Sea Captain's Tale

Star Trek spoof piece. Explores the wider world, and clash of civilizations.

Sea Captain’s Tale

Captain’s log: 6007, July 18

An Opening

“LOOK!” shouts Korn from the tactical station. 

Up above, blue sky is cutting through the fog. The first clear sky we have seen in days. Out ahead, the shelf of fog is lifting off of our bow, and wide open ocean is shimmering all around us.

Ace raises an eyebrow next to me, looking upward. “Well at least it’s clearing up Captain… I’d love to relax my shoulders a bit.”

“Yes Ace… and I’d love to tell Jordi that we can move faster than half impulse power…”

At the Navigation station, Kichima whirls around. “That may not be advisable Captain, since even once the fog lifts somewhat, visibility of low protruding rock formations will still be a risk. If we truly believe the Eivissa island chain has “sunk”, then subsurface visibility will have to increase by a full 63% before…..”

Ace and I exchange a smirk. “At ease lieutenant! It was a joke. A jestful exaggeration to lighten the mood.”

Kimcha cocks his head before whirling back to his controls, “hmmm… humor, used to diffuse tension…” Kimcha is the only Teshgeg member of the uniformed crew.

But the question remains. Where are the islands?

We have been sent on mission here, right to the edge of the contested ocean border with the Great Aramar Empire. A near arbitrary line drawn through this vast expanse of poorly explored western ocean. It is hard to believe that despite centuries of ocean commerce across the northern hemispheres, that such large stretches of ocean are so unexplored beyond the primary routes…

But now the race is on to grab resources and stake our claims on this vastness. Umbria Command has sent us, the USV Excelsior, to make a statement. One of the most able fighting-ships in the fleet, our presence sends a message of the seriousness of our commitment to this region.

Like most large scale ocean vessels, we are a heavily armed floating city, with over 1500 people aboard, about half are uniformed crew. The rest are civilian workers, and a large number of commercial traders. Often these are Aramar civilians themselves. They are hangers on whose junket style vessels latch onto our hull, and whose short-range aircraft buzz around to trade in the ports at which we land, or with the other ships that we encounter.

Ace heaves a sigh. “Well we need a break of some sort,” he says. “Three days and no sign of these islands anywhere? These strange water currents… What is going on here.”

Inhaling deeply I reply, “I do not know Commander. But this is a riddle that may soon be solved.”

I stand up from my captain’s chair. Uniform snapping crisply. “Command team, to my Ready Room!”

Clarity

“Currently we are here… moving as quickly northward.” Chief Engineer Jordi points to a map at the head of the table. “The northward current is doing most of the work, and allowing us to manage fuel, until we pivot southward as the current changes direction, here.” Jordi flips the map over, and points to a southward arrow, “our survey of this area is about two-thirds complete, and still no sign of the islands. Just a hodgepodge of fast moving currents in the open ocean. I have never seen anything like it captain.” 

Lieutenant Woolfe scratches her chin. “There been no rocks poking through the water at all? If the islands have really sunk below the surface, surely there would be something visibly poking out?”

“Nothing at all,” replies Korn, in his gravely baritone. “Even the depth charges we have dropped have encountered nothing in the water column…. Although is it possible we are just missing them.”

“Are you sure we are in the right area?” presses Ace, always the aggressive prosecutor of our strategies. “With all due respect, how confident are we that we are at the right coordinates?”

Kimcha nods. “We have checked and double-checked Commander. Despite the fog, all of our instruments indicate that this is the correct positioning. Allowing for a 4.987% change of error on the….”

Jordi interjects in his suave manner “We are as certain as we possibly can be Commander. If we’re off, it ain’t by much.”

Nods of agreement from around the table.

“There is something else Captain…” comes Korn’s low rumble from across the table. “Reports have come in from the Excelsior’s trade-taverns. They say there is another large ship in the area. A small number of the merchant-pilots have seen it… the reports could very well be credible.”

The table goes quiet.

I sip my tea gently. Hot, no cream. The way I like it. I glance up in thought, the table has quieted, as the command team looks to me. Toward the large chair at the end of the table. 

“We shall maintain course,” I state. “Monitor the skies for changes in visibility. Jordi, increase the number and length of the depth charges. Let’s make this last portion of our survey as robust as possible. I have heard nothing from Umbria Command of another vessel in the area, so if these reports are true, it is either a stray merchant ship from the Ibliz Islands, or -----”

“CAPTAIN TO THE BRIDGE” blares the comm-horn above our heads. Commotion can be heard beyond the Ready Room door, as an ensign’s wide eyed face pokes in. “Captain… sir… you need to come see this!”

We all rush to our posts, as a massive shape emerges from the fog.

Close Encounters

Even before the vessel comes into view, the swarms of trading aircraft are already buzzing all around between the two leviathans. Massive and towering, at first it appears to be a volcanic-island looming in the fog. But this is a vessel, a gigantic Aramar floating city. Heaps of ramshackle wood, metal, and penecook stacked precariously, like a gigantic rickety favela floating in the current. Buried below this mountain of mercantile chaos is a warship. Fighting fit, and at least as well armed as we are. 

Suddenly there is a glimmer of flames and movement over our bow. 

BOOM---BOOM

Two explosions in the air above our bow, scattering the cloud of zig zagging little merchant planes. Warning shots.

I resist the urge to dab sweat from my brow. This foggy sea is full of surprises.

“Steady at the helm lieutenant.” The calm in my voice surprises even me. 

“Stay in this current so we avoid getting too close to them. Commander, fire two warning shot in reply. Aim above their front face. Get the shots closer than theirs got to us, but do not hit their hull.”

“Aye Captain!” barks Korn. 

BANG—BANG. Our missiles brighten the sky for a moment, and send several of the merchant planes into fiery spirals. Smoke from the explosions works against the lifting fog. They do not return fire. Now they know that we mean business.

“Sir, they are sending a message,” calls Woolfe from behind. 

Squinting, I can see bright flags appearing on their upper balconies, arrayed in combinations of colors, hard to see in the distance.

“Wait… incoming…confirming…” she says. “Okay, they are suggesting a meeting aboard the Excelsior. Their Captain wishes to meet you in person, along with her team”.

“Very well.” I say, swirling my tea. Still hot.

Apples and Oranges

Their Command team are a stark contrast to our own.

The Excelsior’s command team is exceedingly dignified. Crisply uniformed and smartly postured. Sparse and minimalist in our words, manners, and dress. My team is lean and professional. The orange flag of our Navy emblazoned on our walls behind us.

Their ship, called the Aponuag, is commanded by a very different sort of team… A mob as haphazardly construed as their vessel. Some are even older than I am, seemingly barely able to see and hear. Others are far too young to be commanding anything. All are jumble of baggy fitting pants and jackets, shirts that are too tight, with gaudy gold chains and jewelry. They are splattered with disparate badges and insignias for presumed accomplishments at sea. They smell of spice, fish, and smoke. An ensemble that was undoubtedly part command team, and part Chamber of Commerce for their floating ghetto.

They also have tails, like all Aramar people, which whip and snap, betraying their emotion.

Captain Waegtik leans on the doorframe, her oversized hat at a jaunty angle. Her pockets bulging with who-knows-what. She smiles that roguish half smile that these people call “mattapoy”. Her tail dancing languidly behind her.

She plops into a chair and crosses her feet on our conference table. “You are here for the same reason as we are I presume? My dear Captain?” her voice as lighthearted.

“Well what reason would that be?” I reply genteelly. “We are here to survey this border area, which was recently agreed upon by our mutual Ambassadors”.

She leans back easily. “Interesting, since you are clearly on our side of the border. In one of your navy’s largest vessels! You also seem to be puttering here. Going back and forth for several days in an empty stretch of water… Are you looking for something?”

She is younger than I, but not by much. Easily self assured, despite putting on a bit of a show. She has years of struggle at sea lined into her face, despite her excessive flippancy. 

Ace pounds the table. “You know damn well that we are not over the border, and you come here firing shots at us? We can do whatever the hell we want in these waters!”

Captain Waegtik just sniffs, and produces an apple from one of her pockets. 

“Settle down sir.” she crunches contemptuously. “According to our maps, we are in the Aramar waters, albeit somewhat close to the line. This means that if anything that were to be… found here… it would be property of the Great Empire.”

Kichma opens his mouth to recite verbiage from the latest treaty, but I interject.

“Let’s not dance around the subject Captain Waegtik. Both your maps and ours showed a series of islands here. There is speculation as to what those islands may contain… But that is not material to us now. The islands are nowhere to be found, and there is no point in us sitting here if not to discuss next steps in our mutual search.”

Nods around the table. Aramar tails snap and stiffen. The fog continues to lift outside.

“Very well Captain.” She smirks and leans forward on the table, her tail remains disinterested. “We are participating in a similar mission to your own. We have a particular interest in these islands, as you might correctly deduce. Perhaps our two vessels might … work together… to make sense of this mystery. Before exchanging further blows at least.”

The Aramar team departs with the same elusive expressions they arrived with. My own team watches their backs with the same frowns. We are to help each other… which means we will watch each other, and look for changes in their behavior as they peer into the fog and plumb into the depths. 

“Now we have to keep an eye on them too?” jokes Ace. “Our eyes are going to get tired at this rate.”

“Agreed Commander, we have only so many eyes. Steady onward however. We still have a third of the area to seine. If anything, our ramshackle-dwelling friends over there may even help to expedite our task.”

Event Horizon

The sky blazes radiant blue, and the late-afternoon sun beats down on an oddly rough sea. The fog has reduced to a mist, swirling over the water, and a horde seabirds have begun to circle overhead. The Aponuag keeps pace with us, a few hundred meters ahead in these suddenly choppy waters.

“Still no signs of the islands Captain” reports Jordi from the monitoring center.

“Perhaps this is a super-tide of some sort,” speculates a cock-headed Kimcha. “Such a phenomenon may be possible under certain lunar conditions, but would be unlikely to completely submerge such mountainous islands as the Eivissas… A lunar force of .8743 mega-salunes, combined with--"

“CAPTAIN!” roars Korn. “Look ahead!”

A mist churns ahead of the Aponuag, and the waters are parting. A few hundred meters ahead of the Aramar vessel a chasm is groaning open in the surface of the ocean. A massive whirlpool is opening, churning water in an impossibly fast and frothing motion. 

Maelstroms are the stuff of legend. We learned about them at the Academy, and I have seen several in real life. Usually while surfing, or docking during a changing tide. Generally in shallow waters, and of no concern other than idle fascination. This was different. The stuff of the Epics of Gifhorn, or stories to scare children to sleep. This aggressive swirl was expanding to devour anything around it.

“Reverse course!” I command, rising to my feet. “All hands to emergency stations!”

“We are approaching the vortex quickly,” reports Kimcha. “…distance… 1500 meters. Approximate distance of the Aponuag… 720 meters.”

The Excelsior lurches as Jordi powers down the aft engines, and powers up the fore engines. A frothy rooster tail bursts to life ahead of us. 

“Intriguing…” whispers Kimcha. Such a phenomena is likely a combination of currents due to the water temperatures, and their increasing speeds in opposite directions. Wind speeds may play a factor, however large submerged volcanic activity almost certainly---”

“Lieutenant Kimcha keep your goddam hands on the helm!” barks Ace. We feel the hull rattle, chaotic noise roars all around from the waves and the wind. The swarms of seabirds are diving all of a sudden, plunging in and out of this terrifying pit.

“Captain, the Aponuag is sending a distress signal,” reports Officer Woolfe. “Three red flags, top priority”.

Waegtik’s vessel is also firing reverse engines, but still approaching the maelstrom fast. Chunks of penecook-laden material are being ripped from its front end. The less well fixed mercantile decks and hangers on tumble into the abyss. Massive towers of haphazard wood are being shorn off and sucked into the depths.

“Damnit, we said we would help them. Lieutenant Korn, launch a full spread of grappling hooks toward the Aponuag.”

“Sir! I must advise against this!” cry both Korn and Jordi in unison. “We currently have sufficient distance to avoid the event-horizon, but not by much! Their craft is much more heavy and oblong, so we could easily lose our momentum!” Jordi insists.

“You heard me Lieutenant!” I repeat.

THWAPP! Within seconds, two dozen hooks launch from the various barrels located across the ship. They soar toward the wooden mountain, trailing thick ropes behind. Finding purchase in the favela ramparts.

CREEAAAKKKK – we lurch forward, the hull of the Excelsior straining under the force of the pull.

“Tractor ropes holding steady captain.” reports Jordi. Their ship lurches, caught between our pull and the draw into the mouth of the chasm. Only a couple hundred meters away now.

“Captain, we are barely making backward progress now!” warns Kimcha. “Full power to the reverse thrusters, but we are nearly at a standstill!”

“That hunk of junk is just too damn heavy!” cries Jordi. “We can’t hold on much longer!”

I get a glimpse into the depths maelstrom. I do not allow my face to change. 

“Steady Lieutenant.” I reply calmly. “Steady…” Ace looks at me, almost pleadingly.

His head then quickly snaps forward at the sound of a massive cracking and splintering.

The ramshackle city is bifurcating in front of us, as the entire front is ripped off by the force of the maelstrom. Edifices of ramshackle wood, the size of entire city blocks tumble into the ocean. A wooden iceberg shearing off, along with the hundreds of souls trapped within.

We lurch backward, the bridge team being nearly knocked to the ground. We tow the back half of the Aponuag with us, lighter now having shed so much mass. Their ship tilts and toddles under its newly lopsided weigh, sending further sheets of favela structures to plunge into the sea.

The bridge crew stares in awe, while frantically working the controls. 

“Report on the tractor ropes lieutenant!” growls Ace.

“Damage to ropes 2, 9, and 11 sir, but we still have the Aponuag tight in our grip.” chirps Jordi.

The hulking ramshackle has now shed enough weight to move backward along with us. hundreds of souls, and unaccountable materials have been lost into the sea. Entire communities of this floating city lost forever. The seabirds dive and splash into the waves, feasting on flotsam.

“We are moving backward now captain!” Kimcha exclaims, with surprising emotion. “The Aponuag is in tow”. 

Whoops from Jordi and the bridge team.

Many More Miles

Captain’s Log: 6007, July 20

Out the window of my ready room, the Aponuag departs. The last few merchant planes buzz somberly between us. The coy but genuine farewell letter I have penned to Captain Waegtik goes into the hands of the Comms team. She will receive it before we are out of sight. The fog is starting to return.

Ace enters the ready room. “Captain, here is my report.” A scroll thuds unto my desk. “This was one I’ll not soon forget.”

“Nor will I Ace.” I sip my tea with a half smile. 

“Sir… If I may… When we were close to the edge of the… whirlpool… Did you look inside?”

“I did Ace, old friend. I did. And I believe those of us who did, may have solved the mystery here”.

Ace is in a rare state of confusion and incredulity. “So those were the sunken islands of Eivissa visible under the ocean? And all those strange currents, and whirlpool itself, was part of some underwater volcanic eruption? How could that possibly be? You and I have sailed every port in the known world. Heard every tavern and barroom story… and I have never heard of an entire island chain disappearing under the sea.”

“Ace,” I reply. “From my time as a little boy, up until now, I have seen enough to know what to expect. And I expect to be humbled at my own ignorance at least once a week.”

Ace’s voice drops to a growly whisper. “and the other thing we came for… The thing we hoped not to find…?”

I ease back in my chair. Allowing some relief to show in the corners of my mouth. “That thing… is possibly forever lost in the deep, with any luck.” 

Ace returns my grin, with uncharacteristic fatigue on his face.

He is halfway out the door when Woolfe barges in.

“Captain! This message just arrived in from Admiral Dunkirk at Umbria Command. I wanted to deliver it myself. It is labelled Urgent.”

Eyebrows raise between me and Ace. He tries to read my expression as I read the half-page message. 

“Sir?” he inquires. “Anything you can share.”

My hands drop to my lap, with the paper still in them. My jaw also wanting to drop.

“It seems, old chum… that we are being ordered to the South Seas. The Southern Hemisphere, to the shores of western Teshgeg.”

“WHAT??” stammers Ace. “There must be some mistake. That is far afield from any Umbrian influence. We have barely even mapped that part of the world!”

I hold Ace’s gaze, before reaching for my desk-globe. “As I am well aware… However it seems there has been some event there… of immense consequence. We will receive further instruction upon arrival.”

We both instinctively gaze out the window, facing southward. The fog is returning now and the seabirds are departing in kind. Scant few now circle above.

The crew stands at attention as I walk back onto the bridge. I make my way to the Captain’s Chair. I am weary. My eyes squint at the glare of the southern sun.

But I have many more miles to go before I am finished. Not by choice in fact, rather I am a small cog in the turning wheel of history. Fate and destiny will lead us, as we boldly go forward.

“Lieutenant, set course South/southeast, at 148.151 degrees. 

“Engage!”