I Work at a Rescue Service as a Captain. My Last Bermuda Mission Was Beyond Impossible

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The original was posted on /r/nosleep by /u/myrasam79 on 2024-11-13 00:44:28+00:00.

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The sea had taken many things from me over the years—friends, crew, even pieces of myself—but it had never taken my sense of duty. A captain’s burden is the lives of others, and every decision weighs heavier when those lives hang by a thread. I’d made mistakes before, the kind that leave scars no storm can wash away, but I’d always sworn to put my crew and those in need above all else. That’s why I answered the distress call, even though it came from the Bermuda Triangle—a place where sailors vanish, and reason unravels. I didn’t trust the call, but I trusted my purpose: to bring people home, no matter the cost.

The distress signal came three days ago. A luxury liner, Starfall Horizon, stranded deep within the Bermuda Triangle, had stopped responding to all communication. The passengers were reportedly taken hostage by a group of pirates. Maritime law and duty made it my job to intervene, but this wasn’t my first brush with the strange and treacherous waters of the Triangle. I knew better than to trust a simple explanation in this cursed expanse.

The Aegis, my ship, was a sturdy rescue vessel, built for enduring rough seas and hostile situations. As we approached the coordinates, a strange silence blanketed the crew. The liner should have been visible long before we reached it, but the dense fog clinging to the horizon seemed determined to keep it hidden. Finally, as a dull glow crept across the sky, the Starfall Horizon emerged from the mist.

The ship was eerily still. No passengers waved for help, no signs of the chaos we had prepared for. Its massive hull leaned slightly to one side, and streaks of a dark, slimy residue trailed from its deck down to the waterline, giving the impression that the ship itself was bleeding.

Maclin, my first officer, leaned toward me as we stood on the bridge. His face was as tense as I’d ever seen it. “That doesn’t look like pirates.”

“No,” I agreed. “It doesn’t.”

We tethered the Aegis to the liner and prepared a boarding party. The rescue team armed themselves—protocol when dealing with potential hostiles—but I could sense their unease. This wasn’t a mission anyone wanted to be on, least of all me. Still, leaving those passengers to their fate wasn’t an option.

I led the team across the bridge connecting the two ships, the groan of metal beneath our boots unsettling in the stillness. The liner’s deck was slick with a pale slime that seemed to shimmer faintly under the weak light filtering through the mist. It clung to everything—the railings, the floor, even the air felt heavier, filled with the acrid, metallic tang of decay.

“Keep close,” I said to the team, motioning for them to move toward the bridge of the liner.

The ship’s bridge was empty. The controls were still active, though smeared with more of the strange slime. Static crackled from the communication systems, but no human voice emerged. I checked the logbooks, flipping through pages warped and sticking together, but the last entries offered nothing useful—just routine reports before everything stopped.

“Captain, over here!” one of the team called, his voice laced with urgency. He was near the entrance to the main stairwell. I joined him quickly and saw what had caught his attention.

The walls were streaked with pale, slimy tracks, running in uneven patterns as though something had been dragged—or had dragged itself—through the corridor. The substance pulsed faintly, almost imperceptibly, as though alive.

“What the hell is this?” the crewmember asked, stepping back from the trail.

I shook my head. “Something’s wrong here. This isn’t just a hijacking.”

Maclin joined us, his expression grim. “Where are the passengers? Even if the pirates ran, there should be bodies.”

“Or survivors,” I said. “Let’s check the lower decks.”

Descending into the ship’s depths, the air grew colder, and the strange, sour smell intensified. The tracks became more frequent, branching out in seemingly random directions. Some led into rooms, the doors of which were coated in slime and sealed shut. The crew exchanged nervous glances, but I pushed us forward. Whatever had happened here, I needed answers.

The source of the distress call turned out to be a makeshift barricade in the ship’s dining hall. Tables, chairs, and metal scrap had been piled high, blocking the entrance. On the other side, I could hear faint movements—rustling, scratching, and the occasional, quiet shuffle of feet.

“Break it down,” I ordered.

It took a few minutes, but we finally breached the barricade. Inside, we found a group of passengers—perhaps a dozen—huddled in the far corner. Their faces were gaunt, their eyes wide and sunken as though they hadn’t slept in days. Many were wrapped in blankets, their clothes stained with grime and slime. They didn’t look relieved to see us. They looked terrified.

“You’re safe now,” I began, stepping forward. “We’re here to help.”

A man at the front of the group, middle-aged with streaks of sweat matting his thinning hair, shook his head. “No one’s safe,” he said, his voice shaking. “Not from that thing.”

“What thing?” Maclin asked.

The man gestured toward the ceiling, where the slime seemed to thicken, branching out like veins. “It came from below. We thought it was the pirates at first, but they’re gone now. It’s… still here.”

The passengers shrank back at his words, their fear palpable.

“What is it?” I pressed. “What happened to the crew?”

Before he could answer, a sudden screech echoed through the hall. The sound was high-pitched and unnatural, reverberating through the ship like nails dragged across metal. The passengers whimpered, some covering their ears, others clutching each other tightly.

“Get back to the Aegis, now!” I barked to the team, gesturing for the passengers to follow.

As we ushered them toward the exit, the screech sounded again, this time closer. The corridor outside the dining hall seemed darker, the lights flickering and casting strange shapes across the walls. The slime on the floor had grown thicker, clinging to our boots and slowing our progress.

We hadn’t made it halfway back to the connecting bridge when the first sign of movement stopped us cold. A figure emerged from the shadows at the far end of the hallway. It was humanoid in shape but grotesquely distorted. Its pale, translucent skin revealed dark veins pulsing beneath the surface, giving it an almost unnatural glow. Its limbs were unnervingly thin and twisted, with claw-like fingers that seemed to twitch independently. It moved with an erratic, insect-like rhythm, its eyeless head tilting unnaturally toward us, as if perceiving the world through senses beyond our comprehension.

For a moment, we were frozen, unsure if what we were seeing was real. Then it let out a guttural clicking sound, followed by a burst of speed that defied logic. It charged toward us, its claws scraping the walls as it moved.

“Fire at it!” I shouted.

The crew opened fire, the deafening sound of gunfire filling the corridor. Bullets struck the creature, black ichor spraying from its wounds, but it barely slowed. One of the crewmembers panicked, turning to run, but the creature was on him in seconds, slamming him into the wall with enough force to dent the metal.

“Fall back!” I ordered, forcing myself to stay calm as we retreated toward the bridge. The passengers screamed as we passed, some refusing to move until Maclin physically dragged them forward.

As we reached the connecting bridge to the Aegis, I glanced back one last time. The creature stood at the far end of the corridor, its head tilted as if studying us. Slimy tracks glistened in its wake, and the faint glow beneath its skin pulsed faster, like a heartbeat. It didn’t pursue us, but somehow, that made it worse.

We sealed the door behind us and made it back to the Aegis. My crew scrambled to tend to the survivors, but I couldn’t shake the feeling we hadn’t escaped. The creature wasn’t just hunting us—it was spreading.

 Back on the Aegis, the tension was suffocating. The survivors were huddled in the mess hall, pale and silent as if speaking might summon the horrors they’d fled. My crew worked quickly, setting up quarantine protocols. The slime tracked from the liner was already being scrubbed from the deck and equipment, but I wasn’t sure it was enough.

Maclin stood beside me, his face grim. “We should cut them loose, Captain. Burn the Starfall Horizon and be done with it.”

I stared at him, my jaw tightening. “There are lives on the line.”

“And how many lives do we risk by bringing that thing with us?” He jabbed a finger toward the survivors. “You saw it. That wasn’t human.”

He wasn’t wrong, but I wasn’t ready to abandon the people we’d rescued—or the mystery of what had happened. Something had brought that creature aboard the liner, and I needed to know what it was before we left this cursed stretch of water.

“Seal the survivors in quarantine,” I said, my voice firm. “No one in or out until we know what we’re dealing with. And scrub every trace of that slime from the ship.”

Maclin looked like he wanted to argue, but he held his tongue. Instead, he gestured toward the corridor leading to the med bay. “Dr. Esteban’s looking at one of them now. You should see this.”

The med bay was eerily quiet when I entered. Dr. Esteban was hunched over his workbench, his gloved hands steady as he examined a sample of the pale slime under a microscope. A ...

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