If you've read this story before, hello. Yes this is different. I fixed all the stuff that made me want to throw up, so major revisions are before us. I may also be able to get a friend to Beta Read for me.

If you have not read this story before, Hello. I talk a lot, ignore that top part. Thank you for your interest.

Warnings for this chapter: Cussing. Nike will be putting his bleeping abilities to good use today. If you have sensitive hearing, be warned. Fog horns are rather loud.

Date: Someday in early June, Location: Somewhere in the north pacific - Mission: Search and Destroy - Target: Rouge diesel submarine - Weather conditions: Hot, wind blowing at 5 knots, small waves, no cloud cover, Sunny with a chance of chaos later in the day.

Extra notes: Beware, sailors are reporting rather aggressive seagulls this week. Make sure to wear your covers.

"Admiral! Look out!" Was the only thing Dwight D. Flysenhower heard as the 90,000 tonne flat top was violently rocked by an explosion just above his waterline.

The realization had yet to sink in on just what such a massive explosion so close to one's hull ment, and even worse what an explosion so far back could have done to one's reactor.

Alarm bells were already ringing in his head, quite literally.

Because by all account aircraft carriers can't shake their heads, as their superstructure was rather well welded down, leaving them to rely on rather less comfortable method of clearing their heads. The age old tradition of tongue biting, or under more desperate "bow dunk in cold sea water".

At this point, the third was not yet an option, though some cold water would certainly have been appreciated.

In an impressive display of speed, precision and coordination, his crew had already put emergency protocol in place, and damage response units were already on their way, the fire suppression boys hot on their tires.

If there hadn't been the threat of more explosions, or the very real realization that someone could have just lost their loved one to this explosion, the massive warship would have found the confusion if the unfortunate night crew, laying there on the floor from where they had fallen from their bunks, mildly amusing.

By his estimate, concussions were abound today.

"How the *insert any number of expletives here* did that thing make it past our defenses?!"

The captain was already on the controls, taking over where his ship couldn't while still juggling the communications between the fleet and even within the ship itself.

By now, the Flysenhower had gotten his mind cleared enough to take the control of the rest, putting his multitasking abilities to use sorting out the facts.

"Dwight! What the * insert fog horn here* was that?!"

"That was a torpedo Captain,'" He offered helpfully, all the while mentally going through damage calculations and excluding weather factors, "And please, stop screaming. I can hear you just fine."

"You're awfully calm for a ship that's missing several bulkheads and an entire chunk of hull."

"Yes, I know. It's a ship thing really. I'll start panicking if I start taking on water, if that makes you feel better."

"Not necessarily, but thank you for the consideration."

After the damage had been assessed and fleet made their emergency run back to port, the truth became frighteningly evident. Somehow, their tight parameter had been infiltrated and the damage could have been much much worse.

That night, under the mercury glow of the moon and in the safe confines of a dry dock, the crew had gotten an unexpected week of shore leave and their unfortunate ship a major pain in the flank.

"Captain?"

"Yes."

"If you see some sailors with rather... scrappy paint touch ups, give them a pass. It seems rocking ships don't make for the best places to go for paint work."

"I'll keep that in mind."

"And how are the sleeping beauties?"

"Alright, only two major concussions and a broken tail fin."

"At least we're all still alive."

"Agreed.."

That was just his luck, as tough as it may have been.

Ahem... how was that? I like it much more, though it's gotten a little bit shorter. OH WELL *shot* *insert dramatic flop here*

Also round of applause to Nike. He did well.

Also, paint touch ups... are the vehicle versions of a hair cut. Can't let that uniform get flaky.