[ WP ] You are a captain of an old military frigate . It appears to have been a mistake , you did n't deserve to go into the open waters and patrol the area but instead something worse begins to surface the waters .

Captain Eldridge Walker looked out over the bows of his frigate, the *Thorn*, one of the newest of the River class, armed with eight 4-inch guns and the recently developed Hedgehog submarine mortar. In the south Pacific, off the east coast of New Zealand, he had no idea as to why Singapore had sent him there. It was cold, squally weather—ideal for anti-submarine work and destroyer actions, and it suited him fine. What did not, however, was the fact he had been given no reason for his patrol. It was simply `` to find and destroy enemy submarine or surface vessels''. 
 
 Walker sighed. It would have been a lot easier to do that up in the Solomons, or off the coast of Malay. But no, the RN had faked his death—after destroying many U-boats attacking the arctic and north Atlantic convoys. Something else was going on here; something the navy desperately wanted to keep secret. Something, most likely, under the surface, and of Japanese origin—though how they'd managed to set up a base as far south as New Zealand was a very good question. It could also have been the Germans, secretly operating from a base out of Chile, but that, too, was unlikely given the earlier destruction of the *Graf Spee* and her attendant fleet. 
 
 Captain Walker raised the field glasses to his eyes and waved the searchlights over the bows. If navy command said there was enemy here—and had sent him—then there must have been an enemy, his own opinions on the matter notwithstanding. In the distance lightning flashed and thunder rumbled across the waves. Hunting weather. Submarines might have been smooth and steady below the surface, but they could n't stay submerged forever, and on its own the *Thorn* would be a very tempting target. 
 
 But the *Thorn* was not alone. Her flotilla contained many ships. All with the names of the dead. HMS *Acheron*. *Basilisk*. *Legion*. Two cruisers, *Charybdis* and *Repulse*. The ghost carrier *Ark Royal*, and the pride of the secret fleet, the battleship HMS *Barham*. Why so many vessels were needed to patrol this particular point in the south Pacific Walker was n't sure, but it had to be serious. Very serious indeed to require this much firepower concentrated in such a place where nothing at all happened. There was no reason—no logical reason, at least—to be there. 
 
 And then he saw it. A flash of white rising skyward like a destroyer's starshell, but it moved too fast, too straight, to be a simple naval shell. He saw the thing punch clean through the clouds above, the ring of disruption its path made in the sky. The searchlight, seemingly so sluggish on its mount, attempted to track the point it vanished from. By the time he'd entered the bridge the contact had been reported to the entire flotilla, and the AA guns were already banging rounds skyward, and several of the 4- and 5-inch light guns in the group were loading white bursting charges and flares. 
 
 Lightning flashed across the sky and in the distance the ocean heaved in effort, a vast mass rising skyward before breaking over dark green-grey-blue form. The wave broke against the hull of his ship, and captain Walker felt the impact on the bridge as the *Thorn* carved through the wave bows first. Searchlights and starshell failed to illuminate the target fully. A flash of nearby lightning threw everything into sharp relief, and suddenly Walker knew exactly why so many ships had been assigned to this dead fleet. 
 
 Something detonated against the monster's shoulder, drawing green-black blood and a maddening howl that seemed more aggrieved than pained. Great leather wings unfurled behind the monster, uncaring of the winds now whipping to gale force, driving harder and faster such that the rain was now nearly horizontal. A disturbing thought occurred to Walker that this monster, whatever it was, sat at the eye of this storm, and risen only when they drew close. 
 
 Taking his field glasses in his hands, Walker tried to make out more of the monster. Did it have a face, for example. It did, but one no human could truly comprehend. Hard, muscular ridges like a lizards head. Weird, breathing ovals behind its eyes. There was no nose, and where a mouth should have been hung a mass of tentacles. Writhing, living tentacles that seemed to have malign intent of their own well apart from the monster in front of him. He could see into one massive eye, and through the black pupil he saw the stars of a clear, night sky. Millions of stars, and behind those he could see a driving hunger. 
 
 Then it was he noticed the monster itself turning to stare straight at him. He was doomed. The world was doomed. Why bother living to see the horrific end. His hand was already raising the revolver when lieutenant Bradley slammed him to the deck, pinning him in place and knocking the gun clear. Another of the bridge crew picked up the gun, examined the cylinder, and let out a sharp breath. 
 
 Bradley stood, saluting. `` Captain Walker, sir.'' 
 
 Walker stood on shaky legs, carefully averting his eyes from the windows of the bridge. `` Thank you, lieutenant Bradley. Get me comms—'' Bradley hand him the ship-mic. `` —All hands, this is captain Walker. Whatever happens, you must not look directly at this monster. Do not look it in the eye. Aim your weapons, fire, but do not look to it unless you absolutely have to.'' 
 
 Handing the mic back to Bradley, Walker called to the engine room, ringing for all ahead full and half port rudder. On the seas around him the *Acheron*, *Basilisk*, and *Legion* followed form. Whatever this monster was, the *Thorn* and her dead sisters would not go quietly to the depths. They would show the world what the Royal Navy and her men could do. 4-inch guns began firing in salvo, and the first Hedgehog fired. 
 
 Whatever hell this monster had spawned from, the men of the Royal Navy were going to send it straight back.
