Callsign: King II- Underworld

When it ends, I'm pulled to my feet. The deck crew rushes back to the rail and lets out a cheer. I stumble up behind them and catch site of the Bliksem. Its port side hull has a long dent that isn't nearly as bad as I expected, but that's probably only because it's also designed to take on icebergs. A lesser ship would have no doubt been sunk.

I marvel that the Bliksem's crew hasn't taken aim with their harpoon or tried to ram us in return. At first I think they're incredibly patient people, but then I remember the captain. It's possible they're preoccupied with saving the man's life. In fact, as the Bliksem languishes behind, I wonder if anyone remains in the wheelhouse. The Arctic is a bad place to be on a boat without a pilot. But then I see the Viking man with a bandana wrapped around his face. He climbs the stairs to the wheelhouse and pauses at the top to look at us—at me. The Sentinel's crew shouts obscenities at the man until he enters the wheelhouse.

As the voices fade and calm returns to the Arctic sea, I let slip my true feelings, "He's fucking insane."

It's just a whisper, but Chase hears me. He spins around, eyes ablaze, and says, "I know. He's amazing."

The fact that "fucking insane" is taken as a compliment is nearly the last straw, but I manage to swallow my revolt and say, "So what next? Is that it? Mission accomplished?"

"No, no, no," he says, licking his lips like a hungry dog. "We've only just begun."