Part 16: Session Sixteen: Been lost without a trace
Session Sixteen: Been lost without a trace
For all I know, it's impossible.
Maybe I really died weeks ago, and this illusion of continual death and rebirth is the Devil's way of punishing me with a perpetual pointless task. Like that guy who had to roll the rock up the hill, whatever his name was.
This sub is my rock... heavy, cold, indifferent.
It just has a few more amenities.
Wait, what am I saying? Coffee is proof God loves us and wants us to be happy. There's no way there's coffee in Hell. Unless it's all hazelnut coffee. Yuck.
Okay, I've determined I'm not literally in Hell. That means I can't give up... not yet.
But the days are so long.
---
CO: Match bearings and shoot.
XO: Weapons, Conn. Tube one. Single fire ADCAP. Standby.
Weps: Weapons standing by, Sir.
XO: Shoot.
Foster: Mk-48 ADCAP torpedo course is 045. Run is enabled. Sierra-27 target course change. Now steady on course 130. Target speed: 17 knots. Mk-48 continues to run course 045.
Master Chief: It's like waiting for a valentine that's never going to come.
It's like waiting on a blehblehbleh. That's you. That's what you sound like.
Foster: Target Sierra-27 course change. Now bearing opening target course 090. Mk-48 continues to track.
Seriously, what does that even mean?
---
(Choice 3 is disallowed.)
VOTING RESULT: 1
CO: Mister Foster, what's the time until MK-48 impact?
Foster: Torpedo has gone active. Sixty seconds to impact target Sierra-27. Fifty-five seconds. Fifty seconds.
Man, why do the seconds seem so long?
Foster: Uh-Conn, Sonar. Target course change. Sierra-27 now steady on course 060. Speed increasing. Seirra-27 is now making 37 knots. Repeat, Thirty-Seven knots.
Foster: Impact in 3... 2... 1.
(distant boom)
Foster: Conn, Sonar. Hydrophone effect. MK-48 ADCAP detonation. Range 2000. Bearing 045.
Master Chief: We get 'em?
Probably not. We haven't succeeded so far... why would now be any different?
---
Danny: Oh shit! He just fired.
Commander: We're right over the bastard. Tell them we could take him out right now.
Danny: Negative. Charlie-one has not cleared us hot. We are ordered to hold fire.
Danny: We gotta do something, Sir.
Commander: I got an idea.
Neff: Look, Commander. We've got negative fuel numbers here.
Commander: Let's play them some music.
---
Foster: Sierra-27 course change. Now bearing opening target course 090.
XO: Sound collision alarm!
Master Chief: All hands, collision alarm!
Foster: Conn, Sonar. Uh... something's going on.
XO: What is it, Sonar?
Foster: I-I don't know. Somebody's jamming the Set-65's sonar.
XO: Put it on the 1-MC.
♫ ♪ ♫
Master Chief: What the Hell is that?
Yeah, what is that awful racket?
XO: Surfing music.
Why are they listening to nondescript, royalty free surfing music? I mean, there is real music in the Navy, right? I... Do they? I'm asking. I don't actually know. I brought my Chicago albums on board, but I can't listen to them because I left my 8-track at home.
Foster: SET-65 has deflected course, Sir. New heading 180.
I guess torpedoes hate bad surfing music too.
---
Commander: Pull up the hydrophone. Ensign's right. Give us a course back to the boat, Danny.
Neff: You boned us.
Commander: Relax, Brucie. We're gonna make it back to the boat.
Neff: Look, Commander. I can do the math. We're gonna splash.
Commander: Why don't you go back and give Danny a hand, Bruce? Help him kick out the MK-48s and disarm them?
Neff: You're going to ditch two live torpedos?
Danny: Mister Neff's right, skipper.
Commander: They weight 2300 pounds a piece. Pull the fuses, disarm them. Kick the sonar panel out if you have to. We need to lighten this bird up.
Commander: Relax, man. We're gonna make it.
Commander: (to himself) Man, we're not gonna make it.
---
Sailor: Standby. XO, VHF radio traffic. It's a friendly SH-3. He's declaring a fuel emergency.
XO: I got my hands full right now.
Sailor: It's Ice Cream-27, Sir. He's not going to make it back to the carrier without a nav fix.
XO: Those are the guys that jammed the Akula, Captain. I think we owe them.
Master Chief: Do I have to remind you we're in a torpedo battle here?
Oh, for God's sake, we're so close... I think. Why do you have to drop a scruples question on me now?
---
VOTING RESULT: 3
CO: Come to periscope depth. Give him a nav fix.
XO: Very good, Sir.
Yes, it was very good of me. Let's just hope it doesn't come back to bite us.
XO: Officer of the deck, come to periscope depth. Deploy VHF mast.
OOD: Aye Aye, Sir.
XO: Sparks, standby to transmit range and bearing to the battle group.
Sparks: Aye.
---
Danny: VHF traffic from USS Idaho. They just bursted us a range and bearing to the battle group. Bearing 178. Range 60 miles.
Neff: We're going to cut it close. 5 knots of headwind, and we're gonna end up in the soup.
Commander: Do the math, Bruce. We're gonna make it.
---
Well, good. You'll make it, but what about me?
Foster: Conn, Sonar. Hydrophone effect. Akula class submarine making 15 knots on one 7-bladed propeller.
XO: Firing point procedure. Sierra-27. Tube one. Single fire ADCAP.
Weps: Conn, Torpedo reports tube one ready, Sir.
XO: Captain?
Sheesh, what should we do? Why are you always asking me? Just so you can blame me when it goes wrong?
You know, you are just the worst.
---
VOTING RESULT: 1
CO: Shoot!
XO: Weapons, Conn. Tube one. Single fire ADCAP. Standby.
Weps: Weapons standing by, Sir.
XO: Shoot.
Foster: Mk-48 ADCAP torpedo course 045. Run is enabled. Range is 8500 to target Sierra-25.
Man, firing torpedoes used to be exciting. Now, I'm just bored.
Weps: Mk-48 running, Sir.
Foster: Sierra-27 course change. Now bearing opening target course 090. Mk-48 continues to track.
You keep saying that last bit... I just wish I could understand it.
---
VOTING RESULT: 3
CO: Ready tube two.
XO: Firing point procedure. Sierra-27. Tube one. Single fire ADCAP.
Weps: Weapons. All tubes ready, Sir.
Foster: Target sierra 27 course change. Now bearing opening target course 090. Mk-48 continues to track.
Why do you keep saying that? Are you even paying attention to what's happening out there?
Weps: Go, baby, go!
(long metallic groan)
Foster: Hydrophone effect. Akula's breaking up, Sir. She's going to the bottom.
(applause)
We did it! Wahoo!
XO: Quiet on the con! Quiet on the con. I want absolute silence right now.
Why are you such a wet blanket? We made it!
Foster: Incoming torpedo continues to close. Torpedo is active. Torpedo continuing to close.
Oh crap. It's not over...
Foster: Torpedo has gone to active homing. Hostile weapon continues to close.
Foster: Torpedo continues to close. Range 300.
XO: Sound collision alarm!
Master Chief: All hands, collision alarm!
Foster: Torpedo continues to close. 200.
Torpedo bearing opening. Range 150 yards. 200. Oh, baby.
"Oh baby?" What does that even mean in this context?
Foster: It's a clean miss. 500 yards. Torpedo continues to pass astern. 800 yards and still opening.
Foster: (sigh of relief) Torpedo self destruct, Sir. 900 yards astern.
XO: Conn, Sonar. State your contacts.
Foster: Sonar holds no, say again, no contacts at this time.
Is it over? For real this time? No foolin'?
---
MEANWHILE
Commander: We made it back, Bruce. Gotta have faith, man.
(loud cheering throughout)
---
It's over. It's finally over. My long, sleepless nightmare has finally ended. All I want to do go back to bed and get some sleep for the first time in weeks. But now my responsibilities actually matter. I just have to keep it together for a few more hours... pretend it's been a normal day.
Master Chief: Wild Bill, Sir. He wants to talk to you.
Oh, geez, what did I do wrong? Did I somehow accidentally torpedo the Hubble or something?
XO: You call the admiral 'Wild Bill?'
Master Chief: Uncle Bill and I go way back.
Plaskett: Bravo Zulu, Idaho. Well done. You brought the world back from nuclear annihilation, defeated the forces of evil, and generally kicked butt.
Not... gonna... cry.
Plaskett: I'm going to put you boys in for some basket leave at the end of the month.
I don't even know that that means, but it sounds good.
VOTING RESULT: 3
CO: Just doing our duty, Sir.
Plaskett: Son, your nation's proud of you. And so am I. Thank your men for me. Plaskett out.
I've never anyone proud of me. It feels... nice.
XO: Nice job, Skipper.
Look at that fake smile. He still hates my guts. He thinks we survived this encounter by luck. He thinks he knows everything. But for once... I know better.
XO: Waiting on new orders, Sir.
Wow, for once, what I decide to do will matter for good this time. I'd better make it important.
Wait, that's a terrible idea. If I screw up now, it will stick! Uh... what do I do, then?
---
VOTING RESULT: 3
CO: Surface the ship, XO... I think I'd like to get a little air.
XO: Very good, Sir. Officer of the deck, take us up.
OOD: Surface the ship, aye.
Everyone is already back to work. No celebrations, no cheering. Work on a submarine never really ends, but my seemingly endless labor is over.
I climb aboard the deck. The cold, wet, salty air whipping at my skin, like the sea is trying one last feeble attempt to drown me. But at long last, I have eluded its grasp.
I stare out to the horizon. Blue stretching out in every direction forever. My tiny metal prison utterly insignificant against this colossal uncaring sea. In such a big world within such an inconviecable cosmos, could this have been destiny?
I may never understand what happened to me or why, but somehow, I survived. Whether by design or by chance, perhaps the trial was a means to alter me into the person who could survive it. But... I don't feel much different.
Tomorrow will be a new day.
Still, I hesitate to return to bed. I enjoy a few more cups of my beloved coffee to help keep me up late... just in case.
THE END