Chapter 10: "Deck the Hull with Blood and Glory"

22 December 2023

Jonathan poked listlessly at the tray of food his XO had put in front of him after dragging him to the wardroom. Taking the time to sit down and eat was a luxury he hadn't been able to afford in the last week, as Atlantis and Scorpion had been busy coordinating the rescue and relief efforts at what remained of JANS.

The UEO just didn't have the resources right now to divert more aid, so they had been playing double duty as well. While one boat was patrolling, the other worked with small escape subs from other nearby underwater colonies to evacuate survivors from the communities sprawled under the water near the naval station. Johnston Atoll just wasn't that big of a piece of real estate, which meant a good portion of its workers lived underwater—but their habitats were shallow enough that they'd been victims of the missile attack as well, which meant most survivors were trapped in small air pockets amid the wreckage. Most had run out of time and air by now, but every few hours, the mini-subs found someone, which kept the rescuers hoping.

But he had just gotten off a call with Commodore Allan before Commander Windsor had interrupted him, and hearing from him that the UEO still hadn't declared war had made Jonathan lose his appetite.

"You all right, boss?" his XO asked quietly. Mark Windsor was a new XO—he hadn't been with Jonathan on SeaWolf, but he and Jonathan had seemed to click almost right away. Their relationship was already more relaxed than the one Ford had shared with his old XO—it almost reminded him of himself and Nathan Bridger, sometimes.

And if Jonathan hadn't turned out so bad, he didn't mind adopting some of Bridger's leadership style, which meant trusting his XO. "Not really, Mark."

"I'm guessing the Commodore had nothing but good news to share, then."

He scowled, running through the list of foul names for the UEO Command board in his head before he finally allowed himself to speak. "The UEO is still debating whether or not to declare war."

"After something like ten thousand dead?" Mark gaped.

"They don't think it would be politically beneficial to drag the UEO into a war while we're still trying to recover from the Great Earthquake," Jonathan replied, unable to keep the bitterness from twisting his voice.

"What?" Judging from Mark's tone, he agreed with Jonathan's feelings. "Because letting Macronesia beat up on us is politically beneficial?"

"There's a reason I'm a sailor and not a politician. It's times like this that I almost wish Andrea Dre was still the secretary general. At least she would have been decisive."

"Not to mention crazy," his XO replied drolly. "Though that could be a plus at the moment. Possibly."

"You don't need to remind me about that part," Jonathan said. He blew out a long sigh. "Apparently none of the confederations want this to be their problem. But they don't stop to think the Macronesians are practically on Pearl's doorstep, if they can attack here. Not to mention how close to Nexus this place is."

"At least they didn't take the base," the other officer pointed out. "Then we'd really be screwed, without any bases between the border and Pearl."

"We're going to be screwed one way or another, if the UEO doesn't make a decision. Soon. Because the only thing left to hit between here and Pearl is civilian colonies, and a couple of subs just can't keep up with the entire Macronesian fleet," Jonathan said, venting his anger.

"Yes, sir." But like a loyal XO, he tried to spin things in a way to make his captain happier. "On the bright side, I saw a news clip that the UEO has authorized another three Valiant class subs to be built, at least. And they'll build them all concurrently, so we should see them within a year or so. Maybe less."

If we live that long. He stopped himself from speaking his mind. As the captain, he couldn't let his pessimism show. The crew was counting on him to get them through this, and if he acted as if they wouldn't, no one would be willing to take the chances that could possibly save them. "I guess we'll just have to count our blessings for what they're worth."

"Small though they are," Mark replied with a wan smile.

Jonathan returned it, finally taking a bite of his food. He grimaced down at it. "Though apparently dinner isn't one of them."

"I was wondering if you'd notice that one, Captain. We offloaded so many supplies to JANS that the cooks are really scraping the bottom of the barrel. When I talked to the SUBRON staff, they said they'd have a supply ship out here next week, so we're not going to starve…but I don't think you're going to get any of Chief Perry's gourmet lasagna, either. We're even out of tomato sauce."

He sighed, liberally applying salt and pepper to the food in front of him. "Great. As long as he doesn't try and substitute ketchup, we'll find a way to get by, I guess."

"I think the Chief would consider that a crime, sir. He does actually know how to cook, unlike most of the guys the Bureau of Personnel sent us," Mark pointed out.

"If he can make something edible with what's left of our supplies, I'll put him in for a commendation myself," Jonathan joked.

Mark chuckled, and they both set to the arduous task of getting through their unpalatable dinner.

25 December 2023

Lonnie had been planning on going home during leave, and the change in schedule hit her hard. The last time she had been there felt like a lifetime ago, back before she'd headed out to OCS, and from there straight to submarine school and Torsk. She'd been too busy to feel homesick in the intervening months, but so much had happened since then, so much had changed. The world was at war again, even if the UEO wasn't admitting to it. And her parents hadn't stopped fretting since Torsk had been sunk. Every time she talked to them, they asked when she was coming home, when they could see her—and the fact that Lonnie couldn't tell them what she was doing now only made things worse. She'd really been looking forward to the opportunity to reassure them that she was fine…but now she couldn't.

But leave had been canceled because of Macronesia's latest atrocity. Scuttlebutt said that the captain had promised Admiral Noyce that seaQuest would be ready to launch by the end of the year, though no one on the crew was quite sure what in the world would prompt him to do that. With six days left, Lonnie wasn't sure they would meet that deadline.

They probably should have been working—or maybe sleeping—but Commander Hitchcock had pulled Lonnie aside around noon the day before, and the two of them had gone to the base commissary on a mission to acquire Christmas dinner for the wardroom since the Navy's supply system was too focused on resupplying JANS to give seaQuest anything over the bare minimum required. Watching her XO practically shouting at the poor stock boy had been a sight to see, but they'd finally come away with enough food for a veritable feast without scaring any of the commissary workers too badly.

Lonnie liked the XO. She hadn't really, not back when they had been on Torsk together. Just admit it Lonnie, Commander Hitchcock can be a real witch when she wants to be. But in the last three months, the commander had taken Lonnie under her wing, and she couldn't have been more grateful.

And here on seaQuest, the Navy doesn't even seem like such a bad place to be any more. Captain Bridger asks a lot of us, but he gives more back than Captain Hudson did.

As if to prove her point, the captain stood up, and attention was almost instantly given to him. "I'd like to thank you all for the hard work and dedication you've shown in the last ten days. I know most of you had plans during leave, and I didn't like having to ask you to give them up. But you've all shown once again the caliber of officer we have on board this boat, and I couldn't be more proud of you all. Merry Christmas, everyone."

"Hear, hear!" Lieutenant Commander Krieg said, banging his cup down on the wardroom table. Lonnie could see the XO roll her eyes. By now, everyone on board knew that they had been married once, but Lonnie still couldn't picture her mostly straight-laced XO romantically involved with the goofy supply officer.

Though he's not at all bad looking even if he is ten years older than me, she thought, watching appreciatively as the commander made a joke at Lieutenant Commander O'Neill's expense. And he's got a good sense of humor.

She sighed, turning her attention back to her food. Except who is he to notice someone like me? I'm just an ensign, and he's a lieutenant commander. She knew it was a silly schoolgirl crush, but that didn't make it any easier on her. She just hoped that Krieg wouldn't notice, and if he did, that he would pretend he didn't.

Lucas was privately glad that holiday leave had been canceled. He wished the circumstances had been different, but unlike some of his fellow crewmembers, he wouldn't have had anywhere to go. seaQuest was home, and his fellow officers in the wardroom were his family. And with everyone in good spirits, he could almost pretend that they weren't getting ready to fight a war. Almost.

"Excuse me, Ladies and Gentlemen." Ben stood up towards the end of the meal, rapping a spoon against his glass to gain everyone's attention. Watching him made Lucas smile; he was glad his friend was feeling better. Ben had crashed hard after everyone had finally managed to move aboard, winding up sick enough to make even the XO worried. None of them had realized until after the job was done how much work Ben had put in, or how little sleep he had been getting in the process.

But he had finally managed to get some rest, and seemed to be back to his usual joking self. When the chatter died down, Ben beamed.

"I just wanted to take this opportunity to say again how glad I am we could all be here together, sharing this moment. I wish it was under better circumstances, of course, but seeing your smiling faces, enjoying all this delicious food our XO managed to acquire for us—well done on that, Katie, I'm glad my skills have been rubbing off on you over the years—it warms my heart. And I wanted to share with you all a little something I wrote over the last couple of days, in the spirit of the holidays.

"Think of it as my present to you all, my fellow officers on board the greatest boat in the UEO. A dramatic adaptation of 'The Night Before Christmas', by Benjamin Krieg." He shook out a piece of paper, clearing his throat again, before he started his recitation.

"'Twas the week before Christmas, and all through the boat,
All our leave had been scheduled, we're not yet afloat.
The supplies are all nestled in my cabin with care,
In hopes that deployment soon would be there.

The sailors are nestled all snug in their racks
All moved in, giving Tim and Katie heart attacks.
COB doing rounds with me in my room,
I'd just settled down with some food to consume.

Then from my comm unit there arose such a clatter
I turned it on quickly to see what was the matter.
Across my stateroom I flew like a flash,
Not even tripping on any of the trash.

The image on the vidlink was slow to resolve,
The UEO logo continued to revolve.
Then, what to my wondering eyes should appear,
The captain summoning us all, without any cheer.

With a terse order, surly and quick,
I knew in a moment this was no trick.
More rapid than eagles, his officers they came,
Assembling in the wardroom, he called us by name!

"Now Hitchcock, now O'Neill, now Krieg and Ortiz!
On Wolenczak, on Schafer, on Henderson, please!
A crisis is here, now I need your attention,
Macronesia has made Johnson Atoll a point of contention."

As dry leaves that before the wild hurricane fly,
His announcement was met with a gasp and a sigh.
So down to business of planning, the officers, they went
Not stopping for anything until they were spent.

And then, in a twinkling, the vidlink did chime
As the captain muttered about wasting his time.
He answered the call with us only on voice
To be greeted by his friend, Admiral Noyce.

He was dressed all in civvies, from his head to his toes
And I did my best not to laugh at his clothes.
A stack of reports could be seen on the table,
Leaning precariously, clearly unstable.

His eyes-they were red-rimmed! His expression, how scary!
His cheeks were pale, and his tone was wary!
His droll little mouth was tight like a bow,
He was clearly fighting down his woe.

"I take it then you've all heard the news?
They've given us proof even the UEO can't refuse.
Thousands are dead, probably more.
I'm sorry folks, but we're headed to war."

The captain looked grim at the admiral's speech,
Lucas' skin was the color of bleach.
Henderson looked like she wanted to cry,
And Katie couldn't manage to stifle her sigh.

The admiral closed his end of the link,
The captain taking a moment to think.
"I'm going to have to cancel your leave,
There's a lot of work we have to achieve."

He rose from his chair, and gave us a look.
"We'll get those bastards, by hook or by crook.
We're upping our schedule, I don't care what it takes,
Once seaQuest is done, they'll regret their mistakes."

The poem was met with a long moment of silence, everyone exchanging looks, before Lucas started snickering. Soon enough, the rest of the wardroom burst into laughter. Even the captain seemed to be fighting back the giggles.

"Don't quit your day job, Ben," Lucas gasped out between laughs.

"No, no, if he quits his day job, then we won't have to deal with him anymore!" Miguel got in, setting off another round of laughs. He shouted over the hilarity: "Please, let him quit!"

"That's not even how things happened," Tim protested half-heartedly, wiping at tears beneath his glasses.

"I'd like to see you do better, Mister Linguistics. And they call it poetic liberty," Ben retorted.

Several long minutes passed happily, but everyone finally managed to get their laughter under control. Ben looked a little put out, but Lucas knew his friend was happy to see everyone else in a good mood. He was the self-styled Morale Officer, after all, even if the title was no longer in his official job description.

"Thank you for that interesting account of events, Mr. Krieg," the captain said dryly. The wardroom burst into renewed laughter as Ben sat down again in mock defeat.

Lucas smiled as the captain gave him a subtle wink. It's nice to be home for the holidays.

28 December 2023

Three days out from launching, his Weapons Officer just had to be killed in a car crash. A freak accident, the police report had called it; Lieutenant Chin's Mustang had simply hydroplaned on a rainy night and crashed into a tree. By the time another car came by two hours later, Chin was long dead, and Bridger's problems were just beginning.

"He comes highly recommended, Nathan," Bill tried to tell him, glancing down at the record in front of him. "Several years of combat experience, including ops in Korea, where he cleaned up that unholy mess started by—"

"He's not even a submariner!" Nathan cut him off, glaring at the vidscreen in his cabin. It was one of the few pieces of working electronic equipment in the space; the Old Man's projector was on the fritz again, the light switches sometimes turned the computers off, and the lights themselves had a habit of randomly swapping to red settings without warning.

His scowl only deepened as Noyce shrugged. Nathan continued to grumble:

"I've got to get this boat wet for the first time in three days, and you want me to train up a brand new, wet-behind-the-ears, Special Ops guy who has never even been on a submarine before?"

He was close to shouting, but it had been a long week. He wouldn't allow himself to take his frustration out on his crew, so Nathan had to settle for yelling at his boss.

Bill clearly understood, because his tone was placating. "Lieutenant Brody has done several covert insertions from various boats, so I think it's safe to say that he has been on a submarine before. And he's an expert in weapons and tactics, and—"

"Small unit tactics," he cut the admiral off. "Not submarine warfare."

"He blew the roof off of the curve at the Tactical Submariner's Course," Noyce pointed out. "Brody might be short on experience, but he's got the required training and skills."

Nathan snorted, crossing his arms obstinately.

"Besides, if Wildwood, does get approved, you'll need his Spec Ops experience. Not to mention how useful his Anti-Terrorism experience will be to you in the near future."

That was the best argument Noyce had used yet, but Nathan could tell that something was missing. He groaned. "Tell me why you really want me to take him, Bill."

The admiral shifted uncomfortably, and a long moment passed before he admitted:

"His uncle went to college with the Secretary General. And for some reason, Frank Thomas has taken it upon himself to watch over his career, too."

"Oh, great!" Nathan threw his hands up in frustration. "You want to saddle me with McGath's fair-haired favorite, now!"

"Now don't be too ridiculous, Nathan. Brody really is the best at what he does—he's already got the Silver Star, for crying out loud! You want the best of the best on seaQuest, and now you're complaining because I granted your wish?"

He glowered. "I asked for submariners, not frogmen."

"Brody reports today. I'm sorry—but this decision was made above my paygrade."

Noyce did sound sorry, but Nathan was in no mood to accept an apology. Not from someone who had dropped this little surprise on him at the last possible moment.

"Even better!" he snapped sarcastically. "Now the politicians are messing with my manning. What's next, UEO Command coming out to flood the drydock personally?"

A knock on his cabin door kept Nathan from ranting any further.

He could hear shouting from the other side of the hatch, but judging from the one-sidedness of the exchange, he guessed it was taking place over a vidlink. The shouting had clearly been going on for a bit, and it sounded far from pleasant, though he couldn't make out most of the words. Whoever was yelling at the captain, though, his new boss would probably be grateful for the interruption.

"Even better!" the angry voice shouted from inside the captain's cabin. "Now the politicians are messing with my manning. What's next, UEO Command coming out to flood the drydock personally?"

He was knocking on the door before the words sank in.

Knock. Knock.

A long moment of silence passed.

"Enter!" the voice that had been shouting finally called, and Brody's heart sank.

You've really done it to yourself this time, Jimmy-boy, haven't you? But he pushed the thought aside and stepped through the hatch, closing it behind him before popping to attention in front of the seated figure.

"Lieutenant Brody reporting as ordered, sir." He focused his eyes on the now-blank vidscreen behind the captain's head, noticing out of the bottom corners of his eyes that the Old Man wasn't quite as old looking as he'd expected. He did, however, look like someone who deserved the nickname 'Iron Pants'.

Whatever that means. Somehow, the guys at the Tactical Submariner's Course had neglected to explain the nickname, much though they'd used it. Apparently, the captain still held record scores in a couple of areas, and though Brody had come close, he'd only managed to tie one of them. But he kept the thought off his face, careful to keep his expression professional. Still, a long moment of silence ticked by, during which Brody had plenty of time to regret interrupting whatever it was that the captain had been shouting about. He really knew next to nothing about Bridger, but he sounded like he had one hell of a temper.

"Sit down, Lieutenant," the captain finally said, gesturing him into a chair. "I'll be with you in a moment."

"Thank you, sir," he said, taking advantage of the opportunity to look around the cabin. Parts of the space looked half-finished; one of the bulkheads even looked freshly painted—but it looked lived-in, too. Books on naval history, navigation, and marine biology filled one of the shelves, and old-fashioned paper building plans covered the bed. To their left stood a portable dry-erase board, upon which various building milestones were listed and crossed off.

Glancing surreptitiously at the captain, Brody was able to assess him, too. He was wearing old-fashioned reading glasses while studying something on the computer screen—from Brody's angle, it looked like his own service record. Should be interesting reading, at least. It took all of his self control not to smile, but this captain didn't seem to be the sort that would appreciate that.

"It says here that you volunteered for submarine duty, despite your previous experience in spec ops." Bridger seemed to be the straight-to-the-point type. Brody could live with that.

"I did, sir."

Bridger tapped a few keys, closing the personnel file, and turned to fully face Brody. He hadn't been scrutinized like this in a long time; Brody was more used to his superiors respecting him for what he had accomplished. "Care to tell me why?"

Does he have to ask? But that really wasn't a good response to start off this interview with his new CO, so he restrained himself and voiced the obvious.

"War's coming, sir," Brody replied honestly. "And it's not gonna be like any other war we've ever fought before. If my old skills are going to be of any use, I'm going to have to be on a submarine. And to get there, I figure I ought to learn some new tricks."

"That's one way of putting it," the captain said dryly. "I'll be blunt, Mister Brody. You're here because someone pulled strings on your behalf, which means you had better be damned good at your job. If you are, I won't hold your bass-ackwards way of getting here against you—otherwise, all bets are off."

That made Brody blink. In his experience, people generally tried not to talk about the sneaky things the politicians and senior officers did behind their backs. All he could really say was "Roger that, Captain."

Apparently, however, that answer did not completely satisfy Bridger. His brown eyes narrowed as he removed the reading glasses. "It seems like you're in an awful big hurry to go to war, Lieutenant."

Is that a problem? he almost asked before biting his tongue. Instead, he shoved his ego aside and answered truthfully:

"It's not that I'm in a hurry, sir…it's just that I believe that if we've got to fight, we should do it right. And that if someone's going to fight, I'm not gonna stay at home and hide while they do."

Finally, the captain smiled, leaning back in his chair.

"Mister Brody, I think you're going to—"

The door flew open without warning, and a young lieutenant burst in.

The kid didn't even spare Brody a look before he started talking. "The Macronesians took Kingman Reef and Palmyra Atoll."

Brody felt his own jaw drop open, but the captain only blinked. Hard.

Though the Old Man did look like he wanted to jump up and do something, a feeling Brody could completely commiserate with, he only leaned back in his chair. Sitting on a submarine that hadn't even been launched yet really wasn't his idea of getting into the war, and not for the first time, he cursed his uncle for suggesting the idea. I could be leading SEAL teams into their bases, and Uncle Hamish sends me here? Great idea, Jim! Sit the action out in a submarine that isn't ready for war. How many years are going to pass before this bucket of rust is in the fight? Unfortunately, it was too late for him to back out now.

"How much do we know, Lucas?" the captain asked.

"Not much, sir. It sounds like they surrendered pretty quickly, though. The Macronesians are keeping a pretty tight hold on information coming out," the young man (Lucas, apparently, and who was he that the captain called him by his first name?) said.

"See what you can't find out," the captain ordered, and there was an edge in his voice that told Brody there was something very specifically not being said.

"It's going to take a while if I don't want them following me home," the lieutenant said, making Brody scowl despite his earlier determination to keep his feelings out if his expression. Following him home?

"Take all the time you need. It's not like we're going anywhere at the moment, after all."

"But if we could get this information to Admiral Noyce, maybe he could show it to Secretary McGath…"

"See what you can't find, first. I'm not going to promise anyone a smoking gun if one doesn't exist." The look the captain shot the kid was cautionary.

The lieutenant looked like he wanted to say something in return, but his eyes flashed towards Brody, and he seemed to think better of it. "Yes, sir."

Wonder what he was going to say?

"All right. Get to work," the captain ordered, but he was wearing a smile when he said it.

"Does this mean I get a free pass from simulator training?" the kid asked, returning the grin.

"Oh, just get out of here! You can make the training up later—and you'd better, Lucas."

"And to think, you used to yell at me for playing video games when I was supposed to be working," Lucas grinned as he left the captain's stateroom.

Bridger rolled his eyes and gestured at the closing hatch. "Allow me to belatedly introduce Lieutenant J.G. Wolenczak, our resident genius—and EWO. You'll be working with him a lot as Weps. He's also probably the best hacker in the Navy."

Not a lot of captains would openly admit to allowing someone to start hacking away at the enemy's computer systems, but Brody was beginning to realize that seaQuest really wasn't just another ship. Or boat. Whatever they called this thing.

"He seems rather..." Young? Undisciplined? Disrespectful? "Focused."

"That's one word for him." Bridger chuckled. "I'll be honest with you, Lieutenant. I'm a big believer in doing what works, and I've displayed a certain tendency to bend the rules throughout my career—so I expect my officers to do the same. Now, that's not to say that I expect you to play fast and loose with regulations just for the hell of it, but I do expect you to use your instincts. That's why you've got them."

He let himself grin. "I couldn't agree with you more, sir. Two most important things for someone like me—training and instincts. You can get by with one or the other, but to succeed, you've got to have both. At least that's what I always say." There. That ought to do the trick.

"I expect you to live up to that, then, Mr. Brody," the captain replied. "Also—and I'm only going to say this once—if you're going to do something shady, and it's going to leave this boat, I want to know about it. I'll keep you out of trouble where I can, but that's a lot easier to do when I know what it is you're up to."

Brody didn't quite know what to say to that. Most COs discouraged such behavior, and here the Old Man was pretty much giving him permission. He didn't know how to feel about that or whether he would ever feel the need to take him up on that offer. "I'll keep that in mind, sir."

"Good. Now, have you met the XO yet?"

"Not yet, Captain. It took me longer to get through security than I had expected, so I came here first." In fact, it had taken most of the morning to get through security, but he wouldn't complain.

"Well, I should warn you that Commander Hitchcock is a much bigger stickler for following the rules than I am—which means she'll chew you a new one for not checking in with her first. But you'll get over it," the captain replied cheerfully, standing up before Brody had a chance to even figure out what his answer to that should be. "Come along. I'll introduce you two."

A/N: We apologize for the delay, but real life just kind of intervened with our writing. It particularly kicked my butt, in the form of my Operational Art exam for my masters degree in Strategic Studies. Stay tuned for Chapter 11: "A Cup of Kindness", in which the boat finally gets wet, Katie's family annoys her, and New Year's celebrations commence. In the meantime, please review!

Oh, and before anyone tries to give me credit, Ben's poem was all Sol. :D