John Doe / 2
Suddenly there was a loud crunching noise,
and a klaxon echoed in the cavernous steel belly
of the ship.
"Attention, all hands!" bellowed a voice from
the loudspeaker on the bulkhead. "We've been rammed
by an unidentified submarine. Go to your damage-
control stations at once. Security crew, prepare
depth charges for launch."
Metzer sighed. Ever since Vietnam, he had been
waiting for the day when he could again fight hand
to hand with an enemy. Now that he was under attack,
he had to stand by like a tourist while the Navy
Damned swabbies! he muttered to himself. Why
does the Navy get all the fun?
"Excuse me, sir," said one of the white-coated
scientists, who brushed past the general to press
a red button on the cryogenic capsule.
Metzger stared as liquid nitrogen steamed
from an escape valve. "What are you doing?"
"Defrosting her, sir," explained the young
scientist. "If the ship sinks, the clones will
have to join us in the lifeboats."
Copyright © 1996-2002 Durant Imboden. All rights reserved. Credits.