Chapter 149: Chapter 143

The spell in the mess hall broke, as if someone had turned the lights on at the end of a movie. All of the men, hobbs, and orcs gathered in the mess began talking over one another. The only member of his crew who noticed the captain's presence was his executive officer, Beauregard Thresher.

The taller man nodded silently at his captain, but did not call attention to him, instead getting into the rising argument among the men. They disagreed about their enemies, Kraken Corporation and The Dearth Conglomerate. Specifically, about which of them Tyson the unkillable would destroy for them first.

Captain Omen had not gotten the impression that Tyson Dawes was even aware of Kraken Corporation, much less what they were capable of. He was impressed with his Orkreshi crew members, many of whom expressed mistrust of the human with the chromed helmet. He suspected their motivations were more about racial unity than any critical analysis of the situation between Tyson and Garthrust. 

Famous orc-killers were rarely good for other orcs.

He grew weary of his crew’s behavior and stood. Executive Officer Thresher snapped to attention and shouted, “Captain on deck!” in lightly accented english. Everyone spoke the cursed language, Captain Omen could feel his mother tongue already slipping away.

His crew jumped to their feet and turned to face him, each firing off salutes from their chests. A common physical symbol of fealty in BuyMort, Captain Omen had discovered, was a quick strike to the chest and a lowered gaze.

“Prepare for the fleet’s arrival,” the captain said.

“We make for Fiji. I want every sailor ready. To stations!” he snapped.

His crew burst into motion, each running to leave the mess and get to their duty stations. The XO fell into step at his side as Captain Omen headed for the exit.

“Good to see you among the men, Captain. They always work harder after you sneak up on them.” Thresher smiled lopsidedly. “You have people skills, you know that captain?”

“And you talk too much, Beau, you know that?” Captain Omen sighed. “What is the ship’s status?”

“Ready and raring to go, Captain. Able in a fight.” The officer hesitated, then spoke again. “We’re not ready to move on Kraken, but should we really be running off to the eastern bank of Australia right now?” Thresher asked.

“I think I see a way to get ready, XO,” Captain Omen shifted in the name he used, as a junior officer approached the pair at a run. “We run toward, not away, from our great foe.” The young orc delivered a sheet of paper on a clipboard to Thresher and snapped both officers a salute before running off the way he had come.

Thresher’s eyes flickered over the paper, and he nodded. “The casualty list, sir,” he said, handing over the clipboard. “As requested.”

Thirty-one names occupied the paper, separated by which ship they had served on. Most non-military vessels had lost at least one person, but the losses were particularly heavy from their scavenging vessel, the Bone-Picker. They’d had the highest presence on-shore at the time of the quake. One of their teams had been underground when it hit.

“Order extra moonshine rations sent to the Bone-Picker, Beau,” Captain Omen said. He flipped the paper over and tucked the clipboard under his armpit, standing before the door to the command deck. It hissed and slid open.

“Aye, Captain,” Thresher said. “They’re in mourning tonight, it’ll be appreciated.”

The sea opened up to him, as Captain Omen approached his chair in front of massive, wrap-around view-screens. The command deck compartment was forward, just above the weapons compartment. Both compartments were tucked behind the primary forward bulkhead, for additional protection in combat.

Several large view screens took up the forward portion of the egg-shaped command room, set up directly in front of the centrally-placed captain’s chair. Below and in front of his seat were the forward command consoles, where various officers could issue direct commands to their compartments and crews.

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Each station was manned already, the watch officers for weapons, shields, and mobility were all present, as was their civilian fleet representative. A quiet hobb man who sat at the back of the room and observed, reporting his observations to the fleet during downtime. He had served Captain Omen well thus far, and kept his fleet apprised of new situations.

The fleet already clung to their military like heroes, and being told of each new threat they faced via the rumor mill ensured they never questioned his decisions. Especially when he had the ability to shape the head-spring of those rumors, before then directly addressing them himself. 

He never interfered with the civilian representative on board his ship, but Captain Omen was not above helping shape the eventual gossip with a well placed word here or there.

With their screens showing the open ocean ahead of them, artificially illuminated and pulsing with visual sonar representations, the ocean all around was alive. 

Empty, but alive. 

The ship’s various scanners built topographical imagery of the sea floor and kept a live map of their surroundings ready to be used. The captain, or his crew, were able to call up various overlays to cover the over-sized screen.

Captain Omen did so, pulling up a ship’s readiness screen. A map of the submarine dominated the primary viewscreen, the ocean around them still visible from behind the new item. All decks, all ready positions showed green. The Whalehunter was ready for anything the oceans of earth could throw at them.

“Fleet reporting in, Captain,” Thresher barked from immediately behind him. It was the kind of report that was meant for the entire command deck crew, not just Captain Omen.

“Understood, XO. Set a course for Fiji that avoids the Marianas Trench system and inform the fleet. We move ahead at submerged-three-quarters.”

“Aye Captain!” his executive officer shouted. Orders began being relayed throughout the fleet, first to the smattering of other military vessels, then to the civilian craft. ‘Submerged-three-quarters’ meant three quarters the speed of the fleet’s slowest boat, a speed that with their fleet clocked in at just eight knots. Each vessel could move while submerged, and some of them were quite speedy, but others were definitely not.

At Captain Omen’s orders, they connected their drives and moved ahead at the same speed, ensuring none were lost or picked off by any of their powerful foes.

The slowest ship in the fleet was the Arboretum, a heavy grow-house boat. The vessel had begun life as an oil tanker before BuyMort, but the rag-tag group of survivors who had claimed it as their home had made significant upgrades and customizations to the vessel over the five weeks since everything changed. Now the vessel was a translucent-aluminum topped floating forest, with massive bays of artificial lights to feed and illuminate the various plants they relied upon for food even while submerged.

It was the beating heart of the fleet, every other ship was in formation to protect the Arboretum, especially the Whalehunter. At the lead, but lower than any other vessel, Whalehunter led its fleet like a flock of birds on a string. 

The Arboretum showed on screen, to the north, a great, oversized firefly in the depths. They had shielding, to block out the light if needed, but they used the glow as a beacon for the other ships. Not all were as well equipped as the Whalehunter, and movement in the depths could be dangerous.

Captain Omen’s ship took its place at the head of the underwater convoy and began the journey out of the East China Sea.

“Now is the time to hit Kraken, Captain,” Thresher whispered in his ear. “Will you tell me why we flee instead?”

The stern Captain nodded slowly. “Now is not the only time,” he whispered back. “And this journey is worth the risk of waiting.” 

Captain Jeonjo glanced behind them at the hobb civilian representative and raised his voice just enough to be overheard. “The man in the chrome helmet is our best chance against both our enemies. A better time will come, soon.”

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