'The 108th Trilogy' Book One: Lithaysian Skies -- Teaser

Teaser for Book One of my up-and-coming 'The 108th Trilogy', which follows the pilots of the 108th Fighter Squadron. Based in an Alternate Universe/Earth, set in a modern war.

The ocean ahead appeared as a black void.  After a mere dozen yards in any direction, an expanse of darkness seemed to engulf the world.  The moon and stars above were no guides tonight, as the dense clouds in the sky blocked their celestial lights.  With such poor visibility, only the sounds of crashing waves proved there to be a sea of water below.  Able Seaman Charles Gartner of the HMS Sea Strider, F197, leaned over the port side of the frigate’s forecastle.  With his eyes closed, he felt the cool ocean breeze press against his face.  The sensation was a soothing touch in an otherwise rough naval life.  Being out at sea for several months at a time, patrolling the same section of open water for an enemy that will most likely never come, it was almost unbearable.  This was not what he joined the navy for.

Gartner never would have thought he would be homesick for that small town in the Bulgotian countryside.  It was only a year and a half earlier when he listened to that liar of a recruiter.  To hunt down the socialist pigs who dared to invade our maritime territory from across the Critacian!  To be rewarded honor and glory with their destruction!  All lies!  His Majesty's Royal Navy of Bulgotia was the largest of all its allies and the most powerful in the world.  Its impenetrable defensive network spanned for miles outward from the militaristic nation’s Eastern coast.  No matter how hungry for power and land a people could be, they would have had to be suicidal to go up against that!  It was the reason not a single submarine or aircraft had probed the net for about a decade.  Of course, only the Navy actually knew that; letting the public know would have meant admitting to all of the useless spending they liked to commit for new toys.  Well, if there was any use for the time wasted, at least the veteran benefits were good.

Heavy boots clanking against the metal deck suddenly approached from behind.  Gartner turned his gaze toward the direction of the sound to see a tall ebony skinned man come to his right side.  The sailor was wearing the dark navy blue of the Number 4 Action Working Uniform decorated with the turnback insignia of a midshipman on his shoulders.  As he exhaled a puff of smoke from the lit cigarette hanging from his mouth, he simply stared out into the dark horizon beyond.  “Kill any subs tonight?”  The man asked nonchalantly.

Gartner scoffed, recognizing the man as Midshipman Rogers.  “Funny joke.”  The nineteen-year-old seaman peered back out to the open ocean in front of him, not truly knowing what he was looking at.  Maybe he was searching for something within the emptiness, but that was not certain either.

Rogers smirked at the sarcastic statement.  “Yeah, I’m one hundred percent sure old Sea Strider would sink before you saw anything out there.”

“I’m not denying it.”  Both men happily chuckled at the honesty.  With how things were this night, it would take a miracle to see an entire ship let alone a periscope.  “So, what can I do for you, sir?”

“Not a bloody thing, Gartner.”  Rogers pulled the now finished cigarette from his mouth and flicked it over the side before breathing out the last of the smoke.  “I’m off duty.”

“Fantastic!  I’m off duty too.”

“And the ship’s better off, mate,” Rogers declared jokingly and the two again laughed in admittance.  Ever since Gartner was first assigned to Sea Strider, he and Rogers had been nearly inseparable friends.  Though one was enlisted while the other a commissioned officer, their personalities were almost interchangeable.  It also helped that they were not given the exciting navy lives promised and were instead disappointed with the ones they got.  The two were equally stuck with the aging frigate and it made their lives onboard significantly more tolerable.

All so suddenly, an ear piercing horn alarm began echoing in the air as a couple dozen crimson industrial lights scattered across the frigate’s main and upper decks flickered on.  When the two startled men turned to the superstructure behind them in search of answers, yells of panicked crewmen above were beginning to be heard from the pilothouse.  Not a moment later did several hidden loudspeakers of the emergency announcement system erupt throughout the vessel.  “General Quarters, General Quarters!  Condition One throughout the ship!”  Gartner and Rogers looked at each other in disbelief, most likely having the same thought pass through their heads.  Condition I, an international naval procedure of readiness normally used during wartime, could only have meant one thing: they had engaged a hostile contact.

The young seaman was in complete shock.  He froze, unable to get himself to move.  Over the course of eight months, he had completed hundreds of drills of a similar nature.  So why now, when it mattered most, did he hesitate to perform his duty?  Why did his hands shake?  “What the hell?!”

“Hey, get your head out of the gutter!”  The obnoxious horn had ceased to sound off when Midshipman Rogers yelled a bit nervously.  Replacing it now was the electronic beeping alarm normally associated with General Quarters.  Knowing his job and place on the warship, he was already making way down the forecastle toward the port ladders.  “We have to move!”

An intelligent hunter always stalks its prey.  It patiently waits among the shadows until the perfect opportunity to strike.  Unbeknownst to the crew of HMS Sea Strider several minutes earlier, they had become the target of such an invisible killer two hours before.  It had been silently following along the frigate’s starboard side a mere three hundred yards away and four hundred feet under the surface.  The captain commanding the submarine felt somewhat relieved when the ELF transmission arrived at 1900 hours.  He felt his crew’s lives were used in a horrible gamble when they essentially field tested the new boat.  However, after so much time under the noses of the Bulgotian fools, they were all reassured.  Admiralty and the Czar himself had now given them orders to proceed with a new mission and a virtually nonexistent Rules of Engagement.  What a time it was to be a sub commander!  When he felt due and ready, the captain commanded his crew to raise the vessel to periscope depth.

Sea Strider’s sonar technician, a newly promoted Petty Officer, barely noticed the first bow torpedo door open.  Out of practice and tired from a long day, he initially believed it was only his imagination.  Other than the faint sound of minor seismic activity and the usual marine life, no more came through his specialized headset.  Nothing appeared on Passive Sonar either, so what could it have possibly been?  Then the second door released and he knew it was no delusion.  Sailors like him trained for weeks, even months, for the ability to determine what sounds came from what.  Figuring out if a noise was a pair of whales mating or a mechanical door opening in the middle of the sea was a simple task.

The Officer of the Deck, brought to light of the news, hesitantly ordered for a single ping of Active Sonar to be fired.  His prayers of falsehood were lost when the sonar display almost instantaneously revealed the large submarine parked in attack position on their starboard flank.  The onboard computers immediately identified the vessel as an Akula-Class nuclear-powered ballistic missile submarine of the Socialist Federation of Iriopia.  This particular sub, however, was nearly two hundred meters long; almost thirty meters longer than the class standard.

Gartner managed to report to his assigned battle station when the first salvo was launched from the submarine.  Positioned behind the starboard mounted L110A3 Light Machine Gun on Sea Strider’s aft, his assistant gunner never arrived with the 5.56x45mm ICTO ammunition.  Two VA-111 Shkval torpedoes, traveling at an astonishing 200 knots, slammed against the hull of the frigate with only a three second delay between.  The Bulgotian sailor felt the deck below him shake violently as the first simply drilled a hole into the warship’s aft waterline without detonating.  It was as if luck was on his side, until the second weapon promptly broke F197’s back with a 460 pound underwater explosive charge.

Gartner was instantly flung about forty feet in the air like a ragdoll.  His eardrums ruptured under the concussive blast and he lost all sense of feeling in his right leg.  Weightlessness and a heavy rush of air consumed him until he eventually landed in the sea below.  The water felt like concrete against his spine, causing a large quantity of blood to spew from his mouth.  Before he could even have the chance to scream from the agonizing pain, an ocean wave engulfed his crippled body.  Saltwater poured into his mouth and flooded his lungs.  He wanted to cry, but knew there was no time.  Before succumbing to death, he forced one final attempt to witness the hunter for which he fell prey to.

There she laid a sheer two hundred and fifty yards away.  Floating about twenty feet beneath the surface, the largest submarine Gartner was ever going to see in his short life sat silently.  Partially illuminated from the flames erupting out of the now sinking HMS Sea Strider, the Iriopians watched as their target was steadily devoured by the sea.  The dying sailor imagined the socialists cheering and celebrating inside their metal bubble.  How laughably easy it was to destroy their enemy!  In his final thoughts, Able Seaman Charles Gartner could only hope the next patrol succeeded in sinking the b******s.

Author's Note

This is nothing more than the prologue of my novel serving as a teaser. Please support the future release by following the url below and liking 'The 108th Trilogy' Facebook page!

https://www.facebook.com/108trilogy/

Reviews

[Sandra Nair]

Really nice and great! But a doubt, is this a print-book or e-book?