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section7mfu“There’s a storm coming,” Illya commented as he looked up at the darkening sky. “Hopefully it will hold off until we have achieved our goal.”
His seasickness was already making him feeling miserable, and he did not relish the thought of being out on the ocean in the rain. Being prone to colds was a bane of his life.
Solo glanced up also, noting the colour of the heavy clouds. Illya was right that a storm was definitely on the way. He dismissed it from his mind. Whatever the weather, they had a THRUSH supply ship to neutralise. Intelligence had ascertained that the vessel was carry food, technology, and guns. It had a small crew which would hopefully not be combat trained. The plan was to take the ship and arrest the crew. From what they could gather, the ship was supposed to rendezvous with a submarine, about three miles from the Canadian coast. It had drop anchor an hour previously and was now waiting.
Liaising with the US navy, communications had told the agents that there was a sub heading their way, and would arrive in four hours. If all went to plan, the ship would be well on the way to New York by then.
Napoleon and Illya were sitting in their small boat, about a mile from their quarry, waiting for nightfall to begin; the Russian positioned behind the American. They had muffled their oars and were going to row to the ship under the cover of darkness.
As the sky grew darker, the clouds making night seem earlier than it should be, the two agents began to row. In an attempt to disguise their approach, Solo and Kuryakin rowed slowly, on a seemingly erratic course. They had only been rowing for five minutes when a loud rumble of thunder heralded the arrival of the rain.
“Just perfect,” grumbled Illya.
Solo didn’t comment. He could feel the glare from behind him and was amazed that the rain wasn’t freezing and turning to snow as a result.
Another loud boom echoed around them just as the sky was split with several forks of lightening. As the two men continued their journey, neither of them could have foreseen what happened next.
Lightening arced down and struck the ship, causing it to explode spectacularly.
Solo and Kuryakin sat open mouthed, watching as debris fell from the sky. It was several minutes before either of them spoke.
“What in Heaven’s name caused that?” Napoleon asked, turning to face Illya, who was clearly shocked at the way things had gone.
“I can only assume that the ship was carrying weaponry which was a lot more powerful than rifles.”
“I think that’s a given,” Solo agreed. “But even so, it shouldn’t have gone up like that from a lightning strike. You don’t suppose it was divine intervention?”
Illya shrugged, not wishing to get into a theological debate right at that moment.
“Whatever the cause, it appears we no longer have the problem of a ship full of weapons. I suggest we head back to shore and get out of the storm.”
“Absolutely,” Napoleon concurred. “On the way, we can work out how we’re going to report this.”
.
His seasickness was already making him feeling miserable, and he did not relish the thought of being out on the ocean in the rain. Being prone to colds was a bane of his life.
Solo glanced up also, noting the colour of the heavy clouds. Illya was right that a storm was definitely on the way. He dismissed it from his mind. Whatever the weather, they had a THRUSH supply ship to neutralise. Intelligence had ascertained that the vessel was carry food, technology, and guns. It had a small crew which would hopefully not be combat trained. The plan was to take the ship and arrest the crew. From what they could gather, the ship was supposed to rendezvous with a submarine, about three miles from the Canadian coast. It had drop anchor an hour previously and was now waiting.
Liaising with the US navy, communications had told the agents that there was a sub heading their way, and would arrive in four hours. If all went to plan, the ship would be well on the way to New York by then.
Napoleon and Illya were sitting in their small boat, about a mile from their quarry, waiting for nightfall to begin; the Russian positioned behind the American. They had muffled their oars and were going to row to the ship under the cover of darkness.
As the sky grew darker, the clouds making night seem earlier than it should be, the two agents began to row. In an attempt to disguise their approach, Solo and Kuryakin rowed slowly, on a seemingly erratic course. They had only been rowing for five minutes when a loud rumble of thunder heralded the arrival of the rain.
“Just perfect,” grumbled Illya.
Solo didn’t comment. He could feel the glare from behind him and was amazed that the rain wasn’t freezing and turning to snow as a result.
Another loud boom echoed around them just as the sky was split with several forks of lightening. As the two men continued their journey, neither of them could have foreseen what happened next.
Lightening arced down and struck the ship, causing it to explode spectacularly.
Solo and Kuryakin sat open mouthed, watching as debris fell from the sky. It was several minutes before either of them spoke.
“What in Heaven’s name caused that?” Napoleon asked, turning to face Illya, who was clearly shocked at the way things had gone.
“I can only assume that the ship was carrying weaponry which was a lot more powerful than rifles.”
“I think that’s a given,” Solo agreed. “But even so, it shouldn’t have gone up like that from a lightning strike. You don’t suppose it was divine intervention?”
Illya shrugged, not wishing to get into a theological debate right at that moment.
“Whatever the cause, it appears we no longer have the problem of a ship full of weapons. I suggest we head back to shore and get out of the storm.”
“Absolutely,” Napoleon concurred. “On the way, we can work out how we’re going to report this.”
.
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Date: 2016-07-06 05:17 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2016-07-06 06:59 pm (UTC)I wonder how fantastical it becomes by the time they return to HQ.