact with the main body of DESRON 22.”

  Spraker leaped to his feet nearly knocking his ashtray to the metal floor at his feet. “What do you mean we’ve lost contact with the DESRON?”

  “I had Megan attempt to contact the Whiteside. Our report on the situation here was overdue and I was hoping to stall Marcus and buy you a little more time to come up with your report. You know what a stickler he is about protocol. Well, there was no reply. When I left the bridge, Megan was still trying to contact the Whiteside without any luck.”

  “That doesn’t make any sense,” Spraker said. “What about the other ships in the DESRON?”

  “Only some of the other frigates who were out on patrol are responding, sir. They confirm that they can’t raise the main fleet either.”

  “Dear God help us,” Spraker muttered. “Iver may have been telling the truth after all.”

  II

  Captain Marcus sat in the command chair on the USS Whiteside’s bridge. He popped the knuckles of his right hand, one after the other. He knew his crew could tell he was on edge. The unexpected appearance of a civilian cruise liner at the edge of borders he assigned to the training exercise DESRON 22 was undergoing was pure madness. There shouldn’t have been another ship anywhere close to the area the powers that be had selected for him to run this op. in. Worse, that slacker, Spraker, had yet to report any information he might have obtained about why the bloody cruise liner had happened upon the DESRON. Spraker had been given more than ample time to report something, anything, about the nature of the cruise ship. Yet, all Marcus knew was what he had known since the ship was detected. It was a large passenger liner by the name of the Pleasure Bound. It was a long stretch from the course it was supposed to be on and adrift. Spraker had reported having made contact with the cruise liner and some nonsense about how whoever he had spoken with aboard it claiming the massive vessel had been attacked. Marcus figured if the ship had been attacked, it was the
work of pirates. A ship like the Pleasure Bound surely made a tempting target to the thieves and plunders who made their home in international waters. The thing that bugged him about his assumption was the size of the vessel. It would take an equally large or highly organized group of pirates to pull off such a feat.

  His XO had pulled up everything they could get on the cruise liner. A rough guess put the combined number of staff and passengers aboard it at close to five thousand men and women. The ship was of a class that warranted heavy security aboard it. Armed security forces at that likely highly so. Professional officers who knew the dangers these waters could hold and were trained to deal with them.

  There had been no distress call from the Pleasure Bound before she appeared on the Peart’s radar though, according to Spraker. Marcus found that hard to believe. Pirates wouldn’t be able to incapacitate such a large population to the point of where no one was able to send out a call after they took whatever they were after and left. The pirates might have disabled the ship’s comm. gear to prevent such a call from being made but Spraker had told him the Peart had established contact with the cruise liner, however briefly. As thus, that ruled out the pirates disabling the comm. gear because it was still clearly functional. And Marcus refused to believe even terrorists would’ve killed that many unarmed men and women only to leave the ship behind, much less pirates. No, thinking in those extremes, pirates would have found more value in selling the women and children in the sex slave trade. And they would have kept the ship. One like the Pleasure Bound was sure to fetch a huge price as salvage if they could pull that one off. It wouldn’t be that hard to do if the pirate had a place to stash her and sit on her for a while.

  Marcus stopped cracking his knuckles and picked up the lukewarm cup of tea he had been neglecting from the arm of his chair. He sipped at it as he continued thinking about the mystery of the Pleasure Bound. The USS Whiteside’s sonar tech, Venkman, interrupted his thoughts.

  “Sir,” Venkman called to him. “I’m picking up some odd activity in the water.”

  Marcus cocked his head in Venkman’s direction waiting for a further explanation.

  “There’s something going on with the sea life out there, sir.”

  “Define something,” Marcus gritted his teeth, wishing Venkman would just spit whatever it was out and get it over with.

  “The largest shoal of squids I have ever seen, maybe even the biggest one on record, is headed towards DESRON 22, sir. They’re approaching at close to twenty knots,” Venkman said as if he disbelieved his own report.

  “That’s impossible,” Marcus threw himself forward in his seat. “No squid can move that fast.”

  “Unless our instruments are in error, these are, sir,” Venkman confirmed. “I have tripled checked the data, sir.”

  “That certainly is strange,” Marcus mused. “Not sure it matters to us though. Maybe it’s a mass migration or something.”

  “The squids appear to be on a direct course for DESRON 22,” Venkman clarified.

  “Even so, officer…”

  “Venkman, sir. I’m Stanz’s replacement. He’s in sickbay at the moment with a bad case of stomach flu.”

  “Officer Venkman, this is a United States destroyer not a science vessel,” Marcus reprimanded him. “I appreciate your caution and attention what’s going on around us, but this, this might be taking things a touch overboard.”

  “Yes, sir,” Venkman bowed his head respectfully under Marcus’s angry stare.

  “Forget about the shoal, Venkman. We’ve got more important things to deal with.”

  ****

  Aboard the USS Peterson, Captain Clarence Wirtz was having much the same conversation with his own sonar tech, Lee.

  “That is one messed-up shoal of squids,” Wirtz commented looking over Lee’s shoulder at the sonar screen.

  “It surely is, sir. Biggest one on record I think.” Lee ran a nervous hand through his regulation-cut black hair. “I didn’t know what to what to make of it, so I thought you might want to take a look for yourself.”

  “I’m glad you reported it,” Wirtz said, squeezing Lee’s shoulder. “What I don’t understand about it is why are those things headed straight for DESRON 22? You’d think their instinct would be to steer as far clear of it as they could.”

  “Agreed, sir.” Lee smiled at Captain Wirtz. “If I were a squid, I’d sure as heck want to stay out of the path of something as large as even this ship. And we’re not just talking about the Peterson. We’re talking about four destroyers in battle formation.”

  Wirtz laughed. “If this is supposed to be a battle formation, our dear Captain Marcus has a lot to learn.”

  “The DESRON is rather spread out sir but even so…”

  “Yeah, I know,” Wirtz assured Lee. “We still should be utterly terrifying to a group of squids no matter how large a group it is.”

  “The shoal’s course indicates they’re coming straight at us too,” Lee reminded him.

  “No much we can do about it sailor,” Wirtz shrugged. “If we open fire on a group of animals, can you imagine the political mess that would create on the mainland? Besides, they’re squids. It’s not like they’re a threat to us.”

  “I still don’t like it, Captain,” Lee admitted.

  “Neither do I, son. To tell the truth, that shoal creeps me out. Keep an eye on it for me,” Wirtz told Lee and it was the truth. He didn’t have all the details but he had heard squids mentioned in the comm. chatter between the Peart and the Whiteside. The snippets he’d overheard weren’t to his liking either, and now this supersized shoal of squids showing up out of nowhere just like that cruise ship had, it might be more than mere chance. “If anything changes with it, inform me at once.”

  “Yes, sir,” Lee barked as Wirtz started back to his command chair.

  He had barely managed a few steps in its direction when Lee shouted for him.

  “Sir, the shoal is breaking apart!” Lee yelled. “It’s dividing to target each of the ships in DESRON 22.”

  “What do you mean targeting, son?” Wirtz kept his voice calm as he spoke.

  “The shoal has broken into four distinct groupings, sir. Each is headed for a particular ship of DESRON 22. Their speed has increased too!”

  “But you said they were already pushing twenty knots,” Wirtz pointed out.

  “Yes, sir, I did. They’re closer to twenty-five knots now.”

  “Dear God,” Wirtz breathed knowing that such a speed was impossible for squids of the size that appeared to be coming after DESRON 22.

  Wirtz whirled around to shout at Charles, his XO. “Inform Captain Marcus about these things at once!” Then he turned back to Lee, “ETA?”

  “They’re a good bit out, sir, but even so, I’d say four minutes tops.”

  “Bring the ship to battle stations!” Wirtz ordered.

  “Isn’t that a bit extreme, sir?” Charles asked.

  The two of them had served together a long time and Wirtz was used to Charles calling him on things that were questionable.

  “I’m playing a hunch, Charles. It’s on me if I am wrong,” Wirtz explained.

  Charles gave him a sharp nod, knowing better than to push the issue. “Yes, sir.”

  “The squids have reached the Arrington!” Lee shouted.

  ****

  Captain Holland’s sonar tech hadn’t been as attentive as those aboard the Whiteside and the Peterson. The Emerson and her crew had no warning of the approaching squids, not that they would have viewed the fast closing shoal as a threat in any case.

  Seaman Jenkins was the first to die. He was walking along the starboard side of the ship when a monster came scampering over the railing into his path. His brain didn’t even have time to fully process the horror he saw before one of the creature’s tentacles lashed out with such force, it caved in his skull like a hammer striking a rotten melon.

  Seaman Fleming was several feet behind Jenkins and witnessed his death. He did have time to scream. T
he squid moved across the deck like a wobbly spider at a speed that was unbelievable. Seaman Fleming had no weapon. He turned to run, but the squid overtook him easily. One of its tentacles pierced his body like a spear, lifting Seaman Fleming from the deck, before it flung his corpse from the ship into the waves below.

  Other members of the crew on the higher decks of the USS Arrington had more time to react. Most of them ran for whatever doorway leading into the ship’s interior they were closest to.

  Hundreds of squids swarmed the Arrington. The creatures covered the sides of the ship as they used their tentacled clubs to haul their light bodies upwards along the hull and onto the Arrington’s decks.

  Captain Holland was caught completely off guard by the B-horror movie that was coming alive onboard his ship.

  “Sir!” his XO, Weston yelled at him. “We’re under attack! I’ve got reports coming in from all over the ship!”

  “Who?” Holland snarled at Weston. “Who is attacking us?”

  “Squids, sir,” Weston reported. “The men are saying we’re being attacked by squids.”

  “Squids?” Holland repeated the word, making it sound like a curse.

  “Mobilize the Security Alert Teams and sound battle stations!” Holland roared.

  Alarm klaxons were blaring throughout the Arrington as the first reaction team onto the primary deck encountered the army of squids that was building there.

  “Good Lord in heaven, have mercy on us!” Harold, the team’s leader, muttered as he saw the creatures.

  Harold and the men with him opened fire. Harold and his team were armed with M-16s. The rifles chattered spitting three round bursts into the monsters already charging to meet them. One squid jerked about as it took a burst to its central mass. Black blood flew from its twitching body as it careened wildly under the sustained fire Harold poured into it. Finally, it flopped to the deck to lay still. Harold was dead too though. Another squid had reached his position and tore his face off with a single, lightning-fast swipe of one of its tentacled claws.