Commander's log. Current date: September 21, 2015.

Taskforce Thirty's arrival has been both a boon and a hindrance. A boon in the fact that we can engage an Abyssal fleet if needed. A hindrance in that they stretch our supplies even thinner.

Once the threat of an Abyssal invasion passed I ordered their task force to dock. They will only sortie if an Abyssal fleet is spotted. North Carolina and Wasp did a good job at hiding it but I know they're disappointed.

I've received no indication that reinforcements from the U.S are inbound. North Carolina and Wasp are confident that they're coming. I hope that confidence isn't misplaced.

I-22 took one last breath of fresh air before diving. Her orders were to patrol the Coral Sea. She has confirmed that New Caledonia had fallen to the Abyssals and had sent a report to Commander Hayes. She had her course plotted and settled in for a long and, hopefully, boring patrol.

"Con sonar contact bearing: 0-3-7."

"Con sonar contact bearing: 0-3-3."

"Con sonar contact bearing: 0-2-8."

I-22 came out of her half-asleep state.

"Contacts 1-3 identified as warships."

She ran through the steps to find their speed.

"Fifteen knots. From the sound of their screws they're destroyers."

She raised her periscope and sighted the destroyers. She looked at her map, "Three destroyers in the middle of the Coral Sea. They're either patrolling for submarines or are an advanced scout squadron for a convoy or task force."

She lowered her scope, sent a message to the Commander, and continued on. If these destroyers are an advanced escort she'll run into whatever they're escorting after a while. Once the destroyers left she plotted a zig-zag course to cover as much ocean as possible. This continued for two hours until she concluded the destroyers were an anti-submarine patrol.

By seventeen forty hours, she had finished her patrol with nothing to show for it. Frustrated, she sent a message to Commander Hayes requesting permission to patrol the Arafura and Timor seas. A response came three minutes later. 'You are clear to patrol the Arafura and Timor seas. Extreme caution is advised.'

With approval from Commander Hayes, she set her course.

At twenty-three fifty-two hours, she enters her new patrol zone. She has already had to dodge a dozen patrolling Abyssals just to reach her new patrol zone. Her crew urged her to reconsider but she was set on her decision. She had come all this way and used all of this fuel she wasn't coming back empty-handed. She was going to sink something goddammit!

She raised her scope and scanned her surroundings. She saw the massive silhouettes of Papua and Australia but no ships. Confident, she lowered her scope and slowly broke the surface. She kept a close eye on her sonar as it provided an extra layer of detection. She breathed in the fresh, slightly salty, air.

She enjoyed it for as long as she could. She knew, sooner than later, she would have to dive again. It was sooner than she expected.

"Ship spotted. Bearing: 0-0-0."

"Ship spotted. Bearing: 3-9-8."

"Ship spotted. Bearing: 0-0-2."

"Emergency dive."

She slipped beneath the waves forty seconds later. She reduced her speed to one knot and rigged for ultra-quiet. She turned her rudder thirty degrees to port and raised her scope. She spotted the dark silhouettes of ships heading for her. Their screws had high RPMs so she knew they were destroyers.

"Con sonar contact bearing: 0-1-1."

"Con sonar contact bearing: 0-0-5."

"Con sonar contact bearing: 0-2-0."

While her sonar operator continued to call out more targets, she listened for the screws of the new contacts. Their screws had slightly slower revolutions but were faster than a merchants'.

"Cruisers, most likely."

She used her scope to try and confirm her suspicions but all she could see were black silhouettes. They looked to be larger than the other silhouettes but she wasn't going to risk misidentifying them.

"Enemy's speed is twenty-four knots."

She nodded. Her sonar operator reported eighteen to thirty ships already. Their screws were blending in making it difficult to get an accurate number.

She can confirm that the slower revolutions she heard were from cruisers. She couldn't distinguish between light and heavy. The minutes slowly ticked by as the destroyers and cruisers sailed past. She was too close to the Abyssals for her liking and she didn't have a lot of water to play with if she attacked. That and cruisers were not important enough for her to expend some of her limited torpedoes. She was going for battlecruisers, battleships, or carriers.

She swung her attack scope past the cruisers and her eyes lit up followed by a grin.

"Con sonar contact bearing: 0-1-9."

"Battleships."

She moved into attack position and prepared for a torpedo attack. The battleships were in the center of a protective ring of destroyers and at least two cruisers. It wouldn't protect them.

"Con sonar contact bearing: 3-7-1."

"Do not report contacts to me."

With I-22 focused on her target the sonar operator listened to the revolutions of the new contacts. They were faster than the battleships but slower than the destroyers and cruisers.

"Rotate the observation scope to bearing: 3-7-3."

The scope was duly rotated.

"Enemy ships sighted. Twelve or more destroyers, three or more cruisers and they're escorting something."

"Identification?"

"Stand by."

"...Contacts are carriers."

I-22 was about to launch a full spread when she heard the new contact's identification. "Can you confirm?"

"Confirmed. Four enemy carriers with heavy escort."

She scrapped her original attack plan and started preparing an attack against one of the carriers. The preparations were finished three minutes later.

"Fire tube one."

Whoosh.

"Torpedo in the water."

"Fire tube two."

Whoosh.

"Torpedo in the water."

"Fire tube three."

Whoosh.

"Torpedo in the water."

"Fire tube four."

Whoosh.

"Torpedo in the water."

"Fire tube five."

Whoosh.

"Torpedo in the water."

"Fire tube six."

Whoosh.

"Torpedo in the water."

She rigged for silent running and dived for one hundred meters. She turned her rudder hard to port and slowly started to turn. Everything was silent. Her anticipation was slowly building. The wait is always the worst part. Time dragged on and on as she waited.

"Time to impact?"

"Ten seconds ma'am."

…She heard a muffled explosion and felt the shockwave through the water. A second closely followed. Followed by a third. Then a forth; and then a fifth. There was a sixth and final explosion and she smiled pridefully.

"Scratch one carrier."

Now came the difficult part. Escaping.

"Con sonar contact bearing: 0-8-8. Closing. Contact marked as Alpha one."

"Con sonar contact bearing: 2-5-0. Contact marked as Alpha two."

"Current depth: 1-0-0 meters."

"Depth to keel?"

"7-5 meters."

"Dive to 1-5-0 meters."

Her dive planes angled and she slowly traveled deeper.

"Contact Alpha one range is one kilometer and closing."

I-22 couldn't hear anything save for the pinging of active sonar. She faintly heard something in the water and then felt a shockwave.

'Depth charges.'

"Contact Alpha two is changing course. Contact Alpha ones' range is 250 meters."

"100 meters."

She looked up but didn't see the destroyer passing over her. She watched, concerned that it might drop depth charges.

BOOM! BOOM! BOOM!

She hissed and felt her hull groan. She didn't take any damage but it was worrying how close those depth charges were. She heard more explode behind her.

"Contact designated Alpha three closing. Bearing: 1-7-7. Range: 800 meters."

"Contact designated Alpha four closing. Bearing: 2-0-0. Range: 1.2 kilometers."

"Current depth 1-5-0 meters."

"Dive to 1-7-0 meters."

Her dive planes angled downward and slowly took her deeper.

"Contact Alpha four changing course. Contact Alpha three closing. Range: 50 meters."

BOOM! BOOM! BOOM! BOOM! BOOM! BOOM!

More shockwaves batter her hull causing small leaks. The sound of explosions mixed with the high pitch pinging of active sonar has given her a monster of a headache that continues to get worse. More depth charges explode to her stern followed by more explosions off her port side. Another spread is closer and causes more leaks to spring in her hull and the shockwaves disable her hydrophones. Now, she is completely blind to what is happening above her. The explosions of depth charges and the pinging of sonar blend together in I-22's ears. Ever so slowly the explosions and pinging of sonar quiets down. Ten minutes later, merciful silence is all I-22 hears. It will be a few more hours before she believes it is safe to send Commander Hayes her report.

At 0600 hours exactly Commander Hayes was woken by his alarm. He hit the top of the clock silencing the alarm. He yawned and groaned simultaneously. He sat up and rubbed his eyes.

"I really shouldn't work so late into the night."

He stood up and walked over to the bathroom. He flipped the light on and walked up to the mirror. His tired reflection stared back at him. He rubbed his face and reached for the shaving cream.

He exited a few minutes later looking fresher. He changed into his uniform and headed for his office. He unlocked the door and stepped inside. He headed for his desk, sat down, and saw a report that must have come in after he went to sleep.

It read: 'Enemy fleet sighted at 1:17 P.M. The coordinates are: 10*11'00"S 141*05'11"E. Heading: 1-8-2. Speed: 24 knots. Enemy fleet includes four heavy fleet units and four carriers. Launched torpedo attack against one carrier sinking it. Avoided depth charge attacks for thirty minutes.'

"Son of a bitch."

He stood up and walked over to a large map. He marked the reported position of the fleet and drew out a line of where they should be if they continued on the same heading and speed. He walked back to his desk and looked over the deployments of his submarines. The closest submarines that could intercept are USS Thresher and I-27.