Well everyone, I have a joke someone told me for ya'll. It is a joke in the spirit of the upcoming elections for the United States.
A man comes up to his friend and gets his attention. The man asks: "What's the matter?"
"I got a problem, remember about what I spoke to you about last week?"
"You mean about you worryin' about what your son'll be when he grows up?"
"Yep. I did exactly what you told me to do. I put a twenty dollar bill, a bible, and a fifth of whiskey on the table, hid, and waited for him to come home. I remember you said if he takes the money, he'll be a banker; if he takes the bible, he'll be a pastor, and if he takes the whiskey he'll be a drunk."
"Well? What'd he take?"
"He took all three, now what's that mean?" The friend paled and slapped his forehead.
"Oh my Lord, he'll be a politician!"
How's that for humor? I'll tell ya, in the words of my pastor, Brother Roger, 'If that don't ring ya bell then yer clapper's broke'. (gets hit by a bell)
Gotta fix that blasted thing. Last time the bell broke, we had a heck of a time chasin' the bats out of the belfry. (a bat flies over and dogs start howling)
Well, Happy Halloween? You know, I don't mind the dogs howling at night, keeps the wildlife away. I just wish they wouldn't do it right outside my window...
DISCLAIMER: I DO NOT OWN ANYTHING OR ANYONE IN THE SPYRO UNIVERSE. ONLY MY OCS.
Chapter 56: Titans of Rotiart Part 2
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Smoke from the burning ships turned the normal, blue sky into a pitch black maelstrom. Fire from burning fuel gave the serene ocean a hellish appearance. While the heavily armored and armed capital ships slugged it out left and right, lightly armored escorts and small craft fell victim to stray rounds, secondary weapons fire, or the occasional, spiteful, cannon shell through the wheelhouse. That doesn't mean they were helpless.
The small destroyers, destroyer escorts, and light cruisers on both sides were going this way and that, trying with all their might to line up a torpedo salvo that could, and would, send an enemy ship to the bottom. Up in the clouds where Kronan fought with the Mechanos Loyalists, the bubble trails of the torpedoes crisscrossed the sea in an odd sort of 'checkerboard'. The most impressive exchange was where a Praetorian destroyer fired off an entire complement of twelve torpedoes at an incoming anti-air cruiser that, having closed with a different destroyer, lowered it's anti-air cannons to rake the lightly armored warship.
Of the torpedoes, eight hit their target, and the remaining four sailed on to strike, of all things, the ass-end of a hostile battlecruiser doing its damndest to avoid a torpedo spread fired from another destroyer. The anti-air cruiser was unceremoniously abandoned as she rolled to her side and sank within six minutes of getting hit.
The Rotarians also got a full view of the Praetorian 'secret weapon': the SLEO (Ship-Launched Explosive Ordnance) 18 inch Anti-ship Rocket. A short, squat rocket that, like the Tellanian 'Katyusha' was laid on a ramp and launched at a vessel. A special tail design kept it level as it flew and, depending on the warhead setting, it could detonate upon contact like a torpedo, or it could pierce the hull and detonate inside like a delayed-timed shell.
This weapon, in conjunction with torpedoes and the destroyer crew's 'Never Say Die' attitude, allowed them to stand before larger vessels and give them a beating they'd never forget. These so-called 'tin-cans' may not have been able to take a beating but they could sure as hell give one.
As Kronan shot down the fighter before him, his headset clicked on with his co-pilot/bombadier, Sergeant Franc Samson.
"Sir, I have identified our target: Titan-class battleship RPS Juggernaut. Request permission to arm weapon." Kronan scanned the skies nearby and, not seeing any hostile aircraft, gave his okay. He heard Samson flip a switch and a red light came on near the altimeter gauges.
"Weapon is armed. Please maintain holding pattern near the target vessel. Releasing weapon in five... four... three... two... one... Now." Kronan felt a bump as the large bomb under the fuselage released. Gazing left towards the target ship, a large battleship currently holding back towards the outer flank of the fleet. It was made distinctive because a three round salvo from one of the defecting battlecruisers had ripped through the aft turret which was now burning.
"I have eyes on a weak spot. Try and guide it down to that damaged turret. If we can get the weapon to the magazine, we can sink the ship with a catastrophic explosion."
"I copy. Aiming down the rabbit hole."
Kronan saw the weapon sail by the aircraft, wings and rudder unfolding as it dropped and move as Samson guided it. While Samson's eyes were glued to the moniter showing the bomb, Kronan remained on alert looking for fighters. A quick glance at his panel showed that his altitude was holding steady at 18,525 feet. He gave a glance in his mirror that let him see what was behind him and saw Samson giving a faint smile.
"Weapon is now passing Angels Fifteen. Heh, that warhead must be a lot heavier than the practice bombs we used this tech on. Before getting assigned combat, we practiced 'smartening up' two-hundred fifty and five-hundred pounders. Guess two-thousand pounds falls faster than five-hundred, eh?" Kronan chuckled.
"Lawson's Sixth Principle: A heavier object falls at a faster rate than a lighter object of similar size." Samson chuckled.
"Yeah, and the Seventh Principle goes on to state that once an object hits terminal velocity, it will be going at the fastest possible speed and at the greatest possible momentum. Hmm... weapon is passing Angels Twelve. No abnormalities. How we looking up here?"
"Skies are clean, except for the smoke. No hostiles. Either we splashed them all or they just don't know we're up here. Though, I'm inclined to believe the former than the latter."
"Yeah, three carriers. No way in hell we splashed all of them or got them all to have a change of heart. They're up here, it's just a matter of if and when we come across one or more of them. Weapon is now at Angels Nine, it seems the weapon has reached terminal velocity." Kronan thought of something when he said that.
"So, how often did the weapons actually punch a hole clear through the target?" There was a pause.
"Hmm... Never thought about that. Well, I can say it never happened in training but, again, that was, 'training'. No way we'd know what happens if we use new weapons in a live-combat scenario. I doubt a ship that heavily armored will simply yield to having a one Ton hole punched through it. But, stranger things have happened. Passing Angels Five, it's closing in fast... Okay, weapon is almost right over the target, I am steepening the dive. This is going to be like hitting a bullseye with a pea-shooter at five miles."
"A lot different from carpet bombing, huh?"
"Yeah... I think the higher ups called it 'precision bombing' or something like that... You think it'll ever become SOP?"
"Directing a weapon to destroy a target with minimal collateral damage? Sounds like a win to me. ETA to Weapon impact?"
"Passing nine-fifty... eight-fifty... seven-fifty... six-fifty... five-fifty... four... three... two... one... IMPACT!" Kronan caught a flash to his right and rolled the plane as three fighters shot through the smoke and tried to get on his tail. Samson, however, was livid.
"No detonation! The weapon didn't go! Dammit! What the hell happened? Did it actually plow straight through the damn-"
It had just so happened that Kronan was upside-down and eyeing the Juggernaut when he saw a flicker in the hole through the aft turret. The flicker, in the blink of an eye, turned into an explosion that blew the sides out, lifted the remains of the turret out of the housing, shredded the aft bridge and smokestack with debris, and folded the aft deck backwards onto itself. Through the roaring inferno, Kronan could see through the ship all the way down to the keel which was laid open, flooding the ship from within.
"I'd call that a direct hit, Sergeant."
"Yeah, well don't pop the cork yet, we got company."
"I see 'em. Hang onto your stripes, this might get a little bumpy." Samson laughed at that.
"Haven't you heard Captain? My stripes are sewn onto me. So go ahead, do your worst!" Kronan chuckled.
"You asked for it."
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It was a strange sight, the super submarine Olympia, anchored next to the Retemed. With an emergency coming in, it had been the general opinion to move the silver griffon to the dragon carrier temporarily. The crew of the submarine, once they saw the little griffon immediately felt at ease about their Captain's decision. Only a moderate sized group, including the XO, had put up a fight and they had been unceremoniously tossed in the ship's brig.
Still though, one thing that hadn't sat well with Captain Lightoller was that they had been asked to remain surfaced near the fleet until the battle's conclusion. Still, the time wasn't boring. Several sailors had taken the chance to admire the size of the submarine and a few laughed when a dragon decided the deck was too crowded for his liking and glided down to drape himself over the aft conning tower. Still though, a few crewmen were allowed to listen to radio reports from the battle.
More than once he entertained the thought of getting his crew back aboard and heading back into battle. However, while he could do without an XO, he couldn't do it without a few other positions that had been left vacant by the Loyalists. Primarily, what he needed was a weapons officer, trained crewmen, and of course and officer to oversee the engines and damage control teams.
He had just concluded making a mental list of who he needed when the nearby Syllian sub tender Orion gave off an alarm. He ran to the railing and saw a conning tower breach the surface near the Olympia. The top hatch flew open and a drenched sailor in a petty officer's uniform scrambled out of the hatch, panic on his face. He gazed around the deck of the dragon carrier and sighed with relief.
"We got depth charged near the inlet! A second fleet is coming up from the rear. No battleships, just a battlecruiser, cruisers, and escorts! The Captain's injured and the stern compartments are flooded, we barely got back here on batteries!" Lightoller turned and saw the deck officer of the Retemed and waved him over.
"Can the fleet here hold off a battlecruiser and escorts?" The deck officer thought for a moment but shook his head.
"It's possible, but the only offense we'd have are the dragons and griffons. What are you planning?" Lightoller looked to the damaged submarine that the sea dragon Tidus was helping to surface completely and gazed at the conning deck.
"Petty Officer! How many men are still fit to fight?"
"Most of us are sir, just a little drenched!" Lightoller turned to the deck officer.
"Take what time you need to get your defences in order." Lightoller turned to his crew.
"Chief! Board the crew! All hands to the Olympia and prepare to sail! You men there on the sub, if you have no qualms about putting on a dry Rotarian uniform, we could use the manpower! Deck Officer, I thank you and the crew of the Retemed for your hospitality, but now we have a duty to perform and a damn good reason to do it." The Deck Officer glanced to the Captain who was on the bridge watching the proceedings. The ship's Captain picked up the PA transmitter and keyed it.
"Attention, all hands. Make ready to assist the crew of the Olympia in their departure. They are heading for the inlet to delay the enemy. Captain Lightoller; fair winds and following seas to you!"
Captain Lightoller gave a salute and oversaw the boarding of the Olympia by the Syllian sailors and his own crew who were just as glad as he was to stop twiddling their thumbs and get back to sea. With no ceremony, the hatches on the super sub were thrown open, the crew boarded and shut the hatches and Lightoller was in the Control Room overwatching as the Rotarian crewmen gave the Syllian submariners the 'condensed version' of controls.
As this went on, the overhead radio in the Con went off. Turning it on, the voice of the Retemed's Captain came through.
"Captain Lightoller, the bow and aft lines are away. We are also moving away from the sub. Recommend you static dive, then engage your engines." Lightoller answered and then turned to his crew.
"Chief of the boat, sound the dive. Open all ballast tanks, make our depth nine-zero feet." The new chief, a Syllian, nodded and turned to the diving crew.
"Foward and aft planes twenty degrees down bubble, flood all ballast. Static dive." He walked over to a panel that read 'Dive Alarm' and triggered the claxon four times and keyed the sub comms.
"All stations we are diving now. Rig for dive." The panels for the ballast tank vents turned from green (closed) to red (open) and the lower observation periscope was raised." As Lightoller looked through the periscope, he heard the dive officer sound the depth.
"Current depth is four-zero feet, sir." He nodded.
"Deck is awash. All appears normal."
A few moments later the conning tower was submerged, the periscope withdrawn, and the sub hovered at 90 feet.
"All stations, negative sonar, we're too close to the dragon carrier. Inner engines ahead two-thirds, outer engines ahead one-third. Once we're clear of the fleet, all engines go to flank speed. XO, in the event we encounter the enemy before we reach the inlet, I want all crew to battlestations, immediately. Also, someone tell me if our missiles officer is still on board." One of the Rotarian crew looked to him in confusion.
"Sir, do you mean to use the nuclear rockets?" Lightoller, seeing the horrified expressions on the Syllians shook his head.
"No. As long as I'm in command of this sub, she'll never fire one of those weapons. Ever. I mean to launch standard warheads." The sailor who had spoken looked relieved and then stood.
"Well then sir, Petty Officer Second Class Bauer at your service. I suppose I'm the only man from the missile compartments who stayed on."
"Can you arm the standard rockets and instruct the Syllians to do likewise?" Bauer nodded.
"The settings are simple. I just need to adjust the gyros on the rockets to the coordinates of the hostile ships. However, sir, just in case you didn't know, we cannot fire the rockets while moving. Unlike the Gigantic, however, we are equipped with submersable launchers. That means we can fire the rockets while submerged. At last count, we have the full complement of seventy-four Klasse One standard rockets and ten Klasse Two Nuclear rockets." Lightoller nodded.
"Once we fire those rockets, they'll know where we are. What is the maximum detonation depth of depth charges?" The sonar operator looked to him.
"Sir, the Klasse Eight depth charge has a maximum effective depth of five-hundred and eighty-seven feet. Any lower and the pressure'll crush them before they can detonate. Our sub's crush depth, since the modifications, is one-thousand feet." Lightoller nodded.
"Excellent." At that moment, the alarm klaxon went off and crewmen ran to their posts for combat. The sonar officer looked to the Captain.
"Sir, we are clear of the fleet. Request permission to start active sonar." Lightoller nodded.
"Permission granted, all engines ahead flank. XO, set us on course for the inlet. Navs, ETA?"
"Estimated time to arrival... thirty minutes."
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The engines kept sputtering and coughing. The damaged gauges jumped all over the place. Add to all this the constant screaming of people in the back who were unaccustomed to flying who felt every little bump and thought they were about to fall from the sky and it was a wonder Kaleb's hair didn't turn white under his flight cap. Aside from the civilians, he also had a few members of the church who, despite being 'excommunicated' kept preaching and speaking against Mechanos. He also had several wounded soldiers and officers who had been ready to enjoy their last meals before being marched to the firing squad for various offenses.
His wing had already broken off from the escort to deal with some Loyalist fighters who, once they heard what was going on, had come up to claim the kill of a transport loaded with defectors and traitors. Up until about eight minutes ago, the radio had been alive with transmissions from his wing.
Now all that was heard from his wing's frequency was static.
He responded from a tap from his copilot, Erik Harris, a civilian airline pilot, a switched radio frequencies to the Syllian radio.
"This is Ritter. I need that escort I... I've just lost my entire squadron and the number two engine is dead." Kaleb suppressed an involuntary cringe when his Father's voice all but exploded over the radio.
"KD, hang on! I'm almost there!" Suddenly, one of the defecting soldiers was there.
"We've got company. Three fighters closing in." KD nodded and flipped the radio.
"Alright everyone, get back to your seats and fasten your seatbelts this is going to get bumpy." He turned back to his copilot.
"Harris, try to restart engine two, and push engines four and three, see if we can get some extra power out of them and... uh... hang on tight." Harris saw Kaleb shift in his seat to where he could better grasp the stick, holding it like a fighter pilot would and he blanched.
"Kaleb, this is a damaged TpS290. Any kind of aerobatics in this kind of aircraft could tear it apart! It's a four-engined transport the size of a small house, not a single-engine barnstormer!" Kaleb smiled.
"I know that! But I also know that these kinds of aircraft are usually subjected to tests that no other aircraft is because of the job it is meant to fulfill. It's a multi-engine, yes, but it's also a solid steel construction with a rivetted frame. If I can fly through a gale force storm, I'm pretty sure I can at least perform some basic evasive maneuvers. Now, if you're not going to help me control this beast then go and sit with the rest of the passengers!" Harris paused, then nodded and gripped the controls.
"All passengers, brace for evasive maneuvers!"
Kaleb sighed with relief as he heard the second engine backfire and rev up. This was going to be a lot easier with four pieces-of-crap engines then two and a half pieces-of-crap engines. Then, another soldier came in, a smile on his face.
"I found a machinegun in the back storage area! I think I can lash it to that blister in the tail!" Kaleb nodded and then keyed the radio.
"Ritter to Black Knight, one of our passengers found a machinegun and is setting up the tailgun position. We have three fighters closing fast, I'm going to try and evade them."
"Copy. We're almost there."
Before Kaleb replied the buzzsaw report of the machinegun echoed through the plane and the radio in the tail section came on.
"I know this is supposed to be a civilian airliner but apparently it was also made to go to war if needed. I gave one of our pursuers a faceful of 7.92mm! Man, these Matchsticks are amazing!" Kaleb looked to see Harris' face and nodded.
"Matchstick is the slang term for the MG29. It's a long barrel, a narrow reciever, with a thin stock, grip, and trigger. Pull the fabric belt and the first round through and the firing action pulls the linked belt the rest of the way as it's fired. Cheap, easy, effective, and one helluva rate of fire." Harris grimaced.
"Well, now that they know we have a tailgun, where will they come now?"
"From above or below. Alright. Tailgunner, hang on back there!"
"Oh I'm hanging alright! Got one coming from high left and other from below right I can't get a bead on neither!" Kaleb cursed and looked to Harris.
"On my signal, we start right... Ready? NOW!"
Kaleb and Harris turned both control wheels hard right, starting the large, cumbersome aircraft on a roll to the right. The blue and black horizon ball slowly rolled from a slight tilt to a vertical line and then inverted. Screams from the back roared through as the plane rolled and Kaleb vaguely wondered what the hostile pilots were thinking, seeing a four engine transport barrel-rolling through the air.
The report of the Matchstick and a whoop through the radio got his attention as the plane finished the roll and returned to level flight.
"Tailgunner reporting! Damaged one of the pursuers. I swear the guy was gaping like a fish and flew right into my sights! By the way, good guys are here! They finished off the wounded bird and the last one is in full retreat." Kaleb hurriedly switched the radio over.
"Ritter! Are you crazy?! Here we are flying to escort you and you're inverted trying to dodge a few stragglers?! I swear you're just as crazy as your old man! Dieter! You're flying straight, you haven't had a heart attack have you?" There was a cough from the radio.
"No but I damn near did. And what the hell do you mean 'crazy as your old man'? I'll admit it wasn't the first thing I'd do to evade an attacker but, hey, when you have lemons.."
"You make lemonade. Good grief Black Knight, keep using Mom's phrases and I'll start to think you care."
"I do care, son. I just... look, let's not do this now. Wait until we get to the ship."
"Yes, sir. Alright Harris, let's bring her back on course and stop scaring our passengers. Black Knight, please escort us to the Leviathan."
"That's the idea."
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Kronan levelled out as the fighter came at him again. This one, like the last, had blindly followed him through the rising smoke from the battle below and didn't notice another fighter come down behind him until he was under attack. As he gazed below, the monolithic warships that went down by the stern or bow had the opposite area lift out of the water. The Juggernaut, the Titan-class that Kronan had attacked, was currently burning as the bow section stood straight up as it slowly went down. The hulls of other warships including one carrier, and two more Titan-class battleships littered the water.
He gazed about and studied the columns of smoke swirling around the air and sighed.
"It's almost over. Damn, what a waste." Samson echoed the sentiment.
"Look! I think the rest of the fleet is turning away! They aren't surrendering but at least the hostilities have ceased." Kronan angled over and saw that, indeed, the remaining vessels of the Loyalist Rotarian Navy began deploying thick smokescreens and turning away from the United Fleet. Of the six Titan-class battleships that had been in battle, three were sunk, one had defected, and the remaining two were so severely damaged they were barely underway. None of the three carriers had survived, and only one battlecruiser had managed to escape (somewhat) unscathed.
The Rotarian defectors were already swinging into a group formation on the extreme left of the other vessels. Then, on a hunch, he flipped the radio to the Syllian frequency.
"This is Kronan, enemy fleet is in full retreat. Requesting permission to return to base."
"Negative! The Olympia has just departed to engage a second fleet coming up from the south! Return to the carrier to rearm and refuel and then sortie again! This battle an't over yet, the enemy still has some life in them!" Kronan cursed and ordered his group back into formation.
"What about that transport? Has it landed yet?"
"They're almost here. They'll be landing ahead of you."
"Copy that. Returning to rearm."
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Captain Lightoller gazed through the periscope and nodded at what he saw. He then relinquished the scope to the XO who whistled as he caught sight of the fleet.
"Damn. That's a lot of escorts for so small a fleet. Wonder why they're risking this?" Lightoller looked at the sea chart and nodded.
"They think the main fleet will divert to deal with the larger threat, thus leaving the carriers and smaller escorts behind and vulnerable. They assume that, like most carriers, the Leviathan and the others are lightly armored and armed and unable to defend themselves in a straight up fight. However, having depth charged your previous sub, they are bound to be on the alert for more subs. That would likely be the only reason they are proceeding at such a slow pace."
"Well sir, what do we do?" Lightoller gazed at the crew and then to the sea chart.
"Sonar, depth under keel." The young sonar operator turned to him and checked his notes.
"Depth last checked five minutes ago... no change, depth under keel is eight-hundred and sixty-seven feet."
"XO, sound general quarters, notify the rocket compartments to begin launch procedures. Also notify forward torpedo room to ready a defensive spread, we may have to defend ourselves once we start launching the rockets. All engines stop, hold our depth."
"Captain, rocket compartments reporting all gyros set and ready." Lightoller nodded.
"XO, how many surface targets?" The XO swiveled the periscope, silently counting the number of surface vessels. Twice, he looked away to the nearby recognition book and confirmed it.
"I count one battlecruiser, three Schrecken-class cruisers, three Schmerz-class cruisers, eight Kreuz-class heavy destroyers and twelve Fury-class destroyers. All in all, seven capital ships and twenty escorts." Lightoller looked to him.
"Actually more than that. The Schmerz cruisers are specially modified to launch patrol boats. E-boats, we call them. Each cruiser holds four E-boats and each E-boat is capable of speeds of fifty miles per hour, is armed with two anti-air guns, six torpedoes, and a depth charge rack." The XO grimaced.
"So add twelve of these E-boats to the escort count. How fast can the cruisers launch them?"
"If they're on alert, maybe five minutes. It depends on how fast the crews can get to their boats and how fast the davitmen can lower them."
"Do they have powered davits or manual?" Lightoller actually chuckled.
"Manual. Mechanos believed that a man of the sea had to be a hard man and that anything that made their jobs easier was a 'luxury'. His thoughts were more in line with the old guard, the flag admirals who hadn't set foot on a ship since they made post. He cares little for the serving line unless they are victorious." At that moment, a red-faced radioman came running up with a report in hand.
"Sir, our radio just recieved word that the primary enemy force is retreating. The aircraft are returning to the carrier to rearm and should be here soon." Lightoller smiled and nodded.
"Alright, notify the launchers to ready rockets one through ten. Target the battlecruiser and the other captial ships. When the escorts start to close, fire a full spread to scatter them and crash dive."
The mechanical sound of the rocket hatches opening echoed through the sub and Lightoller gave a nod to the FCO who nodded back.
"Fire rockets one through ten with seven second intervals. On my mark... fire one!"
Through the periscope, Lightoller saw the first rocket breach the surface as the compressed air launched it from the sub. The trailing wire ignited the engine and broke away, sending it upwards towards the first target on the list, the battlecruiser. The chronometer ticked by and seven seconds after the first launch, the second was away.
The rockets were in the midst of launching when a loud, high-pitched 'PING' reverberated from the sub. The sonar operator turned to Captain Lightoller.
"We've been pinged! Three escorts closing at high speed!" The PA system followed.
"Captain, last rocket is away! Sealing the hull and closing the hatches."
"Torpedo room, target those hostile escorts and open all outer doors!" He then went back to the periscope.
"Set spread to five degree separation, high speed, set depth to seven feet, shallow. Fire when ready." The radio came on.
"Torpedoes ready! Firing one through eight with five degree separation!" There was a rapid whoosh as compressed air blew the torpedoes out of the tubes and into open water. Through the periscope, Lightoller could see the ships already attempting to evade both the rockets and torpedoes and then turned to the XO.
"Down periscope, all ahead flank, crash dive!" Lightoller grabbed a rail to steady himself as the engines lurched and the sub began to dive at a steep forty-degree angle. In the galley, he chuckled as one of the mess crew swore as an unsecured rack of plates broke open and showered porcelain all over the stove and the sink.
(Maybe I should look into replacing the porcelain with those metal trays... less noisy...)
He gazed at the depth gauge and saw the needle fly past the three-hundred foot mark. He gave a reassuring nod to the crew and gazed at his chronometer. The second hand slowly ticked by and he glanced at the sonar station every once in a while. Then, the operator looked up and smiled.
"I have explosions in the water! Four torpedoes have hit marks, I hear two ships breaking up! Hold on... splashes... depth charges... damn... they're dropping them all over the place." Lightoller looked to the depth gauge and grimaced at the depth:
450 feet. Still within range of the charges.
The sonar operator suddenly blanched and looked to him.
"Captain, I just heard a cluster splash. I think they just fired a Porcupine." Lightoller cursed.
The UDM60, aka 'Porcupine', was a ship mounted, multi-launch 60mm mortar that fired twelve rounds in a fan formation that could sink to a maximum depth of 700 feet before detonating with enough force to crush a submarine. Ironically, this anti-sub weapon was copied from the Praetorian 'Hedgehog' weapon. Lightoller turned to the sailors manning the dive planes.
"Maximum dive! Open all ballast tanks! Take us all the way to the bottom!" The sailor at the Yule tree opened six valves and flipped a few switches and a louder whoosh fill the sub. Then, suddenly, an alarm blared getting Lightoller's attention. He turned to see that four of the lights on the Yule tree were now red while the others were green. The sailor manning the position looked to him.
"The rear-most ballast tanks are still closed! They won't open or respond to automatic command!"
"Then bypass it, open them manually!" The sailor nodded and shouted to make a hole as he ran for the stern compartments. As Lightoller turned back around, another alarm went off.
"Now what?" The radio came on.
"Captain! Someone just ran into the forward rocket bay! I didn't see who but his uniform was NOT from that area! I... my God! We have a malfunction in one of the Klasse 2 rockets! Wait... no! It's not a malfuntion! Whoever it is is trying to access the self-detonation failsafe!" Lightoller cursed and looked to the COB.
"Open the armory and send a group to the forward bay, NOW! XO, you have the Con. You men going with me, take care, most things in that compartment don't react too well to bullets." The XO rolled his eyes at that comment and stepped up to the Con as the COB handed Lightoller a sidearm. Lightoller turned and looked at the depth gauge once more before turning to head to the rocket compartment.
"Well, here's hoping nothing goes wrong."
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The rocket compartment of the Olympia was not like the rest of the sub. Pipes lined the hull and large cylindrical tubes housed the rockets that the sub could fire. Captain Lightoller and the men with him had entered the chamber, however, just in case the saboteur tried to sneak out, he posted two men at the entrance and then set the others about clearing the compartment section by section. He however, on a hunch, went forward into the area marked by yellow and black signs warning of radioactive materials.
Hearing something up ahead, he readied his sidearm and wondered who would have been crazy enough to attempt to detonate a nuclear-tipped rocket inside the submarine. It would have been suicide to do so as the explosion would have incinerated the ship and all aboard it. As he neared rocket 73, one of the farthest rockets in the compartment, he caught a glimpse of someone fiddling with something. Lightoller leveled his weapon and pulled the hammer back, making a sharp 'click'.
"Step away from the rocket. Now." He eased around and caught full view of the saboteur and swore.
"Why is it always the damn cook? Step. Away. NOW!"
The saboteur, one of the cooks, held two wires. All he likely had to do was connect the wires for a spark and he would succeed in destroying the sub. He knew this and smirked and his hands twitched to connect the wires.
Lightoller fired three rounds.
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The crew of the Leviathan had been busy getting people below decks and trying to shove the now useless transport off the flight deck when the flight had returned. Now they were away and heading for the location of the enemy fleet when the radio came alive with a broadcast from the Olympia.
"This is Captain Lightoller of the Olympia. We have successfully routed the enemy and are returning to the fleet. We have sunk five capital ships, four escorts, and damaged three others. The fleet is secured." Josh sighed with relief and nodded to the air boss who keyed the radio for the planes.
"Attention all craft currently airborne, move to the Olympia to escort her back. All other planes currently on the deck, stand down." Josh looked to Anne while the AB did this.
"Secure all crew from battlestations and send word to Royalis: Tellanian front is now secure. All objectives met and completed. Silver griffon Ayura safely on board. Have also secured the defection of multiple Rotarian forces including aircraft, naval vessels and land forces."
He then looked down to the deck and saw an amazing sight. A young woman, not much older than Anne, was running across the flight deck and embraced Kronan with such momentum both of them pivoted. Kronan's face was at first shock, then joy and they stopped and then kissed on the flight deck, much to the amusement of the deck crew.
Josh couldn't help but chuckle when Kronan caught sight of the onlookers and barked something that looked like 'As you were' or some other sort of embarrassed order. Then, on the far side, his breath caught. There was Dieter, and in front of him was a woman he guessed was his wife, his son, and his daughter. His son obviously was a young adult since he was flying a military transport. His daughter looked to be perhaps three years younger and, unlike her brother, gazed at her father with a mixture of relief to see him and love.
The boy's expression though was stoic but also somewhat bitter. As he turned away to head to his quarters, he silently wished Dieter luck.
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There hadn't been much time between the transport landing and then being unceremoniously shoved off the fantail and Dieter's group landing and then Kronan's group. To be honest, he had been preparing to sortie when the stand down order was issued. He found himself standing on the flight deck, watching his fighter being lowered into the hangar when suddenly he heard three sets of feet approaching from behind.
He turned, and came face to face with his wife and children. He mentally cursed himself that he had missed so many years. When he had left to join the volunteers heading for Callinar, his son was four and his daughter was barely eight months old. He had joined because the pay for a pilot was six times that he made as a farmer and rancher selling crops and raising dairy cows. It was never supposed to be anything more than a short stint but he found, once he was in the air, he loved the feeling. The excitement of flight.
A four year stint turned into eight, which turned into ten, which became a position as an instructor and that left less and less time for family until finally his wife decided she had had enough and had that one big fight all those years ago. They'd never officially divorced but that was mainly because Dieter had always held that small flicker of hope that one day everything would straighten itself out. That and the fact he left the entire ranch to her and always sent her three quarters of his paycheck to help with the finances.
To be honest, he had hoped his kids would have decided to go to college but judging by the Rotarian black and grey flight uniform his son wore, apparently that wasn't the case. He stood there, looking at his son almost as if he was a complete stranger. If it hadn't been for the shock of black hair, vibrant hazel eyes, and that small scar under his right eye, (which he recalled was from when a raven had attacked him once when he was out in the field) he would not have recognized him.
With the exception of his eyes, which he got from his mother, there was no doubt to anyone that Kaleb was Dieter's son. A fact that had likely gotten him many chances and opportunities but, to his knowledge, Kaleb had never accepted any of them. Funny thing was that he'd been working on something to say in the event he saw his family again. He just wasn't expecting to meet them at this particular time.
Nor was he expecting the sudden right cross that his son had evidentally been wanting to show him for quite some time.
Dieter stumbled back but a lifetime of balancing had kicked in and he caught himself just in time to wave off the two sailors who had seen this and were running for Kaleb. His daughter had opened her mouth to protest but Kaleb silenced her with a glance. Dieter looked to his daughter and nodded and straightened up.
"I deserved that. Nice punch KD." Kaleb was still frowning but it relinquished for a small smile at the end before returning to a frown.
"Damn right you did. And even more than that. Just... where the hell do you get off abandoning us with the exception of a damn letter and a paycheck every month? Then you become a big hero, we get invited to an award ceremony and then the very next day you leave for Syllia and leave us to deal with the repurcussions! Do you have any idea what those damn Loyalists did to us?!" Kaleb looked to him, eyes wanting to give way to tears but he held them back.
"I was an officer, believe it or not, a Second Lieutenant. They busted me to Sergeant and removed me from post because I was 'at risk' for flying off after you. They came to the house, confiscated everything, the land, the cattle, the horses, and sold it piecemeal to several high ranking Loyalists who demolished the whole damn place and turned it into a damn officer's resort! When they realized that they couldn't break the horses to use them for their own purposes, they shot them and fed them to those damn dread griffons." Dieter involuntarily shuddered. Despite being a pilot, he had grown up a farmer, a rancher, he knew the value of a properly trained horse and inwardly he burned with anger that horses that had been a part of the family mercilessly shot. Kaleb didn't give him a chance to recover and dropped the other shoe.
"It didn't stop there. They shipped Mom and Bee to an internment camp somewhere in the far north. Took me until a month ago to find them and then until yesterday to work up the courage to defect." Dieter turned his gaze from his son to his wife and daughter who silently nodded. Dieter visually sagged where he stood and propped himself up beside the rail to steady himself, his face going pale with horror. He then turned his gaze back to his son.
"All this time... I thought I was doing the right thing... I didn't think Mechanos was evil. That day over Lavonshire... that was what opened my eyes to the danger he posed to us all. A man mad enough to use such a terrifying weapon just because he can is a monster. I honestly never thought they'd go after you and your Mom and sister. If I had..." He glanced to see Kaleb's fist tighten but then he glanced to his wife and daughter.
"If I had known what would happen, I would have grabbed all three of you and would have taken you with me. All these years... I thought I was afraid of losing my wings... I should have been more afraid of losing you all." Kaleb's frown deepened.
"You left when I was four and when Bee was still in diapers. How the hell could you care when you were never there?! You lost us the day you volunteered for that damn 'mission' in Callinar!"
"If I could take back anything... anything at all, I would never have volunteered that day-" At that moment, his wife, Maria, came forward a small smile on her face.
"Don't say that Dieter. You were always a man who liked a challenge. You saw flying as another way to challenge yourself. Sure, you went a little overboard but... if you had to take back one thing, it should be that you were never home enough. I may not have said it that day when we had our last fight but... I missed you. The only reason you came home that day was because you had injured your legs in that rough landing."
Dieter remembered that crash. He'd spent the whole day trying to find a recruit who'd gotten lost on a training patrol and later found the kid spread all across a mountainside. He'd tried to fly through a high-altitude storm and wound up breaking both wings off his plane. By the time Dieter got back to base, the same storm was over the airfield and a sudden downdraft had pushed the plane down, forcing Dieter to make a belly landing which had fractured both heels and femurs.
"I remember that I spent the entire time on sick leave training and getting myself back into shape so that I could pass the fitness eval. Two months... longest time I was home since I volunteered, yet, at the same time I might as well have been a hundred miles away. The day I was cleared to return to duty was the day we fought." Maria nodded.
"We both said things that day that we wish we hadn't. But never regret volunteering that day. It was why I fell in love all those years ago. You came riding into town on your old quarterhorse, Buster. You were wearing that ratty old trenchcoat that flapped in the breeze." She giggle for a moment remembering and then looked back at her husband.
"You looked like one of those gunfighters from the cinema movies, riding in to drink hard, bust some heads, have a good old time, and then ride off into the sunset. It was the way you challenged life that made me fall for you, and the way you enjoyed it. The thing that made me fight that day was that you were too damn stubborn to stop for a minute. You were so eager to get back into a plane you forgot that that day was Bee's birthday." Dieter gave her a stunned expression.
"It was?" Maria nodded.
"Damn... It seems I owe a lot of apologies... some of which I'm afraid won't cut it. But... if you'll let me, I'd like to make up for them." Maria embraced him warmly.
"All I ever wanted was to spend time with you, just like we used to. I missed riding with you along the fields more than anythng else." Dieter smiled.
"My riding skills, I'm afraid, are a little rusty. I may not be as good as I once was." She laughed and behind her, Bee chuckled.
"Well, once the war's over we'll have all the time in the world. You know, Bee actually won the Gasdin Award for best female rider. She could probably teach you a few things." Dieter looked to Bee and she nodded, he smiled. Kaleb however, still frowned.
"Mom and Bee were never that angry with you. I... I suppose there's no reason to... dammit, I need a drink." Maria looked at him sternly.
"Kaleb Dieter Muntz, you are too young to drink!" Kaleb groaned.
"In Rotiart I am!" Bee chuckled.
"KD, you're not in Rotiart, you're on a Syllian vessel. If I recall, you have to be twenty-one to drink." Kaleb groaned and started to turn away when he heard someone laughing.
"Kaleb? Your name's Kaleb?" Kaleb turned, an undeniable glint of pride in his eyes.
"It's my Dad's name, you got a problem with it?" The sailor shook his head but kept the smile.
"Hell no. It's a good name." He held his hand out which Kaleb grasped and nodded and headed inside. Moments later, the ship's engines started and the PA came on.
"Attention all hands, this is XO Roberts. We have been ordered to return to Syllia along with the Retemed and a few vessels from the Rotarian fleet. As we are now filled with Rotarian pilots and civilians we are no longer able to safely engage in combat situations. We will return to Southport, offload the civilians, and then we shall be returning to the front after debriefing and a few days leave. We will be shadowed by the Olympia. That is all." Dieter heaved a sigh and rested an arm over his wife and daughter's shoulders.
"Well love, you always said home's where you make it. How about making a home in Royalis? At least until the war's over." Maria looked to him.
"But aren't you attached to the carrier force?" Dieter shook his head.
"No. I'm with the Launces First Air Wing under Major Bertram de Launces. Chances are, once we get back, I and my squadron will be transferred back to Royalis to rejoin our group. I'd like for you and Bee and Kaleb to join me, maybe I can put in a word with him and get Bertram to request him assigned to us." Maria sighed but nodded slowly.
"Time heals all wounds but Kaleb's run deeper than most. I don't like that he'll be going back into danger but... I'll feel better knowing that he was closer to you, although that may not be the case with him. I think he'd rather be as far from you as possible." Dieter nodded just as a landing bell rang and Dieter looked to see a Tullinar jet touching down on the Leviathan. Before he could make a move, the canopy popped open and Reyson Havvers leapt from the plane and landed on the deck and stretched his arms out and smiled.
"This ship headed for South Port? I hope ya'll don't mind if I add one more to the tally." Dieter laughed at Havvers as he proceeded to walk to the hatch all the while singing a few phrases of an old 'going home' song. Despite the tension that still hung over the ship, Dieter found himself humming along as the song was picked up by the crewmen on deck.
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Whew! Well, after one long absense, I finally caught up and now I give you the next chapter! The third front is established and the silver griffon is safely on her way to Syllia. As for me, well, I'll have to slog my way through the election before I can update again but trust me, I shall return!
As always, please review.
Next Chapter: Resistance: Fight (for) Power!