My War of the Worlds Sequel- WoTW: Aftermath.

[wotwfan48]

Hi Nerfherder, as always, very good, a real thriller of wotw that I like so much. chantale ;D

[Commandingtripod]

Nice Nerfty very nice. ;D
I see our sub has left dock.

And I like your addition of 'HMS Thunder Child'. ;D

[richardburton]

Excellent, Nerfy. Love the little nod to Thunder Child.

[jeffwaynefan]

Excellant, book form by next year?

[EvilNerfherder]

jeffwaynefan said:

Excellant, book form by next year?

Whilst I'd like that obviously, but it's a bit of a leap from here onto paper.

[richardburton]

Well, judging by the 100% positive feedback on here, it's certainly a good indication. I can see it getting published.

[EvilNerfherder]

THE WAR OF THE WORLDS: AFTERMATH.



23. Out to Sea.



Cavendish never ceased to amaze me with his encyclopaedic knowledge of how all the machinery adapted from Martian technology worked. Although he himself never told me much about his life, I do know that he had a background in engineering and other similar sciences. Apparently, he was an advisor in the sciences to the government, although in what exact capacity I never found out. Our American cousins might have called Cavendish a ‘trouble-shooter’, although I feel he would have disapproved of that term.
Whatever his exact origins, he was obviously much in demand in those post-war years.
I was surprised to hear, from overhearing some idle gossip amongst the men, that there was a Mrs.Cavendish. Somehow, he had the air of the eternal bachelor about him and he did not seem the married type at all. Thinking about that, and wondering quite how this woman stood his continued absence, brought to mind my own sweet wife who must, I thought, feel a kinship with her. I felt ashamed that I had neglected my wife so, of late, especially as I had already put her through so much, and I made up my mind to return home to her as soon as our task was completed. If I survived.

The ‘Nautilus’ was fitted with an array of the latest developments in technology as I have intimated before, and it seemed that much of this equipment was enhanced by items the Martians had left behind. Cavendish proudly showed me the vessels radio system and I watched as the Captain contacted Holy Loch with details of our course on it. The scratchy voice that came from the contraption in answer gave me an idea and I asked if I could talk to my wife on the machine. Cavendish frowned a little at this. Apparently, this equipment was for official use only but he said he would see what he could do.
I watched as a crewmember tested out the ‘sonar’ equipment. This was apparently something that was on board when ‘Nautilus’ was found and its usage had been learned since by trial and error. I gathered that it worked by projecting sound waves outward from the vessel and a dial showed any objects that these waves hit, or something like that. Cavendish explained that this would be our most likely method of finding the location of the Martian lair.

In the afternoon, I joined some men up on the huge, flat deck of the submersible. I took in the bracing, spray-filled air and the cries of the seagulls that hovered in the air above us. Our Ironclad escorts steamed along beside us, dwarfed by this great hulk we stood upon. The whoops of the ships’ horns sounded periodically and the sailors on board waved enthusiastically at us. I saw the little flags on the masts, buffeted by the breeze, and heard the cheers of the men on these ships and momentarily felt a celebratory atmosphere. It was like a street party and the men on deck with me seemed thoroughly caught up in it. This was soon dissipated for me, however, when the thought of the unknown that yet faced us elbowed its way roughly into my mind. Cavendish, through all this, gazed unflinchingly out into the distance. I wondered at the thoughts that must be crossing his mind.
The weather took a sudden turn for the worse, as it does in those waters, and we were all ushered back into the bowels of the vessel, as heavy rain lashed the deck.

The first sign of trouble came early the next morning.
A loud klaxon sounded and I stumbled wearily from my bed to see what caused this noise. I made my way to the bridge and found Cavendish already there. I wondered then if he ever slept.
‘What is it?’ I asked him, now fully awake.
‘An attack,’ he replied. ‘One of our escorts has been holed by some sort of small machine that came from the water. I gather she is sinking fast.’
‘They do not waste any time,’ I said. ‘Do they wish to take the ‘Nautilus’ back?’
‘They will take her over my dead body,’ Cavendish asserted. ‘Captain, I think it is time we submerged.’
‘What about the other ships?’ I said. ‘Surely we cannot just leave them?’
‘We can do exactly that. This vessel is the only machine we have that can help us complete our mission successfully. We have to preserve her for what is to come and cannot take the chance that there is a whole fleet of those things waiting for us at this stage.’
I thought of those sailors that I had seen waving so happily the afternoon before now fighting for their lives and to defend us. Through the viewing windows an explosion lit up the darkness outside.
‘Captain,’ Cavendish said grimly. ‘If you please.’
Something flashed across the Captain’s eyes then. I wondered if these orders went against his wishes as much as mine. The Captain turned after a moment and shouted orders and sailors pushed levers and flicked switches.
There was a slight lurch, and as another explosion flashed through the viewing window, the ‘Nautilus’ began to sink into the cold, black water.

[richardburton]

Ooooo like it. You're really building up the tension. I really like that last line too - something very final about it. Another damn good chapter, fella. Well done.

[Commandingtripod]

This is another great chapter you've writen us Nerfy. ;D

Pitty the Ironclads are sinking - I rather hoped they'd last a little bit longer.
Still though, in war I guess anything can happen.

[EvilNerfherder]

I could have written more about the Ironclad battle, but it isn't the point. What is important is Cavendish's orders in the light of this attack and the reactions to it, or at least that was the intention. Besides which, our narrator would not have been able to see details.
I wanted to leave that the details of that particular battle to peoples imaginations which is something Wells did often. I suppose you could say that it's my version of the 'six distinct reports' phrase HG used.
Maybe we'll find out later if any ships survived... or maybe not

[Commandingtripod]

nerfherder said:

I could have written more about the Ironclad battle, but it isn't the point. What is important is Cavendish's orders in the light of this attack and the reactions to it, or at least that was the intention. Besides which, our narrator would not have been able to see details.
I wanted to leave that the details of that particular battle to peoples imaginations which is something Wells did often. I suppose you could say that it's my version of the 'six distinct reports' phrase HG used.
Maybe we'll find out later if any ships survived... or maybe not

Yes indeed.

But I must admit that you've got me thinking about what weapons the Martians have come up with to be able to sink such large ships so fast.
I think you've succeeded in getting us to use our imaginations.

[jeffwaynefan]

Excellant stuff and very much inkeeping with H.Gs work.

[wotwfan48]

very very good work, thrilling, keep the good work. you got it.
and as usual can't wait for more LOL. cheers. Chantale. ;D

[EvilNerfherder]

THE WAR OF THE WORLDS: AFTERMATH.


24. Submerged



The mood on board Nautilus was much subdued. Cavendish stood hands behind his back, looking as self-important and defiant as ever. From time to time, I caught various crewmembers surreptitiously casting sharp glances at him. The knight either pretended not to notice or was too wrapped up in his own thoughts. Rather than a penny, if I could, I would have given the Royal Mint for them.
There was little to see through the viewing window but gloom until the Captain gave an order and powerful lamps lit up the sea ahead. Startled shoals of fish glinted as they hurried this way and that in a frantic effort to make way for this huge invader of their territory.
Away from the battle on the surface we travelled, I could not guess at the speed but there was no feeling of movement. I could only gather that we were travelling very fast indeed.
‘Captain, small object coming at us ahead!’ a sailor cried. He was hunched over a dial and the green glow from the instrument gave his face a sickly hue.
‘Full speed!’ the Captain growled. There was a slight change in the pitch of the distant engine sound, but that was the only sign I could detect of any change of pace.
‘Ready the sonic weapon,’ the Captain said.
Ahead, through the window, I could now see a small shape keeping pace with us. It looked like a much smaller version of Nautilus, black with green lights flashing along its length. It was getting closer.
‘Fire!’ The Captain shouted.
A sailor pressed a lever and there was a high-pitched whine. From the front and side of Nautilus the water seemed to ripple.
The Martian craft chasing us turned and quickly fired off some sort of missile. This small black missile came rapidly toward us but narrowly missed.
‘Fire!’ the Captain repeated. Again, the water rippled ahead of us and the nose of the other craft jerked to one side as if it had been roughly pushed by some giant’s hand. Our pursuer tried to return to its intercepting course but the water rippled once more and the craft was suddenly enveloped in bubbles as it disintegrated. The torn pieces of the machine began to sink slowly to the sea floor as we sped past.
The bridge erupted in cheers and sailors jumped up and down with glee.
‘The sonic weapon works perfectly,’ Cavendish beamed at the Captain, who did not seem inclined to join in the celebration. The Captain simply nodded.
The sailor on the detection instrument confirmed that that there were no more enemy craft in the vicinity so our search for the Martian base began in earnest.

I retired to my cabin after this conflict and tried to concentrate in writing notes for my account. I soon gave this up, however, and lay on my bed to mull over things.
I felt I could understand why Cavendish had ordered us to flee the scene of the Martian attack on the Ironclads but that understanding did not make me feel any better. It seemed obvious to me that many of the crew, and perhaps the Captain, were wracked by similar doubts. I wondered if they felt as cowardly as I, even if there was nothing I personally could have done and it may have ended in the failure of this crucial mission.
I was not left to my thoughts for long, though, as the Sergeant appeared at my door and asked if I would like to join him and the commandos in their mess.
As a distraction from my thoughts was most welcome at this point, I followed him through the vessel to a smoky mess room where the men lolled about laughing and joking.
At first, this frivolity in our situation grated on me slightly but it soon became infectious. I laughed at times as the Sergeant and his colleagues told risqué stories and sat absorbed as they took turns in telling exciting stories of their army exploits. At a request from Glenn, a stocky red-haired fellow, the Sergeant prodded me into telling of my own experiences and of our previous meetings. The others took up this cry and I stood to address them. Gratified by their rapt attention, I related what had happened to me in the war and the assemblage gasped, cheered and booed, like an enthusiastic music hall audience, at appropriate parts of the story. When I had finished, they clapped and cheered then insisted on toasting me with some rather palatable wine. They even proposed a toast to my wife so many miles away.
I felt I had been truly accepted by these men.
We talked long into the small hours until, one by one, the men drifted off to their bunks. The Sergeant and I talked a short while longer and then I myself had to retire. I went to my cabin, a little the worse for drink, but full of good cheer.

That night came the first nightmare I had had for many months. It was not the usual one of the Martians feeding upon me, this time our mighty vessel cracked and broke open by some unknown means. As I watched myself sink, eyes wide and limbs flailing ineffectually, to the ocean floor, I again heard that ghostly cry.
‘Ulla!’

[Commandingtripod]

Excellent stuff here.
I like what I've ready. ;D

[richardburton]

Damn good stuff, Nerfy old buddy. Nice to see I got another wee mention!

Loved the Ulla ending too - really foreboding.

[wotwfan48]

As usual Nerfy, whow Good work, thrilling,
I like it a lot. You are heading In the good direction whith your project, you are capable to do a really good story. Thanks a lot for sharing this whith us. ;D Chantale.

[EvilNerfherder]

THE WAR OF THE WORLDS: AFTERMATH.


25. The Search.


The next day, the Nautilus began her search of the seabed in earnest. The Captain steered the vessel up and down in a huge grid pattern whilst the sonar swept the sea floor. The sonar device was so sophisticated, Cavendish told me, that it could detect a single ha’penny from miles away if properly tuned. As the Martian base we were looking for was obviously expected to be bigger than a coin of the realm, however, detection this precise was unnecessary. In fact it may have confused the issue.
I found the viewing screen fascinating during this time and watched as fish and other creatures of the sea regarded this immense intruder curiously.
The sonar picked up several large targets as we searched, but they turned out to be shipwrecks many years old. One wreck, however, appeared to be of a much more recent origin and had a huge gash in its side. One of her funnels was tilted forlornly to one side and flags and insignia still fluttered, eerily, in the current. Some of the contents of the ship were scattered about her and I somehow knew that this ship had been a victim of our quarry. Cavendish considered sending a party on board to investigate but, after a moment’s thought, decided that it would serve no purpose. He ordered curtly that we resume the search.
There was no further incident until later that afternoon when more, smaller targets were picked up by the sonar device. These objects seemed to be observing us as they came no closer and kept pace with the Nautilus for a while. They were five in number and appeared to be moving at great speed as the little dots that represented them danced, around and about each other, at the top of the sickly green screen where the sonar returns were displayed. They carried on this strange display for something like ten minutes and then disappeared as soon as they had come. Cavendish took this development as a bad sign and recommended that extra watchfulness be exercised.

I asked again that day about the possibility of talking to my wife on the radio set but Cavendish told me that radio silence was now being observed.
He evidently felt that the Martians, if nearby, may be able to monitor any such transmissions and would get more warning than we could comfortably allow.
I felt, with reason I thought, that they already knew we were on their trail but realised the futility of arguing the point. Cavendish barely acknowledged my presence during the search, he merely stared distantly out through the viewing window.

The search continued on and periodically we saw the strange objects come into view on the screen and perform their eerie display. Nothing else of any size was spotted that day, though and, weary of the silent tension on the bridge, I went and joined the commandos in their mess.
The Sergeant was sitting smoking in a chair with his feet up on the table as young Jameson led the men in singing some bawdy music-hall standards. Private Wayne skilfully accompanied this gleeful troupe on an accordion.
I had at first wondered why the commandos did not mix with the other men who were quartered elsewhere in the submersible. As I grew to know them, I felt that perhaps their group’s whole foundation was built upon an unshakeable bedrock of trust and experience and, whilst they did not shun fellow servicemen, they were as close as a family and spent their time together accordingly.
The jolly mood in the mess, as before, lifted my spirits and, after a glass or two, I joined in the singing and laughing with great gusto. How different and refreshing was my time in this simple mess in contrast with the staid quiet of being in the company of Cavendish and the Captain of our vessel. These times were made further unbearable as the Captain seemed to despise Cavendish, although whether this was purely because of the orders Cavendish had given or there was something else, I did not know.
An orderly came to find me later and asked if I would be joining Sir George for dinner. I, rather drunk by this stage, told him that I wished him to tell my host that food was for scoundrels and I would drink more wine instead. The poor orderly left with the rough laughter of my companions ringing in his ears.

Later that night, alone in my room, I realised I may have gone too far and, with my head pounding, made a mental note that I would apologise to Cavendish in the morning. As it turned out, I had no need to worry, as the orderly had evidently told him that I was ‘feeling unwell’ and I later thanked the man profusely for his good judgement.

[Commandingtripod]

Nice Nerfy.

Can't wait for them to discover the Martian base of operations. ;D

[Luperis]

Excellent! I'm really loving it.
Can't wait for the next chapter! ;D