Issue 34 – On High Seas (Part 1)
The Seahawks capture the El Arish base. They soon learn of an impending invasion by the elite Clayburn forces, Crimson Reavers, led by Peter Clayburn. In the end, the Reavers are defeated, but not without major Seahawk losses.
Let us set up the scene. We find ourselves in the middle of the Mediterranean on a transport ship running dark, hiding from the enemies. All the lights onboard are turned off, the men and women of the Seahawks resting in their beds and hammocks, lulled into uneasy sleep by their fatigue, the hum of the ship’s engines and the never-ending whispering of the sea.
Two men and a woman are huddled together around a small table in the captain’s quarters. The cabin is small, but the flickering light of a small candle struggles to illuminate even that. They do not switch the lights on. They dare not.
The departure from Al Arish was a smooth one as departures from war-torn regions go. They had to ditch some of their equipment and the choice which vehicles to leave behind was tough, but the ship space was limited and food and water were more important to the exhausted Seahawks, finally looking forward to the much-deserved respite from the struggle. Blackwood’s plan worked flawlessly with Clayburn ships retreating as soon as the fake ID was submitted, but with discretion being the better part of valor, Blackwood decided that nightly blackouts would be a prudent precaution against anyone spotting the ship on high seas by accident.
A few of the Seahawks were old navy veterans and under their watchful eye, the crew managed not only to operate the vessel but to keep the right direction, west, towards the Gibraltar Strait and then to their ultimate goal, the United States of America.
A day into the journey, the Seahawks found out the true meaning of the ancient mariner wish of smooth sailing. The sea was anything but calm and even the giant steel behemoth of a ship had trouble navigating the waves, fighting its own battle against the rage of the elements.
Weathering the storm was an exhausting experience and the ship corridors, usually resonating with footsteps of the crew even in the dead of night, are now eerily quiet. The few Seahawks still awake are on the top deck, staring into the night, perhaps reminiscing about the old days, perhaps trying to forget everything they experienced recently. For many, Africa feels like a bad dream the cold sea spray woke them from, others still feel like they are in a dream they must wake up from at any moment into a world where the price for the next hot meal and coffee is a single trip to local cafeteria and loved ones are just a bus trip away.
Others yet are planning in hushed voices, as if shouting might give away their position to a tiger lurking outside of the cave. Thousands of years of evolution have not cured mankind’s fear of the dark and the predators hiding in it. Perhaps it will never go away, Blackwood thinks while listening to the arguments of his both lieutenants.
“Why are we even going to the USA? We don’t know what’s in there. With the collapse of the internet, civilian flight restrictions and corporate censorship, it could be a nuclear wasteland for all we know.”
Blackwood smiles ever so slightly, before answering with his eyes closed and his back reclined in his chair.
“To sail beyond the sunset, and the baths of all the western stars, until I die.”
They both look at him in confusion.
“What?”
It is she who understands it, much to his surprise.
“Byron?”
“Tennyson. Still, very good, Kathryn.”
Her smile suddenly matches his with only Seagrove left befuddled, looking at each of them in turn with a question written on his face and eyebrows raised.
“Poetry, Josh. Poetry.”
He frowns – as expected. Blackwood often wonders how it is possible that she, so coarse and blunt on the outside, understands these things more than him with all the corporate-paid education. But, he concludes every time, life is full of surprises. That’s what makes it worth living.
“At any rate, our destination is the last gift of Peter’s – amongst the files recovered from his computers was a location of a secret Clayburn facility in what used to be the great state of Texas. We don’t know what’s in there, but we know two things. First, it’s valuable – why else would you have such a distant facility offshore. Second, it’s not well-defended – its secrecy is its main protection and major military presence would certainly give it away.”
He watches the others nod and wonders how far he can go with his explanations before finally deciding to reveal a bit more.
“My money's on gold or diamonds. Credits are all well and good, but, as the economy crash of the 2020s has shown us, a few tons of precious metals around when the market crashes is a handy thing to have. Credits are all well and good, but they can only get you so far. Besides, diamonds can be transported with relative ease, as mister Clayburn is about to find out. I don’t know about you, but I think it’s time for some payback.”
He watches both nod – how gullible can they be? They have no idea what’s waiting for them in the facility. But he does, oh yes, he does, and he will be the one to reap the rewards of this endeavor. Although he thinks, there might be a place for both of them in his future yet. Maybe they will turn out to be reasonable after all, in the end. Right now, Blackwood is content with simply listening.
“What do we do when we get to the USA? We can’t land just anywhere. It has to be somewhere south too, to make the trip to Texas short and to avoid the U.S. Navy.”
To be continued...
