Part 9: Session Nine: You'll win... if you survive
Session Nine: You'll win... if you survive
Stupid bed. Stupid phone. Stupid space time continuum. I don't even know what that means! I just heard if once on TV.
Everyone's mad at me. I can't do anything right. And they don't even remember all the times I got them killed so far.
Maybe it's finally starting to stick, and they'll mutiny. Probably for the best. I can't lead them. Please, just revolt... spare me this fate.
No such luck today.
This problem has to do with sound, I know it. This guy has got to be able to find the answer if there is one. So I get right to the heart of the matter.
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.
There are no great places to hide, Ensign! Don't you get it? I thought I was hiding from the glares of my own men, but that really pales in comparison into hiding from real, homing explosives while trapped in a tin can hundreds of feet underwater.
---
(Please note: All votes for Option 3 will be ignored. Vote for either 1 or 2. Neither of those two are instant death.)
VOTING RESULT: 2
CO: I want to lock out a diver, XO. I want a thorough hull search.
XO: Are you sure, Skipper?
Stop second guessing me in front of the Ensigns, XO. Geez!
CO: Do I look like I'm sure?
XO: Alright, I'll notify the conn. We'll conduct a lockout immediately.
MEANWHILE
Sailor 1: Sattelite Communications
Sailor 2: Sattelite traffic for the admiral.
Sailor 3: Admiral, Miss Matthews. CIA. Shall I patch her into the bridge?
Sailor 2: Pipe it into the flag bridge.
Matthews: Admiral Plaskett?
Plaskett: Can you see me? (pause) Good. When are you going to let me tell these people what's really going on?
Matthews: Two hours.
Plaskett: Two hours?! This thing could go nuclear!
Matthews: CIA out.
---
XO: Looks like someone put a burr under our saddle, Captain.
What's a burr, anyway? Man, I wish Ironside wasn't cancelled. What a classic.
What the heck? Judging by the look on everyone else's faces, they don't know what this thing is either.
---
VOTING RESULT: 1
CO: Get it back to the Chief Engineer. I want to know what it is, what it does, and what it's doing on my ship?
CO: Chief, get this thing back to the Cheng. I want a briefing in the wardroom. Ten Minutes.
Chief: Aye, Sir.
Wait, his name is Chief too? How am I supposed to keep those two straight?
MEANWHILE
Pilot 1: Hey, Ice Cream. Don't get any chocolate on the bird, man. Slows us down when we're dogfighting.
Pilot 2: Ice Cream, looks like you've put on a little weight between cruises.
Commander: You know something? You're wife? She's a hell of a cook.
Pilot 1: You know something? He's right.
♫ ♪ ♫
Commander: You preflight the bird?
Danny: 2 hours ago. We got dipping sonar, Mk48 torpedos, Sonabouys...
Danny: Oh, and 16 pack of those Ding Dongs you like so much.
Commander: You're a beautiful man, Danny. Let's go hunt us some submarines.
Commander: Guys, chicks gotta dig us.
(Just a note: This game always refers to the commander of the Helo designated Ice Cream as Ice Cream as if it was his name. I think that's dumb, so I'm calling him Commander.
---
CO: Gentlemen.
Gang's all here. Time to get it together.
Cheng: Okay, Sir. This was attached to the sail six feet from the deck.
Cheng: This device was locked down by a spring action hinge.
Cheng: Sixty days of immersion in seawater... the magnesium dissolves. The hinge pops open.
Cheng: That's when we started to hear the buzz at 5hz.
XO: Alright, the sixty-four thousand dollar question is: Who clipped it to the sail?
Oh my god... he's trying to tell me it's sabotage. I can't stand it.
---
VOTING RESULT: 3
CO: I'm willing to listen to a list of suspects. Who had the opportunity... or motive to stick that thing on the hull?
Master Chief: I say we start by grilling the line handling party.
XO: Who?
Master Chief: Deck division. Holland, Williams, Schaffer, BenVenitiz, Browning.
Sheesh, how many people we got on this ship?
XO: Who was the last man down the hatch, Wheeler?
Wheeler: Petty Officer Holland.
Master Chief: Then I say we get his ass in here.
I hope someone else does it. I have no idea who that is, and I hate meeting new people.
---
VOTING RESULT: 3
CO: What about you, Wheeler. Did you pass by the fairwater before we submergerd?
Wheeler: Uh, I passed it twice, Sir. After the tug cast off, I assembled the men on the missile deck after the main hatch.
Don't give me that look.
XO: You see anything?
Wheeler: Nothing, Sir.
Master Chief: This thing was six feet off the deck, and maybe you just didn't notice?
Wouldn't be the first time an officer on this ship missed something. No one remembered my birthday.
Wheeler: Am I under suspicion, Sir?
Darn it, don't ask me, I don't know.
---
VOTING RESULT: 3
CO: Everyone's a suspect, Mister Wheeler, until we find out who put that whistle on the hull of my ship.
XO: And you saw nothing, Wheeler? Nothing at all.
Wheeler: No, sir. Not a thing.
It's okay, Wheeler. I miss stuff sometimes too. It feels kinda good to not be the only person who's screwed up in a critical situation.
XO: Master Chief, get the line handling party in here now.
Master Chief: Aye, sir.
Wow, it's going down here. Why am I scared? I'm actually in charge around here, as much as I shouldn't be.
MEANWHILE
Commander: Hey, take the stick, will ya?
Neff: Okay. I have control. You have the aircraft.
Commander: Man, I knew I wasn't gonna make it 'till dinner.
Commander: Danny, you got anything.
Danny: Nothing bu whales farting, sir.
Commander: What about ELINT? EMCON?
Danny: There's nothing out here, Skipper. Nothing but saltwater. Some cold saltwater.
Commander: Well, we got a couple hours of fuel left. Whatdya say we head in? Drop some sonobouys.
Neff: Fuel's a factor here. We only have two hours left.
Danny: Mister Neff's right, Sir. This is "Patrol Area Bozo." Let's get back to the boat.
Commander: I hate the boat. Let's go hunt us some submarines.
---
XO: Here's the line handling party, skipper.
Master Chief: Listen up, boys. Everyone that was on the aft line, and the aft line only, one step forward. (pause as men step forward) Get out of my sight.
Master Chief: Port Line. Same deal. (pause as men step forward) Get lost.
Master Chief: Starboard side. (pause) Out!
XO: What lines were you working, Bremman?
Bremman: Port and aft, Sir. I was the petty officer in charge.
Wheeler: He was with me the whole time, XO.
XO: What about you, Holland?
Holland: Aft line, sir. I was supposed to work, except I was late.
XO: What side of the sail did you pass as you went below?
Holland: Port side, sir. I was the last person down.
Oh, boy, that doesn't sound good.
Master Chief: Wardroom, Holland. Now!
XO: You're dismissed, Bremman. You as well, Wheeler.
Wheeler: Aye, sir.
XO: Thank you.
Ooh boy, this isn't going to be fun.
Wow, this guy is almost as much of a disgrace to the uniform as me.
---
VOTING RESULT: 1
CO: Why were you late, Holland?
Holland: I met this woman... I overslept. I was kinda hung over.
Okay, now I went from sympathetic to jealous. What a jerk.
XO: Your file's a joke, Holland. Twenty-four Page-13 entries. Two counts of disrespect.
Holland: That last one was an accident, XO.
Oh, well, everyone makes mistakes. All forgiven then? Can we just get on with our lives?
---
VOTING RESULT: 3
CO: Holland... we know you're lying. Tell us the truth.
Holland: I am telling the truth. I was late getting back to the ship. I almost missed movement. That's the truth. Mister Wheeler chewed me out on the deck, but I didn't see anything. I swear.
Master Chief: You're a sleeve, Holland. You planted that homer.
Um, I thought we were keeping the details a secret. Eh, forget it, Chief knows what he's doing.
XO: Do you know what the penalty is for sabotage? Huh? Under the Uniform Code of Military Justice, it's death, Petty Officer.
Master Chief: By firing squad.
As someone who's died many times in the last week, I gotta say that's kinda harsh. It's not going to solve anything, and if I don't somehow manage to not get us killed this time, it's not going to stick anyway.
---
VOTING RESULT: 2
CO: Convince me, Holland. I really want to believe you.
Holland: Hey, I may be a screw up, but I ain't no sabotager.
Spoken like a true American.
Holland: I love my country.
Master Chief: (sarcastically) Holland, please God, stop it. I'm getting all misty-eyed.
XO: Let's try it again, Holland, from the beginning.
Holland: I told you, XO. I was late getting back to the pier.
---
VOTING RESULT: 1
CO: I heard that already. You were the last man below, right?
Holland: Yes sir. I secured the hatch.
XO: Well, this is getting us nowhere, skipper. What do you want to do?
Don't give me that look. I've never interrogated anyone before.
Master Chief: Captain, why don't you and the XO step out into the passageway for a little while? I'd like to talk to Holland alone.
Well, what can you say to him that you can't say -- oh.
---
VOTING RESULT: 2
CO: Okay, Master Chief. You've got five minutes to make him talk. Try not to break any furniture.
Master Chief: Aye-aye, Sir,
XO: I don't think that's advisable, Skipper.
Always contradicting me. Sheesh. I know I'm incompetent, but why can't you let me have anything?
XO: Master Chief, confine Petty Officer Holland to his rack.
Master Chief: Come on, 007.
Eesh, getting a little rough there, aren't you? He's probably just mad he can't beat on his pudgy face. Wait, maybe me really wants to do it to me, but can't. Oh, I'd better not piss him off.
We treat out prisoners well here, I think. I mean, I can't deny him coffee. I'm not heartless.
---
LATER
Foster: Main Control. Sonar. Hydrophone effects. Transient torpedo doors opening. Bearing 350.
Of course. Why would it be over? I caught the traitor and found the homer, but NO, this day just won't end without someone shooting at me.
Master Chief: He's waiting for us.
XO: He's got to flood tubes and acquire. We've got about twenty seconds, Sir.
Jeez laWeez. What do I even say?
---
VOTING RESULT: 1
CO: Sound the general alarm. Battle stations, torpedo.
XO: Battle stations, torpedo.
OOD: Battle stations, torpedo.
Foster: Conn, Sonar. Range to torpedo door even approximately 9000 yards.
Master Chief: That's going to be a long shot, Skipper. We should outrun it if we turn now.
Alright, someone for whom I can blame my cowardice. How useful.
---
VOTING RESULT: 2
CO: My intentions are to return fire and break off contact with the hostile submarine.
XO: Battle stations, torpedo.
OOD: Aye aye.
You said that already.
XO: Snap-shoot 2, 1. Firing point procedure.
Weps: Weapons standing by, Sir.
XO: Captain, I have firing solution. Do we fire?
You know, I really don't appreciate all this second guessing me. Do you have any idea how that makes me feel?
---
VOTING RESULT: 1
CO: Continue to close with target vessel. Prepare to fire torpedoes.
Foster: Conn, hostile weapon contact now bears 325.
XO: Firing Point Procedure Sierra-25.
Weps: Warshot loaded, tube 1, Sir.
Foster: Speed: 65 knots.
Hey, hey, hey now, one at a time. What's the big hurry?
XO: Orders, Sir?
---
VOTING RESULT: 2
CO: Fire tube one!
Foster: Mk48 torpedo ADCAP torpedo, course 045.
Weps: MK48 running, sir.
Foster: 8500 yards to target Sierra-25.
XO: We've got one on the way back to him, Captain.
Master Chief: Remember, he shot first.
What are you talking about? Is this an alibi? Who are we going to be answering to?
---
VOTING RESULT: 1
XO: Officer of the deck, All ahead flank. Deploy countermeasures. Diving officer, submerge the ship to 600 feet.
OOD: All ahead flank. Deploy countermeasures. Submerge the ship to 600 feet, aye.
zzzzzzzzzzz
Hey, it does sound like a razor. How do you like that?
Foster: Conn, Sonar. Mk48 ADCAP detonation bearing 135. Range 8500 yards.
Foster: SET-65 continues inbound. Bearing 180. Range 3500 yards. Speed unchanged.
Foster: Torpedo has gone to active homing.
Foster: Hostile weapon continues to close.
Foster: Torpedo continues to close. Range 1000.
Foster: Torpedo bearing opening.
Foster: Range 1150.
Foster: Range 1200.
Foster: SET-65 falling astern, sir.
Foster: Screws are slowing... engine stopped now.
Foster: She's out of gas. We've out run it.
XO: Sonar, Conn. State your contacts.
Foster: Torpedo is no longer a factor, sir. Sonar holds no contacts at this time.
Oh, thank goodness. At lease once today I can get shot at without getting a saltwater shower.
---
Foster: Captain, your presence is requested in Sonar.
What now?
Don't look at me like that.
XO: What've you got, Ensign?
Foster: What do you make of that, sir?
XO: Whatever the hell it is, it's far away. One convergence zone, two...
Yeah yeah yeah, Akula class submarine. North. Going 30-something knots. Russian hunter killer. I heard all this before. Bottom line if to me.
(Skipping the two choices here, because we've seen enough of this already. We're using "Somebody want to start speaking English?" and "Why doesn't this guy care about his noise signature?", as before.)
XO: Skipper, I can have a brain dump for you on both of those submarines shortly. I'll go get Master Chief. We've got a lot of work to do.
CO: Thank you Ensign.
---
MEANWHILE
Danny: (to himself) I don't believe it, I've got a contact. (louder) Sir, contact. Designate 01. Depth 400. Bearing 245.
Commander: You sure?
Danny: Absolutely. He's above the deep sonar layer, making 30 knots on one seven-bladed propeller.
Neff: 30 knots? That ain't no Kilo.
Commander: Is it the Idaho?
Danny: No way, Sir; it's too noisy. Acoustic signature makes it Russian... Akula class attack boat, Sir.
Commander: Get on the radio, Danny. Send it to the battlegroup. Let them know there might be another player out here.
Dear Maxwell House... thank you for your years of service...
Oh, darn. I'll get that done later.
What are you giving me that look for? I know way more about this situation than you do. Believe me.
---
VOTING RESULT: 1
CO: Okay, I'd like to know what I'm up against. Make me smart.
XO: Akula class attack boats are the best the Russians make. They're fast. Their sensors are good by Ivan standards, and they pack a mean sting. Provided she knew where we were, the Akula would be able to hit us from sixty miles out.
Oh, now you tell me.
XO: The things is this: She makes noise, especially when she's running fast.
Master Chief: The Kilo boat... is almost the exact opposite, Sir. She's low tech, her sensors are third-world, and she's not especially fast. The thing is: on electric motors, she's the second quietest submarine ever built. Next to us.
Gee, thanks. You're making me feel bad for getting us killed all those other times.
---
VOTING RESULT: 3
CO: We're the quietest submarine in the world. If we go deep and sit tight, we're going to be harder to find than Swiss combat medals.
XO: We weren't sent out here to get into a fight. If you're thinking about hiding out, Captain, I think it's a good idea.
Oh my goodness, the XO actually complimented one of my ideas. I don't even know what to do with myself,.
Master Chief: Skipper, I just got an idea about flushing out that Kilo. It's weird, but it might work.
This again...
---
VOTING RESULT: 3
CO: You got about 20 seconds to get me interested, Master Chief. Start talking.
Master Chief: Well, it's kinda illegal, Sir. Maybe you ought to meet me in the Conn.
Oh, wait, this is the same damn idea, isn't it?
XO: Might as well see what he's up to.
Oh, wait until you see this.
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 steady on 190. Target's gone to all stop.
Commander: Sens his position to the Battle Group.
Danny: Already bursted it to them, Sir.
Commander: What's this guy up to?
----
Master Chief: You know, back in the Evil Empire days, we used to torture Ivan in the Med. We'd broadcast car crashes, cows mooing over the hydrophones. You know, we'd give him some culture.
XO: This store have a point, Chief?
Master Chief: Yes, it does. Because I think that kilo is still out there. He's just so quiet we can't pick him up. But I think I can get a rise out of him. Can I have that underwater phone, please?
I still don't know why we have a phone on this boat? For what? If we want to order fish and chips.
Heh. That's a good one. I'll have to tell that one to my nephew.
---
zzzzzzzzzzzzzzzz
Master Chief: Sounds exactly like a Mk-48 torpedo. If he's out there, we'll know about it.
Foster: Conn, sonar. Hydrophone effect. Contact Seirra-25, evaluated to be Kilo class submarine, making 17 knots on one 7-bladed propeller. Range 10000 yards, bearing 160, running like a rabbit.
Ooh, this time I get at least 5 seconds give an order. Lets see if it does something.
---
VOTING RESULT: 3
CO: Let's maneuver behind him. XO, put us in his baffles.
XO: Helmsman, make turns for 30 knots. Close with target Sierra-25.
Helmsman: Make turns for 30 knots.
Foster: Conn, Sonar. Hydrophone effect. Bearing 350.
What the? Who's shooting us? We're behind the only one within miles... did they give us the slip? How is this happening?
XO: Battle stations.
OOD: Battle stations.
XO: SET-65 continues to close.
Master Chief: That fish has still got us, Captain.
Foster: Incoming torpedo has acquired. Torpedo is active.
Ugh, I wish these stupid things would were faster so this didn't take so long.
Foster: Torpedo continuing to close.
XO: Sound collision alarm!
Master Chief: All hands, collision alarm!
Foster: ...200.
Foster: Impact in 3... 2...
XO: Damage control, report! Emergency blow, all back full.
Master Chief: It ain't gonna work, XO. This one's terminal.
---
I already knew it was terminal. I thought we were going to make it this time, I really did. I'm no longer sad about dying; I'm just angry about the waste of time. I punch my hand down into something, which turned out to be fragile, presumably expensive, and most importantly live with electricity. I'm out cold before the water can rush in.