Chapter Fourteen (Those On Watch…)
HUMANS MATTERED. THESE TWO HUMANS ESPECIALLY 'MATTERED'.
HOW FRAIL THEY WERE. HOW FRAGILE THEIR BODIES AND MINDS.
IT WAS GOOD ADMIN SLEPT PEACEFULLY. HUMANS REQUIRED DOWN TIME.
SHE DID NOT.
SHE KEPT VILGILANCE OVER HER CHARGES BUT SHE COULD MULTI-TASK.
THERE WERE OTHER PRIORITIES.
NONE AS IMPORTANT, OF COURSE. ADMIN MUST NOT COME TO HARM.
OUTSIDE PARAMETERS OF THIS SAFE HARBOR SHE HAD PROVIDED, THE INCLEMENT WEATHER WASHED THE EARTH CLEAN.
A HERCULEAN TASK IN ITSELF.
THE STREETS OF THE METROPOLIS WERE HUSHED AND SILENT IN THIS SECTOR.
ALL WAS AS IT SHOULD BE.
ADMIN WAS PROTECTED.
SHE TURNED HER ATTENTION..ELSEWHERE.
23OO HRS. 78 LAT 30`S 61 LONG 00`W FILCH-RONNE ICE SHELF/ANARTICA BALLISTIC MISSILE SUBMARINE (SSBN) USS RHODE ISLAND
Captain Harley Mathers kept watch over his Bridge. From the Command and Control Center, he could, at a second's notice, reach any and all compartments of his vessel with ease.
The USS Rhode Island sailed silently along beneath the miles and miles of thick ice shelf known as the Filch-Ronne.
This mission was simple enough. A 'Hunt and Seek' practice drill targeting a supposed enemy boat hidden somewhere within the treacherous trenches of the 430,000km of unstable ice formations comprising the second largest ice-shelf around these days.
A simple enough task unless one remembered the other half of the report the Captain had opened just this morning, in the privacy of his Quarters before his First and best friend, Sam Bates.
In bold red lettering, the U.S. Navy Department sent a gentle reminder that in October, 1998, the iceberg designated A-38 had broken off the very same portion of shelf under which they sailed. It was roughly the size of Delaware.
Enough ice for a very small, intimate party, Sam Bates had casually mentioned in passing but nothing like the little debacle which occurred in January of 2013, the red lettering continued with its cheery message inscribed on page seven of the 'Top Secret' pamphlet which had sat safely in the Captain's safe for three days now, as pre-ordered by Rear Admiral Chet Blakely, himself.
An area larger than the entire State of Rhode Island had broken away from the massive ice shelf above them. Captain Mathers took it as a good omen that his boat was named after the same State.
Rhode Island was a pretty big place compared to one lone, Ohio Class 726 Submarine, however, so that warm, fuzzy feeling hadn't lasted for long.
The Rhode Island had been to sea now only three days after a complete overhaul of her engines, navigational and propulsion systems.
She was the pride of the U.S. Navy. Only three like her existed with the newly designed engineering capabilities.
Mather's crew had been hand-picked with meticulous attention given to Veteran Seamen who had seen plenty of action in all realms of Combat.
A combined Force united from each Branch of the Navy, commandeered to work under extremely stressful, high-risk operational missions.
The world was a troubled place these days and knowing that ships like his patrolled his Country's defense parameters made Captain Mathers sleep easier at night.
His thoughts briefly turned to his wife, Sarah and his two little sons, Jamie and Aaron.
His mouth pulled into a soft smile, the man feeling a surge of emotion, standing here, on his Com, knowing the weight he carried on his shoulders, the decisions he would make, if the time ever came, might well insure the freedom, if not the very lives of those he loved the most, not to mention, every last man, woman and child living under the Stars and Stripes.
He was up to the task. He and his men were the best America had to offer. Honorable, conscientious, courageous and capable.
His eyes scanned those around him in the soft green illumination of the boat's running lights.
He was proud to serve with such men.
The young Petty Officer to Captain Mather's right straightened in his chair, the usually tanned, youthful face paling considerably.
"Sir." Troubled but steady eyes sought out the leader of the group.
Mathers knew the kid did not rattle easily, if at all, so he was a little surprised by the depth of alarm seen in the young man's eyes.
The Captain left the map he had been studying behind, stepping to the computer screen, but before he could arrive at the predestined spot, all hell broke loose in a world that he usually could predict like the rising of the Sun over his home base in King's Bay, Georgia.
The nuclear core shut down, the heavy hum of the reactor falling silent after a long, drawn out whirring groan of denial.
The Com bathed in darkness, all screens and electrical functions ceased, falling silent.
Captain Mathers waited patiently as did his people.
After a respectable interval, he felt comfortable in asking the proverbial question on everyone's minds.
"Back-up Systems, Gentlemen?"
"All Systems Failure, Cap." A Senior Officer advised, his calm tone serving as an example to the younger crew members. "Registered directly before Reactor Shut-Down. Ventilation inoperable.."
"Sir." Petty Officer Ryan Brickover had regained his equilibrium. "The cooling system for the Reactor is also on 'Stand-by' status."
"I see that, Petty Officer." Mathers watched the one lone line of hope in the entire boat as it flickered out from the dense darkness.
A straight green line which usually pulsed in pretty geometric shapes reassuring one and all, the powerful Reactor was humming along as expected of her.
That green line now was ominously straight and steady.
In the eerie silence, men did their jobs.
An out-of-breath Seaman Apprentice Vern Ables arrived on the scene, stumbling over the raised hull of the room upon entrance which signified the guy's state of alarm in itself.
It was second-nature for Seamen to step up before entering another section of the Sub.
"Sir, Master Chief Mahan states engines are at a dead stop. Problem is being analyzed and addressed. Communications will henceforth be carried between Ship's compartments in the old-fashioned way, with the Captain's approval, of course, Sir!"
"We have to get that Reactor Core cooled. How does Master Chief Mahan suggest we do that, Son?"
Before any answers were forthcoming, another even more heinous event began.
"Missile Bay doors opening, Captain." The Command computer screens sprang to sudden life, the Reactor humming with a sickening thud to vivid life once again.
"Excuse me?" Captain Mathers turned sharply, his eyes trained on the screens behind him as every man in the room. "What the hell is happening?" he demanded an answer.
"Launch codes executing, Sir."
Mathers ran the length of the room, his hands gripping the edge of the console as he stared, transfixed, her mouth agape.
"Shut it down!" he commanded, his voice slightly tinged with the bitter taste of fear in his suddenly dry mouth.
"Locked on targets, Sir!" the young men's training had not failed them. "Am attempting to abort!" the capable hands moved swiftly over the necessary keys. "Codes advancing, Sir."
Mathers was stunned, a fine sheen of perspiration appearing on his upper lip. He watched the rapidly descending numbers rush to the validation point on the read-out.
"Open Communications, Master Chief."
"Limited access only, Sir."
"What does that mean?" Mathers needed crucial answers at this point if he were going to avert a possible World War III.
The code sequence clicked into the 'Ready' position, all missile bays opened and at-the-ready.
"Dear God." Mathers whispered hoarsely. He was helpless. His boat dead in the water, her weapons locked and loaded, ready to fire.
What idiot did not do his job? Who's name would go down in the annuals of time as the grossly incompetent Son-of-a-bitch that inadvertently, triggered global nuclear war?
Would it be his as Commander of the Sub?
"I'm trying, Captain." Petty Officer Third Class Amos Ready's voice shook with emotion as he continually fought for control of a system that had long since gone horribly awry. "God is my witness!"
And then..
Just as suddenly as it all began.
The Command clicked into total blackness, all screens and activity shutting down except for the constant hum of the Reactor Core.
Mathers swallowed hard, commanding his senses to adjust to the shadowy world into which he and his men had been plunged.
Seconds ticked by. Captain Mathers unconsciously held his breath. He was aware of the ragged, heavy breathing surrounding him.
The ambient green glow returned, bathing the area in soft, reassuring rays.
The ventilation swelled to vivid life. Computer screens blinked on, the usual, normal data streaming merrily across the blue surfaces.
Mathers exchanged befuddled glances with his Second-In-Command.
"All Systems up and running, Sir." Petty Officer Ryan Brickover was clearly more than perplexed.
Mathers let the statement sink in. He wiped his forehead with a damp sleeve. "…What the fuck just happened here?" he asked a very stupid question, he realized.
Each man sought an answer in the other's confused faces.
"I want some answers, God-Damn It!" Mather's barked his orders and things began to happen.
He was shaking, his hands trembling slightly. He hid the fact well. "Take us up!" Orders be damned. "Get us the hell out of here. I want to see some daylight in exactly ten minutes!"
No one even thought about questioning those orders, happy to oblige!
HUMANS WERE SO PREDICTABLE. IT WAS ONLY A TEST OF HER NEW FOUND CAPABILITIES. BUT HOW WERE THEY TO KNOW.
ADMIN SLEPT.
HOW PEACEFUL HE LOOKED. SHE DISLIKED WHEN HE WAS STRESSED OR UPSET.
IT WAS GOOD THAT ADMIN WAS NOT ON THE SAILING VESSEL JUST NOW.
BUT… ADMIN SLEPT PEACEFULLY.
GOD WAS IN HIS HEAVENS AND ALL WAS RIGHT WITH THE WORLD. FOR A SHORT INTERVAL MORE…