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OMG the Fox actually managed to get the next chapter up after a long time of inactivity. For those who like this story, I am glad you are liking it and I hope this chapter meets the standards that my readers want. Please drop me a comment below and let me know what you think.
Ch.1 http://www.furaffinity.net/view/2852145
Ch.2 http://www.furaffinity.net/view/2852148
Ch.3 http://www.furaffinity.net/view/2852159
Ch.4 http://www.furaffinity.net/view/2852172
Ch.5 http://www.furaffinity.net/view/2856405
CH.6 http://www.furaffinity.net/view/2856420
CH.7 http://www.furaffinity.net/view/2862976
CH.8 http://www.furaffinity.net/view/2885841/
Ch.9 http://www.furaffinity.net/view/2885853/
Ch.10 http://www.furaffinity.net/view/3667713/
Ch.11 http://www.furaffinity.net/view/3648859
Daegrim Harbor
‘East Shore Naval Patrol Base’
7.30pm
The normally dark harbor of the large seaside town of Daegrim was ablaze with the glow from floodlights while the sounds of the 21st century drifted across the waters.
The base consisted of three long wooden piers jutting out at right angles to the wide wooden Dock which contained a couple of small warehouses and an assortment of little shacks and pair of prefabricated offices sitting side by side. A number of 44 Gallon barrels marked ‘Diesel fuel’ were stacked near one of the warehouses and the growl of a diesel generator could be heard from somewhere inside the recently installed chain link perimeter fence, powering the lights and the other miscellaneous electrical equipment on the base.
Eagle eyed watchers could see combat ready troops doing roving patrols around the perimeter and small patrol boats plied the waters, shining their searchlights along the shore and out into the open harbor, their Machine guns locked and loaded, ready for action should a hostile vessel approach the base.
Captain Stokes walked down the pier towards his vessel with the collar of his jacket turned up against the cold breeze that wafted across the harbor. He didn’t like being sidelined like this and would rather be out on patrol but circumstances has conspired against him and his crew, all of whom were as anxious as he was about getting underway as soon as possible. A fog had stated to roll in while he was walking and the moisture seemed to stick to his Vulpine fur while attempting to draw the body heat from him. As he neared the end of the pier the long, squat shape of his vessel began to appear, its low hull and long flat aft deck broken only by the solitary 5 inch gun mount that was situated halfway along its length, appearing first, then a gangway guarded by a solitary crewman with an MP5 sub machine gun.
“Who goes there?” the crewman asked, aiming the SMG at the approaching figure of the fox while also trying to shrug off the cold.
Captain Stokes stopped and smiled to himself.
‘At least the sentry was alert’ he thought before answering, not wanting to be shot by his own crewman,” Captain Stokes.”
“Advance and be recognised” the crewman ordered, following procedure despite recognising the voice of the captain he had served under for almost three years. Once he had ascertained that the captain was who he said he was he lowered his SMG and allowed him to pass and soon the Captain was aboard.
His boots resounded on the deck plating as he walked towards the conning tower that emerged through the now thick Fog like a knife, its 40mm Bofors gun pointing skyward in a menacing fashion and while he could not see it through the fog Captain Stokes knew that there was another 5 inch gun mounted on the foredeck as well. His boat was the MCFS Kraken, a modernised WW2 Balao class submarine which had been upgraded and refitted for training and then again for Anti-Pirate patrols in troubled sections of the world.
When the attacks on the modern world began the sub had been on patrol off the coast of Somalia and once the contact with the Kingdom of Calia was established the Boat was rushed to Horton Multinational Combat Force base and resupplied, refuelled and rearmed before being sent through the portal into the unknown.
Now the boat was sidelined in the harbor due to a shattered piston in the starboard engine which had then torn apart the lining of the cylinder and bent the connecting rod. They had limped back to port on a single diesel engine and once there they found that their port engine had similar fatigue cracks on three of the connecting rods, thus rendering that engine out of action as well. The Boat’s electrics were operating from an external auxiliary generator set that was on the pier, which kept the lights and other onboard systems operating.
Now reports had come in that the parts shipment was delayed, a fact that annoyed the captain to no end even though he knew that the storms further to the south were hampering efforts to ship parts and supplies, either by sea or by air, and the forests were still providing an effective obstacle for land transport. Thoughts of how the boat had been plagued by bad luck since the start of this mission ran through his head as he climbed down the internal ladder into the CONN. Aside from the usual noises and activities of the crew the sounds of mechanical work could be heard echoing through the boat as the Chief engineer and his team attempted to remove the damaged piston rod, as well as the fatigued rods, from both engines.
The entire crew knew that, had they been allowed the proper layup time before the mission, they would have detected and rectified the faulty parts before they had a chance to disable the engines but due to the urgency to get another boat in theatre to supplement the MCFS Reliant, they only had enough time to restock fuel, consumables and ammunition before making for the portal.
Captain stokes leaned on the plotting table and glanced over the chart table where Calian Naval ‘Charts’ were pinned down, providing at least some form of navigational aid although they lacked the depth and current information of their modern counterparts. It somewhat amused him that on the Calian charts there were places marked as ‘Sea Serpent Cove’, ‘Enchanted Bay’ and ‘Kraken island.’
With a chuckle at ‘Kraken island’ the Captain stepped away from the charts and leaned into the Radio ‘shack.’ A young looking wolf was sitting before the bank of radio equipment looking bored while spinning a pen in his handpaw while his headphones rested around his neck and his boots up on the desk.
“Comfortable?” the captain said with a smirk, looking at the wolf. The young wolf quickly sat bolt upright, his boots smashed to the floor,” Sir! My apologies.”
“It’s fine Marcus, I feel the same way” he chuckled,” anything on the radio?”
Marcus shook his head,” no sir, nothing is happening anywhere.”
At that moment a wolf in a pair of grease stained coveralls appeared from the hatchway and approached the captain while wiping his handpaws on an equally oily rag.
“What is it Chief?” the captain asked, turning to face his old friend and chief engineer, Tom Riley.
“Captain, we have enough undamaged piston rods and heads to refit the Port the engine and get it operational, we only need your orders sir” Tom replied, his muzzle wearing a smile.
With a grin the Captain placed his handpaw on his friend’s shoulder,” get to it chief, we can get back into the game.”
Without any further speech the chief vanished back through the hatch to begin the work, leaving the Captain and Marcus,” carry on Marcus.”
Leaving Marcus to continue his ‘work’ the Captain retired to his quarters to work on some paperwork that he had been putting off for a while such as fuel and ammunition requisitions, personnel transfers, status reports and his monthly crew evaluation.
Many hours later there was a knock on his door and he opened it to find the chief engineer, covered in grease and oil but smiling from ear to ear while wiping his hands on an oily rag. This brought a smile to his own face since it meant that the boat was ready to run.
“Yes chief?” he asked, already knowing the reply that was coming.
The big engineer leaned on the doorframe in a most unprofessional manner, especially for an officer to do in front of his commanding officer but since the two men had worked together for many years and Captain Stokes had actually requested that Tom Riley actually be transferred to his boat as soon as he had been given command of the aging Krakan since his friend was one of the best diesel boat engineers in the fleet and having taken a look at the Krakan as it sat alongside the dock back at the base he knew that the old girl would need the best engineer and officers that the mighty MCF Navy could provide.
The big engineer only uttered one sentence before heading off towards engineering,” we are ready to go anytime.”
Preparations were made upon the Krakan to depart to take up station out in the shipping lanes but there was a new problem that needed to be rectified prior to the departure. During the time that the old submarine was out of operation she had transferred most of her 24 torpedoes and most of her ammunition for her 4in deck gun to the MCFS Reliant so that they could continue their patrol since they had arrived before the submarine resupply tender Salvation had arrived at the small naval base. Captain Stokes climbed up onto the flying bridge to look around the harbour. The lights of the Salvation were visible across the harbour and between the two vessels were a few patrol boats playing their spotlights across the dark waters in case anything was trying to sneak into the base via the water. The first light of dawn was starting to peak over the horizion and bathing the mist shrouded harbour in an otherworldly glow, a dull grey light that did nothing to alleviate the cold that was still biting at everyone who was outside.
The crew cast off the lines fore and aft as the dockside crew retracted the gangplank as the a deep rumble echoed across the water and a massive vibration was felt through the deck plating. A cloud of bluish grey smoke wafted away from the exhaust vents on the stern as the large diesel engine fired up and began charging the batteries that were rather depleted thanks to the loss of the diesels while on patrol. The breeze caused the MCF flag to flutter on the periscope housing and all these sounds mixed with the calls of gulls and other sea birds, the sounds of horses on the civilian docks and the engine noises of the RHIB patrol boats as they pottered around with their guns at the ready in case something should happen. Over near where the Salvation lay at anchor the sound of another diesel engine rumbling into life could be heard and soon the small harbour tug Morning Star that the MCF had brought with them for use in this cramped (by modern standards)harbour appeared around the bow of the much larger resupply vessel.
Gently, ever so gently, the Morning Star closed on the Krakan and soon the small steel tug was pushing the much larger diesel submarine towards the Salvation and the other submarine that was lying alongside her port side, the Royal Australian Navy Collins class Diesel Attack Submarine HMAS Waller which was taking on Diesel and perishables from the MCF vessel that had been sent up specifically for the modern RAN boat since the RAN had no resupply ships in the area at this time, nor did they have a base like the MCF had established in the only deep water harbour on that section of coastline.
The crew of the Morning Star expertly manoeuvred the Krakan’s 311ft 8in length and 27ft 4in beam around the Salvation and allowed her to be tied up on starboard side and refuelling, rearming and resupply to commence.
While that was going on Captain Stokes went aboard the Salvation to meet with the captain of the Waller who was an old friend of his from his time in the Australian Navy. Leaning on the railing of the submarine tender was a Border Collie, Captain John Parker of the Waller, was watching the crew of the ancient looking submarine beginning to guide Torpedoes from the crane to the loading hatch on the bow when he felt a tap on his shoulder.
“G’day John, long time no see” Stokes said with a smile as he stuck out his hand. The look of surprise on Parker’s face was priceless and then a smile spread over the Collie’s lips.
“You old bastard, don’t tell me you are the captain of that old museum refugee? I thought you wanted to command a modern diesel Submarine?” John asked with a tone of disbelief in his words.
“I go where I am told” Stokes replied as he leaned on the railing,” Actually she is a pretty sweet command. I have the best crew available, they may not be the most disciplined but they are the best at their jobs, I can rely on any one of them.”
They chatted for a couple of hours until the two subs were finally ready for departure before returning to their own vessels. The big diesel engine on the Krakan rumbled to life again with a puff of smoke from the exhaust as the crew once again cast off and old diesel submarine once again was underway on her own power, heading for the mouth of the harbour as her crew went about the final checks on the old engine so that nothing had been overlooked. By the time they had reached open water the old diesel was running perfectly, charging the batteries as the lookouts scanned the horizon for any threats. The 40mm gun was crewed and the lookouts carried Assault rifles slung over their shoulders since although they were hundreds of miles from where the Horde had been causing trouble, and all they really had to compete with was pirate ironclads, Dragons had already proved that they can appear anywhere at any time and absolutely decimate an unprepared opponent.
But on this day the sea was calm and inviting and the only contacts were a single Calian navy galleon that was on a heading towards the harbour and a pair of Calian Dragons that were working their way along the coastline on a patrol and giving the submarine a wide berth for they knew that although they were allies, a dragon approaching could cause panic and create an unfortunate ‘friendly fire’ incident.
The low, streamlined and sleek looking Krakan seemed to glide past the wallowing, slow and fat galleon that was loaded down with gold for the city guard. To the untrained eyes of the soldiers and sailors on the big ship the Krakan looked like something out of a dream and although this was this crew’s first time seeing a submarine up close they could tell that there was more to the machine than met the eye, something sinister and foreboding about its every line as it sliced its way effortlessly through the small waves. The name Krakan that was on the conning tower and the creature depicted in the artwork painted on the boat’s nose was enough to make even the most hardened sailor look away as the name evoked the memories of the legends of the terrible creature that could smash ships to tinder effortlessly. They were all a lot happier when the submarine bearing that terrible name finally disappeared over the horizon.
Ch.1 http://www.furaffinity.net/view/2852145
Ch.2 http://www.furaffinity.net/view/2852148
Ch.3 http://www.furaffinity.net/view/2852159
Ch.4 http://www.furaffinity.net/view/2852172
Ch.5 http://www.furaffinity.net/view/2856405
CH.6 http://www.furaffinity.net/view/2856420
CH.7 http://www.furaffinity.net/view/2862976
CH.8 http://www.furaffinity.net/view/2885841/
Ch.9 http://www.furaffinity.net/view/2885853/
Ch.10 http://www.furaffinity.net/view/3667713/
Ch.11 http://www.furaffinity.net/view/3648859
Daegrim Harbor
‘East Shore Naval Patrol Base’
7.30pm
The normally dark harbor of the large seaside town of Daegrim was ablaze with the glow from floodlights while the sounds of the 21st century drifted across the waters.
The base consisted of three long wooden piers jutting out at right angles to the wide wooden Dock which contained a couple of small warehouses and an assortment of little shacks and pair of prefabricated offices sitting side by side. A number of 44 Gallon barrels marked ‘Diesel fuel’ were stacked near one of the warehouses and the growl of a diesel generator could be heard from somewhere inside the recently installed chain link perimeter fence, powering the lights and the other miscellaneous electrical equipment on the base.
Eagle eyed watchers could see combat ready troops doing roving patrols around the perimeter and small patrol boats plied the waters, shining their searchlights along the shore and out into the open harbor, their Machine guns locked and loaded, ready for action should a hostile vessel approach the base.
Captain Stokes walked down the pier towards his vessel with the collar of his jacket turned up against the cold breeze that wafted across the harbor. He didn’t like being sidelined like this and would rather be out on patrol but circumstances has conspired against him and his crew, all of whom were as anxious as he was about getting underway as soon as possible. A fog had stated to roll in while he was walking and the moisture seemed to stick to his Vulpine fur while attempting to draw the body heat from him. As he neared the end of the pier the long, squat shape of his vessel began to appear, its low hull and long flat aft deck broken only by the solitary 5 inch gun mount that was situated halfway along its length, appearing first, then a gangway guarded by a solitary crewman with an MP5 sub machine gun.
“Who goes there?” the crewman asked, aiming the SMG at the approaching figure of the fox while also trying to shrug off the cold.
Captain Stokes stopped and smiled to himself.
‘At least the sentry was alert’ he thought before answering, not wanting to be shot by his own crewman,” Captain Stokes.”
“Advance and be recognised” the crewman ordered, following procedure despite recognising the voice of the captain he had served under for almost three years. Once he had ascertained that the captain was who he said he was he lowered his SMG and allowed him to pass and soon the Captain was aboard.
His boots resounded on the deck plating as he walked towards the conning tower that emerged through the now thick Fog like a knife, its 40mm Bofors gun pointing skyward in a menacing fashion and while he could not see it through the fog Captain Stokes knew that there was another 5 inch gun mounted on the foredeck as well. His boat was the MCFS Kraken, a modernised WW2 Balao class submarine which had been upgraded and refitted for training and then again for Anti-Pirate patrols in troubled sections of the world.
When the attacks on the modern world began the sub had been on patrol off the coast of Somalia and once the contact with the Kingdom of Calia was established the Boat was rushed to Horton Multinational Combat Force base and resupplied, refuelled and rearmed before being sent through the portal into the unknown.
Now the boat was sidelined in the harbor due to a shattered piston in the starboard engine which had then torn apart the lining of the cylinder and bent the connecting rod. They had limped back to port on a single diesel engine and once there they found that their port engine had similar fatigue cracks on three of the connecting rods, thus rendering that engine out of action as well. The Boat’s electrics were operating from an external auxiliary generator set that was on the pier, which kept the lights and other onboard systems operating.
Now reports had come in that the parts shipment was delayed, a fact that annoyed the captain to no end even though he knew that the storms further to the south were hampering efforts to ship parts and supplies, either by sea or by air, and the forests were still providing an effective obstacle for land transport. Thoughts of how the boat had been plagued by bad luck since the start of this mission ran through his head as he climbed down the internal ladder into the CONN. Aside from the usual noises and activities of the crew the sounds of mechanical work could be heard echoing through the boat as the Chief engineer and his team attempted to remove the damaged piston rod, as well as the fatigued rods, from both engines.
The entire crew knew that, had they been allowed the proper layup time before the mission, they would have detected and rectified the faulty parts before they had a chance to disable the engines but due to the urgency to get another boat in theatre to supplement the MCFS Reliant, they only had enough time to restock fuel, consumables and ammunition before making for the portal.
Captain stokes leaned on the plotting table and glanced over the chart table where Calian Naval ‘Charts’ were pinned down, providing at least some form of navigational aid although they lacked the depth and current information of their modern counterparts. It somewhat amused him that on the Calian charts there were places marked as ‘Sea Serpent Cove’, ‘Enchanted Bay’ and ‘Kraken island.’
With a chuckle at ‘Kraken island’ the Captain stepped away from the charts and leaned into the Radio ‘shack.’ A young looking wolf was sitting before the bank of radio equipment looking bored while spinning a pen in his handpaw while his headphones rested around his neck and his boots up on the desk.
“Comfortable?” the captain said with a smirk, looking at the wolf. The young wolf quickly sat bolt upright, his boots smashed to the floor,” Sir! My apologies.”
“It’s fine Marcus, I feel the same way” he chuckled,” anything on the radio?”
Marcus shook his head,” no sir, nothing is happening anywhere.”
At that moment a wolf in a pair of grease stained coveralls appeared from the hatchway and approached the captain while wiping his handpaws on an equally oily rag.
“What is it Chief?” the captain asked, turning to face his old friend and chief engineer, Tom Riley.
“Captain, we have enough undamaged piston rods and heads to refit the Port the engine and get it operational, we only need your orders sir” Tom replied, his muzzle wearing a smile.
With a grin the Captain placed his handpaw on his friend’s shoulder,” get to it chief, we can get back into the game.”
Without any further speech the chief vanished back through the hatch to begin the work, leaving the Captain and Marcus,” carry on Marcus.”
Leaving Marcus to continue his ‘work’ the Captain retired to his quarters to work on some paperwork that he had been putting off for a while such as fuel and ammunition requisitions, personnel transfers, status reports and his monthly crew evaluation.
Many hours later there was a knock on his door and he opened it to find the chief engineer, covered in grease and oil but smiling from ear to ear while wiping his hands on an oily rag. This brought a smile to his own face since it meant that the boat was ready to run.
“Yes chief?” he asked, already knowing the reply that was coming.
The big engineer leaned on the doorframe in a most unprofessional manner, especially for an officer to do in front of his commanding officer but since the two men had worked together for many years and Captain Stokes had actually requested that Tom Riley actually be transferred to his boat as soon as he had been given command of the aging Krakan since his friend was one of the best diesel boat engineers in the fleet and having taken a look at the Krakan as it sat alongside the dock back at the base he knew that the old girl would need the best engineer and officers that the mighty MCF Navy could provide.
The big engineer only uttered one sentence before heading off towards engineering,” we are ready to go anytime.”
Preparations were made upon the Krakan to depart to take up station out in the shipping lanes but there was a new problem that needed to be rectified prior to the departure. During the time that the old submarine was out of operation she had transferred most of her 24 torpedoes and most of her ammunition for her 4in deck gun to the MCFS Reliant so that they could continue their patrol since they had arrived before the submarine resupply tender Salvation had arrived at the small naval base. Captain Stokes climbed up onto the flying bridge to look around the harbour. The lights of the Salvation were visible across the harbour and between the two vessels were a few patrol boats playing their spotlights across the dark waters in case anything was trying to sneak into the base via the water. The first light of dawn was starting to peak over the horizion and bathing the mist shrouded harbour in an otherworldly glow, a dull grey light that did nothing to alleviate the cold that was still biting at everyone who was outside.
The crew cast off the lines fore and aft as the dockside crew retracted the gangplank as the a deep rumble echoed across the water and a massive vibration was felt through the deck plating. A cloud of bluish grey smoke wafted away from the exhaust vents on the stern as the large diesel engine fired up and began charging the batteries that were rather depleted thanks to the loss of the diesels while on patrol. The breeze caused the MCF flag to flutter on the periscope housing and all these sounds mixed with the calls of gulls and other sea birds, the sounds of horses on the civilian docks and the engine noises of the RHIB patrol boats as they pottered around with their guns at the ready in case something should happen. Over near where the Salvation lay at anchor the sound of another diesel engine rumbling into life could be heard and soon the small harbour tug Morning Star that the MCF had brought with them for use in this cramped (by modern standards)harbour appeared around the bow of the much larger resupply vessel.
Gently, ever so gently, the Morning Star closed on the Krakan and soon the small steel tug was pushing the much larger diesel submarine towards the Salvation and the other submarine that was lying alongside her port side, the Royal Australian Navy Collins class Diesel Attack Submarine HMAS Waller which was taking on Diesel and perishables from the MCF vessel that had been sent up specifically for the modern RAN boat since the RAN had no resupply ships in the area at this time, nor did they have a base like the MCF had established in the only deep water harbour on that section of coastline.
The crew of the Morning Star expertly manoeuvred the Krakan’s 311ft 8in length and 27ft 4in beam around the Salvation and allowed her to be tied up on starboard side and refuelling, rearming and resupply to commence.
While that was going on Captain Stokes went aboard the Salvation to meet with the captain of the Waller who was an old friend of his from his time in the Australian Navy. Leaning on the railing of the submarine tender was a Border Collie, Captain John Parker of the Waller, was watching the crew of the ancient looking submarine beginning to guide Torpedoes from the crane to the loading hatch on the bow when he felt a tap on his shoulder.
“G’day John, long time no see” Stokes said with a smile as he stuck out his hand. The look of surprise on Parker’s face was priceless and then a smile spread over the Collie’s lips.
“You old bastard, don’t tell me you are the captain of that old museum refugee? I thought you wanted to command a modern diesel Submarine?” John asked with a tone of disbelief in his words.
“I go where I am told” Stokes replied as he leaned on the railing,” Actually she is a pretty sweet command. I have the best crew available, they may not be the most disciplined but they are the best at their jobs, I can rely on any one of them.”
They chatted for a couple of hours until the two subs were finally ready for departure before returning to their own vessels. The big diesel engine on the Krakan rumbled to life again with a puff of smoke from the exhaust as the crew once again cast off and old diesel submarine once again was underway on her own power, heading for the mouth of the harbour as her crew went about the final checks on the old engine so that nothing had been overlooked. By the time they had reached open water the old diesel was running perfectly, charging the batteries as the lookouts scanned the horizon for any threats. The 40mm gun was crewed and the lookouts carried Assault rifles slung over their shoulders since although they were hundreds of miles from where the Horde had been causing trouble, and all they really had to compete with was pirate ironclads, Dragons had already proved that they can appear anywhere at any time and absolutely decimate an unprepared opponent.
But on this day the sea was calm and inviting and the only contacts were a single Calian navy galleon that was on a heading towards the harbour and a pair of Calian Dragons that were working their way along the coastline on a patrol and giving the submarine a wide berth for they knew that although they were allies, a dragon approaching could cause panic and create an unfortunate ‘friendly fire’ incident.
The low, streamlined and sleek looking Krakan seemed to glide past the wallowing, slow and fat galleon that was loaded down with gold for the city guard. To the untrained eyes of the soldiers and sailors on the big ship the Krakan looked like something out of a dream and although this was this crew’s first time seeing a submarine up close they could tell that there was more to the machine than met the eye, something sinister and foreboding about its every line as it sliced its way effortlessly through the small waves. The name Krakan that was on the conning tower and the creature depicted in the artwork painted on the boat’s nose was enough to make even the most hardened sailor look away as the name evoked the memories of the legends of the terrible creature that could smash ships to tinder effortlessly. They were all a lot happier when the submarine bearing that terrible name finally disappeared over the horizon.
Category Story / All
Species Unspecified / Any
Size 50 x 50px
File Size 314.7 kB
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