The Felnought Deception

By Nelson Kane

When a strange convoy from the Central state of Idria appears to break a military truce, Commander Bryce Jenkins of the Kavarian Navy can’t resist the call to serve his country and captain the Felnought submarine.

But his good friend and down to earth second man, Lieutenant Lachlan Chase, suspects there is something more to the strange happenings going on board the recently relaunched submarine. An inconvenient suspicion that plays on the mind of the Commander.

Bryce Jenkins knows that on the surface, the bloodthirsty country of Idria is playing games to try and provoke Kavaria into war. But he cannot trust his crew to complete the mission until the suspicions in his mind are erased, or worse, confirmed.

How will Commander Jenkins bring his crew together and acquire the strange convoy without igniting a new catastrophic war? Or will the Felnought and her crew be destroyed from within? Sometimes, in deep water, things are not always as they seem.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Nelson Kane
• Release date: Apr 22, 2016
• ISBN: 9781533779762

Book preview

The Felnought Deception

A Submarine Sea Story Thriller

by Nelson Kane

Copyright © 2015

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http://nelsonkane.com

All Rights Reserved

This ebook is licensed for your personal enjoyment only. This ebook or any portion of it may not be reproduced or used in any way without the express permission of the author.

This story is a work of fiction. Names, characters, businesses, organizations, places, events and incidents either are the product of the author’s imagination or are used in a fictitious manner. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, or actual events is purely coincidental.

This work contains adult material and is intended for mature audiences only.

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The Felnought Deception - Story Summary

When a strange convoy from the Central state of Idria appears to break a military truce, Commander Bryce Jenkins of the Kavarian Navy can’t resist the call to serve his country and captain the Felnought submarine.

But his good friend and down to earth second man, Lieutenant Lachlan Chase, suspects there is something more to the strange happenings going on board the recently relaunched submarine. An inconvenient suspicion that plays on the mind of the Commander.

Bryce Jenkins knows that on the surface, the bloodthirsty country of Idria is playing games to try and provoke Kavaria into war. But he cannot trust his crew to complete the mission until the suspicions in his mind are erased, or worse, confirmed.

How will Commander Jenkins bring his crew together and acquire the strange convoy without igniting a new catastrophic war? Or will the Felnought and her crew be destroyed from within? Sometimes, in deep water, things are not always as they seem.

Chapter 1

The Felnought’s relaunch started with a letter. The same way Commander Bryce Jenkins was recruited into the Kavarian Navy, fifteen years ago.

The former sailor glanced down at his silver watch as the city flew by. On time. He mouthed to himself and glanced out the front window. He wasn’t to be late for the appointment. And as a former Kavarian Naval leader and Commander he was never to be late for anything. It was a rule he thought should apply to everyone, not just those who were in service.

Jenkins checked his short dark fringe in the reflection in the window, the same haircut he’d had since starting as a Cadet. The only difference now was that he was closing 36, and traded a few distinguished wrinkles around his lips for bulk around his shoulders and thick neck. He frisked out a fifty dollar note with the country’s freshly printed symbol on it, a fiercely clawed sea crustacean, and peeked out the window at his destination. The taxi pulled over. Thank you, sir. He said, and smiled. The first time he remembered in a long time.

Jenkins glanced at the bright lights of the same bar he’d gotten familiar with over the last three years. The bar’s interior was old fashioned and had become the unofficial place for Kavarian veterans and families. Beside the entrance toward the street, a lone standing post box. From under his arm he brought out a stamped envelope.

It was twenty minutes ago Jenkins held it in his home’s hallway.

Don’t you dare leave me hanging! A woman yelled through his phone. Jenkins knew the voice too well. Especially after so many years of marriage. Is this another of your stupid ideas?

Jenkins bit his tongue, clutching the best letter he’d received in years, in his other hand. You can’t stop me doing this, Diane. You left me. He said. Plus he already had his wallet stuffed in his pants, and wore them smartly too.

No! You never cared about me anyway, A scream rang. You and your stupid dreams. You’re obsessed. We lost the war, Bryce, get over it.

Jenkins pumped his fist around the letter that was to send him to the bar. The shrill voice was too much. But he needed to finalize the divorce. And to do that he needed her to sign.

I’m sending you the papers, Diane. He said slowly. Jenkins picked up his house key he left on the wooden table beside his beach home’s front door. Next to it was the large manila envelope with the said papers. On the front, the address of the rental she was staying at, and that he was paying for.

You can forget it, I’m calling my lawyer tomorrow and bringing you back in.

Jenkins’s blood boiled. He couldn’t remember exactly Diane went from being his high school sweetheart to complete monster. We’re settled, Diane. You can’t go back.

No I’m not. I don’t want to anymore. You can’t do this to me, I don’t want to anymore! She cried on the phone.

The Commander felt the weight of both phone and paper in both of his hands. I have to go, Diane. Taxi’s here. He said quickly, pressing the red button on his phone. Bryce Jenkins took a quick breather in the front hall of the home the papers were to sign away. He touched the gritty yellow paper on the envelope, fondled the weight of the paper inside in his hand - heavier than the regular copy paper, and picked it up. Then Jenkins reached for his phone and called a taxi.

Back on the street before the bar, Jenkins dropped the envelope into the collection box. He dusted his hands, smiled and stepped toward the bar. He was in a formal shirt that stretched over his wide chest. Of course he had to look good for this meeting. He checked his trimmed fringe in the glass’s reflection once more.

He entered the bar and recalled the carefully printed sentences on the letter. He went to the bar, and found the man, the same man that recruited him those years ago by the karaoke box.

Bryce. Bryce Jenkins. Are you a sight for salty sea-dog eyes! The old man got up from a bar stool to greet him.

Commander Jenkins strode towards him. His dark eyes and still athletic build made the former sailor stand out among the crowd of men with beer guts. Jenkins stepped in close to the man and smiled.

Likewise. And always my pleasure, Proctor. Jenkins grinned, and grinned into the old man’s now wise smile. That description wouldn’t be fair really, as Proctor wasn’t that old. Coming in about fifty now, he had left the military years before Jenkins did for a plush job in intelligence. Simply the fact that he was Jenkins’s fond and former Commander made him always consider Proctor an old man.

The humming din of music and chatter in the bar continued. As busy a Saturday afternoon was after a week of work.

What can I get you? Proctor patted Jenkins on the back of his beefy shoulders.

Jenkins sat down. Just a soda thanks.

Proctor glanced at the now middle aged man with a strange look. Civilian life’s really changed you, Commander?

Jenkins grinned. No Proctor, being away from the sea’s changed me.

Proctor laughed and turned to the barman who had just finished wiping glasses. A soda and a beer… the old man whispered to the agreeable bar man, make it a mid-strength.

It’s been too long. Jenkins relaxed his weight into the chair. What’s new with you, sir?

Sir? There ain’t no need for that, Proctor smiled, Great. Got a new building upgrade here, a bunch of new staffers and talent.

Ah, things must be moving I imagine. Jenkins glanced at the television screen which showed a news piece of another office chair journalist speculating on the political turmoil with the central Country of Idria. The subtitles on the screen read of trouble brewing in the central islands, an apparent break of trust. At every montage, the opposing country’s military crest was flashed into the background at every shot - a fierce multi headed hydra. They can’t help themselves can they? Jenkins said.

Proctor put a finger over his lips. Just as well they don’t know what’s going on.

I don’t know much more either, Proctor. Jenkins said in a lamenting tone. Since the end of the Great War, the Kavarian military had scaled back considerably. The only safe place for those officers who wanted the option to come back, the former Commander let out a short whistle, backroom administration."

Oh gods, sorry. Proctor said with a grin. Even he could see the held back dullness as Jenkins spoke the words. How is your position anyway? Proctor asked.

From behind the bar, the bartender put two glasses on the bench, a soda and a beer.

Jenkins picked his up and rolled the glass in his thick palm Excuse my Idrian, he said to proctor, but not being at sea really bloody sucks. Once he would’ve said harsher words, Jenkins thought. But years in the civilian service made him a little softer.

Proctor chuckled, and raised his glass to the Commander. They drank.

How long’s it been then? Proctor asked, wiping the frothy white bubbles from his mouth. How long since you stopped being at sea?

Ten years. Jenkins said. He put down his glass and swirled it. Same building, same cubicle, same people every day.

Sounds like you love it too. Proctor jibed.

Jenkins looked up at the television screen, now showing aerial shots of the central islands. He thought on what Diane had to say. Nothing quite comes close to being at sea.

Do you catch up with the old crew? Proctor asked.

Jenkins raised his eyebrows and shook his head. He took a slow, long sip of his drink. That was something he hadn’t done right. All those men over the years he’d made good ties with, and no contacts to show for it. Now he only had a wife who wanted him to give it all up. No. He said. Then he thought of the one person he knew would always be his friend. He said with a gentle calmness, only Chase.

Chase? Proctor asked, rubbing the seaman’s beard that no amount of office work could ever cover up.

The best Marine Engineer lead we had? Jenkins said. His mind returned to the many times he relied on Chase to get him and his crews out of a pinch. That man was owed many a lives, and much credit for their successes. But there was something about Chase that put Jenkins at ease. And when mortal men were stuck in tin cans miles under water, one good sailor was what one needed.

Ah, Officer Lachlan Chase. Proctor said.

Lieutenant now. Jenkins said. He hadn’t heard anyone call him that in a long time. Even between them. Jenkins watched a bubble in his beer rise to the surface and pop. He smiled and drank a little more.

Well that’s great for Chase. But I’m sorry to hear that about you.

Jenkins nodded and put a finger in the air, I’m fine, really.

Proctor continued talking, staring somewhere into the invisible horizon line somewhere near the karaoke machine. You were one of the submarine fleet’s best, you know. Knew you’d be great as soon as I saw you.

Jenkins cracked a smile. And look where it’s got Kavaria now.

Proctor’s eyes stared further into the distance, glazing over in blissful reminiscence. The wrinkles he had as his Captain now revealing themselves in deeper and longer lines. The greying man leaned into the bar bench on his elbows.

How is your wife now? Proctor asked.

Jenkins leaned to one side. He knew he was already by modern standards what people called a whipped man. Jenkins looked upward, anywhere but toward Proctor. He noticed the decorations up on the far wall. A pair of deer antlers struck the air, disrupting the clean wooden canvas on the ceiling. He sighed. Not good.

Oh… Proctor barely let out a sound.

Jenkins clenched his teeth. He couldn’t stop thinking about the friendships and dreams he sacrificed, to leave the ocean and come back onto land, for her.

A slow country beat played in the background. A strange yet pleasantly nostalgic choice for a city bar built for old story tellers. I’m sorry to hear that, son. Proctor said.

It’s fine. Jenkins replied in a glum monotone. It might be better this way.

Proctor put a reassuring hand on Jenkins’s broad back. As a man who’s been there myself. Let me just say, it’s definitely better that way.

The two men raised their glasses ever so slightly and drank a little more. They sat for a moment, continuing to look forward at the news on the screen. The woman on the front was now reporting on a murder in a suburb he recognized, just a ten minute drive from his suburban home. A bit close for comfort. He thought of messaging Diane, but thought otherwise. She could look after herself, after all. Jenkins let his body sink into the busy noise bouncing around the bar. Their heads nodded to the beat from the karaoke machine’s music wafting over the sounds of the patrons.

Jenkins put on a cheery voice, On the positive side, submarine work don’t pay anywhere near as much as Ops.

Proctor chuckled. I suppose you could say it’s… sub-standard pay. He just couldn’t help it.

Jenkins laughed. You know, Proctor. The work, the crew, together. I’ve always wondered what it would be like to get back in. There’s just something about being miles under the surface with nowhere to go. Not knowing when you’ll get shot up. Or come across the enemy.

That kind of pressure could drive a man mad. Proctor said.

Jenkins thought upon the words. Or give him the best days of his life.

Proctor looked sideways toward Jenkins, head still faced forward. He licked the bubbling froth from his lips.

Jenkins looked straight down into the golden drink in his glass. The