III

Ruins of the Past

Emperor seamount chain. UEO Atlantis ASV 8100 Raptor Squadron Alpha; VF-107 Rapiers. November 8th, 2040…

Lieutenant Jane Roberts sat in the small cockpit of her 'borrowed' Raptor sub-fighter doing somewhere near 120 knots through the submerged mountain range. The fighter was actually from one of the Atlantis' reserve squadrons and it felt foreign to her. She had calibrated the controls of her own fighter to her liking, but these controls were, in layman's terms, a 'dog'; tight, sluggish and slow to respond to her actions. Add to that the fact that the squadron markings on the Raptor's tail, cockpit and fins were the simple grey monotones of a factory-built fighter, rather than the Rapiers black-and-navy scheme, she felt remarkably out of place.Ahead of her, several other fighters - one of them flown by Wing Commander Hitchcock - flew around in a standard square-search pattern. Trailing the squadron at a distance of about three miles, The Atlantis fed her own sensor information to the Raptor fighters deep within the mountain range.

seaQuest was lost. Despite Atlantis coming to her aid as quickly as possible, when they had got there, it had simply disappeared. A rescue mission had deteriorated to search and recovery before it had even begun and still - after nearly 12 hours of searching - they had found nothing... No wreckage and no beacons.

Roberts radioed in on her comms to the squadron commander ahead. "Rapier 2 to Rapier 1; I've got nothing on short range. If she's around here, she's in pieces."

Before the squadron commander could even reply, the voice of Rapier 7, Ensign Julian Hammond, impatiently interrupted. "Commander, I'm inclined to agree with the Lieutenant, sir. We've been searching for nearly 12 hours straight. I don't think she's here, sir."

Wing Commander Hitchcock sounded tired. Roberts could tell that the mission had hit him hard, but he was not prepared to show it to the rest of the squadron. He'd known a good deal of the pilots who had been assigned to the seaQuest, and he had absolutely no idea what happened to them. "We will make one more pass over the range. If we don't find anything, we'll call it a day."

No sooner had Hitchcock finished; Lieutenant Robert's sensors display lit up and began indicating scattered sonar returns just a few short miles away. "Sir, I've got something bearing 090, distance: 6 kilometres. Unknown origin… No transponders… No radio traffic."

"I've got it Lieutenant. Well done. All fighters approach with caution… Should you encounter hostiles; be advised you are weapons-free."

Roberts kicked in her throttle and brought the fighter around to the designated nav-beacon. The ocean floor rushed beneath her submarine as the Raptor hugged the submerged terrain like it was on rails. Standard UEO training doctrines would probably frown upon the somewhat 'creative' flying, but she didn't care. It often made even the most sobering and mundane missions just that much more enjoyable.

Switching between a few different sensor modes on the cockpit consoles, she frowned as she neared the point displayed by her sonar. Then decelerated and began to make a wide loop to come back over the site. The flood lights on her fighter and the virtual-map of the seafloor on her displays made her gasp in shock. "My god," she whispered to herself. "Sir… Are you seeing this?" The anguish in her voice was marked with anger, and a need to vengeance. Below, strewn across a pock-marked seabed, were the shattered hulls of three Macronesian Dragna class cruisers… and among them, indicated quite clearly by her sensors, the shattered hulks of half a dozen UEO Spectre class subfighters, or at least; what was left of them. All that remained that as recognisable was their transponder signals; now nothing more than a fading, ghostly echo. "Those stupid, god damned Macs," she spat angrily. The remains of seaQuest's entire EVA corps now lay strewn across the sea floor; the shattered debris, ruined hulls and scattered transponders of Spectre fighters, sea speeders and even sea launches were all that was left. She couldn't care less about the numerous Macronesian transponders that were still pinging away amongst them.

"Rapier 1, this is Rapier 4… We've just entered the Ballard trench, sir. From what we can tell, there was a pretty major shit fight here… there's debris everywhere. Some of it looks like it could have come from the seaQuest – we're picking up fragments of hull plating along the trench shelf that look like they have some bioskin remains."

"Damn it," spat Hitchcock over the radio. "If she's in the Ballard trench, we're never gonna find her. That bloody valley has more tributaries and fragmented fault lines than the Mid-Atlantic rise."

"Alpha wing, this is Atlantis… we're prepping a WSKRS probe to head down the trench… but be advised that if seaQuest is down there…" The Atlantis EVA commander's voice was pained. There was a quiet, terminal sense of loss to the message, and no one said a word. "…If she's down there… we… There won't be much left to find. It's beyond crush depth."

Roberts fought back a rising lump in her throat. 10 square miles of sea floor all pointing to one possible outcome – seaQuest was at the bottom of a ravine that was over 20,000 feet deep. While Atlantis could get down there with little trouble, the likelihood of the seaQuest surviving the descent was next to nothing. The big submarine would have sunk slowly… and the pressure of the water would have risen exponentially…

Hitchcock's voice was flat. "Rapiers… we've done all we can. All wings be advised; the Ballard trench is a no-fly. We'll leave it to the WSKRS.

Lieutenant Roberts hit more controls on her consoles, rapidly losing patience. "Sir, a 1000 foot-long submarine does not simply disappear… they could still be alive and simply hiding in the trench-" Roberts knew the moment she said it that it was almost impossible. The Atlantis had passed over the trench and bombarded it with the most advanced hypersonar arrays ever mounted on a submarine, and had found nothing.

Hitchcock's reply was a exactly what she'd expected, and he didn't seem too amused. "Lieutenant, we've searched 10 square miles of sea bed with a fine-toothed comb. You know just as well as I do that if the seaQuest is at the bottom of that ravine… WSKRS are our best bet to find her. I'm not going to risk sending my pilots in to a trench that is so poorly mapped that you could slam in to a coral reef and never even see it coming. Set a course back to the Atlantis. This mission is over."

The Raptors circled the site one more time like vultures on a dead beast. The haunting sight of the ruined submarines across the seabed almost seemed a premonition – the incarnation of fear itself; a war with Macronesia. A new dawn was coming, with one final look, the Rapiers accepted that fate was not always so kind, and headed home.

  

Captain Ainsley sat in his quarters listening to Beethoven's Bagatelle in A minor; more commonly known to the world as "Fur Elise". The slow, flowing notes reflected his mood to a tee… the constant variation of that simple, renowned arpeggio, played mournfully in a solemn requiem of sorrow, regret, and at the same time, beauty. Ainsley shook his head as he looked out a big, reinforced glass window of his quarters to the sea beyond. Atlantis was at a depth of only one hundred and sixty feet. The water outside was an eerie, shimmering azure blue, illuminated by the rays of sunlight that filtered from the surface above, and he couldn't help but feel as blue as the view he was looking at. The same questions constantly drilled through his head; what could he have done differently? What had transpired during the final, tragic moments of battle? After nearly 17 hours over the site, and finding little more than scattered debris over the ridge below, and finding absolutely nothing in the hopeless complex ravines, gullies and trenches of the Ballard trench, he had resigned himself to the fact that 242 people had most likely died on the seaQuest, Captain Oliver Hudson probably included in that count. He had known Hudson since his academy days. Losing his life-long friend like this seemed…wrong. They had all known the risks when they joined the navy, but it was not knowing what had happened that was tearing at him. His report officially said that seaQuest was "MPD", or Missing, Presumed Destroyed.

He was called away from his deep thought when the intercom chirped from his desk. Stopping the music, he headed to his computer console and hit the call button. The computer terminal resolved in to the harrowed face of Commander James Banick on the bridge of the ASV some way forward. "Sorry to bother you, Captain, but you have a transmission from Secretary General Dallinsley in Pearl Harbor… It's a priority-one, sir."

Ainsley nodded in defeat. He already knew what the call would be about, and he'd been dreading it all day. "Thankyou, Commander. Put the Secretary General through."

The XO seemed hesitant as he nodded; his lips pulled in to a tight, worried line and his faced disappeared and was immediately replaced by the incredibly annoyed features of the UEO Secretary General. This was not a happy politician.

"What the hell is going on down there, Mark?" spluttered the Secretary General. "First I hear the Atlantis has entered neutral confederation waters without authorization and destroyed 4 Alliance SSNs in the process, and to top it off, I'm reading reports telling me that the seaQuest has been destroyed! Damn it, Ainsley! It's chaos up here! You do realise this could lead to war don't you! I swear I could have you relie-"

Captain Ainsley was in no mood, and it was probably a good thing that he was separated from the Secretary General by about a thousand nautical miles of the Pacific Ocean. "Admiral!" he said abruptly, opting on purpose to use the retired military man's rank, rather than his formal title within the UEO. "Sir… Those Alliance submarines attacked a civilian mining base in neutralwaters. The colony sent out a general distress call. I followed standing international law in my actions, and I will not kiss Alexander Bourne's behind just so we can avoid a war while he kills women and children like he did yesterday."

Dallinsley was still infuriated. "And what gives you the right to make that decision, Captain Ainsley? You may well have been following standing orders, but I would have thought that the idea of causing a war with Macronesia might have been enough to rethink how you approach such situations! I'm recalling Atlantis to Pearl – immediately. You've created an absolutely spectacular political fireworks display over this one, Captain. There will be an inquiry."

Ainsley's lip curled with venom. "I would welcome it, sir. Atlantis suffered damage during our… engagement, and my engineers are still assessing it. Until that is done, we are, respectfully, going no where. I'd like permission to continue searching for seaQuest-"

"Damn it, Captain!" said Dallinsley again with emphasised disbelief. "Right now, you're lucky I haven't ordered Commander Banick to relieve you on the grounds of dereliction of duty!"

Ainsley didn't flinch. "Commander Banick, Mister Secretary, has supported every decision I have made. You will find the general feeling on this submarine regarding my actions if quite unanimous."

"…Are you threatening mutiny, Captain?"

"Hardly, sir. I'm merely informing you that this submarine is not in any condition to make a journey to Pearl Harbor. Unless you're willing to send out a very large harbour tug to pull us back to Hawaii, we simply need time."

Dallinsley sighed, finally accepting that there was no point in arguing with the Captain. "Mark, we're doing the best we can. But please don't make it harder by making matters worse. Stay out of trouble. As soon as you are capable of it, get back to Pearl. Dallinsley: out."

The image of the C-in-C winked out and Captain Ainsley sighed. Turning back to the view port, he returned to his thoughts, forgetting entirely about everything Dallinsley had said. They were sitting at the tip of a very large iceberg, but just how large was yet to be seen…

Lieutenant Commander Natalie Canebride sat in the mess hall of the Atlantis with her day's reports. The entire crew was now very aware of what had happened to the seaQuest, and Captain Ainsley had organised a memorial service scheduled for that evening. For the officers of the ASV, a formal service would be held on the ship's observation bridge, for the rest of the crew, a minute's silence would be observed shortly after. She was still struggling to come to grips with the magnitude of it all. 242 people: dead. And for what? seaQuest was the single most celebrated submarine of the UEO fleet, and now her fate seemed doomed to become a mystery of time.

Finishing the first report, she set it aside and realised that there was a long shadow being cast over her. She looked up to see Commander James Banick, his expression unreadable, like something was on his mind. But he still managed a smile as he looked at her. "Oh, sir, I was just-"

He waved her away as she was about to get up. "No, no, Commander. Please, carry on. I was merely passing through and noticed that you looked like you… needed a friend."

She raised an eyebrow. "Sir, I don't know what you mean..."

Banick looked at 3 empty coffee mugs next to the Lieutenant Commander and smiled only too-knowingly.

Canebride smiled weakly. "Well… only 2 of those are mine," she confessed with a mischievous smile. Please, Commander, sit down."

The Atlantis XO smiled and pulled up a chair. "Call me Jim," he said. "…And it looks like shit's about to hit the fan."

Canebride frowned as she put down another report. "Oh?"

Banick lowered his voice a little, so as not to be heard by the other crew around the officer's lounge. "Command has hit the roof," he explained. "The Macs are throwing all types of political crap at the Security Council, the EU, NORPAC, even the NSC. It seems that they're a little upset that we trashed a few of their attack boats."

Natalie didn't seem too surprised, rolling her eyes slightly. This was hardly an extraordinary event, and when dealing with Macronesia – in particular Alexander Bourne – the UEO was quite used to melodrama in gratuitous amounts. "So what's new? Even so… the UEO is strained enough as it is without adding to the problems. What's the general assembly's take on it?"

Banick hesitated. Something was different this time. "There's going to be an investigation. And it looks like they've taken it pretty seriously. The Secretary General himself spoke to the Captain and effectively terminated our orders."

"So much for shakedown."

Banick looked down at the table, smiling slightly, and then back to Canebride apologetically. "I'm sorry. This isn't cheering you up, is it?"

She smiled at him as she placed aside another report. "No… Not really. But it's ok; at least it's something to talk about. I was getting kind of bored."

The XO cleared his throat as he smiled, and pushed his chair back from the table. "Well, I've got to get back to the Bridge. It's my shift in a few minutes, so I'll see you later."

"Yeah, sure," she replied with a smile, but looking more than a little unconvinced that Banick was entirely finished. "Take it easy."

Banick started to turn, but he was extremely hesitant and was surrounded with a tense, nervous air. She laughed a little, looking up at him, having a very good idea what was on the Commander's mind. "Was there something else?"

A half-smile was badly hidden on Banick's features. The mock expression of surprise did little to help. "No, no… well… actually…" The short sigh that followed was a telling tale that there was absolutely no going back. Natalie Canebride looked rather amused. "I was… wondering… if you were busy tomorrow evening."

Canebride shook her head and with a broad grin, and a twinkle in her eye. "No, not really… Was there any particular reason you asked?"

Banick smiled. She wasn't going to make this easy for him. "Well, I know of this great little restaurant on Waikiki. Would you like to… urm, you know. Go out some time? Dinner? Lunch? Hell, even just coffee-"

It had taken him a while, but the Atlantis's XO had finally said it. Canebride had had her fun, and smiled. "I'd love to. See you later."

Banick smiled broadly, clearing his throat again, and nodding, grateful for small mercies. "Great. Well, I guess I'll see you later, Lieutenant Commander… I mean, Natalie."

Banick wasted little time in making himself scarce as he walked out of the lounge quickly, having completed his mission, but still feeling more than a little awkward. It didn't matter how many times such encounters happened; they never got any easier. Natalie Canebride smiled to herself again as she went back to her work with a knowing smile. "Yep… He likes me…"

Walking down corridor B-1, directly behind the Bridge, James Banick was still shaking off his nervousness, although admittedly it wasn't as bad considering the reply he'd gotten to the invitation was a positive one. Relatively speaking, he felt quite inflated over it, but he didn't have much time to dwell on it as the ship's PA echoed down the halls. "All senior officers; report to the Captain's briefing room immediately."

Banick stopped just as he entered the bridge and sighed deeply. Aboard this submarine, he was quickly finding that there was never a dull moment. There was always some detail of being a senior officer that needed dealing with. Doubling back along his path, he headed back through the clamshell doors for the briefing room.

Things had seemed bleak on the Atlantis in the time since the attack on Nintoku. Banick didn't think it was just the seaQuest's loss, either. The thought of a war with the Macronesian Alliance didn't thrill the crew in the slightest, and hour after hour, the prospect of it seemed to get only more likely. Stepping through the double doors of the wardroom, he nodded respectfully to the gathered officers who had beaten him to the meeting. Natalie Canebride was among them, and regarded him with a smug grin. Next to her Lieutenant Commander Callaghan, Lieutenant Phillips, Chief Stevens and finally, sitting at the head of the long table, Captain Mark Ainsley.

After taking his seat next to the Captain on the right hand side of the table, the Captain smiled with a polite nod, and got straight to the point. "We're not going back to Pearl Harbor," he said quietly.

Uneasiness quickly spread around the table and several of the more junior officers fidgeted in their seats, not exactly sure of what to make of the Captain's decision. Ainsley had more or less just declared his intent to disobey a direct order from UEO Fleet Command. "I'm about to commit a violation of our orders," he continued. "We were called back to Pearl Harbor pending an investigation of my orders to defend Nintoku. UEO Command believes that our actions were... unjustified. While we did uphold the letter of international law, we also – in the process – committed the UEO to an open fire fight with Alliance forces. No, I don't know what the Alliance has demanded of the General Assembly… but the indication seems to be that there will be a full inquiry as a result."

Chief Stevens was cautious with his question. "Sir, Permission to speak freely?"

Ainsley nodded curtly, and Stevens settled back in to his chair. "You realise sir, that in the event you are called before a board of inquiry and your decision to disobey these orders is brought in to question… a lot of us will have to testify to it."

Ainsley smiled slightly and shook his head. "I understand that, Chief… Anyone who does not wish to get involved with this may leave now… and I will make note of your objection in my log. You will be absolved of all responsibility for these actions."

The officers looked at one another grimly, but did not move from their seats. Ainsley looked at them all very carefully, and ended his long gaze by taking particular attention to Commander Banick. "Let me make this perfectly clear... under naval regulations, you are required to relieve me of command for this. Or to be specific; Commander Banick is. Should he decide to do this, I will not stop him… but know that I would not force such a situation unless I believed it was absolutely necessary."

Banick nodded grimly. "You wish to explain that, sir?"

Ainsley cocked his head, as if implying he was happy to oblige. "Computer," he said clearly, "Map please. The Emperor seamounts: One-seven-five east by zero-four-zero north."

The computer bleeped an affirmative, and responded by dimming the room's lights and presenting a large holographic map over the wardroom desk. Satisfied with it to that point, Ainsley prompted for further detail "Overlay projected courses of UEO Atlantis ASV 8100 and UEO seaQuest DSV 4600 between the dates of one-one-zero-six-four-one and one-one-one-two-four-one."

A long red line was projected over the slowly rotating map. The line weaved its way up the chain of mountains, bringing it remarkably close to the Nintoku colony, while at the same time; a blue line was overlayed showing the relative location of the seaQuest throughout the mission. The gathered officers frowned as they began to see the pattern, but Ainsley was not finished. "Computer… Display location of UEO Atlantis and UEO seaQuest as of fourteen hundred on one-one-zero-seven-four-one."

The computer bleeped again as it overlayed a pair of gold deltas above the blue and red paths. Banick's heart skipped a beat as he saw the connection; Atlantis was sitting comfortably just outside the Nintoku colony's territorial waters… while seaQuest was trailing nearly a hundred nautical miles to her south… directly over a massively complex system of trenches and mountains that included the Ballard trench. Ainsley shook a suspicious finger at the projected image, looking at his officers with a cautious eye. "Isn't it funny how just as we pass the Nintoku ranges… the Macs decide to attack the colony, and for whatever amazing coincidence, the seaQuest is caught in the middle of one of the most treacherous mazes of the northern Pacific?"

"Well I'll be damned…" said Callaghan as it all fell together. "They were expecting us?"

"It's the only way I can rationalize it," said Ainsley helplessly. "The Macs hit Nintoku with eight fast attack submarines. Nintoku is nothing more than a mining establishment with poor defences and very little strategic value. Why would they send so much firepower against such a target?"

"Unless they expected trouble," said Banick with narrowed eyes.

Canebride looked a little sceptical. "Sir, our mission details were classified from the highest level of UEO command. How could they have coordinated such a precise strike?"

"That's the one thing I haven't been able to answer, Lieutenant Commander," explained the Captain. "And that's exactly why I don't like what I'm looking at… and why I'm inclined to disregard our orders to return to Pearl Harbor."

"Ok, assuming they knew…" began Callaghan, putting the hypothetical scenario down as it came. "…Are you trying to say that Nintoku was a diversion to draw us away from the seaQuest?"

"…Precisely," confirmed Ainsley grimly and with an awkward darkness that managed to send shivers down the spines of almost everyone in the room. "We're drawn away from seaQuest, out of any possible range to respond to a call for aid… and the moment we are engaged by Macronesians here at Nintoku, the seaQuest is conveniently engaged by more Alliance forces… and disappears."

"So seaQuest was the target the entire time," said Canebride, stating the obvious. "…But why?"

"I don't know. Yes, seaQuest has long been a thorn in Macronesia's side, but to do something like this given that seaQuest was literally only a few months from decommission makes no sense. The Macs have just risked an open war… and appear to have achieved very little in the process. My question is why?"

Commander Callaghan cast his eyes back and forth nervously. He didn't know his Captain well enough to make any real judgement on his character, but nonetheless, it was a valid question. "Sir, you are risking a lot based on a pretty downright sketchy assumption. If you're wrong, you will be court martialled.

"Of that I have no doubt, Mister Callaghan," confessed Ainsley with a wry smile. "As I said at the beginning of this meeting, anyone who does not wish to be involved in this may object, and I shall not think ill of you for doing so. Commander Banick… I'm sorry to present this situation to you, but unless you relieve me of duty right here, and right now… you will be an accessory to a fairly extensive list of crimes."

Banick seemed to be considering Ainsley's warning very seriously for a moment, working his jaw with a wry smile. He'd know the Captain for quite a few years, and respected him as both a colleague and mentor. The man was a living legend, and now he was asking the impossible not only of himself; but his crew. Greatness had limits… and today that limit would be defined by the actions of just a few good men and women and their Captain, against the will of their highest orders. "Captain…" he said with quiet deliberation, "…Given my record, I cannot really see myself relieving a superior officer of command and getting away with it. I'd probably be court martialled for even considering it. If you want to go and blow up more Australians; hell… I'm with you. My record could only be improved by such a thing."

The laughter of the other officers confirmed their mutual agreement with the Commander's crude assessment, and the Captain of the Atlantis could only smile. This crew, it seemed, would follow him to hell itself if he asked them to. He just hoped that it would not come to that. "In that case, Commander… set your course for the Ballard Trench."

With the meeting so informally adjourned, Ainsley got up from the desk, nodded again to his officers in silent thanks for their support, and then quickly left the room. As the other officers around the table got up and departed in similar fashion, Banick walked quietly over to where Natalie Canebride sat and whispered into her ear. "Is a rain cheque on Dinner OK?"