The Demons of Wrangel Island

Chapter 1: Some Days are Better than Others

"Admiral, please report to the control room."

Harriman Nelson looked up from the book he'd been reading, surprised by the urgency in his captain's voice. Lee's tone was clipped, betraying more than a trace of anxiety. Nelson slid off his bunk and crossed the cabin quickly to his desk, clicking on the com.

"What's the matter, Lee?"

"The Titan's in trouble, sir. They're requesting assistance."

"The oil tanker?" Nelson's brow furrowed. The Titan was a supertanker launched only the previous year.

"Yes, sir. They were damaged in this morning's storm and one of the holds is leaking." Lee paused and Nelson leaned closer to the com. "The Captain says there's the possibility of a massive spill."

"On my way." The admiral's book slipped unnoticed from his hand, falling beside his desk. Nelson didn't stop to pick it up.

XXXXXXXXXXXXXX

The control room of Seaview was bustling when Nelson made his way forward. The submarine had escaped damage in the storm, but had picked up the entire crew of a capsized fishing vessel, twenty-one men in all. Seaview had changed course to return the men to their homes in the Maldives, a two-day journey at standard speed. Nelson noticed the weariness of the crew as he picked his way to Crane's side, nodding at the men who wove around him carrying out their duties. It had not been an easy morning. "What's the news?"

"Not good." Lee pointed to a coordinate on the chart in front of them. "Here's Titan, completely in the opposite direction from our current course. Even if we double-back at flank speed, we wouldn't reach her for eleven hours."

"Can anyone else assist?"

Lee shook his head. "Captain Marcel says he needs us. You and me, specifically."

"You and me," Nelson said wonderingly. "Why?"

"They've got some flooding issues, but the real problem is their computer. The Captain says they were struck by lightening and all systems were knocked offline. They've had a hell of a time getting communications back up and the pumps going. They can manually override most areas, but there's a valve stuck open in one of the holding tanks and the water level's too high for them to get to it. It'll take hours to get that section pumped out."

"Can the Captain repair the computer?"

Lee shook his head. "Not quickly enough. He says he's doing what he can, but he needs expert help. The computer system on Titan is state of the art. Not as advanced as Seaview's, but still pretty complicated."

"We can't allow that oil to spill into the ocean."

"No, sir, Lee agreed, "but if they just need the two of us, why don't we go to them in the flying sub and leave Seaview on course for the Maldives? Chip can take the fishermen home and we can catch up when Titan's computer is fixed." Crane looked at Morton, who was closely following their exchange. "Chip, can you hold down the fort until the Admiral and I return?"

"No problem, Lee. I'll have the flying sub prepared right away."

"Thanks, and Chip," he tossed his exec a smile, "try to stay out of trouble while we're gone."

Morton raised an eyebrow. "I think that's my line."

"Lee," Nelson said, "did Titan request medical assistance?"

"No, they didn't mention it."

"Better ask Jamie to come anyway," Nelson said, "and tell him to bring his emergency kit, just in case."

"Chip, ask Kowalski to report to the FS-1, too," Lee said. "If I have to take a dive in that flooded hold I'll need some help."

Nelson smiled. Lee was a fair man and didn't play favorites, but somehow Kowalski always ended up being chosen as the go-to man for missions. "We do have few other qualified divers among the crew, you know."

"We certainly do, but you can't deny it, sir— Kowalski's the best. Smart, dependable…"

Nelson held up his hands. "You won't get any argument from me. I'm just suggesting you give the others a chance more often."

"I do. I will," Lee promised, "but for something tricky like diving in the darkness of a flooded hold, I definitely want Kowalski."

Nelson chuckled. "Fair enough. I'll meet you and the team in the FS-1's bay at," he glanced at his watch, "13:00. We've got a long flight ahead of us and we need to move fast to stop that oil leak."

XXXXXXXXXXXXXX

It was a little more than three hours later when the FS-1 docked beside the Titan. It had been a crowded flight for the four men with all their gear. Nelson and Crane had brought specialized tools as well as replacement parts for the oil tanker's computer. Nelson clambered through the hatch, a duffle bag full of components weighing down each shoulder, and scanned the sea with an appraising eye. He sighed, relieved, at the clean, blue waves lapping against the FS-1. "It can't be too bad yet," he said to Lee, who emerged behind him just as laden. "I don't see an oil slick."

"Maybe the leak's on the other side, sir."

"Maybe." Nelson cast his gaze up to the rail of the Titan. A number of sailors were assembled there, watching them. They looked like statues silhouetted against the afternoon sky. There was something about their unmoving regard that made the admiral uneasy. Shaking his head, Nelson motioned to Crane. "Up you go, Lee!" He couldn't help but add, "And be careful."

Crane nodded once, briskly. "Don't worry, I won't fall." The captain maneuvered gracefully around Nelson and started to climb the metal ladder on the side of the Titan.

"I know you won't." Nelson sighed. "That wasn't what I meant." Since he wasn't sure exactly what he had meant, he shrugged back into the straps of his duffle bags and followed. He climbed more slowly, reflecting that maybe he was getting a little too old to be clambering up the sides of ships with forty pounds of gear hanging from him. He had almost reached the top, Jamie and Kowalski just behind him, when he heard Lee's bags hit the deck with a clang. He surged up the last few rungs, prepared to chew his captain out for being so careless with expensive and delicate equipment. The moment he reached the top, his arms were enclosed from shoulder to wrist by many pairs of hands. He gave a startled exclamation as they hauled him unceremoniously onto the deck. Nearby, Lee was struggling to free himself from the similar grasp of a half-dozen men.

"What is the meaning of this?" Nelson demanded, as his equipment was torn away by fingers too quick and strong to catch.

A short, solid man in a plain blue shirt stepped forward, eyeing him critically, before leaning out over the ladder. "You men below," he called to the doctor and Kowalski, "don't try to go back to your flying sub. Come up immediately, if you want your Captain and Admiral to live!"

Slowly, Jamie and then Kowalski appeared at the side. They, too, were pulled on board and their equipment taken from them. Several of Titan's sailors produced small pistols, which they pointed at their bewildered guests.

"I ask you again," Nelson said in what seemed to him a very reasonable tone, given the circumstances, "what is this all about?" His eyes narrowed as he studied the face of the man in the blue shirt. He was undoubtedly the leader, yet he wore no uniform or insignia. "Captain Marcel? You don't really have an oil leak at all, do you? And I suppose you're not really the captain of this vessel, either?"

Marcel advanced on Nelson and, almost casually, dealt him a backhanded blow that would have made him stagger if he hadn't been held so firmly. "You're very astute. That's good. I hope you'll listen to reason."

Nelson cast a quick, warning glace at Lee, who had renewed his struggles. The captain's indignant expression worried him. He knew how quickly a situation could escalate and it was usually Lee who ended up coming to harm. Recovering his composure, Nelson made an effort to speak lightly. "It seems I have no choice but to listen. What do you have to say? "

"First things first. It's best for you to understand your position right away. No point in coddling you, Admiral, or," he pointed to Lee, "him." At his signal, one of the men holding Lee twisted the Captain's arm high behind his back. Lee's startled cry of pain made Nelson flinch but the Admiral's voice, when he spoke again, was icy.

"What do you want from us?"

"At the moment," Marcel said, "I want you to be alone. Later," he smiled thinly, "I'll have some additional requests."

Nelson cocked his head, regarding Marcel appraisingly. To the side, Lee remained doubled-over, silent except for the breath that came hard through his teeth.

"Take them below, search them, and separate them," Marcel ordered.

Nelson almost lost his footing as he was dragged down into the belly of the tanker. The air was hot and full of oil vapors, and for a moment he was overcome with dizziness. Shuffling sounds behind him told him his crew was receiving similar treatment. The inside of the tanker was vast and dim. Nelson's captors made a sharp left and pulled him down a narrow passageway. The admiral strained his neck to look over his shoulder and caught sight of Jamie being pulled to the right. Then they reached an empty cabin, lit only by a flickering florescent rod in the ceiling. Pushed from behind, Nelson finally lost his balance and fell onto the deck. Hard hands held him down while others searched his clothes quickly and thoroughly, relieving him of his pocketknife and matches. Then the door slammed behind him and was secured. When the sailors' footsteps had faded down the corridor, Nelson raised himself onto his elbows. A mélange of fear, anger, and disbelief swirled in his mind—a dangerous combination, but a feeling of impotence overwhelmed them all. He was alone, his men were in danger, and there was nothing he could do.