(Note: the idea of this came up while sitting around on the flight deck one afternoon underway. The sea at night is a beautiful thing; but with no moon, its nothing more that a blank curtain of darkness. I always wondered what mysteries the night hid. Also considering that the nearest land is two miles straight down gives thought that there is a LOT of room for something to hide. Shortly after, i read H.P. Lovecraft's Call of Cthulu, and it got me thinking...what if Cthulu attacked my boat? this is how i think it would go down. Critiques are welcome, but this was just for fun and isn't at all edited.)

The sea rolled gently beneath the USS Harpers Ferry, LSD 49. A lone engineman leaned against the railing on the smoke-deck. He didn't smoke, but the cool sea breeze was refreshing. With the engines running, it was a sweltering hundred degrees in the engineering spaces. The fact that the ventilation only pumped in the warm summer air from outside did little to help. He stood watch twelve hours a day while underway; six on and six off. Any moment outside to see the sun and sea was a reprieve from the monotonus view of grey engines and mazes of pipes within the bowels of the ship. Around him, deck seamen were hard at work sweeping the rough weatherdeck and doing preservation work on the exterior of the ship.

"Stand clear of the mess decks!" the shipwide 1MC intercom blaired throughout the ship. In the empty waters, the engineman imagined the intercom could be heard from at least a mile away. "Early supper for cooks, mess cooks, and chow relief!" That was the best thing about standing six-and-six watch hours. Chow was always either before and after your watch. He never woke up to catch meals that took place before watch. Those extra fifteen minutes of sleep were worth it.

He only had six hours before his next watch cycle, and he still had to eat and shower. Every moment he spent out here was another moment out of his sleep time. He took one last look at the sea before turning around to head back into the skin of the ship.

He paused. There was something in the water. Maybe it was a trick of the sun's golden rays reflecting off the water's surface. He turned back to make sure his eyes were not playing a trick on him.

There was nothing noticable in the water, but after a second, he noticed a different texture in the sea. The soft flow of waves only found in the oblivion of the open sea was being disrupted. The sailor squinted and moved to the railing for a better look. He was slightly near-sighted, and didn't usually wear his glasses for work. Right now they were resting inside his locker beneath his rack back up in berthing. If he had them, he may have noticed the V-shaped ripples moving towards the ship sooner.

The ship was an amphibious warfar vessel. It's job was to deploy Marines on small boats and LCACs close to shore through a giant, floodable well-deck built into the back of the ship, just below the flight deck. It was not meant for actual sea combat, and because of that it did not feature a long range sonar device. By the time the submerged object showed up on sonar, it was already too late.

The thing in the water struck the belly of the ship with such force that it tilted violently. The engineman gripped the railing with all his strength to keep from falling overboard. The ship shuddered and lurched, throwing the sailor off the railing and onto the coarse weatherdeck.

Engineers wore special flame-resistant work coveralls, which were considerably thicker that regular-issued coveralls. This protected the engineman from severe injury as he rolled across the weatherdeck, which was much like being dragged across gravel. He came to a stop as he slammed headfirst into the bulkhead behind him.

Dizzily, he tried to regain his balance. The ship rocked back and forth from port to starboard as it recovered its center. Over the intercom, an alarm wailed. "General quarters! General quarters!" the 1MC screamed. "All hands. man all GQ stations! Man all crew-served weapons!"

Cursing, the sailor stumbled to his feet. His station was five decks. He needed to man the OD Box, an emergency pitch-control system between the engines that controlled the speed of the propeller manually.
Another alarm blaired, different from the first. The Casualty Control alarm. "Loss of stearing! Loss of stearing! Loss of stearing, port shaft!" The quartermaster on the mic side of the 1MC did not stop there. "Man overboard! Man overboard! Man overboard, starboard side! Enemy vessel returning, bearing twenty knots forward-starboard side! All hands brace for shock!"
There was an pipe running along the length of the bulkhead. The blue valve on it told the engineman it was for a potable water system. He wrapped his arms around it and braced.

There was a moment of stillness before the shock. The engineman was on the port side, so when the blow came, the ship tilted sharply in his direction. He felt the deck threaten to leave his feet as the ship leaned. He looked down and saw the deep ocean looming below him. A dark shape moved beneath it. He could barely make it out, but it was not a ship. He made out a humanoid figure that ended in a great sweeping tail. It was about half as wide as the ship, and had to be almost just as long. From brow to stern, Harpers Ferry was roughly the length of a football field.

And it was alive. Jesus Christ, ALIVE!

The ship leaned back and the ocean disappeared back over the corner of the deck. "Class bravo fire in the mess decks! Man Repair Locker 2 and make all damage control report to Damage Control Central." The voice of the quartermaster was replaced by someone else. "This is the captian," the 1MC sounded. "We are currently under attack from an unknown hostile. All non-vital hands lay into the skin of the ship. Bring speed to full stop. All weapon, open fire!"

The ship did not have many offensive weapons. It sported two missile batteries that were useless against a submerged enemy. Twin Sea-wizz anti-missile chainguns could possible do damage if the target got close to the surface. All that remained were two 30mm guns and several .50 caliber machinegun mounts. Even though none of these were going to do much to the target while it was underwater, the air roared with gunfire; the WRRRRR!! of the Sea-wizz, the Rat-tat-tat-tat!! of the 50's, and the singular Boom! Boom! Boom! of the 30's mingled in a concophony of noise. Sweet music of doom.

Small geysers of seawater erupted from the water's surface around the dark shape moving in the depths as the Gunnersmates above tried to do damage to the beast. The engineman watch, fixated on the shape, unable to take his eyes off it. It turned and began to advance at a speed unaccomplishable by any sea-going vessel.

Time to go. The sailor turned and reached for the handle on the water-tight door that lead into the skin of the ship. He lifted the handle, turned the dogs and opened the door. "BRACE FOR...!" the order did not finish. The beast hit the ship again. But instead of tilting starboard like it should, it shifted again portside.

It tilted much further that before. The deck slid from under the engineman's feet as the ship threatened to capsize. His grip on the door almost gave as it swung open forcefully. He held on with dear life, or face the water depths beneath him.

The beast had emerges. One green, scaly, three-clawed hand clenched the whole smoke-deck, tearing farrows into the deck deep enough for the engineman to see the level below. The monster's hand was connected by webbing, and a foul stench emitted from it.

He followed the hand up to the beast's head, which loomed three decks above him, peering over the top deck where the weapons were posted. The radar and communications instillation that rose four stories above the very top deck. He heard its supports groan from where he hung, more that seven decks below.

Words could not describe the horror of the beast before him. A freakish mix between a man, a squid, and a dragon. Tenticles wormed out from the bottom of its face like an overgrown beard, wrapping around parts of the ship that protruded enough for them to grip. Spines ran down its back, between what looked like wings designed more for water that aerial flight. And the eyes. Oh God, the eyes!

The ship shuddered violently as the beast attempted to pull it further down. It shook free the engineman's grip on the door and sent him spiraling into the watery depths below.

The wind was knocked from his lungs, and the thick coveralls that had saved him from harm against the weatherdeck now dragged him down. He felt his grip on conciousness slip. The last thing he saw was the great beast above him, its mightly tail flailing through the water in great strokes before the darkness took him.

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