ATLANTIS STORY MAP & OPERATION HOMEPAGE

HIJACKING HMS NEPTUNE - CH.3

Atlantis has been the subject of countless films, as has Nazi gold and oil polluting our oceans, but never has all these elements come together under one roof. Aiming for a screenplay 90-110 pages max.

TERRAMENTALS HIJACK ASTUTE SUBMARINE IN IRISH SEA USING PREDATOR HK MINISUB

No longer law abiding citizens Redan Simdo leads the Terramentals on a daring mission to hijack HMS Neptune in the Irish Sea off Barrow in Furness on the west coast of England. They had moved to Cumbria to plan the hijacking of one of His Majesty's Astute class nuclear submarines, posing as tourists. Max had been trained as the Predator HK pilot, since he was the best qualified. The Predator had performed spectacularly. Thanks to the design genius of Jorges Dicaprio.

MI6 had identified the satellite hack, from Bart, the Sly Fox, but dismissed it, being convinced that nobody could hijack an Astute submarine. MOD advice to watch the hack and trace back to source had been approved by Nick Johnson and Sir Rodney Dunbar. Dirty Harry knows the activists he framed up are on the loose, but does not put two and two together, since they are thought to have no resources. Nobody knew that Jorges Dicaprio was a wealthy man.

IRISH SEA

The Sunseeker 60 blasted across the dark blue ocean, clocking 30 knots at three-quarter throttle, stinging white spray lashing the deck and helm screens, its twin engines snarling like caged wolves. The sky was grey with occasional flashes of lightning in the distance showing patches of blue and yellow.

Redan Simdo stood at the helm, hands braced against the controls, eyes locked on the sonar display. There. A lone, oblong blip—a leviathan lurking beneath the surface. HMS Neptune.

Bo Dallas shifted beside him. “We’ve got her, Captain.”

Simdo didn’t answer. He allowed himself a slow exhale, the corners of his mouth curling into something close to satisfaction.

Below deck, the Terramentals gathered, the cabin thick with adrenaline and salt-damp tension. Tourists by daylight. Ghosts by midnight. None of them had expected to step this far into the abyss, but after the stitch-up, after the trials, they were past hesitation.

“Course South West captain,” said Bo Dallas, one of a new breed of Terror Environmentalists.

The captain was unshaven, dressed in a thick navy roll neck sweater and woollen hat. He didn’t answer but checked the ships sonar, and there it was an oblong luminescent blip finally coming onto the screen in the top right hand corner. He sighed in relief, allowing himself a little grin.

“Alert the crew, ‘Neptune’ is go.”

Dallas went below to the beautifully equipped galley. The other Terramentalists were crowded around a table, also wearing dark navy sweaters and sporting leather holsters and ammunition belts. Without doubt this was a well planned military style operation …….. Though nobody planned on using these weapons, more for show.

A rush of cold air swept through the galley as they spilled onto the aft deck, boots clanking against polished teak. The Predator HK sat in its davits, sleek and silent beneath the tarp.

Max Mohune pulled the cover back. Stealth-black fuselage. Twin contra-rotating propellers. Retractable wings. A predator in waiting.

He climbed into the cockpit, flicking switches. The instrument panel danced to life. A smooth thumbs-up. A single rotation of his index finger. Go.

The crew unlatched the davit arms. The Predator HK dropped into the briny with a harsh slap, swallowed almost instantly into the abyss.

At the rear of the Sunseeker, in its large alloy davits hung a strange looking craft not much bigger than a regular launch at 20 feet OAL. Several of the crew disgorged from the galley onto the rear deck. One man pulled a tarpaulin from the craft to reveal a streamlined submersible with small wings and a domed Plexiglas cockpit. It had large twin contra-rotating propellers at the rear, indicating high speed. It looked like a stealth version of the second world war mini-subs used by frogmen. Max Mohune opened the clear cockpit and deftly climbed aboard. Once in, he flicked on a few switches and finally gave a thumbs up, followed by rotation of his upright index finger, which was the signal to let go.

Launched unceremoniously, by literally releasing the dual hooks from either davit arm, dropping the vessel into the briny with a loud slap, the Predator HK was in its element. 

The captain watched the two blips on his sonar screen. The one they’d just launched changed direction to chase the first, the HMS Neptune. Redan Simdo was a Oxford graduate. He is a tall, dark, with a typically Arabian complexion, muscular and unshaven. He’d worked with Greenpeace for 3 years becoming increasingly frustrated at the lack of effect that organisation was having. At the age of 35 he decided to branch off on his own. Now he commanded an eager crew of hardliners, thanks to the Scotland Yard stitch up.

Under the sea, the pilot, Max, watched his screen clear as the launch bubbles dissipated. His controls became visible as a head up display. Turning the craft to starboard, he acquired the oblong blip, then accelerated fast for 10 minutes in a steep dive heading straight for the target nuclear submarine.

HMS NEPTUNE — 0900 HOURS

Aboard HMS Neptune, Lieutenant James Engelheart sipped his lukewarm coffee, eyes fixed on the sonar screen. Surface activity—pleasure craft, nothing unusual save for the Sunseeker above the waves. He’d not paid it much attention.

Then came the splash. The launching of the Predator mini sub.

He called captain Ben Blakestone via the ships intercom.

"Captain, a second, smaller contact appeared—fast, erratic, closing distance - unusual activity behind us, a small signal getting closer, and another heading away."

Commander Ben Blakestone had seen his fair share of 'unusual activity,' none of which amounted to much.

"Keep tracking Lieutenant, how close?"

The sonar operator tracked the Predator but had no time to launch torpedoes, which might in any event sink them?? The craft was too small to be taken that seriously.

Engelheart frowned, fingers tightening around the intercom. “Captain Blakestone—new contact. Moving on us.”

Commander Ben Blakestone, barely glancing up, smirked. “Fishing boat?”

Engelheart adjusted the feed. The blip was accelerating.

“No, sir. This is something else.”

Blakestone straightened, brows knitting. “Depth? Approach speed?”

“Fast. Too damn fast.”

"It's on us Captain."

"On us, how is that possible?"

In the submersible, Max deployed limpet legs as he guided the Predator alongside the Astute submarine. Max felt the shudder as Predator HK latched onto the submarine’s hull—limpet legs engaging - locking onto the U-boat's outer skin. His gloved fingers worked fast, the cutting torch carving through steel, spraying molten shards into the currents. He'd cut holes in the double hull, then held on as the submarine slowly descended amid spewing air trail.

Inside the steel leviathan, the crew had heard the cutter and the air rushing out of the outer hull. Then the inner hull was cut through. Alarms blared.

The effect was dramatic, and a large jet of water 60mm in diameter rushed in at 3 atmospheres pressure to quickly engulf the main command deck. They’d not been able to close the adjoining watertight hatches quickly enough to stop the sub going deeper, but managed to get into the forward and rear compartments in relative safety. The deeper they went the greater the pressure hence water flow.

Sailors scrambled—shouting, cursing, hands slamming bulkhead doors too late.

Neptune was sinking.

Lieutenant Engelheart shouted a warning to his men, he need not have bothered. "Get out men, use the exits closest."

The crew amidships rapidly dispersed, forward and aft.

In a panic the engineers scrambled down the reactor core, fearing a meltdown should the vessel sink too low and implode. Initiating emergency procedures. Most of the crew had been sleeping. 

Remotely, the crew try to blow ballast, but it was all too quick, and down they plunged. Inside two crew members scrambled into the rear escape tube, they eject and make it to the surface with slight eardrum problems and are spotted and captured by Red and his crew in the Sunseeker.

Inside the stricken submarine as red lights flashed and a siren wailed battle stations, all of the crew had the presence of mind to lock themselves in watertight forward and aft compartments, with some slight injuries. Nobody drowned.

The first mate released an emergency beacon and the radio operator tried in vain to send a last signal to the British Admiralty. The submarine succumbed to the enveloping salt water, gently settling on the floor of the Irish Sea. Exactly as planned by the Terramentals.

ADMIRALTY - PANIC ROOM

Part of the signal got through ……… The Admiralty were sent into immediate meltdown. How is it possible they could lose an Astute submarine? How would they recover it without admitting to the world it was possible?

Sir Rodney Dunbar made an emergency call to the First Sealord. Dunbar gripped the phone with white-knuckled fingers. 

“Admiral Lawrence. Now.”

“He’s off duty, sir—probably sleeping”

“Wake him.” Dunbar screamed down the phone, then recomposed himself.

"Sorry. Please will you wake him. This is serious. We may have lost a nuclear submarine."

Minutes later, First Sea Lord Lawrence was hauled from sleep, uniform half-buttoned. "Sorry Admiral, it's Sir Rodney on the blower."

"What the blazers is this all about?" The Admiral was not pleased at being disturbed at the best of times.

Dunbar exhaled. “HMS Neptune. Lost contact. Irish Sea.”

A silence thick as steel filled the line.

Lawrence swallowed. “An Astute-class doesn’t just disappear.”

Dunbar exhaled. “It just did. Admiral, we've lost contact with an Astute. HMS Neptune."

"Poppycock. Say again."

"Yes, sorry sir, an Astute appears to have sunk in the Irish Sea."

"Confound it. Find it man." The Admiral was out of bed like a shot.

HMS NEPTUNE - BELOW

Back onboard HMS Neptune, the trapped sailors were straining to hear any clues as to their fate. A dozen sailors trapped. Battle stations sirens wailing. The bulkheads held—for now.

But through the murky depths, Max watched as Neptune surrendered to the abyss—just as planned.

And no one in London had the slightest idea how to get it back.

THE RESCUE AND TAKOVER - IRISH SEA — 1200 Hours

The Sunseeker 60 rocked in the restless tide, its engines humming softly as it loomed over the sunken wreck of HMS Neptune. Below, in the dim blue depths, the steel leviathan lay tilted in the seabed—alive, but powerless.

Redan Simdo stood at the helm, gaze locked on the sonar screen. The submarine’s outline was faint but visible—a beast waiting to be awakened.

“Status?” he called.

Zera Masken tightened the strap of her re-breather. “Gas primed. We deploy in sixty seconds.”

Max Mohune checked the dive valves on his suit. “Once they’re down, we flood her back to life.”

DEPLOYMENT

From the Predator HK, sleek black cylinders drifted into the current, sinking fast, carried by the undertow. Microscale dispersal. Zero heat signature. No warning.

Inside Neptune, sailors still trapped in the forward and aft compartments stirred restlessly, breathing shallow, damp air. Then came the first cough. The second. Panic rippled through the ranks, muffled voices rising.

ABOVE THE SURFACE

Zera watched the timer tick down. Ten seconds.

Below, Neptune suddenly stilled.

“They’re under,” Max confirmed, watching through the visor of his dive mask. “We go now.”

RE-FLOATING THE SUBMARINE

Red barked orders. “Start pressurization!”

The Sunseeker’s compressed air tanks hissed, forcing oxygen through industrial-grade pipelines snaking into Neptune’s hull. The sea churned—bubbles, turbulence, shifting ballast.

Slowly, agonizingly, the Astute-class submarine rose, lifting from the seabed like a ghost resurrected.

Zera exhaled. “That’s it… steady.”

As the hull breached the surface, the Predator HK clamped onto Neptune’s dorsal ridge, securing their position. The operation was flawless—but time was against them.

BOARDING AND CREW EXTRACTION

The Terramentals moved fast. Within minutes, they cracked the outer hatch, water gushing free, revealing the semi-conscious crew struggling in the knee-deep floodwaters.

Zera stepped over a groggy lieutenant, pressing a hand to his neck. “Pulse is stable.”

Redan issued the order. “Dinghies. Now.”

One by one, the surviving crew was hauled into inflatable rafts, pushed toward open waters under the heavy haze of unconsciousness. No fatalities. No alarms. No chance of retaliation.

Max climbed into Neptune’s command deck, shaking water from his boots. The sub was a soaked steel tomb, yet everything was intact.

“The systems are still live,” Max muttered, flicking controls.

Zera leaned over the drenched console. “Then let’s take her under.”

THE DESCENT

Redan settled into the captain’s chair. For a moment, the weight of it sank into him. British steel. Untouchable power. Now theirs.

Zera grabbed the intercom. “Brace for dive.”

Max punched in the sequence. — Ballast flooded. Hatches sealed. Engines engaged.

And with that, Neptune slipped beneath the waves once more—this time, under new command.

ADMIRALTY CRISIS ROOM — 1300 HOURS

Sir Rodney Dunbar slammed his fist onto the conference table. “They refloated it?”

An analyst nodded, his face pale. “Yes, sir. The sub—it’s gone again.”

Admiral Lawrence tightened his jaw. “Who the hell is sailing it now?”

The Terramentals, locate, chase, and sink HMS Neptune (SSN) in shallow waters Irish Sea off Barrow in Furness, Cumbria, using the Predator mini-sub - knocking out the crew. They re-float, and release the surviving crew, in dinghies.

Disillusioned eco activists are imprisoned by the British, for peacefully protesting in London about unrealistically low fines for oil spills in the North Sea, demonstrating strictly in accordance with their Article 9 and 10 Human Rights. They are targeted by fossil fuel industry fraudsters, who bribe police officials and court judges to secure a conviction, with the backing of corrupt ministers of state who have undeclared personal investments in oil drilling companies: Amoco, BP, Shell, Total. That sets in motion a train of events, where, having been framed, the ever more determined environmentalists build a mini-sub, fast enough and especially equipped, to sink or capture Astute, Aukus and US Seawolf class submarines. Having captured HMS Neptune, the Terramentals torpedo a BP owned rig, also destroying two others (Shell), with the looming threat to target all 150 plus, operating in the North Sea. The oil producers are temporarily forced to shut down production, as a result of the significant media coverage and public outrage on realization of the pollution. The UN asks John Storm to provide a geodata survey on the environmental damage. 

PROPOSED STORY MAP BY CHAPTER (90-110 pages) - ORDER CAN BE CHANGED: DRAFT SCREENPLAY

ACT 1.

CHAPTER 1.   PROTESTS - Peaceful North Sea oil pollution protestors are framed and imprisoned, by a corrupt judicial system. 

CHAPTER 2.   PREDATOR - On release the Terramentals & smuggler Jorges Dicaprio, complete a mini-sub capable of sinking submarines.

CHAPTER 3.   PHOENIX - Terramentals locate & hijack HMS Neptune in Irish Sea, Cumbria, using the Predator mini-sub - knocking out the crew.

CHAPTER 4.   BRITISH PETROLEUM - Terramentals warn North Sea rig operators to stop. Claymore rig is torpedoed, Royal Navy respond.

CHAPTER 5.   BBC WORLD SERVICE - Jill Bird reports Terramentals rig attacks, world shocked at pollution cover up. Charley Temple investigates.

CHAPTER 6.   UNEP SOS - The UNEP ask John Storm to survey North Sea for oil pollution. Elizabeth Swann detects HMS Neptune radiation leaks.

CHAPTER 7.   RADIATION ALERT - John & Dan twig radiation from HMS Neptune possible serious reactor damage. Must warn Terramentals.

ACT 2.

CHAPTER 8.   STEALTH MODE - Storm spots Astute sub, Swann in stealth mode, detected as John warns extremists of sub radiation leakage.

CHAPTER 9.   CHANGE OF COURSE - Terramentals change course, heading for the Straits of Gibraltar. Not believing radiation warning.

CHAPTER 10. U-BOAT 986 - Evading Swann, HMS Neptune navigates off transport lanes. Swann picks up magnetic signature of U-Boat 986.

CHAPTER 11. SENATE, UK & EU DEBATE - Sub hijacking & rig destruction, alarm bells around world. Deepwater Horizon shivers down spines.

CHAPTER 12. REACTOR LEAK - Terramentals realise John telling truth, as radiation rector damage detection system HMS Neptune triggers.

CHAPTER 13. RESCUE TOW - John rescues Terramentals. MI6 order Neptune sinking. MOD knew reactor dangerous, want evidence gone.

CHAPTER 14. LISBON PORT - Terramentals & Storm, shut Neptune's reactor. Tow, stricken submarine to Lisbon, prevent MI6 sinking evidence.

ACT 3.

CHAPTER 15. ROV ATLANTIS - Swann returns U-Boat stealth mode at night, to avoid tracking. Surveys site, discovers Atlantis & Nazi gold.

CHAPTER 16. TREASURE TROVE - John reveals gold find & threatened. US Linc Truman support. PM, Ed Thomas, & Sealord, royal support.

CHAPTER 17. BLUE SHIELD - Cleopatra alerts Blue Shield, Newcastle University, potential Atlantis find, suggests UNESCO world heritage site.

CHAPTER 18. GOLDEN OFFER - Claimants reward John U-Boat gold find. Agrees 1% cover costs 9% to Blue Shield surveys. UNESCO grateful.

CHAPTER 19. GREEN MOBILITY - Galvanized to action UK hit green H2 button, John gets grants low income families, Jill Bird, news item.

CHAPTER 20. IMO IS GO - The International Maritime Org green H2 & methanol, certification. USA in. China India stay with coal, gas & oil.

CHAPTER 21. AMNESTY INTERNATIONAL - John & George amnesty, pirate caselaw & video proof set up. Harry & Johnson charged treason.

O P E R A T I O N  N E P T U N E™

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In this fictional story, the characters and events are the product of the author's imagination, save for real life character who it would not be appropriate to give fictitious names.

But even so, their actions are not those of the real characters, they portray in this original story.