Part 7: Session Seven: Then there's no time to waste
Session Seven: Then there's no time to wasteIt's been a week. A whole dang week of the same dang day. Shouldn't it be the Sabbath or something by now? When will it stop?
I try to explain it to the XO. He doesn't get it. He's trying to figure out my angle, like I'm trying to weasel out of some responsibility or something. Oh well. Maybe if we talk to Sonar, we can get them to figure out the problem for me.
XO: Captain's in sonar.
Yes, I am. Man, did he think I'd forget where I was?
Manyon: Morning, Captain.
Crud, what's your name again? All I know is I'm hungry again.
CO: Morning, Manyon.
Manyon, of course. Like Onion, except manly.
Foster: Here are the new charts, sir.
CO: Well done, Mister Foster.
Still not a poster. Well, I suppose I could hang it up like one, but it wouldn't look a nice as Farrah Fawcett. Then again, what would? Growl.
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This choice has been skipped as information only.
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CO: I want you supervising Sonar, Mister Foster. Drag a cot in here if you have to.
XO: You were the Sonar wiz at New London, isn't that right?
Foster: Well, uh, yeah...
XO: Well, then, you're the man, Mister Foster. When can you have those watches online for us?
Foster: Uh, I'll get those organized right away, sir.
XO: We're also going to need a full tactical dump, everything you've got on the Kilo class submarines, including upgrades.
Good, this all should help... now what the heck else do I do?
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This follows the same path as Session Six, except that we follow, "How she got out is anybody's guess. I want a full tactical dump on Kilo class subs, and let's brief sonar right away." and "I want you supervising Sonar, Mister Foster. Drag a cot in here if you have to."
VOTING RESULT: 3
CO: We were liason-authorized to Carrier Battle Group. Let's get them on the horn.
XO: Very good, sir.
Manyon: Are we at war, sir?
Foster: You'll be the second person to know, Manyon. I promise.
Oh, at least one other person already knows, Foster.
Foster: Okay, guys. Look sharp until I get this thing figured out.
What is that, your battle cry? That's not very inspiring.
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Wheeler: SUBLANT installed this just before we left Charleston. You seen one of these before, Master Chief?
Oh, come on. He's seen everything.
Master Chief: You ask a lot of questions, Lieutenant.
OOD: Captains on the bridge.
Sheesh, good thing I'm not trying to sneak in for a birthday surprise party or something.
XO: Come to periscope depth.
OOD: Periscope depth. Aye.
XO: Extend SATCOM mast.
OOD: Extend SATCOM mast.
XO: Very well.
Ugh, stow the repetition, guys. I get enough of that already.
Wheeler: Who do you want to talk to, Skipper?
XO: Mister Wheeler, get us Admiral Plaskett's battle group. Callsign: Charlie One Tango.
I thought you said his name was Bill, not Charlie.
Sailor: Admrial on the bridge!
Plaskett: Who'm I going to be talking to?
Sailor:Three Whiskey Gulf, Sir. CO. USS Idaho.
Plaskett: Three Whiskey. This is Charlie One Tango. ACTUAL. Send your traffic.
Oh geez. Suddenly I feel like I'm in trouble.
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VOTING RESULT: 3
CO: I received the message from COMSUBLANT, sir. Do you have additional information about the compromise of my patrol area?
Plaskett: You know as much as I do, Captain. I can tell you this: that Kilo didn't sneak out of the Med on my damn watch.
Wait, did I do something wrong? Am I supposed to be patrolling the Med? Nah, someone would have scolded by now if I was that far off.
Plaskett: As for your patrol area being compromised, I wouldn't sweat it yet. We'll find this Kilo. You just stay out of my way.
Yeah, don't sweat it. Right. Now the question is whether you'll find these subs before I find myself the ocean floor.
Plaskett: If I were you I'd watch my 6. Plaskett out.
Sheesh. What a help. I'd think he was going senile with that advice, except that he's clearly way to cantankerous to be going senile.
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XO: Here ya go, Skipper.
Foster: Captain, XO.
Master Chief: Got the nav materials you asked for, Skip.
Wow, this happens pretty much every time... it must be important.
Foster: This is the passage charts, sir. This is patrol area Yankee Victor. Our current position via VLF nav fix is here, waypoint lisa. Our current heading is 045. Our speed is 5 knots.
Ugh, you'd figured I'd have gotten it right by accident now... or maybe I did, and I screwed something else up. Oh, cheese and crackers, what do I say?
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VOTING RESULT: 1
CO: I want to amend our patrol route. I want to turn north.
Foster: Very good, Sir.
Master Chief: Just how far north are you going to want to go, skipper?
How about Greenland? It's probably pretty peaceful there... unless there are still vikings. Whoa, I just thought of something, Vikings with submarines would be awesome. If I survive, I must write that screenplay.
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VOTING RESULT: 2
CO: Maximum possible. Get us as far north as the patrol box will allow and I want to advise the Battle Group of our intended movement.
Foster: I'll have the course laid out and in the main control room in twenty minutes, Sir.
XO: No good. I need it faster than that, and try to keep the cavitation to a minimum.
Foster: Aye sir.
Waaait a minute. This looks familiar.
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MEANWHILE
ELSEWHERE
Commander: How's our hyperactive friend doing?
Danny: Akula's making 30 knots. He's moved into the surface layer, but he's still hauling ass.
Commander: Why doesn't he care who hears him?
Danny: He must have heard you talking, Skipper. The Akula's slowing down. Changing course. Coming out stead on 190. Target's gone to all stop.
Commander: Alert the Battle Group.
Danny: Already bursted it to them, Sir.
Commander: What's this guy up to?
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Wheeler: Captain. LF signal. It's the Battle Group requesting you contact them on the SATCOM.
This seems real familiar...
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(This choice has been skipped. Why? All three choices lead to pretty much the same thing, so there's no point in pretending, since there is no meaningful amount of new content.)
CO: Very well. My intentions are to come to periscope depth. Sonar, do you hold any contacts at this time.
Foster: Nothing, sir. Sonar holds no contacts at this time.
XO: Officer of the deck, come to periscope depth. Deploy SATCOM mast.
OOD: Come to periscope depth. Deploy SATCOM mast. Aye.
XO: Very well.
Is this deja vu? I mean, more than the obvious?
MEANWHILE
Ensign Neff: Were at bingo fuel. We gotta head back.
Commander: I concur. Take us back to the boat, young Ensign Neff.
Danny: Akula's making noise. He's flooded all his torpedo tubes.
Commander: Give me the stick, Brucie.
Neff: Look, Commander. We've got negative fuel numbers.
Danny: Target is opening outer torpedo doors. His sonar's gone active. He's setting up a torpedo shot.
Commander: You sure?
Neff: He's fixing to fire on the Idaho.
Danny: Akula's about to go hostile.
Commander: Don't psych it, Danny!
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Foster: Conn, Sonar. Hydrophone effect. Surface impact. Bearing 004. Range 300 yards.
Yeah, yeah, range 300 yards. I'll try and look surprised.
Master Chief: He's closing on us.
Foster: Impact in 3...
Oh, now I remember. This is exactly what I did on day 3. How silly of me.
Foster: ...2, 1...
XO: Who the hell dropped a torpedo on us?
I walk out of the conn before I have to hear him talking about time zones and boning. There's only so much a man can take.
Death is swift...