"Battle stations. I repeat, all hands to Battle Stations." Captain Roger Westleigh barked, clearly and firmly. As if to underscore his words, the general quarters sounded up and down the decks of HMS Eagle as the sailors scrambled to their posts. On the deck three squadrons of Sea Harriers warmed their engines as bomb tractors drove frantically, arming up the aircraft. He put down his handset, satisfied.
The signals officer, Lieutenant Axworth was co-ordinating with the other ships of the Allied fleet.

"Thirteen degrees to starboard, Gryphonne." Up ahead, the bulk of the French Air defence cruiser edged through the icy pacific waters to its new position. Just aft of it was USS Eldridge, carrying the first ever Naval Gap generator. This ship was crucial - stealth lay at the very heart of the plan, if the Soviets discovered this fleet before time both the plan and the ships were sunk.

The twenty ships formed up professionally, a testament to the firmness of the alliance that ships from eight different countries could work so well together. They'd have to, Westleigh thought, or this raid will fail miserably, and then it's shoreside duty for me, surely. His chest swelled with pride as he recounted his rise to become one of the Royal Navy's youngest Captains, and in command of an Aircraft carrier, no less! He knew now, that all eyes of the admiralty would be on him, watching his every move. More importantly, if the fleet failed to knock out the Soviet Iron Curtain installation West of Vladivostock and intercept the anticipated Soviet naval relief convoy, the Korean-led invasion fleet would catastrophically run aground, so to speak.

"Signal the flagship, Mr Forbes, we are in position."
"Aye aye sir." The seaman responded. Of course, there was no other possible response to an order from the Captain. Failure to comply would mean the brig and a court-martial. Westleigh turned to his trusted Lieutenant.
"Now we play the waiting game, Mr Axworth."
"Very good sir."
There were a few tense moments.
"Sir, we have a green light!" Shouted Mr Forbes.
"Calm down, Mr Forbes. Mr Axworth, send the signal."
"Aye aye sir!"

Scant seconds later, the already bombed and fuelled up squadrons of the fleet's three aircraft carriers rose to the wild blue. Westleigh wished he could have been on one of those planes! Maybe even the first western military units into the Soviet Union since the end of the last war. Westleigh had missed that conflict, and had missed his chance to be a pilot, too, but he'd be damned if he'd miss his chance for glory here!

Nervous electronic warfare officers sat glued to their VDU's. Anxious sailors paused in their duties, waiting to hear of the fate of their airborne colleagues. Captain Westleigh sipped from his Coffee mug. The coffee was terrible, as always - the Soviet invasion of the US had scuttled the main supply route of coffee from South America. Westleigh dreaded to think of what they were using as 'coffee' instead…
"Sir! Lyon squadron reports contacts, sir! Seventeen Migs, on an intercept course for the fleet!"

"Acknowledged. Tell them to carry on to the target Mr Forbes, we can handle them." Let them come - we'll make them pay, even if they though get through our gap! He grinned. A few Mig kills wouldn't look bad on his report. I could even turn the gap off momentarily, to draw them in…He shook his head, his discipline held. The mission comes first.

Soon after, Gryphonne picked up another group of Migs on an identical course. The original group of Migs orbited in a racetrack to the east of the fleet, out of their own radar range, but not of Gryphonne's. Soon enough, the second group of Migs began their own racetrack, this time out to the west of the fleet. 
Westleigh frowned. They didn't have the fuel to orbit there forever. He was sure they were no threat to the fleet, with its several anti-air vessels. Even so, they bugged him…

"Mr Axworth, report on the progress of our air units, if you please."
"Aye aye sir. One moment please. First wave successful, sir! Targets destroyed. Second wave, ETA 3 minutes." Then "Sir, 801 squadron are being tailed! Another squadron of Migs!" They could follow them right back to the ship, and lead their fellows in, maybe through the gap…
"Order 801 squadron, weapons free!" 
"Aye aye sir." 801 squadron flew Sea Harriers, slower but more agile than the Migs. On the other hand, the Harriers hadn't been carrying many Anti-air missiles on their ground-attack mission. After a moment, Westleigh sent in the reserve anti-air squadron.

"Sir! Blucher reports uh, abnormal sonar readings, sir." Abnormal?
"Where is Blucher, Mr Forbes?"
"Abeam of Eldridge, sir."
"Well, there you go sailor. Filthy gap interference." Westleigh remembered the early side-effects of Einstein's technologies - like the first ships sent by chronosphere that ended up with sailors fused into the decking…and the chronostorms caused by overuse of the early, unrefined mk1 chronospheres by the desperate alliance in the first war. He shuddered involuntarily.
"Sir, I don't think…"
"Don't answer back to the Captain, seaman!" Axworth barked. Forbes shut up.
"Right, we'll tell-"

The words never escaped Westleigh's mouth. The whole bridge crew had fallen silent, every man and woman stood, dumbfounded. On the flight deck someone screamed.
Just off to port, huge tentacles whipped around the hull of USS Eldridge. The converted destroyer's hull began visibly buckling. Sailors screamed and ran around the deck in panic. One man grappled with a 30mm cannon, firing down into the water at something unseen. Another huge tentacle, as long as the ship whipped up, caught the man and his gun and threw the mangled remains overboard. 
The giant squid drew its main body onto the ship, snapping off the mast of the gap generator like a twig. Westleigh's eyes were drawn instantly to the thick red collar the creature had around its midsection, emblazoned with the Hammer and Sickle emblem. Some kind of control device. Soviet. Sailors on deck were drawn inexorably into the creature's gaping maw. The ship capsized under the weight moments later, lost with all hands.

"DESTROYERS, NOW!!!" Westleigh screamed. "LAUNCH ALL AIRCRAFT! DEPTH CHARGES! DECK GUNS!"
Orders relayed with startling speed, soon Merlins, Sea Kings and Ospreys hovered around dropping canisters and pouring fire into the churning waters that marked the grave of Eldridge.
At least we may have given some of the sailors a quick death. Westleigh thought, ashen-faced.
"Alert! HMAS Sydney under attack!"

The bridge crew whirled again; another of the creatures (or maybe the same one?) was grappling with the Australian air-defence ship. Westleigh still couldn't bring himself to believe that this was really happening.
"FIRE! ALL AVAILABLE SHIPS!"
"Sir! We'll hit our own crewmen!" A seaman protested.
"YOU'D RATHER THAT…THING…EAT THEM?"
"N-no, sir!"

Destroyers began firing deck guns, blowing ragged red holes in the side of the giant squid. Crewmen sprayed it with fire from 30mm AA cannons, stitching red wholes up and down the length of the monster. The bloody remains slid back into the depths, but it was no good; Sydney was going. A second squid was busy dismantling the starboard side of the ship.
By now, the first wave of attacking aircraft were on their way back, having retreated as soon as they learned that the flotilla was under attack.
Two more squids appeared and grabbed onto two more anti-air ships, Gryphonne and HMS Arrow.

"Sir! Sonar contact, closing fast! Ospreys moving to intercept!" The fleet's combined anti-submarine warfare aircraft now wheeled everywhere, darting low in-between ship radar masts, dropping ordnance at every opportunity. A tentacle rose and swept a large part of Eagle's flight deck clear - of men, tractors, ordnance, a TV News crew. Then three depth charges were dropped into the water just adjacent t the deck. The squid was blown to pieces, showering blood all over the flight deck and splattering onto the bridge windows. Westleigh was about to lose his lunch. The sole Belgian ship, the anti-air cruiser Ypres was now capsizing, almost torn in half by two squids.

"Sir!" Now what? "Incoming aircraft!"
"Ours or theirs?" Axworth shouted. He had to shout to be heard over the braying, squealing of the nearby squids and the shrieking klaxons that filled the air. 
"Uh, both sir, but a lot more of theirs!"

The Harriers, Rafales and Hornets were returning, but with the Gap generator gone and the anti-air ships 'squidded', along with them now came the three combined Russian Mig squadrons. One had chased the Allied planes while the other two waited patiently for the gap to go down and the AA ships to be destroyed. A mass air battle now occurred just above the churning red waters between the spaced-out remaining ships.

"More sonar contacts sir! And our ASW aircraft are running low on munitions!"
"Sir!" A Chief Petty Officer barked, using a caller to call the bridge. "Squid off the port bow!"

"Master-at-arms to the port bow! Break out the armaments for what good they'll do!" Westleigh ordered. He could hear the fear in his own voice. He tried to reassure his crew, but failed miserably. He was too young for them to trust properly.
Westleigh was just surveying his fleet; the waters were now alarmingly clear. Clear of his ships. All the AA ships were gone, now squids were grappling with destroyers. The French Aircraft carrier, Arromanches was festooned with squids. A Rafale, desperately low on fuel, was struck by a squid arm trying to land and cartwheeled flaming into the sea, ripping off the squid arm and taking it with him. A pyhrric victory. The burning remains of other aircraft splashed down into the ocean. The sky was a confused maze of contrails, but the Russians outnumbered the Allies in the air, and were gaining the upper hand steadily. A flight of Migs broke off from the dogfight to take out the destroyer USS Brandon - almost leisurely - as it attempted to blast a squid from the stricken HMS Cumberland.
He had to accept the inevitable.

"This is Captain Westleigh, HMS Eagle," He broadcast on the shipwide frequency. The Admiral's ship had bought it ages ago, now it was his responsibility. "All ships, retreat!" The order tasted like ashes in his mouth. Shoreside duty, for sure…
Just as they were preparing to weigh anchor, the ship lurched suddenly to port. He would have thought that was impossible, due to its sheer size. His ears were full of men screaming, and bulkheads groaning in protest as they tried to hold the ship together. Now two squids were on the back of the ship…
"Master-at-arms, report!"
No answer.

"Oh, bugger it." Westleigh picked up the caller again. "This is the CAPTAIN! ALL HANDS ABANDON SHIP! I REPEAT, ALL HANDS ABANDON SHIP!"
The bridge crew were silent. Outside, a squid roared. Half the ship's crew were on deck, rattling away at the monsters with SA-80 rifles.
"THAT WAS AN ORDER! GET OUT!"

The men and women scrambled off the bridge. On the flight deck, a squid swept another dozen sailors into its mouth like obscene sweets. It lurched closer to the bridge, tilting the ship crazily.
"Wait! Mr Forbes, Mr Axworth, come with me!"
"Aye aye sir!" They chorused.

The bridge was deserted. The three men made their way to the armaments locker, hurrying past crewmen scrambling to the liferafts on the opposite end of the ship to the squids. The Captain passed a rifle to the Steadfast Mr Axworth, then to Forbes, who looked ready to faint, then grabbed one himself, slinging a webbing belt full of spare clips over his shoulder. They ran onto the flight deck, were only a few armed sailors remained firing at the squids. The foremost one was bleeding from over three hundred rifle rounds. Even so, it lurched forward again, swung a tentacle and decapitated the bridge. Wreckage exploded into the sea. A Mig swooped low over the deck, as if gloating. Westleigh rattled off a clip at the nearest monster and reloaded.

"THIS IS HOPELESS!" Forbes screamed. He ran to the rafts.
"FORBES! STAY HERE! THAT IS A DIRECT ORDER! AKNOWLEDGE AT ONCE!" If Forbes could hear over the Roaring, exploding, gunfire and jet engines, he was ignoring his Captain. Westleigh spun and riddled the coward with bullets. Then looked around; no one had seen. If they did, they had other things to worry about.
The second squid picked up a sailor, and before he even had a chance to scream, it crushed him like a bloody sponge, all over the deck.

"I've got a plan, sir! Get to the liferafts!" Axworth shouted in his ear. Westleigh should have reprimanded him for speaking to the Captain so. But he agreed. He stepped back, with the remaining seamen on deck. Axworth dropped his gun and ran towards the Squid. A tentacle swung down - the sailors shot it until it exploded into meaty chunks. Axworth had ducked and now got up again - now Westleigh could see where he was heading; one of the last surviving bomb tractors. It was loaded, ready for the Sea Harriers that would now never arrive. The Lieutenant hopped in and floored the machine - all five miles an hour, straight at the squid.
"GODSPEED MR AXWORTH!" Westleigh shouted. Axworth turned and saluted, just before drawing a pistol and shooting at the nose of a 500lb bomb, blowing himself and the squid to bloody atoms.

Westleigh could only watch. It was beautiful.
Eventually he gathered his last men. They got to the liferafts just as more squids piled onto the deck, finally crushing the last Allied ship under the waves.
The squids were silent after that, and the Migs, having annihilated the Allied air power at considerable cost to their own, finally left the survivors huddling their liferafts together for protection.

For days they floated, slowly freezing. They lashed their rafts together, but even so some of the rafts simply vanished. Westleigh didn't want to think about what had happened to the men and women aboard…he told himself the cold would probably have killed them first.

"We're going to die, aren't we Captain?" A Seaman asked, blind and delirious from the sea and the cold. He was Seventeen years old.
"Don't worry Billy, you won't feel a thing." The Captain pulled out his service pistol. It was all he could think of reassuring the boy. There was, after all, no hope of rescue if the Russians had destroyed the Korean fleet too.
"Captain! Behind you!"

The Captain whirled, aimed his pistol down into the water.
"Come and get us you Russian f-… uh?"
There weren't any more monsters I this sea. It was a Dolphin! An American Dolphin with a GPS collar! It clicked and whistled its acknowledgement as if to say, "Yes, that's right, I'm a Dolphin."

The men caught on quick. Soon they were cheering and clapping. A Frenchman hugged him gratefully. Someone had managed to save a case of champagne from God knows where…they opened it now.

Westleigh looked at the Dolphin.
"Very well! Home Flipper!" He laughed.
The invasion would have to wait a bit…

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