Ok, I warned you that this might happen and it has. The SZS are back for a fifth series and this time they are on the high seas. I can promise you the same mix of unlikely story lines, sexual innuendo, military inaccuracy, twisted humour, startling ineptitude and inexcusable incompetence. As always I would like to thank Tony Grounds and the BBC for lumbering me with this obsession - you will be hearing from my solicitors shortly. In the meantime I hope you enjoy this next instalment, thank you for your support and encourage your feedback.

Frank Bramwell was a very happy man. To begin with he was sitting on his own private veranda, part of the luxurious royal suite on the SS Indian Ocean Queen. The scene was also perfectly set with the waters of the Gulf of Aden stretched out before him, the top of each wave tipped with silver by the full moon which had recently risen into a clear star studded night sky. The wake of the ship trailed lazily away into the distance, slowly dissipating as it approached the line of the horizon. Just beyond the horizon was the Horn of Africa, the eastern most tip of the dark continent and to his right, in the distance, the grey smudge of the Arabian Peninsula could just be made out. The night was warm and exotic, a gentle breeze ruffling his loose fitting robe and bringing to his nostrils the salty tang of the ocean.

Added to this, his young wife was making herself ready for a night of unbridle passion in the cabin behind him. It was their first wedding anniversary and this cruise was his gift to her. It also marked his early retirement, having sold his chain of car dealerships for a tidy sum. In short, he was living the dream, with long years of quality leisure time stretching out before him characterised, he hoped, by nights like this, full of excitement, adventure and romance.

"Oh for fuck sake, I can't get this poxy thing on" called Cheryl, his wife, from inside " Its all hooks and eyes and lacy bits."

Frank grimaced "There's a manual somewhere I think. The man in Johnathan's said to just follow the instructions step by step. I'm supposed to help you take it off not put it on."

"Well I've got to number 12 and I can't see what to do with this cake wisk" replied Cheryl

" I dont think you put that on, dear, its for making the syllabubs afterwards" explained Frank

"What the hell are syllabubs when they're at home?"

"Some kind of cake I think, there should be a pack of mix included in the box"

"Oh yes, here it is" said Cheryl "Not sure I like the sound of them"

"Well, I thought they were better than the other option where all you got at the end was a pack of dried peas. Now hurry up, I popped the Viagra a little while ago and I've nearly poked my eye out twice leaning forward to get my drink" said Frank impatiently.

"OK, nearly done" came the response.

Frank grinned and got up carefully. He strolled over to the railing and leant on the smooth polished wood. In the distance he thought he could just make out the shadow of a small boat bobbing in the wake of the larger ship. Then between the two vessels a movement in the water caught his eye. A sleek dark figure surfaced momentarily, swimming at some speed, then disappeared again only to reappear a few moments later and plunge into the inky waters once more. Then another and another broke the surface and dived back in just as quickly, progressing in this way towards the stern of the cruise ship.

"Oh, Cheryl, come and have a look at this! Dolphins, there are dolphins following us!"

"Alright, I'm coming. I've just got to connect up this sword thingy"

Frank turned towards the cabin with a frown "Its not a sword, love, its a scythe and its for me to wield manfully in the long grass, apparently" He then turned back to scanning the water "Can't see them now..."

"What dear?"

"The dolphins... they must have gone under the stern" and leaning over the railing Frank peered down into the churning foam created by the ships powerful propellers. However, what met his eyes made him cry out in fright and step away from the edge. Three dark figures were scaling the rear of the ship at incredible speed heading directly or him. Frank turned to run for the open door of the cabin but before be had gone more than a few steps they were on him, grabbing his arms and pulling him towards the railings. He struggled desperately and craned his neck to face his attackers but quickly wished that he hadn't as he met a pair of angry red eyes above a nose and mouth streaming with pungent green mucus.

"Oh god help!" he cried desperately.

Cheryl came running out onto the veranda and took in the scene with one glance before raising her hands to her mouth in horror and screaming. In another second Frank was gone, disappearing over the side with his assailants. After standing in frozen disbelief for a few seconds Cheryl ran to the rail and looked down into the water but there was no sign of her husbands or the zombies, just a small boat skipping across the waves at speed, heading towards the distant horizon...

The forbidding gatehouse to the high security prison towered above Jeffrey Cribbs as he queued with the other visitors to be admitted. The line of people filed slowly into the yawning maw of the entrance like offerings to an ancient god. However Cribbs paid little attention to the proceedings. He was well used to the rituals of prison visits. Many of his clients were in for long stretches and he was their trusted agent on the outside, managing their affairs while they were indisposed. These affairs were often not strictly legal but Cribbs, despite being a solicitor, had little respect for the law. Shortly after qualifying, he had found that what he really enjoyed was not practising the law but manipulating it, finding the dirty little cracks between the sections and sub sections of legislation and prising them open wide enough to allow his clients to squeeze through. This approach was doubly appealing to him as it proved to be very lucrative, and one thing Cribbs liked more than subverting the law was money, lots and lots of money.

Cribs entered the Victorian pile and made his way to the reception area where his briefcase was scanned while he was searched. He was then waved through into a waiting area where he sat patiently until he was informed that his client was ready for him.

This was a very special client, extremely high profile and in need of particularly bespoke services. Cribbs had taken some care prior to the visit to make sure he had the required information and would be presenting a bill commensurate with the pains that he had taken.

He followed the prison guard down a long, brightly lit corridor and was shown into a private interview room where a man in his early thirties sat patiently behind a table, dressed in a prison uniform. He rose as the solicitor entered and extended his hand.

"Jeffrey" he said simply

"Rupert" responded Cribbs taking the offered hand in a limp and slightly moist grasp.

Both men then waited until the door was closed behind them and they were left alone before sitting down and facing each other.

"How are you?" Asked the solicitor of his client

"As well as can be expected" responded Rupert with a slight frown which strongly suggested that the expectation alluded to was very low indeed. "Notoriety in prison, as in the outside world, has a number of drawbacks." He added.

"I understand" replied Cribbs, a statement which for him constituted the extreme limit of his available compassion. He, together with most of the world, knew why Rupert was in prison, how he had planned a series of zombie attacks in London some nine months previously in an effort to force a change in government policy and secure a lucrative defence contract for his drugs company. Most of the world was also aware of what had happened at Upton Park football ground which had led to those plans unravelling. However, Cribbs knew better than to allude to these events, particularly the latter, which would almost certainly result in his client's speedy decent into a twitching, muttering wreck.

"You bring news from our...friends?" asked Rupert

"I do" replied Cribbs "The...sample you provided has proven to be very effective. They wish to secure further quantities"

"At the agreed price?" Pursued Rupert

"At the agreed price" confirmed Cribbs

The prisoner closed his eyes and for the first time in months the beginnings of a smile formed on his thin lips. He then opened his eyes and looked at his solicitor "Are the arrangements in hand?" He asked

"They are, and should be complete in a few days" came the response

"For both myself and my associate?" Pressed Rupert

"Indeed, the...former minister is aware of the proposes transaction and preparations are well advanced at his current place of residence"

"We will need safe passage and new identities..."

"Of course, the buyers are prepared to finance all your requirements in return for the merchandise. And preparations from your end?" Asked Cribbs

"Don't worry about that...I have been planning this for six long months and everything is in place..."

Just then there was a knock at the door which caused both men to turn their heads sharply. In the small viewing window appeared the face of a heavy set, bald headed man with a tattoo of a spiders web across his left eye. After leering through the glass panel at Rupert, the man winked suggestively then pressed his lips to the window before disappearing from view, leaving an oval shaped smudge behind.

"Friend of yours?" Ventured Cribbs

"No" replied Rupert curtly "a fellow inmate who appears to have formed an...attachment. I am endeavouring to resist his advances"

"I would think so" said the solicitor then turned back to his client "I will arrange for a message to be sent to you shortly confirming the final details"

With that the two men shook hands and Cribbs called for the guard. Shortly after Cribbs had left, another guard appeared to convey the prisoner back to his cell. As the door was closed and locked behind him, Rupert sat on his small bed and contemplated the wall opposite. There, stuck on the rough plaster with bluetack, was a large poster of his nemesis; deep brown eyes staring, hands on hips, bare, well sculpted torso gleaming, low slung combat trousers hanging from his hips.

It had been a joke. The other prisoners clubbing together to buy the poster and leaving it rolled up in Rupert's cell for him to find. They had been hoping for a tantrum, for him to rip the thing to shreds and dash it to the floor in rage. But instead he had stared at it for a long time then slowly secured the four corners of the large, glossy sheet to the cell wall. There it had stayed for the last six months, a focus for Rupert's resolve, a symbol of his mounting hope, and the covering for one end of a short tunnel he had slowly created between his cell and a small forgotten service corridor full of pipes, broken furniture and disguarded boxes. In that corridor, set into the concrete floor, was a rusty metal man hole cover which gave access to a disused foul sewer pipe just large enough for a man to squeeze through...

Major Charles James of the Special Zombie Service sat nervously, his thumb drumming a continuous rhythm on his lap. He had faced many challenges in his spectacularly successful army career, using his intelligence and guile to ensure mission aims were achieved and the men in his charge all made it back safely. But this was different...he had never known the cold hand of fear grip his innards so intensely, draining the strength from his limbs, squeezing the air from his lungs and clouding his mind so his thoughts slowed to a crawl. He tried to swallow but his throat was parched and there was a roaring in his ears.

James finally took a deep breath and forced himself to focus. He then turned to Molly and said with as much calmness as he could muster:

"OK remember, mirror, signal, manoeuvre."

Molly frowned then nodded, the tip of her tongue protruding slightly from her mouth in concentration. James would have found the trait adorable if he wasn't so terrified. He had offered to teach his wife how to drive the previous week, thinking that a few circuits of the base's perimeter road would be a perfect way for her to get a feel for the basics. What he hadn't counted on was the fact that she would approach driving in the same way she approached most other challenges, at the charge and leaving a Molly shaped hole in any barrier that presented itself.

The first lesson had been a white knuckle ride of wheel spins and screeching brakes as Molly floored the accelerator and ground through the gears, often looking down for long periods to check the position of the peddles. The small hatchback had careered around the base, sending soldiers running for their lives. James had resolved to remain calm and measured during the lesson so as not to panic his pupil. He had also been determined not to come across as smug or patronising should elementary mistakes be made. However, in the event he had simply gripped the dashboard with one hand and stuffed the other into his mouth in an effort to stiffle the screams of terror which rose involuntarily from his throat.

When Molly had eventually slammed on the breaks and brought the car to a shuddering halt with an exclamation of "That was bloody brilliant, can we go again!", it was all James would do to set his mouth into a grinning rictus and squeak out "Maybe in a couple of days" before forcing his buttocks to unclench and almost falling out of the passenger door to stumble away towards the officers mess for a stiff drink.

He had, therefore, been dreading this next foray and had resolved to ensure that he would do everything he could to avoid the prospect of their premature deaths whilst not denting Molly's confidence.

"Right" he had said as they had walked towards the car " now that you have nailed this driving lark let's work on the advanced stuff, the subtle nuances of complex driving skills that will really test your metal"

Molly had looked at him blankly and said "Like what?"

"Well" continued James thinking furiously "hill starts, three point turns, parallel parking, that sort of thing"

Molly had considered this for a second "Sounds a bit shit. I think I need more practice just, you know, driving around before we get onto the fiddly stuff. Come on" she had said and strode towards the car. James had sighed inwardly and followed her.

Now as they prepared to set off James was determined to try and instill a little discipline into Molly's driving. "OK, so remember what we talked about, a little bit of gas, bring the clutch up slowly to the biting point then off with the hand break and away we...oh shit!" The hatchback shot forward with a screeching of tyres and sped along the main base road towards the admin block from where his company clerk had just emerged at the double. James fought his rising panic and forced a few desperate words out of his rapidly constricting throat "Just a smidge less accellerator if you can...bit less, a bit less...oh god!"

James watched in mounting horror as the clerk tried to wave the car down, even stepping into the road in the reasonable expectation that once Molly had seen him she would come to a stop. However, the medic was busy trying to find fourth gear and only looked up when James gave a strange strangled cry at which point she applied the breaks and skidded to a halt centimetres from the clerk. The man had taken on a deathly pallor and James thought he might faint away, but he was able to walk unsteadily to the major's window and mutter "AGC's turned up early, sir." before turning a piercing glare at Molly in the drivers seat.

"Thank god" said James in an undertone then dismissed the private and turned to his wife assuming a downcast face."Oh blast, Adjutant General's people have turned up early dear. I will have to go."

Molly looked disappointed "And I was just getting into the swing of it again. Oh well, I suppose we can have another go at the weekend when we visit your parents."

James' face fell at the thought and he quickly contemplated the greatest risk to the World Heritage Site since the Nazi bombings. On her part Molly misconstrued her husband's expression. "Oh come on, we haven't seen them since we got back from the States. It won't be that bad"

James rapidly changed gear mentally. "Its just since retiring they've gone a little...strange"

Molly smiled "They're just a bit eccentric, that's all. I think its really sweet"

"Hmm" said James uncertainly "Anyway, let me park the car up and I'll see you tonight back at the flat, OK?"

Molly leaned over and pecked him on the cheek then exited the car and walked back towards the medical centre.

A few minutes later James strode into his office and greeted the two young officers who were waiting for him there.

After waving them back into their seats he sat behind his desk and looked at each in turn. "So what do Army HR want to talk to me about?"

The two officers looked at each other before one of them spoke up. "Its about Private Smith and Doctor Kyung-Sook, sir"

"Ah" said James "Our zombies, what about them?"

Both of the personnel officers visibly winced before the first piped up again "We prefer the term 'alternatively alive' sir, the 'z' word is considered to promote negative stereotypes"

James stared at the speaker for a moment "Alternatively alive?"

Both officers nodded in tandem

"OK, what about them then?" Asked the major

The second officer leaned forward and addressed James "Now that there is more than one individual operating...legitimately, the alternatively alive are considered to constitute a protected characteristic under Section 4 of the Equality Act. As a result they are subject to the Public Sector Equality Duty."

James stared a both of them once more "Really?"

Again came the tandem nodding

James sighed "Alright, what do we have to do?"

"Well" began the first officer again "we have to make sure that we are eliminating discrimination, advancing equality of opportunity and fostering good relations"

James nodded "You needn't worry on any of those counts, they are both well respected members of the team and get on like a house on fire with their colleagues. Private Smith has proven himself time and again to be an excellent soldier while Kyung-Sook, since joining us, has added enormous value as the head of our research section."

Both officers took out their pens and started to scribble away in their note books.

"And have you had to adapt any of your processes to deal with their special needs?"

James frowned "Errr, well the catering section have had to address their particular dietary requirements...oh and we've had to reinforce a couple of bunks"

"What for?" Asked the second officer puzzled

"Have you ever seen zom...I mean the alternatively alive... make love?" Replied James

Both officers shook their heads.

"Well, let's just say it's more Tyson and Holyfield than Mills and Boon"

Again more furious scribbling before the first officer pulled out a thick document and turned to the first page "Right, shall we start on the Equalities Impact Assessment?"

James' heart sank "Do we really have to..." But before he could finish there was a knock at the office door and the company clerk poked his head in.

"Sorry sir" he said "You have a call on the secure line from Colonel Morley"

James, hugely releived, shot out of his chair saying " My apologies gentlemen, but we will have to do this another time" He then strode out of the room and into the general office beyond where he turned to the clerk and winked "That was bloody brilliant Peters, I couldn't think how I was going to get away from them"

"Thank you sir" said the private, "but Colonel Morley is actually on the phone"

"Oh" said James "Very well then" and made his way to the operations room.

"Hello sir, what can I do for you?" Asked James as he picked up the receiver

"Ah James, good. What do you know about piracy in the Gulf of Aden?

James was taken by surprise at the question but sorted quickly through what he knew "Erm, it all started after the collapse of the Somali state during the civil war. The waters around the country are a rich fishing ground but, following the disbanding of the navy, they were plundered by foreign fisherman leaving the native fleets with little income. They turned to piracy to make a living, mainly by ransoming foreign nationals. Activity has declined significantly over the last couple of years due to a combination of increased stability in the region, protection measures on vessels and the presence of the international navy force"

"Excellent Major" replied Morley

"Not really sir, looks like our author has been doing some half cocked research on Wikipedia again" admitted James

"Indeed" agreed Morley "The problem is that we have seen an upsurge in pirate activity over the last few weeks with three foreign nationals being kidnapped from various vessels"

"That's concerning Colonel but what's it got to do with the SZS?" asked James

"The last incident involved the taking of a wealthy businessman from the cruise ship Indian Ocean Queen. The guy was plucked right off of his balcony by three assailants who swam from a small fishing boat nearby and scaled the side of the ship in seconds. The man's wife saw the whole thing and gave a description of the perpetrators"

"Don't tell me...alternatively alive?" Ventured James

"What?" Said Morley confused "No, zombies man...what the hell are alternatively alive?"

"Nothing sir, don't worry... So what's the plan?"

"We're gathering evidence and formulating a strategy, but it looks like we'll need your outfit to ship out as soon as we've got something together"

"I have leave this weekend sir...should I look to cancel?" Asked James hopefully

"No need for that James, it'll take a few days to go through the intel. Got anything planned?"

"No, just a trip up to Bath to see my parents"

"Ah, visiting the folks are ya? I love those guys, they're real British eccentrics" said Morley

"So I keep being told" muttered James

After Morley had rung off, James leaned back in his chair and blew out a breath. A new mission beckoned but first he would have to survive a weekend with his mum and dad...