The new political officer insisted on being called Mister Lieu. He had never been on a ship before and worked his way up from smaller provinces and a lot of bureaucracy. He expected instant obedience. The pistol he held didn’t move and the smile on Lieu’s face was frightening.
From the very beginning the captain had his suspicions about his orders. First was the decision to load the ship in secret with containers carrying cargo he and his crew were not allowed to inspect or to even go near. Every inquiry was met with the answer, “It is a matter of state security.” Then there was a special set of containers joined side by side with a sort of corridor and special bracing. They had been placed at the aft end of the cargo hold and connected to the ship’s electric supply. The containers had a crew of 12 that kept inside the thing. Occasionally he would see someone open an upper hatch and stand on top to smoke or get some air. Despite a storm while transiting the Straights of Magellan, they seemed to have come through with no casualties. Again, the crew had not been allowed to have contact with the men.
His orders had been to sail his ship to a specific latitude and longitude and remain there until told otherwise. The ship had arrived two days before and had been cruising in circles ever since. Upon arrival, Lieu ordered the men to remain in their quarters except to stand their watch or to eat. There had been a flurry of activity as the crew in the containers moved around the ship, going in and out of the other containers and doing whatever task they were told. That ended just 30 minutes before as Sohn saw first one flame and then another engulf the cargo areas. The missiles had cracked through the flimsy fake coverings of the containers and risen into the night sky. The noise and flames lasted for over seven minutes. The captain had been sitting in his chair reading messages when it started and he ducked under the sill as the flames licked at the bridge. From there, he watched helplessly as the missiles lifted off.
When the last missile left, Sohn raced to sound the emergency alarm, then bounded to the main deck to see what damage the missiles had caused. The paint was burning in a number of places on what was left of the containers and the inside of the cargo areas. In some cases, the flimsy materials used to make the containers had begun to burn. Fortunately the interior walls of the holds were mostly rust. As the crewmen assembled, he directed their firefighting efforts, quickly attacking the flames.
He needn’t have bothered. The force of the missile exhaust sprang rivets, split welds and in places melted the steel in the ship’s hull. Water was quickly filling the hold. Normally, the empty containers would have provided some buoyancy, but these now had neither bottom nor top. Captain Sohn returned to the bridge to get the engineers to put the pumps on full, but there was no response from the engine room crew. He watched in horror as hoses held by the men fighting the fires went slack as the water pressure slowly went away. Despite all his calls and efforts, the water remained off. The crew was forced to stand helpless and watch the fires smolder and burn.
It was the noise of hollow thumping that had gotten the Captain’s attention. It had started on one side of the ship. When the captain arrived, he could see one of the lifeboats with holes knocked neatly into the bottom. Rushing to the opposite side, he saw the political officer slamming an axe into the bottom of the remaining lifeboat with all the strength he had. Just as quickly as the captain realized what was happening, the axe dropped to the deck and Lieu produced the pistol. The captain backed into the pilothouse as Lieu followed, stopping at the doorway.
“What in the hell do you think you’re doing?” Sohn demanded; his hands in the air.
Lieu continued his evil smile. “The State does not wish to have any witnesses to what it has done,” he said slowly. “This ship will sink, and I will make sure no one else is left,” he said.
“My crew is to die at your whim?” The captain almost shouted. The full realization hit him like a brick. His country had started a war and they were the first pawns to be sacrificed.
“Your crew, comrade captain? These men and this ship belong to the state. You will make the ultimate sacrifice for that State!” he screamed. “I have already taken care of the engineers. The rest will soon join them!”
Captain Sohn watched as the pistol steadied again after Mister Lieu’s ranting. He was sure it was the last thing he would ever see. Something moving caught his eyes behind Lieu. Just as he tensed to squeeze the trigger, an axe appeared above Lieu’s head. Sohn watched as it came down and seemed to cleave completely through the political officers skull and come to rest in the middle of his chest. Lieu’s lifeless body slumped and crumpled to the deck, surrounded by an ever-widening pool of blood.
Chief Engineer Hahn let go of the axe and stood resolutely at the door, staring at his handiwork. “Pig!” he spat. Hahn stepped over the lifeless form to report to the captain. “He shot up most of my men before I was able to get a few out. The fire systems are back on now, but unless I’m mistaken, our ship won’t survive,” he said.
The lights were turned on around the deckhouse and surrounding the cargo area. Both men could see the ship had settled deeply in the water and the hold was nearly filled. Groans could be heard as the seas continued to move the ship. It wouldn’t be long before the keel would crack and the ship would break in two.
The captain ran to the radio room to send out a distress signal. He could have saved his time. The radio operator had a hole through the back of his head and the equipment was smashed. It was obvious the radio would never be fixed.
“We have to save what’s left of the crew!” the captain shouted. He lurched toward the pilothouse, across it to the door and gazed at the lifeboat. Nothing would allow the normally sturdy craft to float now. There were three large jagged rents in the area of the boat’s keel.
“The other’s just as bad,” the Hahn moaned. “Let’s try an inflatable,” he suggested. Both men ran to the area aft of the funnel where the inflatable life rafts were sealed in their capsules. The engineer slammed his hand on the release and kicked the capsule over the side. A cord attached to the ship released the raft as it fell and popped the capsule. There was no way to describe how the men felt when the capsule opened and there was no raft inside. The two halves fell harmlessly into the water. A similar effort on the other side produced the same results.
By now the ship was beginning to wallow heavily in the seas. The bulkheads started to buckle back and forth on the sides as the two ends of the ship were trying to keep the vessel afloat with 30,000 tons of water and containers weighing down the center. Already water was nearly up to the main deck. Most of the crewmen were clamoring toward the bridge — knowing the ship was doomed and clinging to the idea they might survive, if even for a few more moments.
“Will the aft end of the ship float?” the captain asked his engineer.
“It might for a while, but if the ship breaks up, it will probably spring almost every joint. Even then, the forward bulkheads aren’t designed to take on any kind of sea,” he said sorrowfully. “With luck, we might have a day or so before something gave way. But when things do break loose, I have no way of knowing whether this half will remain on an even keel. The engine won’t do us any good and the generators may not work at any big angle,” he said looking at his captain in the face. “We’re in for it.”