Operation Wolfe Cub: A Chilling Historical Thriller (THE TIME TO TELL Book 1) (8 page)

BOOK: Operation Wolfe Cub: A Chilling Historical Thriller (THE TIME TO TELL Book 1)
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Speeeeeewwwww
.

After the bonnet depressurized, Doc lifted his pudgy body up to the edge then crawled up on the outside deck and began casing the area.

His two copilots just looked at each other as if their new captain was perhaps lost or something. They shrugged their
shoulders before they too crawled outside. They stretched and yawned as they kept their eyes on Doc, shuffling from one end of the vessel to the other. “Sooo, you two think that shark was big last night, eh, my boys?
Ha!
Wait until you see a U-boat armed with
torpedoes
the size of sharks…Christ O’Mighty, forget that...God forbid. Wait until you set your eyes on a
Destroyer
with—God forbid—
cannons
and, and
torpedoes!
Dozens of them—yes.”

He slowly put his binoculars down as if he’d just been spooked. “Worse yet, a fleet of U-boats, even. You did it! They’re nothing but a bunch of—
barracudas
. Christ O’Mighty, you boys.” He went on, “The Italians, British—our own Germans even. There all out here—like sharks stuffed with mouths of gun powder—
bombs
in their bellies! Oh, holy one. I can feel myself being blown apart already.”

US-1 stepped forward, opening his arms with all due concern. “We didn’t mean any harm, Doc, really…what can I say? We’re sorry.”

As Doc cased the area, he carefully said, “Didn’t you hear back on the beach, or did we not make ourselves perfectly clear? We’re—on—our—own. No radios. No nothing. We’re clay targets in a skeet shoot—except we can’t fly.”

US-2 muttered to US-1, “Destroyers, U-boats, battleships? He forgot planes.”

US-1 wasn’t quite so amused. “Doc…I looked on my sonar…there’s nothing out here, really.”

Doc stepped up to them, “Don’t you—neither of you understand. The scatter tails of water you
spastis
6
kicked up were more shocking than my dead mother’s casket!”

“Yes, but—”

“Don’t you ‘but’ me, US-2…those engines you sunk into sounded like the Battle of the Atlantic…no…we’re in the Mediterranean, I suppose….Battle of the
Mediterranean

Christ O’Mighty….God. Those cockroaches can hear us from ten kilometers away by my calculations. Wait, I believe maybe more.”

He went on, “They have sonar too, maybe better!” You sow ears sent knuckle signals vibrating all across this ocean that said, ‘
I’m over here on a special mission
.’ No, we might not see them now. Just wait…wait and see is all we can do, God forbid.”

US-1 spoke earnestly, “Look, Doc, you told us about the operation. It’s safe. There isn’t supposed to be much going on here in this vicinity. Look in your logs and binder. It’s all there like you said. I’m sure…nothing…no planned engagements. There’s nothing, right?”

Doc stopped casing for a moment then looked as if perhaps he was over the top. “Yes, I remember…didn’t see anything out here anyway. Okay, I’m satisfied now.” He continued more kindly. “Okay, one of you—fetch my binder and clipboard please.”

US-2 darted inside the cockpit then quickly came back and handed the requested material to Doc, who said, “Let me see now—going over my notes. Yes, here we are…this is a good time as any I suppose, don’t you two boys think?”

His officers pondered. “Good as any?”

“What have you got in mind, Doc?”

Doc glanced as if they were supposed to know. “To finish up your training. It’s a good day, wouldn’t you both say?” After he found the place in his notes, he paused and crossed his hands with his material against his chest. “Okay, what would you like to know next?”

Both of them eagerly stepped forward, starting with US-1. “We want to know what’s under this thing!”

“Yes, and I want to know why this bastard’s so fast. What about the wings here too? Tell us about those. This thing fuu-lys.”

Doc thought for a moment as he gazed up into the spotty clouds. “I thought you might like to know all of that. Come, come over here. Follow me.” He then reached down on deck in back of the cockpit near the stern and cracked open the sealed twin engine bunkers, sending air spewing out. “There, you see? Two Rolls-Royce Merlin
7
aero-engines—water tight—modified to my specifications for marine use.”

US-1 asked, “Rolls-Royce? I thought this was a German vessel.”

Doc snickered, “Oh, yes, it is. We stole them from United Kingdom. That was the easy part.”

US-2 dropped his attitude. “You stole them?”

“Yes…the hard part was smuggling them back into Germany with the war going on. The only time we could do it was in the morning. About three o’clock as I recall.”

US-1 looked confused. “Aero engines? But they’re for planes. Why didn’t you use German plane engines?”

“Plane engines, yes. They had what we scientists needed. German aero-engines are
kaput
. Every one of our engineers knew this.”

US-1 recalled, “What about those United States-made Ford engines you told us about in the training lab?”

Doc smiled. “What I said to you was true. He’s our good friend and longtime supporter. Henry Ford. He sent over a couple of 1940 Lincoln Zephyr
8
V 12s, but we couldn’t give them enough boost. The Americans call them ‘stinking heifers,’ and now I know why. Anyway, when we got them tuned in to going four hundred horsepower or better, they went
poof!
Yes,
poof
. Their crankshafts were too long to harness the torque effectively.”

Doc then pointed down into the engine compartments. “Now
these
engines were the predecessor of the legendary Rolls Peregrine and Kestrel seven hundred horsepower engines from the British…have you heard about their Super Spitfire racing planes? No? How about the Hawker Hurricanes? Oh well, doesn’t matter for the purposes of Operation Wolfe Cub. When we cranked up the superchargers you see here with octane boost, they tipped our meters at eighteen hundred horsepower.”

US-1 and 2 grinned as Doc kept talking, “Oh, but you haven’t seen anything yet…take a look at this over here.” He rubbed his knuckles, and then tugged on another sealed hatch next to the engine bays. As soon as he cracked it open, vaporized fog rose from within. He then paused to wait for the fog to clear before opening it fully. “Our Aero engines are used for fast takeoffs and getaways, as you already found out…here’s what will get us across the ocean with less petrol. It’s our underwater power too…the first advanced propulsion technology that works seamlessly—well up to twenty knots.”

Both officers looked eager when Doc motioned gladly with an open hand. “Questions anyone?”

“Yes, we have a lot.”

“I’ll move on then:”

A: “What you see is the first fully successful accomplishment from our flying disc engineers of our top secret spacecraft division.”

Q: “Oh, I heard about flying…real flying discs that fly. Am I right?”

A: “No, no, no. Funny you mention. Our flying discs are ridiculous as far as I’m concerned. They never could get them to fly straight—so they crashed. Sure did wonders for keeping everyone on their toes guessing about them though, I must say. Our Foo Fighters were not meant to be, I suppose.”

Q: “Why’s that? Why don’t they work?”

A: “It was their centrifugal problem, among other things. Steering was impossible to master under the twisting force. None of us were able to figure out how to control them, so we kept crashing everywhere.”

Q: “No way to control them? I get it, so couldn’t you do something else?”

A: “Yes. We worked on drones for a while with some degree of success. We couldn’t arm them, though. They were quite harmless. I suggested they light them on fire and send them out to opposing aircraft anyway. It was a funny distraction we all laughed about.
Ha
, their minor success gave them cause to nickname our joke.”

Q: “Oh? What is the joke?”

A: “I told you, ‘Foo Fighters.’ The British and American pilots didn’t know what to think. Some of them even contracted emotional trauma from what I understand.”

Q: “I heard about them, I believe. Balls of fire, jetting across the sky—at night usually. Was that them?”

A: “Those are our Foo Fighters, my friend, but nothing compared to what you see here right now.”

Q: “Nothing? Maybe you can make them better? Isn’t there any time?”

A: “Oh no. There’s no more time, I’m afraid. They’ll be gone like the rest of our work, sad to say.”

Q: “What’s wrong, Doc? You look like you’re attached to all this.”

A: “Yes, I suppose I am. My people are still slaving on the discs back home, underground right now as if there was no war at all…God bless their souls—years of hard work. All will be gone soon.”

Q: “You’re really someone special, aren’t you? What exactly did you do?”

A: “Who me? It’s not all about me. An unforgettable amount of genius was in our spacecraft division. Our V-Rockets were going on their third phase. I even thought
that one day we could go to the moon. Blame the war, maybe. Better off with mice than men, I suppose. Christ, all of them came to a halt before I could really say good-bye…I never said good-bye…so long…just about a week ago was all it was.”

Q: “What do you mean? I thought we were doing something about this right now. Aren’t we making a difference?”

A: “You two really can’t surmise what’s going on. I’ll tell you again, as sure as probability digs my grave…the war finished us—for good. Remember what I say. The good of all mankind depends on the success of our work.”

Q: “Let me ask something for once, US-1…okay, Doc, so let me get this straight. Flying discs were in the garbage, so a bunch of you crazy scientists took over those ideas then somehow made some of it work right here in this vessel?”

A: “Well, you’re only partially correct, US-2. We’re not crazy. Our ideas made this operation possible too. The technology from the works of Arthur Sack A.S. 6 Experimental Haunebu Disc
9
, or ‘flying saucer’ as you might call it, was combined with Viktor Schauberger’s turbine research, among other things. You’re looking at a revolutionary Electro-Magnetic-Gravitic Engine here that’s modified, which is an improved version of my friend, Hans Coler’s, free-energy machine.”

Q: “Wait a minute, Doc. Free energy? I mean is that a little,
uh
—”

A: “That’s exactly what I said, US-1…
free energy perpetually
. This is only part of the equation. We cruise the
Wehrwolf
on free energy up to twenty knots underwater and above it if we have to… it’s an energy converter coupled to a Van De Graaf band generator,
10
precision crafted and mated seamlessly to
an improved and modified version of the Marconi Vortex Dynamo.
11
Such an accomplishment of—”

Q: “What? A Mussolini and Diana ma-ho,
who
?”

A: “Forget it, US-2. It’s too complex. It’s a pressurized, spherical tank. That’s what it is, and that’s all that matters to you now.”

Doc looked back and forth at them with supreme concern. “I didn’t lose you, did I? I may be short and hairless, but I am a good teacher. My vision is for you both to become my apprentices, should anything happen to me. Did you follow all that I said?”

Neither of them would answer, so Doc slowly moved his hands into a circle. He liked this idea, so he began talking with his hands, swirling them around and making circles bigger. “Like this…it’s a powerful, rotating electromagnetic field that affects gravity and reduces mass…do you understand me, boys?”

They just stared at Doc as if a blanket of fog had just moved in between them. US-2 opened his mouth as if he wanted to shout out his confusion, while US-1 squinted into the sun. Doc soon realized that perhaps he wasn’t a good teacher after all. Somewhat frustrated, he shook his head, turned his back to them, and touched his finger onto his cheek.

Suddenly, he lit up with an idea. “
Ah
yes, I have it!” He then spun back around to face them. “You know, sort of like our older version of the Triebwerk
12
…no fuel except to kick it up. You know,
free energy
.”

Suddenly his newfound apprentices awkwardly faked a few gestures of confidence before they came around to say, “Oh yes, that’s really great. I see nowwww.”

“Really great…
um
. Free energy. Lasts longer…less fuel across the Atlantic. This is good, perpetically.”

Doc suddenly looked relieved. “That’s called
perpetually
, US-2, meaning ‘everlasting’…I can go on then…this Triebwerk we’re using here, I call the ‘
Trieb Tachyonator Two
.’ Our land-based versions were going to be called the ‘
Trieb Tachyonator Ones
.’ Our planes were to be the ‘
Trieb Tachyonator Threes
.’”

“Oh, Doc…I’m not into this sort of thing.”

“Don’t listen to US-2…please tell us more. I can’t believe the amount of work you must have poured into this.”

Doc began to teeter back and forth. “You mean you understand, US-1? What you don’t know then is I’m saving the best for last. I haven’t told you what else we stumbled across.” He continued as he stirred himself up in circles. “Oh, it is big—really big. It’s bigger than you know!”

US-2 turned away, but US-1 kept on.

Q: “Doc, I have newfound respect for you and—you and everyone else involved, but what could possibly be better than this?”

A: “Oh,
ho ho
…it was discovered quite by accident. You see—how can I explain this? Oh, yes. We’ve discovered a new frequency to interphase a grandiose technology. And then, and then…we combined the unique sources of energy. How shall I say this simply? At a
monumental
scale, much larger than what you see here in a primitive propulsion system. We had to create a safe, controlled environment, of course. Actually, the supreme perfect sphere worked quite nicely. Then, of course, there was the problem of protecting the subject with an intermixture of elements.”

Q: “Scales, spheres, protecting elements. What?”

A: “Yes, to protect our subject from harm…we found it quite by accident, too. It came to us inside of a meteorite, believe it or not. We ran lab tests—compatibility tests. Nothing like it on earth, actually. The answer was right before our very eyes! That’s why your symbol on your uniforms is the color gold, yes. It was gold of all things. That’s what completed our magical enigma. Magical it was! Oh, it is scientific—don’t get me wrong. I just wish I understood it better.”

BOOK: Operation Wolfe Cub: A Chilling Historical Thriller (THE TIME TO TELL Book 1)
2.68Mb size Format: txt, pdf, ePub
ads

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