Part 8: Session Eight: Keeps me alive
Session Eight: Keeps me alive...and yet, death is elusive.
I'm a lump. A tumor. Motionless. Cancerous. Wasting precious air as I imagine myself wasting away. What is wrong with me? Why can't I save anyone? What sort of useless commander can't even get himself out of bed? If only there was someone to guide me?
Wait a second. That old codger of an admiral. He's certainly the smartest, most experienced guy I can ger a hold of. Sure, he won't believe the truth, but maybe he can lead me there first.
I retrace my steps carefully, to make sure I have that same opportunity to reach the carrier battle group.
Everything feels so slow when you know how it's all going to happen.
Well, there are some distinct advantages. *sip* Maybe it's not all bad.
Wheeler: Who do you want to talk to, Skipper?
XO: Mister Wheeler, get us Admiral Plaskett's battle group. Callsign: Charlie One Tango.
Finally. I've never felt so bored.
Plaskett: Three Whiskey. This is Charlie One Tango. ACTUAL. Send your traffic.
Eep. Why did I think this was a good idea?
---
VOTING RESULT: 1
CO: Admiral, I'm contacting you so we can coordinate the locator operations for the Kilo sub.
Plaskett: Let me clarify the chain of command here for you, Captain. You are still a strategic asset. You answer to National Command Authority, not to me. Consequently, I can give you no orders. Locating this Kilo sub is my job, not yours.
Alright, then who DO I ask about this?
Plaskett: There are two things you should know about my advice, captain. 1: I'm usually always right. And 2: I get extremely miffed when people don't listen to me. You watch your six, young man. You get this sub of yours mixed up in this Kilo hunt, and I promise you, your next assignment will be a one-man popsicle stand in Kodiak, Alaska!
Eep.
XO: Guess that's why they call him 'Wild Bill.'
Geez, it keeps getting worse. I'm going to get mixed up in this Kilo hunt ot matter what happens... I know that now. So, even if I survive, I'm just going to get reassigned to some menial, awful post for my incompetence. A fitting punishment, I suppose.
---
XO: Here ya go, Skipper.
Foster: Captain, XO.
Master Chief: Got the nav materials you asked for, Skip.
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.
Yeah yeah yeah. Bottom line it for me. How do we not get killed? That's the crucial question.
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VOTING RESULT: 3
CO: At best speed, what are the probable positions of a submarine that exited the Mediterranean 72 hours ago?
Master Chief: What class of submarine, Captain?
Ugh, is it possible I'll get better answers if I tell them less? That doesn't make much sense, but then again, not much else does right now.
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VOTING RESULT: 2
CO: Type of submarine is classified. Assume a best speed of 17 knots.
Foster: Okay, best speed: 17 knots. That would be 408 knots per day for 3 days.
Master Chief: If she's a nuke. If she's a diesel, she couldn't make her best speed. She'd have to snorkel 3 hours a day, minimum. 12 knots if more like it, especially if she's trying not to get attention. I'd say we're looking at a range of 800 nautical miles, give or take.
Well, that sounds about right...
XO: Very good, chief. Well, gentlemen, that establishes an uncertainty zone of 300 nautical miles, 200 of which cuts into the southern end of our patrol. I'm not comfortable with that.
Wait a second. Last time it Was 500-something nautical miles, and you said the same thing. Are you even listening? I know you don't listen to me, but the chief's not an idiot like I am.
Master Chief: Bottom line, he could be here already.
Foster: So, what do you want to do captain?
Uh...
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VOTING RESULT: 3
CO: Standard speed will be sufficient, but let's go deep. See that sonar watches are doubled, as well.
XO: Aye sir. Have those courses in Main Control five minutes ago, gentlemen.
Master Chief and Foster: Aye sir.
(Oh, wait, this LP doesn't have enough minoritys in it. We're risking losing our Title IX compliance. Quick, do something!)
CO: XO... let's go see Weps.
XO: Aye, Sir.
(Whew, that was a close one.)
Foster: Who pulled his chain? I can't get it done that fast.
Master Chief: Law school's starting to look pretty good, isn't it, Mister Foster?
I bet law school would be less repetitive.
---
Weps: Good morning, Captain. XO. What brings you to the devil's workshop?
Sometimes I feel like I might need a little help from the devil to get out of this loop...
XO: What're you doing here, Weps?
Weps: Little PMS on the guidance systems. Strictly routine maintenance.
Wait, what DO I want to do here? I certainly don't want to be near any of these dangerous things. I can't even keep ballpoint pens without them exploding.
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VOTING RESULT: 1
CO: It's good to know we have these new MK48s, Weps.
Weps: Mk48 Advanced Capability. The Darth Vader of torpedoes. Up here, we call them "Little Wish-Me-Deads."
That isn't going to help me get any less afraid of these torpedoes. I still can't watch CNN; he gives me the dark-side-willies.
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VOTING RESULT: 2
CO: Load two tubes with warshot, and keep your powder dry up here.
Weps: We'll get on it right now, Skipper.
Good. Wow, I feel accomplished today. I've done so much and no one's died yet.
---
choo choo dingdingdingdingdingdingdingdingding choo choo
---
CO: XO.
XO: Hi, Captain.
CO: Mister Foster.
Foster: Uh, I've got a problem I want to show you, sir. We just pulled the towed array for scheduled maintenance. It's a routine thing, you know; just a could hours of downtime.
XO: Faster and funnier, Ensign.
Foster: Okay, okay. Well, it's really weird. It's this sort of sound short. It's an intermittent buzz at about 5 hertz. And the volume changes with our speed. When we go fast, it gets loud. When we go slow, it gets soft.
Whoa... this is different somehow. Something has changed here, and I don't know what or why...
---
(As you might be able to tell, this is a similar but different clip than the ones we've seen before. Some of the responses have changed, even though the choices have not. That is why I'm still leaving this in.)
VOTING RESULT: 2
CO: Did you try isolating it with the other passive sets?
Foster: The noise is there, Captain. I cross-checked with the other towed array and the WLR-9.
I think I already knew that. Dang it, is this different or not?
---
(Okay, that one wasn't different, but some are, I swear.)
VOTING RESULT: 2
CO:You said the noise change with speed. Is it some kind of hull effect?
Foster: It doesn't change in pitch or volume when we turn. It's-It only gets louder when we speed up.
XO: When I was on the Cavalla, we snagged a piece of driftnet in one of the saleplanes. Took us a week to figure out what was making that noise.
Then is that the problem? Didn't we try that? Or did we? The days are all running together
---
(Apparently, I'm a big liar. I can't find the different dialog in this run through no matter what I do. Oh well, sorry to waste your time. Carry on.
VOTING RESULT: 1
CO: Do we have a problem, or are we worrying about nothing?
Foster: No, Sir. That signal is way under what anybody plays with.
XO: Sometimes you can't sweat the small stuff, Sir.
If that's true, why do we keep dying? Am I just that inept?
---
(Skipping this choice, because the exit choices on the next step have the same exits as these do, and this lets people vote now instead of later.)
CO: How long would a hull search take?
XO: We'd have to bring the ship to a hundred feet. Minimum.
Foster: And we'd be hanging out in the surface layer, Sir. That's not a real great place to hide.
So what? Doesn't seem I can find anywhere to hide anyway.
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VOTING RESULT: 3
CO: My call is to sit tight for now. Let me know if it interferes with your processing.
Foster: Yes, Sir.
CO: Thank you, Ensign.
That was a tough decision, but I think I made the right choice. I think I'm finally getting the hang of this.
Foster: Conn, Sonar.
Oh, please just tell me I left my mug in Sonar or something.
XO: Go, Sonar.
Foster: Sir, I'm getting an intermittent pulse at 130.
XO: Are you declaring a contact?
Foster: Wait a minute- t-t-t-stay with me...
Foster: Damn it! Conn, sonar. Hydrophone effect. Torpedo door event bearing 130. Range 3000 yards.
Of course.
XO: Officer of the deck, sound the general quarters.
OOD: General quarters, aye.
Man, I can't even hear the alarm anymore. Either I'm going deaf, or I've just become used to it.
XO: Captain, your orders?
---
(Skipping this conversation piece, because it's not overall relevant.
CO: All ahead flank and take us deep. Thirty degree down bubble.
XO: Officer of the deck, all ahead flank.
OOD: All ahead flank, aye.
Foster: Hydrophone effect. Incoming torpedo, bearing 130. Range 2500 yards.
Let me guess... 'got a lock on us?'
Master Chief: He's closing on us.
"Closing on us." Of course, how could I forget?
Foster: Impact in 3, 2, 1...
XO: Emergency blow. All ahead flank.
Might as well pretend I don't know what's happening.
CO: How bad are we hurt?
Master Chief: Ship is settling by the stern. Bowplanes are not responding.
The only time I ever hear you talk about bowplanes are when they aren't responding. Maybe they're just broken?
XO: Well, you boned us captain.
It still stings. Even after all this time, that spite and anger still burns in my heart. Stupid pretty boy, thinks he's so darn smart. I'd like to see him figure this out. Oh wait, he can't because I keep asking him, and he still doesn't know anything!
I take a seat and enjoy a few more moments of comfort before I am lifted from it by the rising sea.