Jon Merz - Raider X

“I’ve waited long enough,” said Schwarzwalder then. “It’s time for me to radio Berlin and ask for instructions. They’ll be expecting it and any more delay will result in them looking at me rather than the person responsible for these deaths.”

“That’s my goose cooked then, too,” said Thatcher. “Once the Gestapo hear there’s an American aboard, I’m sure they’re going to want to have a sit-down with me as well.”

Schwarzwalder eyed him. “I don’t have to include you in the report.”

Thatcher smiled. “Very kind of you, but I’ve been seen by too many of your crew. All it will take is one of them accidentally mentioning the American and you’ll be relieved of your command and presumably shot given the stories I’ve heard coming out of Germany.”

“Your assessment isn’t incorrect,” said Schwarzwalder. “But I’m sure we can come up with something. Any Gestapo involvement would necessitate us putting in at a port that is neutral or at least friendly to us. It’s not like they can land a plane nearby and swim aboard. There’s still time, if you get my meaning.”

Thatcher wasn’t sure he did, but since Schwarzwalder didn’t seem in any hurry to hand him over to the Gestapo, it was all the better for him. If they ended up going into port, Thatcher would slip over the side and swim for it before he allowed himself to be handed over. He had no desire to wind up in a Gestapo dungeon and be tortured for all of his secrets, few though there were.

Schwarzwalder nodded as Steinkopf reappeared. “Make sure you stay with him this time.”

Steinkopf snapped to attention and then Schwarzwalder eyed Thatcher. “I’ll see you later. Perhaps after dinner. We can discuss our… options.”

Thatcher nodded and watched him go. He glanced at Steinkopf. “Where’d you wander off to?”

Steinkopf grinned. “I hadn’t eaten so I grabbed a quick meal. Then I got caught up talking with my friends about what happened down in the engine room.”

Thatcher shook his head. “The Captain was ready to throw you overboard.”

Steinkopf smiled. “Kapitän Schwarzwalder would do no such thing. He’s stern but a fair man. The dressing down he just gave me was his punishment enough. No one wants to disappoint him.”

“That was a dressing down?” Thatcher shook his head. “Rather gentle.”

“Schwarzwalder sees no need for elaborate punishments unless there is no other alternative. That’s one of the many reasons why we all love serving with him. He’s stern-“

“-But fair, yes you said as much,” said Thatcher. “In any event, it was horrible what happened down in the engine room.”

Steinkopf nodded. “The men are nervous but none of us will show it around the captain. We don’t want him to think that any of his crew are worried.”

“Even though you are.”

Steinkopf shrugged. “Can you blame us? Their bones were…” His voice trailed off as he shuddered.

Thatcher looked at him. He was young, perhaps only twenty. Maybe this was the first time he’d been away during wartime. Maybe he was still unused to the way of the world. Hell, he might have been a virgin for all Thatcher knew. It wouldn’t have surprised him. Steinkopf, despite his name, had a baby face and bright blue eyes that screamed innocence. Thatcher wondered if he truly was.

“Their bones were sucked free of their marrow,” said Thatcher then. He wasn’t entirely sure why he’d shared that nugget of information, but somewhere in his head he thought that a little fear running rampant among the crew might facilitate his true mission. There was nothing wrong with exploiting a situation for his personal gain, especially if it could result in sinking Raider X and giving Hewitt his victory.

“Marrow? What is that?”

“The core of your bones is made of marrow,” said Thatcher. “It produces blood cells in the human body, I believe the doctor told the Captain.”

“So whoever killed those men… did what with the marrow?”

“I have no idea,” said Thatcher. “But it certainly wasn’t left in the bones where it should have been.”

Steinkopf shook his head. “Horrible stuff. I can’t imagine having my bones ripped out of my body. It’s too gruesome to even think about.”

“And yet it apparently happened,” said Thatcher. “To five of your shipmates.”

Steinkopf crossed himself without apparently thinking about it. Thatcher smiled. He’d grown up Catholic but was as lapsed as it was possible to be. He didn’t think that God was going to protect Steinkopf or anyone else from whatever was killing people aboard this ship. But he knew that it wouldn’t stop the faithful from claiming they had his protection anyway. How many people had died still clinging to that notion in spite of their impending doom? Too many to count, he decided.

“In any event, I’m sure the Captain will figure things out,” said Thatcher.

“You think so?” asked Steinkopf.

There was a definite note of hope in his voice that Thatcher found cute. Steinkopf had replaced his own father with Schwarzwalder. He supposed a lot of the younger sailors did. They needed a father figure and Schwarzwalder was an appropriate choice. But whether the Captain could live up to their expectations was, of course, another matter entirely. Especially when someone was killing people on his ship.

“I’ll head back to my cabin now,” said Thatcher.

“Of course.” Steinkopf led the way and Thatcher noted that he was still armed with the pistol around his waist.

“Have you ever fired that gun before?”

Steinkopf glanced down at the pistol and shrugged. “In training. Captain also makes sure that we practice every week or so for the purposes of the boarding parties in case we ever run into any sort of resistance.”

“Has that ever happened? Resistance, I mean.”

“This is my first assignment,” said Steinkopf. “I wouldn’t know.”

“Ah,” said Thatcher. And there it was. Steinkopf was brand new to the sea. And already he was being confronted with the situation on the ship. “Well, I’m sure you’ll do just fine your first time out.”

“I have to work my way up to being a part of the boarding parties,” said Steinkopf. “Another few months of hard work at the very least. But I’ll do it and the Captain will see that I can hold my own. I’m more than capable of killing someone if they put up any sort of fight. I would die for the Fatherland and the Führer.”

“Don’t be in such a rush to kill,” said Thatcher. “It’s not what you think it is.”

Steinkopf stopped. “You think I’m a coward?”

Thatcher shook his head. “Not at all. I can see your bravery is apparent. But if you’ve never killed before then the image you have of what it’s like… it’s not like that at all. And it will haunt you. If you have to do it, then do it and move on. But I’m simply telling you that it’s not as easy as they would have you think. Stuff like that has a tendency of sticking with you.”

Steinkopf eyed him. “And you? Have you killed a man before?”

Thatcher paused and then nodded. “It was self-defense. He came at me meaning to cut me open. I had no choice but to kill him.”

“You killed him with a knife?”

In Thatcher’s mind he saw the scene replay itself as it often did late at night. How he had managed to avoid the swipe of the blade and grab it, ripping it free from the man he faced. The knife was slippery from sweat and then it cut his hand, sending blood all over them both as they toppled to the ground, grappling and struggling. Thatcher could hear the man’s grunts and exhalations as they both breathed hard, hearts hammering away inside of their chests. In that moment, there was no longer any civility; just sheer primal instinct to turn the blade upon the other and sink it home. And when Thatcher finally did, the knife went in far easier than he ever thought it would have, sinking its full length to the hilt. The shocked gasp of surprise followed by a slow exhalation as the man’s eyes locked one final time on Thatcher’s before rolling back as he slid away in a haze of blood, sweat, and exertion.