Two more sinkings followed, done a fair distance apart.  Sam hoped (and most of the crew agreed with her, but didn’t say it) that they had moved so fast that neither target had been given the chance to raise any alarm.
        “Up periscope,” Sam said, and she blinked a few times to adjust her sight to the brighter view outside.  The sun was setting, and as she swung the periscope around she could make out a tiny silhouette on the horizon.  She readjusted the settings and saw that it was another freighter. 
        “Max.”
        “Yeah, sweetheart?”
        “How are we fixed for fuel and stuff?”
        “Stuff?  Such as?  Lingerie, sundries and bric-a-brac?”
        “You know what I mean, Max.”
        “Sure, Sam.  We could always replenish our food supply, and more fuel is just a plus.  Why?  We got another pigeon in our sights?”
        “Could be.  Helm, make course oh-three-five to intercept.”  She lowered the periscope.  “I think we might have another boarding opportunity before the sun goes down.”
        Her vulpine husband grinned.

        The Ashikawa Maru turned out to be a rich prize, laden with diesel fuel that could be siphoned off to refill the submarine’s tanks, food, and a few other items.  In order to give the Chinese members of the crew practice (since they were going to be expected to take over eventually), Sam had them board the vessel.
        The boarding action had been preceded by the submarine surfacing and a hail of heavy machine gun fire striking the ship’s starboard bridge rail.  A loud and vulgar spate of Japanese followed, demanding that the ship heave to and observe radio silence “or the next rounds go through your wheelhouse.”  The U-666’s deck guns were readied to emphasize the threat.
        Unarmed and surprised by the sudden assault, the ship’s captain meekly obeyed. 
        “We got some spare parts,” Max enthused as the freighter’s launch chugged away for another load.  He had had some fun smashing the freighter’s radio into fragments so that it couldn’t call for help.  Naval Syndicate doctrine called for it as the first priority in any boarding action.  “But here’s the kicker.”  He passed a strongbox up onto the deck.  “Part of the Army payroll.”
        “You are kidding,” Fritz said as he levered the lock off of the box and studied the crisply-bundled stacks of yen notes.
        “God’s truth,” the short fox said.  “This’s just the tip of the iceberg.  The rest of it’s still aboard – another twenty-nine boxes, in fact.”
        “Great,” Sam said.  “We’ll take this box – well, two, just for expenses – and send the rest to the bottom.  Have the ship’s crew get to their lifeboats, and when we’re done we’ll sink her by gunfire.”  She ruffled her husband’s headfur.  “Great job . . . Renart.”
        Max grinned and pantomimed flourishing a sword.  “’Let those who oppress the poor beware!  The Highwayman is on your tail!’” he quoted, and started laughing.  “Know something, honeyfur?”
        “What?”
        “If anyone was writing this, it’d redefine the meaning of the word ‘hack.’”
        “Truer words were never spoken, Max.  But here’s a point to ponder – if writing this would redefine ‘hack,’ what about the poor rubes who’d be reading it?  Now, let’s get that ship sunk so we can get out of here.  I want us to be twenty miles away before we surface again.”
        “Right.”

        After the ship sank and the submarine turned away from the small group of lifeboats, Sam turned to her husband and ruffled his headfur affectionately.  He climbed up and sat on the bridge rail, and they shared a kiss that left the larger badger murring happily.  “You know, my dear,” Sam said, “I’m sorry to be the one to tell you this – no, wait, that’s a lie – but you’re nowhere near being Renart.  You’re more like three of the Four Fools.” 
        Max got a hurt look and Sam amended, “Sorry, all four of them.”
        “Hmmph.  You just didn’t like it when I’d play like I was Renart.  Besides, I’m way smarter than Dexter.”
        “Well, what should I do when you start smashing the furniture?  At least aboard this you can’t break much.”  She grinned as she ran a paw over one of the stripes on her muzzle.  “And how do you explain failing your promotional test five times?”
        “Is it my fault they thought I was an idiot?
        “Consider the evidence.”
        “Bull.  They just didn’t think an officer could be as short as I am and still be effective.”
        “Uh huh.  Max, do me a favor.”
        “Yeah?”
        “Sit up straight, and stick your paw in your shirt, like this . . . “
        The fox laughed.  “Not tonight, Josephine.  I look nothing like Napoleon anyway; he was an otter.”  He gave a rude snicker.  “Otter failure, actually.”  He laughed as Sam rolled her eyes and he started to sing:
“Oh, Napoleon was the fightin'est man you ever saw
Everyone that fought him he subdued
But the King-a and the Queen-a
Sent him off to St. Helena
Because they didn't like his attitude."
        Sam laughed and scooped him up in her arms, then set him on his feet.  “Come on,” she said.  “It’s been a long day.  We’ll let Hans keep an eye on Chang and let him drive for tonight.”
        “Oh?”
        “Oh.”


March 10:

        “Land ho!” Hans said as he stood with his eye to the periscope’s eyepiece, then turned away to look at their position on the chart.  “Looks like we are here, Kapitan.”
        “Hmm.”  The badger traced their course, and finally tapped a claw against the waterproof chart.  “Looks like it.  Hans, surface the boat, please, and set the sailing watch.  General Quarters until I say otherwise.”
        “Jawohl.”  He hit the buzzer to alert the crew that the submarine was headed up to daylight, and furs scrambled to their posts.
        As soon as the deck hatches broke water the gun crews were at their posts, freeing up the guns and getting ready while two lean felines climbed up to their posts on the mast.  The wolf was on the bridge almost immediately afterward, putting binoculars to his eyes and studying the approaching cove.
        “What do we have, Hans?” Sam asked as she poked her head out of the open hatchway.
        “Looks like the place we’re supposed to be, at least according to the charts,” the wolf said, scratching the back of his head as he lowered the binoculars.  “Have a look,” and he offered them to the badger as she finished coming up out of the hatchway.
        “Thanks.”
        The place was about the size of a small town, chosen for its relative inaccessibility by land and its lack of usefulness to the Japanese.  Shanghai, just a few dozen miles north, was a far better port.
        Now that she knew what to look for, she spotted a well-camouflaged covered dock for the submarine.  Flagpole, but no flag; Japanese troops would have put the Rising Sun there as a matter of habit, and Chinese forces in the area were likely lying very low.  There looked like normal activities going on.
        Several men were fishing from one end of the dock.  One looked up, did an almost comical double take and started waving and pointing as another got to his feet and started running. 
        Sam lowered her binoculars.  “Look sharp, people,” she said quite unnecessarily.  Hans was already giving quiet orders via intercom to the control room crew.  The submarine slowed and moved closer.
        Furs began running out of their homes and down the road to the harbor, with some lining up alongside the dock and several more readying mooring hawsers.
        Well, at least it appeared that they were expected.
        The badger watched warily for any sign of weapons, and she knew that the gun crews were also keeping their eyes open.
        One fur, tall and lean and dressed in civilian clothes, stepped forward and shouted a command.  The line of furs on the dock came to attention.  He turned and saluted as the U-666 neared the dock.
        After Sam returned the salute he called out in English, “Are you Captain Vreeland?”
        Sam blinked for a moment before calling back, “I am.”
        “Captain Lu, Chinese Naval Infantry,” and the canine broke into a wide grin.  “Welcome to Qianshan.  We’ve been waiting for you ever since General Wong informed us you would be coming.”
        The badger nodded as lines were made fast.  She relaxed, but just a bit, and signaled Hans to order the gun crews to stand down.  “If we’re a bit late, I apologize, Captain.  But I can report four ships sunk on our way north.”
        “And more on the way,” Max piped up.
        Captain Lu grinned wider.  “Excellent news all around then, Captain.  I would like to invite you ashore to look over the facilities for your boat.”
        Sam smiled, switching to Chinese.  “It’s not mine, Captain, but China’s, and when we’ve raised a crew of your countryfurs to sail and fight her we’ll be on our way.”  Her smile widened as she saw appreciative looks on many faces.
        The canine officer bowed slightly, out of respect but also to mask the slight grimace of unease that crossed his muzzle.
        The eyes on the submarine’s version of the Jolly Roger kept following him.


next