Operation Wolfe Cub: A Chilling Historical Thriller (THE TIME TO TELL Book 1) (9 page)

Q: “You’re—you’re losing me again, Doc. Why can’t you explain what this operation is really about? I mean, maybe US-1 likes this, but I could care less about it if it doesn’t have anything to do with…what’s all this got to do with us and the kid? The baby—down below.”

A: “What? Oh, that’s classified, US-2. I can’t tell you.”

Q: “We’re out here in the ocean all by ourselves on some crazy ship nobody’s ever seen, and that’s all you can say?”

A: “I can assure, this operation begins with your mission, which you vowed to fight to the death for. It’s worth it. Between the baby down below and the technology we’ve comprised, our world depends on this operation. I’ve said enough now. It’s way beyond you and me…and the heavens above.”

Q: “Yes, I heard you before. You said world peace forever, which is hard to believe, so what’s wrong with telling us a little more. Right, US-1?”

A: “I didn’t say ‘forever.’ I said a thousand years. It’s a pretty good start, don’t you think?”

US-1 looked Doc in the eye with intense interest while US-2 whispered in his ear, “I can’t believe I’m hearing this.”

Doc overheard his whisper. Immediately, he dropped his smile as if his feelings were hurt. Slowly, he closed the engine bays and secured them shut with very little to say.

US-2 thought nothing of it. Casually, he walked onto one fin of the vessel and stood there right on top of the emblem
of the golden rolling star. He looked down, not at the symbol, but at the entire fin assembly, and then jumped up and down as if testing its sturdiness. “What’s this thing made of, Doc? It is very strong.”

“Aircraft aluminum and Victalen.”
¹³

US-1 felt it. “Victalen? What’s that?”

“It’s a Frozen Smoke, we call it. It’s the armor and frame of the ship. We had to find something strong enough to withstand what this vessel is capable of doing. The greatest difficulty my metallurgists had to endure was how to lighten it up. They did it.”

When US-2 was through testing the fins, he asked, “These wings. Tell us about these funny wings.”

Doc looked as if he couldn’t believe US-2 was testing his patience too. He faintly shook his head then with a friendly false face, he sorely corrected, “They’re called ‘aqua fins,’ thank you very much…not wings. Wings belong on planes.”

US-2 huffed, “Yes, but this thing looks like a plane or rocket. I mean, look at it.”

Doc glared. “She’s not a ‘thing.’ She’s a ‘she.’ You didn’t think we put those aqua fins on for looks did you?”

US-2 laughed, “No. I guess not…I flew a little ways already.”

Doc grew somewhat irritated. He stepped over onto the fin with US-2, weighting down his playful bounce until he stopped bouncing. “They do a lot more than just raise the weight off this vessel at high speeds…they reduce the hydrodynamic effect of sucking down the stern taking off, caused by propeller thrust. They also enable the driver to land softly so they don’t look like spastis or lose control when they’re speeding—for no reason.”

Doc walked away and then turned back around. “Oh, and by the way, my good friend…she doesn’t ‘fuu-ly,’ as you so
eloquently put it. She glides. When she leaps into the air, she sails back down like she was designed to.”

US-2 complained, “The fins hit the water when I took off. Felt like I was dropped on my ass on concrete!”

“See what I mean? You could be smart…you already discovered their secondary function and you didn’t even know it. You know what we call it for inevitable navigators like yourself?”

“No.”

“It’s called ‘punch and go.’ They are for real, live situations, US-2, not just playing around.”

US-1 quickly walked over. “So that’s what happened when he goosed it? I never would have guessed.”

Doc cleverly nodded. “That’s right, simple physics. When you
punch and go
with this unusual amount of horsepower, she wants to suck herself under the surface. She contains the insatiable urge to throw her bow straight up in the air. Trust me, we didn’t overlook a thing when it came to this operation…you can count on her to escape from any situation, and she can do it fast. No sinking and no shooting to the moon either…once she pulls out of her split-second chaos in takeoffs, she’s gone across the ocean.”

US-2 stroked his whiskery chin. “
Hmmm
, I have to give you something…I didn’t think eighteen hundred horses could do that much damage.”

Doc smiled. “You look compromised for once, US-2… correction, however. It is eighteen hundred horsepower to each propeller—per engine, my friend. Add it up again.”

US-2 suddenly looked more humble. “
Ahh
, Dr. Wycliffe… I’m really sorry about this morning. I didn’t know…”

As Doc gathered up his clipboard and notes once again, he licked the end of his pen to scribble something down. “That’s okay. It’s good that you threw out your incongruences and got it out of your system…by the way, just so you know…I was informed well that you were the wild one. You’re lucky to
be here as far as I am concerned…Wolfe said you might be necessary for Operation Wolfe Cub…strange as it is to me. He said you might be a component to success.”

US-2 beamed. “Yes, I knew it! Did you hear that, US-1? Take my two and shove it! I’m the Number One.”

Doc added, “Don’t get ahead of yourself. Both of you are essential. The facts remain with my beliefs, however… I thought someone like you could be catastrophic…just do me a favor and prove me wrong for once.” Ever so sadly, Doc stepped back down into the cockpit and then peeked back out to his two officers. “Well, it’s time for weapons review and my last lesson. Shall we get a move on?”

US-1 and 2 snapped out of their thoughts then swiftly stepped inside too. Once all three of them harnessed themselves up securely in their captain’s chairs, Doc opened his binder. Casually, he made a few notes then thumbed through his bell book log. “So, US-1…how far did we glide when US-2 hit maximum speed?”

US-2 interrupted, “Oh, wow, that must have been—”

“I said for Number One to answer my question, thank you.”

US-2 fell back in his chair just as US-1 politely answered, “It was at least a hundred meters I estimated. I kept an eye on the gauge as best I could, but we were moving too fast.”

Doc made a quick note, and then he looked over to US-2. “And now for you…how fast were you going?”

US-2 sprang up to the edge of his chair. “It was a hundred sixty knots, at least. She wanted to go higher—I could feel it!”

Again, Doc made a quick scribble in his bell log while muttering to himself, “
Hmmm
, really now…one hundred fifty knots sounds about right.” He then hung his pen behind his ear and moved onto the
next page
where he referenced a chart. “Interesting…eighty-nine meters is the farthest she’s ever glided…I’d say that was a record. You have anything else to say, US-2?”

US-2 looked like the cat that just ate the canary and didn’t say a word.

Doc rolled his eyes then continued, “Okay, then, now for review of standard weapons and secondary weapons, shall we? First is the MG 81Z. The ‘Z’ stands for “Zwilling Twins,”
¹⁴
as you both know. They’re paired up on one mount capable of what US-1? Quick!”

“That’s easy. They’re specially designed with explosive bullets. We’ve got thirty-two hundred rounds per minute, with specially shortened fifty-one-centimeter barrels, flash hiders and no sound suppressors. There are two sets on port and starboard sides. Limited ammo is on board, so we have to use them sparingly.”

Doc nodded convincingly. “Very good. Now for you, US-2…continue on with the auto cannons please.”

US-2 dropped his arms then labored to talk, “
Ah
, Doc, do I have to answer it the same way?”

“Why, yes, of course, go on.”

“Oh, all right…they’re the BK37s…two on each side, with specially-shortened ninety-two-centimeter barrels, I guess.” As he paused to yawn and pick his fingernail, he finished, “One slug will down an aircraft or disable a small vessel… limited quantities of lead in the trunk…oh, and the lead is specially designed with gunpowder to blow craters in their asses on contact.”

Doc tapped his pen looking irritated. “Lead in the trunk? Asses? I see…are you practicing American culture already? Is there anything more you care to add, besides bricks in your pants?”

US-2 looked as if they were ganging up on him. “Bricks? I didn’t say that…okay, I’ll continue…the BK37s were originally designed for the Messerschmitt aircraft.
¹⁵
They fit on
board the
Wehrwolf
even better…we know all this already. Can we learn something new for once?”

Doc chewed on his cheek for a second then closed his binder. “Very well, I’ll skip most of it…it’s not that easy by the book, I can agree with you…since you haven’t engaged in real arms fire, we’ll have to go over accessories for engagements quickly. Nobody’s getting out of this important session.”

He went on, “As you already know, any one of us can move to my center captain’s chair. All you have to do is switch to ‘master control.’ This allows for operating the vessel completely alone. There may come a time when one or two of us are—”

“Yes, yes, injured, we know.”

“May I continue, US-2? Thank you. As I was saying, heaven forbid if one or two of us should fall off the vessel, die, or get eaten by marine life. You both need to be prepared to take over at any given time…questions?” Nobody replied so he continued. “Okay, to your right armrest is your pistol grip that operates almost all of the weaponry, as you know—”

US-1 raised his hand. “What? You said ‘almost all.’ I thought this was all we had.”

“Let me finish…remember to toggle the weapon you wish to use before you go duck hunting with the crosshairs inside the optical provided behind your headrests. I assume you both know how to position yourselves quickly, spin your chairs and line up your targets. We must move on now, shall we?”

“Yes, Doc, ready to move on.”

“Yes, sure Doc, what else you have in that book of yours?”

Doc paused then continued, “Very well. You see these large brass buttons on the center dash of the master controls? They are our secondary weapons…one of them is experimental. It’s there if you need it in case we run out of standard munitions. It’s a single KSK
¹⁶
that operates solely
off the vessel’s power source, which is the modified version of the Triebwerk I spoke of.”

US-2 snarled, “What the hell is that again?”

“I knew you would be the one, US-2…it’s a Strong Ray.
¹⁷
The muzzle blast from the projectiles looks like a laser gun, but it’s not. It’s also called an ‘Anachronism Gun,’ like it says here on the control panel—”

US-2 lazily flagged his hand. “Wait, wait, what did you call it again?”

“An Anachronism Gun. Anachronism, meaning ‘nothing like it’ or ‘chronological error.’ Call it the ‘Strong Ray.’ That’s what I call it. How it works is simple: it’s made up of abnormal metal balls and tungsten spirals. The Triebwerk-connected balls form cascade oscillators that are connected to a barrel-shrouded transmission rod—precision made into a tungsten spiral or coil to transmit a powerful energy burst. It’s powerful enough to pierce, or even obliterate, one hundred millimeters, or four inches, of solid steel armor…listen up…it’s good for one shot. It’s slow to start, and it takes forever to recharge the vessel’s system, rendering us temporarily vulnerable.”

He paused to see if they were listening. “Very well, it looks like you two heard me well…well then. Let’s see how good you two are. Give me an example of what it’s good for.”

They both replied, “Battleship. Nothing else floats out here with skin that thick.”

“Destroyers, the big gunners. Turrets almost as big as our ship.”

Doc nervously nodded. “That’s right. Any large ship over three hundred meters is a good candidate for the Strong Ray.”

US-2 seemed mildly interested as he reached for a cigarette. “How far is it good for?”

Doc answered, “About one point five kilometers, or a mile perhaps, but it’s testing is sketchy and unpredictable. It could go further since it is tied to our surprising technology I mentioned on deck.”

US-1 snickered, “A mile. We’re invincible. Nobody can expect that with a vessel our size.”

US-2 chuckled as he lit up his lighter. “When in doubt, blow ‘em out…I could get into that all day long.”

Doc disrupted their laughs. “No! Listen up—it is dangerous! It’s there in case of an emergency only. You better ask all your questions now, this very minute.”

Q: “Okay then, how dangerous?”

A: “The Anachronism Gun is integrated into our advanced system, as I have said.”

Q: “So…what’s so dangerous about that?”

A: “Oh,
ho
…
ho ho ho
, you only know the beginning, my friends.”

Q: “Beginning? Lay your cards down, Doc.”

A: “The tip of what I’m saying is bigger than all the battleships and the Bismarck too! This is all you should know for now. You best take my word for it.”

Q: “Doc, how can you teach us about your secret gun unless you tell us why it’s so dangerous? I mean, why use it at all?”

A: “Well…my teachings put me at a supreme disadvantage with secrecy, I suppose.
Hmmm
, very well…what you saw back there…you saw it in the engine bays.”

Q: “Yes, the Triebwerk. The
Tachyonator 2
,
err um
, the dynamo thing with the fog. What’s so big about that?”

A: “It’s not meant to be a weapon, but it’s viable for the protection of this venture across the sea. It’s—it’s,
uh
—”

Q: “Come on—no going back now. What’s so special about it?”

A: “
Ahh
, I suppose giving away a piece of it won’t matter too terribly.”

Q: “Say it, will you, Doc? We’re out here all alone.”

A: “This is not to be repeated…what we discovered can unleash a tremendous amount of power.”

Q: “How much power? The power of ten bombs?”

A: “No! Nothing like that. Different power…the power of the universe, I guess you could say.”

Q: “How did you and your scientists determine that?”