Captain Omen raised his head from his bunk, as a shrill whistle sounded from his doorway. He checked his wrist, and the pressure-proof time-keeper showed him he’d had a little more than an hour of sleep. Not terrible, all things considered.

He smoothed out the front of his uniform and stepped to the door, before pressing the button to slide it open.

Thresher removed his duty hat and stepped in, nodding at his captain. “More of 'em, captain. Coming down from the north, as ye predicted. Time to make a decision.”

Captain Omen turned to the small sink in his kitchen unit and carefully tucked a hand towel into his uniform’s neck before splashing two small handfuls of water in his own face. He raised the towel to clean up his features, and pressed his short, black hair back with the residual moisture.

“Lead the way, Beau,” he said, gesturing to the door.

The big man nodded and snugged his hat back in place before stepping through the doorway. Captain Omen fell in beside him, hand clasped lightly at his back.

“The northern scouts have reported back on schedule. A whale bug surge is migrating down from the Pacific NorthWest. The warmer waters and dwindling freshwater supplies up north are creating exactly the population surge you predicted,” Thresher explained.

“And you mock me for staring at ocean charts and BuyMort figures,” Captain Omen said, wryly smiling from the corner of his lip.

“Mock is such a harsh word, captain,” Thresher replied. “I like to think of it as bonding.”

“Of course,” Captain Omen said. “Has the southern scout reported in yet?”

“Not yet, captain, but they’ve just been picked up on long range scopes. They’re burning at full speed toward us, and should be in communications range in just a few minutes,” Thresher said.

“Good.” They turned and entered the bridge.

“Captain on deck!” the officer of the watch shouted, standing at attention from Captain Omen’s chair.

“Take the communications station, please chief,” Captain Omen said.

Thresher sat in position behind him, as the watch officer scrambled to the communications station with a quick ‘yes-sir!’

“Sir!” one of his other officers yelled from below. “Southern scouts are being chased. I count two, no three bogies on their tail, much larger. Nearly matching speed too, captain!”

“Scramble interceptor craft, have the fleet reduce depth and seal all external portals,” Captain Omen replied. “Let’s bring that scout in!”

Both moon pools, one on either side of the Whalehunter’s belly, opened and deposited small craft into the water. Each of the cigar-shaped vehicles sped in a grid toward the south, equipped with torpedoes and point defense cannons.

“Captain,” Thresher whispered in his ear. “What should we do about the bugs?”

“Nothing, XO,” Captain Omen answered. “I want the fleet protected, while we retrieve our scouts. Dawes will call for us. The bugs will ensure it.”

“Whalehunter actual, this is scout-craft Nar, reporting heavy assault submersibles incoming from the south. They’ve chased me since Guatemala,” crackled through on their radio, static bursts interrupting the words.

“Scout craft Nar, you have backup incoming from Whalehunter actual, maintain current heading and speed,” Captain Omen replied. “Helm, bring us around, follow the interceptor’s heading.”

“Aye, captain!” came the shout.

The radio crackled again, and the voice from the Nar said, “Captain, it's Dearth.”

Thresher sucked air between his teeth, but Captain Omen merely nodded.

“How many in pursuit, Nar?” he asked.

“Three, sir! They split off the main fleet as soon as I came within range.” came the response. “I barely got a preliminary scan completed before they were on me.”

“Forward assault team, most likely,” Thresher muttered, under his breath.

“Then we must intercept them,” Captain Omen said. “All ahead full, set shields to glide. Escort craft, alpha formation. Form the current!”

The helm and shields officer both shouted their assent, and the crew was pressed back into their chairs momentarily as the submarine increased speed.

On the outside of the vessel, the water manipulation shield formed long strips of shaped metallic water across the vessel, increasing its hydrodynamics and smoothing the water around them for increased speed, while more formations appeared and began swirling at her nose.

Soon, the Whalehunter had caught up to its own interceptors, and the small, deadly armada bore down on the scout vessel and the pursuing Dearth heavy assault subs.

The ship’s multi-channel impellers coupled with the shield’s water manipulation to create a current at the nose of the submarine. Whalehunter rode at the tip of the current, sluicing through the southern pacific at breakneck speeds.

Her support craft rode the wake, ready to deploy into attack formation with weapons hot. The larger vessel signaled de-acceleration with a radio burst, and the interceptors veered out of the current, forming into six points around the central craft.

“Disable their weapons and propellers!” All craft, engage!” Captain Omen shouted.

The hobb representative behind them clasped his hands in his lap and began vocalizing deep in his throat, something he did when they were about to take hobb lives.

Whalehunter’s water manipulation shield ejected the spinning formations at the nose of the craft, sending it hurtling through the water at the front of the vessel. It dissolved as it passed beyond the shield’s manipulation range, reverting to liquid water and sluicing away.

The Dearth ships were boxy at the front, their classic cigar shape tainted with extra weapon pods stacked on the nose. They unleashed a swarm of torpedoes as soon as Whalehunter slowed, and the weapons streaked through the ocean toward them.

Whalehunter’s interceptors swung in, their speed much higher than the larger craft. Three of the six split formation and streaked toward the Dearth attack vessels, while their sister craft lunged low across the line of fire.

Their PDCs engaged and the water erupted in a chain of explosions. Once the first wave of torpedoes were dealt with, they engaged their engines again. The interceptors swung toward the undersides of the Dearth subs, following their higher counterparts in a pincer attack.

Whalehunter formed a broad, flat shield of metallic water at the prow of the vessel and launched it with a quick burst from the nose-cone’s impellers. The ship followed in the wake of the water-shield, using it to intercept torpedoes and detonate them prematurely.

Metallic water spun and shifted, controlled from the shields console. Where holes were blasted out of it, the shield spun to present a fresh plate of hardened water for the next missile. Whalehunter followed at speed, while long-bladed fins slowly formed along its spine.

The Dearth vessels fired another salvo, their concentrated firepower their only real advantage.

Whalehunter’s shield finally shattered, too much structural damage sending the shards of metallic water spinning away, to dissipate once out of the ship’s energy field.

“Weapons, engage long range PDCs,” Captain Omen calmly ordered. “Give the shield some breathing room.”

On screen the grinding blast and whir of automatic defense turrets kicked it, rounds sluicing through the water to pound against incoming projectiles. Whalehunter was a top-of-the-line queen of the under-ocean, and she would not be found helpless despite the collapse of the main defenses.

Incoming torpedoes exploded in a line of furious detonations.

“Deploy scutters, mark 180, mark 90, mark 45. Full throttle. Home a single scutter to an enemy sub. Your choice, Lieutenant.”

His shields officer wiped at her forehead and thanked the captain with a quick nod, concentrating on her manipulation of the shields console and deploying the extraordinary holographic and audio intensive decoy scutters. The remaining torpedoes homed in on them, drawing away from the craft.

“You’ve got time, Lieutenant. Get those shields back online, as much as you are able. Priority to the fore.”

She punched in a preformed design at the nose of the ship, and the water shield drew in ocean molecules, hardening and compressing them, forming another shield.

As she did so, they watched a single scutter make a kamikaze run on one of the enemy submarines. It panicked, just barely destroying its own incoming torpedoes with countermeasures of its own.

Time was out as the new line of torpedo strikes rained in on top of them. The ship’s physical armor began absorbing more of the blasts.

The ship rocked and jostled with every strike, until the shields officer grunted in exaltation and forced out the newly formed shield.

Hobb throat-singing filled the bridge, a low, deep resonance to the blasts and rattles of the explosives outside.

“Helm!” Captain Omen shouted above it. “Take us in, forty meters aft. I want this surgical, you understand?”

Captain Omen tapped at his console, sending the helm his targeting data.

“Aye captain!” the officer replied. Captain Omen could hear the smile in his voice.

Their interceptors opened fire with a strafing run of their PDCs. Each Dearth vessel suffered damage to their weapons systems and primary propellers from the coordinated attack.

A series of large, sharp fins shaped from metallic water rose higher on Whalehunter’s spine. The ship accelerated up toward the central Dearth submarine, and their helmsman expertly piloted the shield blades across the bottom of the enemy ship in a scream of tearing metal and shattering blades.

Bubbles erupted from the ship, as great gouts of air rushed from their ruptured ballast tank. Whalehunter slid through the ocean on the other side, pushing free so the Dearth sub could sink in its wake.

“Communications, open a broad-band channel,” Captain Omen said.

He glanced at the hobb representative, who immediately silenced his throat singing. The interceptors began reporting successful attack runs, and the hail of torpedoes stopped.

“Dearth submarines!” Captain Omen barked. “This is Whalehunter. Stand down or be destroyed. Respond at once.”

They did not, of course, but the order increased the tension on the other vessels. The sinking submarine replied first.

“We surrender. Cease hostilities,” came a desperate sounding voice through the static.

“Whalehunter, this is Dearth AS-3, standing down.”

“Dearth AS-2 standing down,” came the final crackling voice over the radio.

Thresher nodded.

“The enemy fleet is yours captain,” he said.

“Very good,” Captain Omen replied. “Get me one of their captains, have one of the interceptors bring them aboard,” he ordered.

“Aye Captain,” Thresher said.

Captain Omen stood and straightened his uniform. “Well done,” he said to his bridge officers.

He stepped out of Thresher's way as the big man took his chair to assume command over the battlefield.

“You don’t care which captain?” Thresher asked.

“The right captain for the job will present themselves at the invitation, XO,” Captain Omen replied. He glanced at their hobb fleet representative before locking eyes with his second in command. “The ship is yours, I’ll await our guest in the starboard moon pool.”

The door to the bridge slid shut behind him and Captain Omen took a deep breath, letting it out before shaking his head and turning on one heel. “Too late to stop now,” he muttered, walking through the halls toward the moon pool.

A squad of his orc marines formed up around him as he walked past the armory, and together they marched to the moon pool.

Within minutes, the interceptors returned. From the front compartment, a Nah’Gh slithered out, wearing a Dearth Conglomerate uniform. The serpent-man rose up and met Captain Omen’s gaze.

“I appreciate your restraint, Captain,” the Nah’Gh said. “I am Captain Verdal.”

“Then you appreciate your own imaginings, Verdal.” Captain Omen snapped. “I did not spare you for restraint’s sake. I would prefer the morties from your corpse.”

Captain Verdal blinked, hesitantly looking around the room at the marines. “Then . . . why bring me aboard?”

“Because I have something the Dearth Conglomerate wants, and, once you’ve finished effecting repairs and collecting your sunken comrades, you’re going to bring them my offer,” Captain Omen replied.

Captain Verdal narrowed his eyes but nodded slowly. “Very well, Captain Omen. Let us speak of your offer.”