‘Captain, they’re trying to kill us,’ Dane said, reasonably.
‘I don’t care! No more killing! Do you understand me?’
Dane shrugged.
‘Sure, there’s no need to shout.’
Harper climbed to his feet. It was only then that he realised how astonished he was to be alive.
‘You need to get out of those clothes, Captain,’ Dane told him. ‘And I don’t think that the Browning’s going to fire now.’
Harper stared at his service weapon for a moment as he collected himself.
‘Can you still cloak?’ Dane nodded. ‘Do so and watch the hatches.’ It took moments for Harper to find a towel and some clean clothes in one of the lockers. He stripped, towelled himself dry and changed as quickly as he could. He was dressed as an able seaman now, and the only shoes he could find that came close to fitting him were a pair of garishly coloured trainers.
People came into the boat bay. He heard shouted orders, a brief burst of gunfire that made him jump and then duck for cover. This was followed by the sounds of physical violence and some unpleasant snapping noises.
Harper emerged from behind the lockers to see Dane standing over three battered and mostly unconscious ratings lying on the deck.
‘It might have been useful to interrogate one of them,’ Harper suggested.
‘You’re a very hard man to please,’ Dane replied calmly.
Harper relieved one of them of their M12 Nova sidearm and some spare magazines. He pointed at the opposite hatch to the one the sailors had just come through.
‘That way.’
Dane moved in front of the Captain. Harper watched as the lensing field bent light around the armoured figure and seemed to swallow him. There was a slight disturbance in Harper’s vision if he looked hard enough, presumably due to the movement, but otherwise he could see straight through Dane’s armoured form as if it wasn’t there.
A rating came round the corner. He saw the captain and started bringing his SCAR to bear. The SCAR was yanked up as the sailor was beaten into the bulkhead by an invisible force. The gun disappeared, enveloped by the cloak’s lensing field. Another sailor opened a hatch and peeked out, a pistol in his hand. He was yanked out of the hatch and flung into the opposite wall, before being slammed into the ground.
Oh well, at least they’re not dead, Harper thought.
They turned the corner. Two sailors were waiting for them. When Harper saw the muzzle flash from the barrels of the SCARs he knew he was dead. He raised his arm up pointlessly to ward off the bullets. The automatic weapons fire was deafening in the confined corridor. He heard a grunt of pain and felt something stumble against him. Dane became visible again. The armour changed. Harper actually heard the sound of plates sliding across each other. Dane started striding forward. The front of his armour was wreathed in sparks as the sailors panic fired at the strange figure. He reached the two sailors and Harper watched as the armoured figure did something unspeakably violent to both of them. Harper was transfixed for a moment and then remembered what he was doing. As the last of the shots stopped ringing in his ears he realised he was hearing shouts.
He tried opening the door to Lieutenant Talpur’s cabin and found it locked.
‘Dane, if you would,’ Harper said. The armoured figure stalked back down the corridor and tore the lock out of the door.
‘Sir?’ A slightly surprised looking Lieutenant Talpur said as she glanced at Dane’s armoured figure.
‘Report,’ Harper ordered.
‘Commander Stevens and a number of the junior officers have taken the ship,’ the marine lieutenant told him.
‘Lieutenant Commander Swanson?’
‘Executed for mutiny along with Sergeant Martin. Most of the crew are too frightened to do anything. Those that wouldn’t go along with him are confined to quarters under guard.’
‘How’d he get the drop on you, Lieutenant?’ Harper asked, trying to ignore the hammering and shouting from the marines’ bunk area next to the Lieutenant’s cabin as they broke through the locked door.
‘Unbeknown to me, Stevens had a key to the armoury. He armed his supporters. Those of my men on duty found themselves confronted with a lot of armed matelots. Those off duty were caught unawares. Nobody wanted to start shooting in the ship.’
Not the Royal Marines’ proudest moment, Harper thought. That said, there were a lot more sailors on-board than there were marines.
‘Lieutenant, I need to know where you stand and I need to know right now.’
‘Sir, did you not hear me correctly? He executed Sergeant Martin.’
Harper nodded. Dane handed her the SCAR as the marines kicked their way out of their bunk area. The remaining twenty men and women of the platoon started spilling out. The first two grabbed the guards’ SCARs and spare magazines.
‘Stevens’ people have all the weapons,’ Talpur told him. Dane told some of the marines where they could find more SCARs, those that he had left littered around the ship. A few of them headed off to collect the weapons.
‘This Stevens?’ Dane asked.
‘Him you can kill,’ Harper said grimly, thinking about the promising young Lieutenant Commander and the marine sergeant who were now dead. ‘I want no unnecessary firing, Lieutenant.’
‘Describe necessary, sir?’ one of the marines who was armed, a young woman, asked. Harper thought he heard Dane chuckle.
‘Where possible I want to speak to them,’ Harper said. The marines looked to Talpur.
‘Sir, with all due respect I’m not going to needlessly endanger my people. If they are at risk, taking fire, then they’re damn well going to shoot back.’
‘I said where possible.’
‘So they’re allowed to kill the sailors?’ Dane asked.
‘Yes, they’re not bloody Americans. Now lead the way and try and soak up some of the gunfire.’
Stevens had, of course, secured the bridge. Ratings loyal to him had barricaded the approaches and were using open hatches as cover. Harper had his back to one of the bulkheads. He, Lazy Dane and the marines were hiding round the corner from one of the three corridors that lead to the bridge.
‘We need to assault the corridor, sir,’ Talpur told him.
‘I can clear it,’ Dane told him.
‘Wait, both of you,’ he said. ‘You men, listen to me. This is your Captain speaking. I don’t know what Lieutenant Commander Stevens has told you, but he is a mutineer who has murdered two members of this crew. Anyone aiding him is also a mutineer. I will show leniency if you put down your weapons now and surrender immediately. If you do not then you will be dealt with by a platoon of very angry Royal Marines who are looking for revenge for the death of one of their own. You may get some of us, though I think it unlikely. You will all, very certainly, die.’
He waited. He could hear talking.
‘We’re coming out. Don’t shoot.’
Harper nodded, relieved. The sailors were roughly manhandled, relieved of their weapons, cable tied and left lying face down.
‘We need a plan to assault the bridge,’ Lieutenant Talpur said. ‘Shit!’ Harper just strode up the corridor.
‘Don’t fire. I’m coming in!’ the Captain shouted and stepped onto the bridge.
‘I like him,’ Dane said to the appalled-looking marine Lieutenant.
Harper walked onto the bridge, all eyes on him. There were a dozen sailors in here with SCARs pointed at him. The cadaverous form of Stevens was stood in front of the Captain’s seat, pointing a pistol at the Captain.
‘Drop the weapon, Harper,’ Stevens said.
Harper looked down at the pistol. He had forgotten it was there.
‘It’s Captain Harper, Commander Stevens.’ He glanced at his watch. ‘We don’t have much time. Put your weapons down now,’ he told the armed ratings.