Lion, Tiger, Bear | 415 insulated cryogenic cooling pipes. Condensation froze on all surfaces. The chief pushed the power levers to all ahead fall plus. Lets get our asses outta here! He then shut the pressure hatch and sealed it tight. The generator went hot orange.Through the porthole, he saw the indicator dials pass maximum redline. Escaped nitrogen fogged the compartment, now a winters scene. God give us full lift… Simpson threw a series of switches on a newly-installed panel. This magnetic field dampener should punch a hole in their bubble. All right Seaman First, hop to it. Through the upper hatch, a goggled machinists mate began to cut a hole in the Bears hull with a gas torch; sparks and hot metal bits flew every which way. This alloys damn tough, sir. He then cut through a second and third layer. Were through, Capm. With pure strength, he and another gloved sailor bent the cut metal disc over to make a hatchway; rice poured in, they were in the Bears galley and had nicked a storage bin. The first officer, a junior lieutenant remarked: Whys this rice orange? Lieutenant, the ship is yours. Marines with me! yelled Simpson, cocking his Colt .45 auto. As he clawed his way up a ladder, he and two Marines slipped on a pile of mashed exotic fruit. Simpson kicked open the galley door into a smoky companionway. You four men aft, secure the engine room. Coughl You six men with me; shoot to kill only if you have to. Allan! Gilani We need foam chemicals…the cargo bay is on fire again, Av Gas, yelled Bernie down the companionway. The lodged Russian wing had leaked more fuel when hit. Simpson gave orders to a Marine coming up the ladder. Pass the word down to the Chief. Class-B fire extinguishers. Av-Gas! A Marine with Gwafa at gunpoint said: Sir, I dont think this man is a German either… No shit, son. As Simpson turned, Bernie socked him hard. Two screaming angry Marines pointed their Thompsons directly at Bernie; he held up his arms. I surrender. Were old friends. He looked them over. Navajos, eh? Sailors with fire extinguishers squeezed by in a hurry. Simpson arose, rubbing his jaw. Volunteer job. High Security. I needed the best in case some Waffen SS guys were on board with some weird technology. And with a name like Chief Crazy Horse… 15:50 hours.