Chapter Nine:
Nightowl

The sit-rep lay on the CO's desk, newly printed and still a little shiny. It was the old printers they used. New ships, old printers. Like everything in the Navy these days, it made little sense. Nonetheless, printers were clearly at the bottom of a $3 billion Navy wish list that included Helicopter Docks, Destroyers and a Hobart-class HD that doubled as a fixed-wing launch pad. Australian Navy's own Aircraft Carrier. But that, like the new printer Edmunds had requested two years earlier, appeared to be little more than a pipedream.

The information, including the political stability, had been forced on Edmunds by Canberra. It appeared to be their way of reminding him he was on a serious mission to a country that, once not long ago, had been an unstable entity. But that had been four years earlier. The island hadn't seen any kind of unrest since 2007. Which appeared to be where the information he was now holding came from. He checked the faded date stamp at the bottom. He was right. December 23rd 2007. Christmas Eve eve. Edmunds hadn't even been the Parramatta's CO then. He'd taken over in February 2009. Back then it had been such a ship of promise. Just returned from the Gulf, a brave hero in a sea of economic instability at the end of 2008. Prime Minister Kevin Rudd had even come to Sydney to personally shake his hand, taking time out from his many trips overseas. Defence Minister Joel Fitzgibbon had promised Edmunds that this noble fighter would see a real fight again soon. Four months later they had again shipped off to the Gulf. A short stopover. This time with 10 new crew. New crew-additions to make the ANZAC-class a force to be reckoned with. A Supplies crew, three in total, new chef, new boatswain, two new Cryptologic Sailors, two new Combat System Sailors, and his new friend Nero, his XO. It was a good group and one that soon became strong members of the team; Lieutenant 'Holey' Watson and his bizarre sense of humour, Petty Officer 'Crypto' Gregg and his obsession with animatronic toys, his apprentice Seaman 'Dee' Wong and her strange early morning routine of lighting one of those horrible aromatherapy candles (he'd tried to find an excuse to lose them, but because they had no open flame he had nothing and they were allowed to stay), and Leading Seaman 'Bomber' Brown and her kitchen antics that, on his birthday in 2009, included holding everyone's meals hostage until they could prove they had wished their honourable captain a very happy 46th birthday. They were a crew he'd come to value. His family. They'd been together for two years now. Until that day, the day of the pirates, when everything had gone wrong.

It was a day that would haunt any CO. A normal FFV, a normal boarding – until mistake after mistake. Broken radios, bad sun reflections, a boarding party not hearing the orders, assumptions and misfiring. Add to that sheer bad luck and it amounted to the kind of day your average person would rather forget. But that was never going to be possible when the TCN choppers, shooting a story on the flight of dolphins that had been in Sydney Harbour only the week before, caught half of the ordeal on camera. Naturally it was the half that included the Parramatta firing on the ship and the explosion as the normally safe (if only ship slowing) gunfire caught an already unstable engine. It exploded in a picturesque ball of flames, an image that made the front cover of every paper from Sydney to Perth, Darwin to Hobart. Then to BBC, CNN, every news channel in the multi-million-dollar Fox Network. They were worldwide news – the Australian Navy's biggest mistake. A flaw in a Navy that had made so little mistakes. Their triumphs in the Gulf forgotten, the next time the Parramatta docked after that there were no parades or families. There was no Joel Fitzgibbon or Prime Minister Rudd. Just the HMAS Kuttabul's CO and a man that was heading a tribunal into what they'd done.

And on whose head did it rest? Captain Leonard Edmunds'. 47 years old. No wife or family for he was married to the job. Two sisters, neither ADF. Mother deceased. Father, retired. He'd been ex-Navy too. Had fought during the Second World War. He hadn't been told what had happened. It would probably kill him, or at least break his heart.

So the CO bore this on his own head, only his Navy family to help him, and from what he could see they were falling apart at the seams. What would they do when the pressure got too much? And what could he do to bring them back together, working together again? Remind them that no matter what happened they were the HMAS Parramatta. Their motto ran on their lips. Strike Deep. They would never give up.

***

Their codename was Nightowl, or at least that was how they knew themselves. Six men aged between 24 and 39. The youngest man was the 24-year-old Harkin O'Brien. Nickname: Rush. His nickname came from his constant hurried speech, his amazing speed on the running track and an old Nightowl joke relating to his 'experience' in the bedroom. But whether this was true or not, Harkin could get the ladies. 6'2, dark brown hair and deep olive skin, Harkin hailed from Greece and his accent lingered. With his hurried speech every word was like a whisper. Even simply ordering a beer he could make the ladies go crazy. He had the physique of someone who had been working out for a long time, but it had been more good breeding than anything. His only downturn was that he wasn't the smartest person you'd meet. But he wasn't in Nightowl to be the brain of the operation; he was the speed element. He was fast, had great observation skills and had a photographic memory. He was the perfect messenger and watcher.

His skills were vital for their current mission.