This choice: Nothing Happen, Go Direcctly to Next Morning • Go Back...Chapter #6Intruder Alert by: Doom   As always, Bergman awoke in the morning to the quiet discipline of his men at their duties. No attack during the night had compromised their base, and the marines slid into their routine like a well-oiled rifle.
The four men for the weekly water run - Hobbs, McCormick, Fleming and Russo - were already geared up as much as they could manage, and as always Bergman took the time to salute them and impress upon them the vital nature of their expedition.
They had been gone no more than ten minutes before Whitney called him to the observation post. Bergman too the offered binoculars and turned them to the beach.
It had been a long seven years since any of them had seen a woman, and Bergman's breath caught for a moment as he looked at the athletic form in her wetsuit, dropping air tanks, mask and flippers to the ground, running hands through her long, dark hair to dry it.
Yet judging by the size of the objects in the sand near her bare feet, objects which Bergman's military expertise had carefully memorised, this newcomer was over four hundred feet tall, a giant by any standard.
This was more evidence to the theory amongst some of the men that this was not a monstrous island but that they had all in fact been shrunk. Regardless of the explanation, it fell to Bergman to decide their next course of action. Glancing briefly at Whitney's worried face - at a loss at this impossible situation - the officer pondered the possibilities.
There was just the one giant at present, and while she may utterly dwarf his contingent they were well-trained marines, with surprise on their side. He could order an attack to drive the woman from the island, maybe even killing her if necessary. There would undoubtedly be casualties, but he was confident that his men would prevail.
Then again... There was intel to be gained, and a long-forgotten part of his mind - from his youth, listening to stories on his father's knee - recalled an image of just such a situation. A giant, bound on a beach with rope by people vastly his inferior. It had captivated Bergman's imagination then, and he smiled just at the memory. Why not? He could launch an... Operation Gulliver of his own, capture this woman and interrogate her at his leisure.
She remained an intimidating, obscenely powerful individual though. Perhaps it would pay to learn more about her before launching any direct action. His men were well-trained at hiding from predators, so he could always send one or two of them to tail this stranger, to observe her actions and capabilities without being seen.
Looking at Whitney again, Bergman pondered how much he'd come to care for each and every one of them over the years. Any man he sent against that behemoth might not come back. What was the woman but another threat, another predator to avoid? He could always order the men to hunker down in the base, hide until she went away. He did have no means of contacting the water expedition, but he'd just have to hope that they could handle the situation themselves.
Finally - and this last option was a flight of fancy, born perhaps of desperation, of a lack of contact with the outside world - he could try the most direct approach of all. Alone, for he would not risk his comrades on such foolishness, Bergman could walk out into the open to talk with the woman face-to-face. Just a chat, to get to the truth. He would have to pray to God that she was in fact friendly, for an enemy could kill him in a second.  indicates the next chapter needs to be written. |
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