A virus breaks out on an American submarine and tragedy strikes the fleet.

"Standard English"

"Submarine"

"Korean"

Cathedral City was patrolling the Sea of Japan. Her highly tuned ears could detect something off her port flank, not directly behind her so well within her range. Her muscles tense and she growled. She hated being followed. To let the other submarine know she knew they were there she pinged it. The other sub squealed and made a 180, heading for a nearby reef through which a mere 15 foot wide channel ran. "Must be a midget." She mused. She winced at the distinctive sound of hull scraping against reef and knew that the little sub didn't make it unscathed. The damage was severe enough for her to surface and Cathedral could distinctly see the crewman scrambling for the lifeboats. The sub herself was wailing in agony. Against her better judgement, the Los Angeles-class moved forward and held the midget. "Deep breaths now." She murmured. The sub whimpered, murmuring something in North Korean before her eyes closed and she fell limp against Cathedral's hull. Combatant or not, the Los Angeles-class wasn't about to treat her dead companion like an enemy. Gently she rasped her tongue over the midget's head. "Fair winds and following seas sister." She whispered.

1 day and JAG had already sent out a man. She had to hand it to the Advocates. They sure could provide a speedy response when they needed to. The officer in question was a Commander Sturgis Turner, apparently a submariner himself and he settled in quickly. Much quicker than his partner who was of South Korean descent and was asked to come along on this mission for his language skills. Before climbing down from the sail, Turner paused and turned towards the bow. He snapped a quick salute and said "Taleo." "Taleo Commander." Cathedral replied, both pleased and flattered at the recognition. This one had manners at least.

The Koreans were being kept in the torpedo room and Turner got to work fast, questioning the captain first who put up a good resistance until Turner threatened him with never seeing his country again. The men were in an uproar with at least six shouting their desire to defect. "That's the worst good news I've heard all day." Cathedral sighed to Turner. "Yeah well I can't change their minds. If they want to defect, that's their right." He replied. "Are they talking?" She asked. "Not unless they are promised to be standing on sovereign US soil." He replied. "Well I'm not exactly the earth but I am sovereign territory." The submarine growled, her voice deep enough to produce vibrations throughout the ship. She felt insulted. "Easy, don't work yourself up too much." He said, stroking a bulkhead. She purred and relaxed though she was still annoyed. Their moment was interrupted as Turner's partner came in. "Well?" Turner asked. "They won't cooperate." He replied, frustrated. "You know I can't help but wonder if there's a large enough difference between North and South Korean dialects." Centreno mused. "Where do you hail from?" He asked. "Guam, where else?" She snorted. "Can you understand submarines from Bangor." He asked. "Point taken." She agreed with a sigh.

Cathedral knew something was wrong. She knew it the moment the man went into the bathroom. Her concern spread amongst the atmosphere of the crew until quite a large number of them had converged outside the door. Sturgis weaved his way through. "Something's wrong sir." Centreno whimpered. "I can sense it. Something's very wrong." "Don't worry, Centreno. I'll handle it." He replied and forced the door open finding the man face down on the floor. "Get the coreman in here!" He ordered.

"What's the diagnosis Doc?" She asked an hour later. The coreman was biting his lip so the submarine knew it was bad. "First off Cathedral, my name is not Doc!" He growled and she stifled a snicker. "Second off, and know that I don't have the tools to get an accurate diagnosis but..." "Your suspicion please?" She asked rolling her eyes. "I spent an hour trying to disprove this ma'am but I think its SARS." He replied. Centreno's breath hitched and Turner gritted his teeth. The submarine was more than a little concerned and she had a right to be. They all did. SARS coronavirus as it was known was a highly contagious respiratory ailment that could kill if left untreated and in the confined space of a submarine it was practically assured that if one man caught it the rest would too. "I never thought I'd say this but I hope you're wrong Doc." She said.

Cathedral came up to periscope depth and deployed her snorkel at 55 feet. It would allow her to ventilate the air for her crew. She herself stuck her nose clear of the surface and breathed in deep, taking in fresh air to filter out what may be contaminated in her lungs. After 30 minutes she dove again. As it turned out she wasn't in the clear. Within the hour she herself was coughing. Small coughs at first but they quickly grew in intensity. Soon she was struggling to maintain a steady course as her coughs wracked her from bow to stern. She was shivering constantly, unusual for a deep sea submarine. They were used to the cold. She surfaced and the coreman took a temperature reading. "103."* He said. "You have it, girl." Cathedral whimpered and her gaze flickered to her captain. Both were thinking the same thing. Would she even survive this patrol.

It was too long days before the submarine reached Dutch Harbor in the Aleutians. By the time she entered the harbor she was running a 105 degree fever, was seeing double, and was beginning to have convulsions. Medical ships swarmed her, getting her into sling where she could rest. She wheezed as she breathed and couldn't even speak. She'd lost her voice days ago. Mostly she just slept as an IV dripped much needed fluids into her. And when she was awake she was groggy and regarded the world through half-lidded eyes that were glazed and dulled by sickness. Usually when a ship caught a disease like this one she was put down. SARS had no cure for submarines but being under 10 years of age may've spared Cathedral that option. The navy opted to wait and see what happened. If she could ride it out maybe she could be alright. If not, then they would have no choice but to put her down if the virus didn't claim her first. Cathedral fought hard to prevent that from happening. She'd always been a fighter. Since she was born she'd proven herself a fighter. She fought for 2 long weeks but by the end of those weeks it was clear the virus was getting the better of her. Her resistance was only delaying the inevitable.

Turner came to visit her the day she was scheduled to be put down. The lawyer was failing to hold back his tears and despite her illness, Cathedral nudged him with her snout, offering a raspy whimper. She couldn't speak but the message was clear. "Don't grieve." She felt his fingers as they brushed her hull with expert gentleness and she purred. Her eyes slipped closed and she didn't even feel it when the needle stuck in. Her head dropped to the ground with a thud. She'd been lowered in preparation for this. She died within 30 seconds of the injection, her starboard fin up in the air, fingers interlocking with Turner's.

*Submarines have a similar temperature range as humans. Between 96 and 99 degrees is considered healthy. And anything over 103 can be life threatening.