It had been just over two weeks since our encounter with the woman claiming to be the Bismarck. The journey back home from the North Atlantic had been largely peaceful with the weather being oddly calm on the first leg home which took us via Panama.

A brief stop at the customs check point in Panama had been a slight concern, however the Customs Officer took a very brief, bored look over the paperwork we were required to submit for checking before passing through the canal.

Neither the officer checking over the paperwork or the two who took a brief tour through the Intrepid with the First Mate asked any questions as to why we had either an undocumented person aboard ship or the nature of Bismarck's rigging that was still in one of the storage compartments.

After departing the Western end of the Panama Canal and turning on a northern route for home the Intrepid was met with more oddly calm weather with the ocean swells rarely exceeding two metres allowing us to run the ship close to its top rated speed and test out the newly acquired engines that had only been fitted less than three months back in San Diego.

During the days when not on the bridge I spent my time in the engine room making sure that the ships experimental engines where functioning as designed, much to the annoyance of the Chief Engineer, a burly German named Albert Ganser. On one such trip down to the engine room, Albert came up to me and asked, "So what's the big rush to get home?"

Looking up at him from the inspection hatch I was crouched down next to, "Albert, it's been two weeks since we started back home. Surely someone has told you what's going on by now," I answer knowing that keeping anything private on a ship this size is impossible.

"Only thing anyone has told me is that we fished someone out of the ocean and now are heading back home," Albert answers, "Makes no sense to run the engines this hard though."

It's typical thinking from the Chief Engineer I muse, unless it's something to do with his precious engine room he doesn't bother with the details going on around him. "Well this isn't exactly a normal situation where we find a person lost at sea." I start.

"So, this person is a VIP," Albert states, "Makes sense we'd go to extremes for someone famous."

Trying not to laugh at the blunt nature of Alberts assessment I continue, "Well you are half right Albert. The person we found is certainly famous. Or at least believes they are."

"A runaway then," concludes Albert, "Happens all the time at sea."

Shaking my head, I simply reply, "Maybe a trip up to the galley one morning for breakfast might enlighten you as to what the situation really is."

With a final look over the instrument panel, I close the hatch and stand up, stretching the kinks out of my back. Glancing down at my watch I see that it's almost eight in the morning, "If you want to know more Albert, our guest is usually in the galley about now."

Without waiting for a reply, I take my leave and head to my cabin to change out of the mechanics covers I wear during my inspections of the engine room into my usual uniform, before heading to the galley down the corridor.

On entering the galley, I see that most of the day watch are already seated and talking amongst themselves as usual. Grabbing my usual mug of coffee along with a plate a scrambled eggs and bacon before taking a seat at the table next to one of the senior researchers, "So any word from the professor over night?" I ask.

"Not a word since my last call in to him when we docked at Panama to take on fuel and supplies," he replies, "Although I honestly don't think the professor actually believes a word of what either we or the Global Explorer are saying in regards to our guests."

"Yeah, I get that impression as well Mike," I admit, "It seems as though the professor is glued to the original project. I know I've had a number of email inquiries as to why we have no new data for him."

"It's not as though we haven't collected enough data, during our seven days on site to keep the team busy for months," Mike replies with a sigh.

"How's the work going on those two cubes," I ask changing the subject, knowing that the research team have been working around the clock trying to uncover the mystery of what the two glowing cubes I had recovered from the ocean.

"Nothing to determine what they are Captain," Mike answers, "It looks like we need the resources back in the lab to find out more."

"I suppose that makes sense," I reply, "It's not as though we were equipped for this kind of project. And having the full team along with the professor to lead them it should make finding out what is happening that much easier."

"That is true," Mike admits, "And having more cubes to work on should speed the process up as well. We recovered another three overnight, and the Global Explorer has over a dozen so far."

"Hopefully that will pique the Professors interest then," I answer.

"Good luck getting the professor to listen," Mike comments, "He rarely believes anything he doesn't witness with his own eyes."

"What did you say to the professor anyway?" another researcher asks.

"Well I told him that we had a rather unique situation on board that required us to return to port," I explain, "I didn't go into too many details over the phone as it's certainly a hard tale to believe even seeing it in person."

"Speaking of seeing it in person this could be interesting to watch," a third researcher observes pointing towards the door to the galley.

Looking in the indicated direction I see that my words earlier with Albert have raised enough interest to get him to venture out of his beloved engine room. Looking around the galley Albert soon spies the table where Bismarck is sitting. "Whatever you do. Don't interrupt. Just sit back and observe." I say as Albert makes his way over to the table and takes a seat.

"Really?" asks one of the juniors.

"So far the only people Bismarck has interacted with are myself and the ships doctor," I explain, "Neither of us are from a nation that was friendly to Germany during World War II. Getting the chance to talk with someone from her homeland might help to bridge the trust gap when Albert backs up what I've already explained and she's read from the archives we carry on board."

Before I can expand on my answer any further, the radio operator bursts into the galley, "Captain! We are receiving a distress message!"

Quickly downing the last of my coffee, I get up from the table and follow the operator out of the galley down the hall into the Radio Room.

On reaching the Radio Room a quick look around brings a question to my lips, "So how did this message reach us?" I ask seeing that the usual radio is not currently being manned.

"The distress call came in via the radio telegraph," replied the radio operator, "We had to get Marcus out of bed so we could decipher it."

Looking at the far end of the radio room I spy Marcus, another member of the research team on loan from the University of Moscow, rapidly writing out a series of dots and dashes on a sheet of paper. Finally, he takes off the headset, grabs another sheet of paper and whilst consulting the first page transcribes the message into basic English.

Looking up from the page he just translated Marcus speaks up, "I know this is going to seem like a hoax. But I've listened to this message three times to be sure. And they are transmitting the same message again."

As Marcus says this the radio telegraph continues tapping away. "Okay," I answer, "Let me hear what the message is."

Rather than read out the message, Marcus simply hands me the translated page. I read through the message twice. It's as Marcus describes. It reads like a hoax. "If I understand this correctly," I begin, "The ship sending this message is not in trouble itself. But rather searching for one that is and is requesting assistance."

"That about sums it up," Marcus admits.

"Can you transmit back to them?" I ask.

"Assuming this isn't an automated message sent out as a hoax then it shouldn't be too hard to talk directly with them," Marcus answers putting the headset back on, "Just tell me what you want to say."

"Okay," I begin taking a moment to compose my thoughts, "Ask them for their location and the last known location for the ship they are searching for."

As I say this Marcus starts tapping out the message in quick succession. After a few minutes, he grabs a pencil and starts writing out the reply that starts coming back in.

Handing me the page, I see a series of coordinates listed. Turning to the radio operator, "Take these to the bridge and tell them I want a direct course for the nearest of these readings. Then find Albert, he's probably still in the galley. And tell him I want everything those engines of his can give me."

Without waiting for a reply, I turn back to Marcus, "Okay. Tell them we are on our way and will update them with a time of arrival shortly. Now can you ask them which ship we are looking for?"

Marcus quickly sends off my last message. Whilst waiting for a reply the First Mate walks in, "We've plotted the course. Should take us about three days to reach that location from here though."

"Okay," I reply, "I've asked Albert to ramp the engines up higher, so we might be able to shave a couple of hours off that."

"Fair enough," the Kevin replies, "What's the rush?"

"Distress call came in this morning, Marcus has been translating it for us," I answer.

"So, some Russian ship is in trouble then?" the Kevin assumes.

Shaking my head, I reply, "Not sure. They sent the message via Morse code."

Seeing Marcus quickly writing out a reply on another page I walk over to stand behind his chair to see what he is writing. "Okay the ship we are looking for is called Kaga." I explain to Kevin, "Get all hands, on deck with binoculars to scan the horizons. We don't know exactly how long this ship has been in trouble for, so we will assume that she is somewhere between us and the location we are now heading."

"Very well," the Kevin replies, "I'll also get the global ship register from your cabin. It should list some further details of the Kaga to help us pin point what to look for."

Nodding in agreement, I turn back to Marcus, "Okay now we know where to go and what we are looking for. Let's find out who we are helping."

Marcus looks up at me from his seat, "Captain?"

"Ask whoever is sending these messages who they are," I explain, "That way we know who to contact directly if we find something."

Understanding my reasoning Marcus once more starts tapping out a message.

He stops midway through the second repeat of the message and writes out the reply.

As I read the reply Marcus has written down, I feel my eyes widen and my jaw drop in shock. The reply is only a single word.

Akagi


In the seventy hours since receiving the distress call, the Intrepid had steamed flat out on a Nor-Westerly heading, sailing past our home port located on Midway Atoll at around three in the morning and now some three and a half hours later the sun was beginning to emerge.

We were still no closer to answering the numerous questions that many on board were now openly asking. And more questions were being asked as the hours ticked by.

As per the Kevin's suggestion we both referenced the global ships register. It was a pocket-sized book that we put together and kept updated to keep records of all known ships that operated around the globe. It included everything, from small privately-owned yachts of the wealthy all the way to naval warships including those listed as floating museums like the USS Missouri located in Pearl Harbour. If it had a name or was registered somewhere in the world we knew about.

And that was where the questions started. Sure enough, we found an entry for a ship called Kaga. She was listed as a Helicopter Destroyer being operated by the Japanese Navy. However, based on satellite images we requested she was docked in Kure at the Naval Yards being upgraded.

The only other reference was to a Tosa class battleship that had been converted into an aircraft carrier also for the Japanese Navy. That Kaga however was listed as sunk during the Battle of Midway.

Even more concerning was the other ship. The one supposedly sending us the messages that was taking part in the search. There was no record of any ship currently using the name Akagi. The only reference we could find was once more to a Japanese aircraft carrier, this time a converted Amagi class battle cruiser. But like before she was also listed as sunk during the engagement at Midway.

It had everyone on board scrambling for answers.

As I continued to ponder the mysteries facing us, I kept a steady watch through the bridge windows from my chair. The smell of coffee raised me from my thoughts, looking towards the door at the rear of the bridge, I saw Bismarck standing there holding a mug of coffee, "Permission to enter the bridge?" she asked.

Nodding my permission, Bismarck stepped through the door and stopped next to my chair, "You got stuck with the dawn shift again?"

"I don't mind," I reply, "This time of day sometimes can be the most pleasant."

"Still, it seems like you never sleep," Bismarck continued.

"I've taken a bunk down in the general quarters for the mean time," I say, "Can't have a guest sleeping in the general section."

"Thank you," Bismarck replied quietly, "Here, I thought you might need this." She finished passing the mug to me.

"Thanks, I needed this," I say taking a sip, "I have a feeling that this is going to be the start of a very long day."

As we continue to speak the First Mate Kevin Newton steps onto the bridge along with Helmsman Luke Brown who relieve the junior officers that were controlling the Intrepid overnight.

"Faint Radar contact" the Kevin calls out, "Dead ahead, one hundred and twenty kilometres."

"Anything on the long scanners?" I ask looking over to the research team who I had allowed to set-up on the bridge to aid the search and rescue.

"Target appears to be moving slowly to the East at approximately five knots," one of the researchers replies, "Appears to be around two hundred and sixty meters in length and over forty thousand tons."

Quickly comparing the information from the scanner to the only reference data we had, "Well that matches with what we know of the World War II aircraft carrier Akagi. Aside from the fact that her last reported position was at the bottom of the Pacific and not over one hundred kilometres ahead of us on the surface." I say to no one in particular.

"Is it possible that your scanners are wrong?" asks Bismarck.

"Normally I'd agree," I admit, "But they gave similar readings the night we found you in the Atlantic. We pulled them apart after that to make sure. Even those on our sister ship reported similar readings before their encounter."

"You trust your scanners then?" Bismarck states with a raised eyebrow.

"Yes and no," I reply, "Before we met these same scanners picked up a two hundred and fifty-meter-long, fifty-thousand-ton contact. Now whilst we never found anything to match that radar contact those readings do match the original dimensions of the KMS Bismarck."

"You mean these readings match the Akagi?" the First Mate asks in surprise.

"Well either something incredibly strange is happening out here on the high seas," I begin, "Or both the US and British Admiralties have been involved in a rather long and extensive cover-up over the fate of German and Japanese naval shipping during the Second World War."

I still hadn't told anyone else about the email I had received the day before we docked in Panama. On a hunch, I had reached out to a pair of colleagues who specialized in deep sea ship wreck hunting. Knowing that they were both in the right parts of the Atlantic on separate assignments, I had asked them to run their deep-sea scanners over the wreck sites of both the Graf Spee and Bismarck.

I wasn't sure what I expected them to find. What I wasn't prepared for was for them to find nothing at all. When they emailed me the data from both locations, which because of their own disbelief at the lack of a wreck included video and still photos from un-manned subs they sent down of the known locations of both wrecks. It seemed impossible to think that not one but two ship wrecks could simply vanish without a trace.

"Target spotted two points to starboard!"

Responding to the shout from outside I pick up a set of binoculars and look out through the bridge windows in the direction called out. After a brief look, I lower the glasses and give the lenses on both sides a wipe with a cloth before resuming my search. Much to my surprise what I had earlier thought to be a smudge from some dirt on one of the lenses was in fact not the case.

"Slow to closing speed and prepare to stop," I call out, and without waiting for any further response, I walk out through the starboard wing door.

Wrapping an arm firmly around part of the superstructure, I lean out as far as possible off the starboard wing and raise the binoculars to my eyes once more to get an unobstructed view. The sight through the lenses seems right out of a Hollywood movie. Roughly three kilometres ahead of the Intrepid there appeared to be a person standing on top of the ocean.

"Can you give me an exact bearing on the contact?" I call back into the bridge.

"Contact is now two thousand five hundred metres, dead ahead of us," the Kevin replies.

'Well that's definitely her then,' I muse to myself. "Are we still getting the same dimension readings?" I continue aloud.

"Affirmative Captain," replies the research team.

"Okay then I've got good news and bad news for you then," I answer back, "The good news is there is definitely someone at that radar contact position."

"So, what's the bad news?" one of the researches calls out.

"Take a look for yourself," I explain, "There's no way in the world that what I'm seeing in that area is either two hundred and sixty meters long or weighs forty thousand tons."