The Bourne Fail-Safe
Russian Nuclear Submarine – Striker Class – North Atlantic - 1993
Boris Mitovich pulled a cigarette from his coat pocket. Shaking the package he grabbed it and stuck in his mouth, lighting it and taking a long draft. Ah, he sighed, Russian cigarettes, the best ever made, unlike their weak American counterparts. Taking a few more puffs he took it out of his mouth and smothered it in the ashtray.
"Captain. We are arriving at checkpoint one comrade. Our orders are to rise to the service and contact headquarters," the Yeoman, Petril Petovsky reported.
"Da. Raise us to periscope depth. Prepare the broadcast equipment," Boris ordered lazily. He stood up, stretching his legs having been sitting down for nearly two hours. Boris all around his ship was nicknamed the "lazy captain," being as he spent most of his time sitting down. But during a battle, he was an unrivaled tactician, and could best any enemy sub.
"Comrade Captain! We have a radiation leak!" a breathless sailor said, running up. By the looks of his uniform he was from engineering.
"What do you mean we have a radiation leak? All the badges from the last batch were tested negative," Boris demanded.
"There is no mistaking. We have a leak Captain," the sailor replied, but was suddenly silenced. The entire submarine went silent. The clock ticked the seconds, when several compressed within a matter of second gun reports echoed through the hull. There was a clunk of metal against metal, the sound of a man reloading his weapon, when the gunfire restarted.
"Captain! What do we do!" a terrified COM officer shouted.
"Shut up," Boris said, the words somewhat less lazy, "Petril, Nimoskvy, Asaknov, follow me. And get yourself armed."
"But Captain. Our orders?" Petril said.
"Continue rising. We will broadcast our distress call when we reach the surface, and prepare to vent all chambers," Boris called back. He pulled out his pistol and motioned for his hand picked team to follow him.
Gabriel Fox crouched, leaning against the bulkhead wall, feeling the metal vibrate beneath him, and listening to oncoming footsteps. Checking his watch on the timer he set on the reactor he glanced down the hall way again, making sure it was safe. Reaching into his pants pocket he reloaded his gun. Making sure the first bullet was locked into place, he moved from his position, taking note of everything around him so he could make his quick escape to his makeshift life raft.
"Petril go left. Nimoskvy go right. Asaknov come with me. He's in the missile chamber," Boris said, unaware that Gabriel had heard everything. Gabriel smiled to himself. The fools were splitting apart. He wouldn't even need his gun for this. He holstered it, and jammed himself into a small corner in between the bulkhead separating the hydraulics and the missile tubes. Boris and Asaknov passed, not noticing Gabriel.
Moving quickly, he came up behind him. Grabbing Boris' right arm he bent it sideways, breaking the arm while grabbing his forearm and flexing his middle tendon, forcing him to pull the guns trigger. Three shells slammed into Asaknov's torso, who crumpled. But to make sure, Gabriel wrenched Boris' gun away from him, planting two shells into Asaknov's head, while breaking Boris' neck in the same movement as disassembling the gun with one hand.
Listening to the shouts he pulled his own gun out, and moved downwards toward the end of the hydraulics chamber. Both Petril, and Nimoskvy appeared, looking dead straight at Gabriel. Both hesitated a fatal second to look at their dead captain, his head turned at an odd angle. Two gun reports, two thumps and both men fell, holes in their head.
Smiling to himself, Gabriel ran back into the missile tube, climbing into his makeshift life raft, an empty missile shell, with an air bladder, and a parachute and inflatable raft inside, he made sure the GPS tracking unit on his vest was on, and shut the missile tube door. Pulling out a glow stick he cracked it open to give himself enough light to see the depth meter. 200 ft. 180 ft. 160. 140. 120. 100. 80. 60. 40. 20. 0. He flipped the switch and the missile launched.
"Grensky! We have a positive lock on a launched missile! Missile tube four!" Sonar man Tupolov shouted.
"Lock it down. We still have the emergency fail-safe detonation. The Americans must not know of this," Grensky shouted. The Sonar man rapidly input the commands into the fail-safe console.
"Comrade! It is not working!"
"What! Everything has a fail-safe."
"Comrade! The reactor is melting down."
"Override controls not responding. Fail-safes on all systems have been destroyed!"
"Oh no," Grensky said softly, and as though the final word out of his mouth, was the signal to death, his dreams, thoughts, and life were put to an end as the reactor exploded and sent the missile submarine straight to its dark watery grave.
Gabriel watched the submarine go down with satisfaction. One down, he thought, so many to go. But his job was done. For now.
Russian Nuclear Submarine – Striker Class – North Atlantic - 1993
Boris Mitovich pulled a cigarette from his coat pocket. Shaking the package he grabbed it and stuck in his mouth, lighting it and taking a long draft. Ah, he sighed, Russian cigarettes, the best ever made, unlike their weak American counterparts. Taking a few more puffs he took it out of his mouth and smothered it in the ashtray.
"Captain. We are arriving at checkpoint one comrade. Our orders are to rise to the service and contact headquarters," the Yeoman, Petril Petovsky reported.
"Da. Raise us to periscope depth. Prepare the broadcast equipment," Boris ordered lazily. He stood up, stretching his legs having been sitting down for nearly two hours. Boris all around his ship was nicknamed the "lazy captain," being as he spent most of his time sitting down. But during a battle, he was an unrivaled tactician, and could best any enemy sub.
"Comrade Captain! We have a radiation leak!" a breathless sailor said, running up. By the looks of his uniform he was from engineering.
"What do you mean we have a radiation leak? All the badges from the last batch were tested negative," Boris demanded.
"There is no mistaking. We have a leak Captain," the sailor replied, but was suddenly silenced. The entire submarine went silent. The clock ticked the seconds, when several compressed within a matter of second gun reports echoed through the hull. There was a clunk of metal against metal, the sound of a man reloading his weapon, when the gunfire restarted.
"Captain! What do we do!" a terrified COM officer shouted.
"Shut up," Boris said, the words somewhat less lazy, "Petril, Nimoskvy, Asaknov, follow me. And get yourself armed."
"But Captain. Our orders?" Petril said.
"Continue rising. We will broadcast our distress call when we reach the surface, and prepare to vent all chambers," Boris called back. He pulled out his pistol and motioned for his hand picked team to follow him.
Gabriel Fox crouched, leaning against the bulkhead wall, feeling the metal vibrate beneath him, and listening to oncoming footsteps. Checking his watch on the timer he set on the reactor he glanced down the hall way again, making sure it was safe. Reaching into his pants pocket he reloaded his gun. Making sure the first bullet was locked into place, he moved from his position, taking note of everything around him so he could make his quick escape to his makeshift life raft.
"Petril go left. Nimoskvy go right. Asaknov come with me. He's in the missile chamber," Boris said, unaware that Gabriel had heard everything. Gabriel smiled to himself. The fools were splitting apart. He wouldn't even need his gun for this. He holstered it, and jammed himself into a small corner in between the bulkhead separating the hydraulics and the missile tubes. Boris and Asaknov passed, not noticing Gabriel.
Moving quickly, he came up behind him. Grabbing Boris' right arm he bent it sideways, breaking the arm while grabbing his forearm and flexing his middle tendon, forcing him to pull the guns trigger. Three shells slammed into Asaknov's torso, who crumpled. But to make sure, Gabriel wrenched Boris' gun away from him, planting two shells into Asaknov's head, while breaking Boris' neck in the same movement as disassembling the gun with one hand.
Listening to the shouts he pulled his own gun out, and moved downwards toward the end of the hydraulics chamber. Both Petril, and Nimoskvy appeared, looking dead straight at Gabriel. Both hesitated a fatal second to look at their dead captain, his head turned at an odd angle. Two gun reports, two thumps and both men fell, holes in their head.
Smiling to himself, Gabriel ran back into the missile tube, climbing into his makeshift life raft, an empty missile shell, with an air bladder, and a parachute and inflatable raft inside, he made sure the GPS tracking unit on his vest was on, and shut the missile tube door. Pulling out a glow stick he cracked it open to give himself enough light to see the depth meter. 200 ft. 180 ft. 160. 140. 120. 100. 80. 60. 40. 20. 0. He flipped the switch and the missile launched.
"Grensky! We have a positive lock on a launched missile! Missile tube four!" Sonar man Tupolov shouted.
"Lock it down. We still have the emergency fail-safe detonation. The Americans must not know of this," Grensky shouted. The Sonar man rapidly input the commands into the fail-safe console.
"Comrade! It is not working!"
"What! Everything has a fail-safe."
"Comrade! The reactor is melting down."
"Override controls not responding. Fail-safes on all systems have been destroyed!"
"Oh no," Grensky said softly, and as though the final word out of his mouth, was the signal to death, his dreams, thoughts, and life were put to an end as the reactor exploded and sent the missile submarine straight to its dark watery grave.
Gabriel watched the submarine go down with satisfaction. One down, he thought, so many to go. But his job was done. For now.