The inside of the submarine was like what you'd get if your crossed the Mir space station with that old TV show "Lost in Space." Everywhere were big computers, over-sized buttons, dials and monitors that looked older than one of those television sets that were two feet deep at the back. It had the kind of smell I usually associate with a subway station, musty, stale. Yet the undertone was off male deodorant and rehydrated MRE's. Under the neon glow everything was flat and was exactly the same day and night. No wonder the crews of these beasts burst out to stand on the deck every chance they get. I'm stir-crazy after just two days.
In the uniform blue came a streak of white. Then amid the foam an oval steel tower rose, the briny water cascading down in sheets. In minutes it was merely the turret on the body of a submarine and it glided toward the pier almost without sound. It was like a three storey building rising from the waves, three hundred feet long and completely windowless. A tin can of people and technology, nuclear powered and fully armed.
There were just four of them, bloated metal beasts that lay half-submerged in the sea, secured by ropes as thick as a man's waist. Each one was the size of an office building turned on it's side. The submarines had no markings whatsoever and no flags. They seemed to be coated in black oil or tar. Their turrets, set well back were closed and solid. Alex shivered. He never thought a machine could actually emanate evil, but these did. They were as dark and as cold as the water that lapped around them. They looked just like the bombs they had become.
Found in Alex Rider, Skeleton Key, authored by Anthony Horowitz.
A submarine. It had emerged from the sea with the speed and impossibility of a stage illusion. One moment there was nothing and then it was there in front of him, plowing through the sea toward the jetty, its engine making no sound, water streaking off it's silver casing and churning white behind it. The submarine had no markings, but Alex knew it wasn't English. The shape of the diving plane slashing horizontally through the conning tower and the shark's tail rudder at the back was like nothing he had ever seen. He wondered if it was nuclear powered. A conventional engine would surely have made more noise.
Found in Alex Rider, Stormbreaker, authored by Anthony Horowitz.
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