A/N: I'm not a fan of this chapter because frankly I don't know the first thing about espionage except not to get caught. I apologize in advance for the horrid formatting and its unrealistic approach, but frankly I couldn't find the type of information I needed to execute this hypothetical situation. Any input would be *greatly* appreciated to help improve your reading experience. It's also personally been a rough few weeks after the unexpected passing of a coworker.

Ch 22: Welcome Aboard

-Somewhere in the Barents Sea-

Ice cold rain ripped across the frothing black waters, instantly freezing to the metal decks and railings of the sleek, aged vessel, наша прекрасная леди, Our Fair Lady. The night was so dark that even the blinding halogen mast light felt like no more than a flickering candle in the gale force winds. Twenty-foot swells came in rapid succession, rocking the ship and her crew with each descent.

The inside of the bridge was bathed in a dark emerald glow from the control consoles, calm and warm. An eerie tension filled the air, as well as the lingering stale smoke from an overflowing ashtray that was perched close to the captain's chair. The captain of the ship, a copper-skin Colombian in his mid 50s chewed on the fat end of the cigar, looking down the bridge of his aquiline nose through his reading glasses as the instrument panel with devout attention.

"I fear the day I need glasses." Muttered the German, her sharp features pulled into a disapproving frown as she gazed upon her companion Drake.

"It's not so bad. At least I can read again. Unlike you, I'm not so stubborn."

"I can see perfectly fine." At that moment, a small chimed tone marked an incoming message on the hard cased tuffbook screen. Capricorn leaned back in her seat as she digested the long awaited information.

"Ah. So you say." Drake did little to hide the throaty snicker as he watched his ally struggle in silence.

"These goddamn screens are too bright." She grumbled, tilting the monitor back.
"Cassy says…7 minutes before we're dark. She also sent the link for the live feed. We're up."

Capricorn typed away on the keyboard, a new window popping up with an intricate map display. The soft blue light of screen highlighted her emerging sly smile before she rotated the laptop towards the ship's captain. Drake studied the detailed satellite map, watching as their target vessel appeared in clear focus in the center of their fleet's formation.

"She's really out done herself." Drake complimented, taking the cigar from his mouth and shaking the dead ash into the round glass tray. Capricorn picked up the tuffbook and set it in the empty space next to the ship's traditional radar so the screens were side by side.

On both displays numerous small ships of their team created a circle in the open water, but only on the laptop did it show them surrounding a large oblong shadow that prowled in silence below the ocean waves. Hydra's team had been tracking their target, the USS Maryland SSBN-738, for some time now, denoting its course of travel and surfacing schedule since they picked up her acoustic signature in the Atlantic. No doubt the United States had sent her to the icy northern waters to confirm Russian compliance in the wake of the Third World War. Just further northeast of their location the Morana, one Hydra's most treasured Pelagic-class super submarines, was still getting her fins wet off the cove of Stolbovoy.

"You could count the number of rivets on that hull. The resolution is incredible." Drake mused.

"I know, right?"

Everything was happening exactly as it should. Salvaging the various wreckages had been dangerous but relatively fruitful endeavors in the beginning, but now they were presented the opportunity to up the quarry and take a risky move with unproven hardware on the USS Maryland. Sofija wasn't in the position to risk revealing her hand yet, and never would have approved of their rogue operation with her resources as scattered and unprepared. Over the years, Capricorn had learned that sometimes it was better to ask for forgiveness than to ask permission.

"You look dressed for the occasion. Will you be joining the boarding party Ca-pri?" Drake asked, glancing down at his watch. The uniform was black and streamline, with a slight hint of fresh vulcanized poly.

"I am, but sadly I won't be the first one through the door. I'm not as spry as I used to be. Henrich will be taking point. But the 'negotiating', well that's more of my forte."

"I've seen your negotiating skills." The Colombian shook his head, throttling the ship forward.

"Exactly the point, my dear. It's going to be a hot zone in there." Capricorn gave a sharp chuckle, her hand coming to rest on her holster.

"You best get ready then. We are approaching the 5 minute mark." Drake announced, reaching for the silver mic that curled over the top of the ship's monitors. Capricorn shouldered on her jacket before stepping outside into the arctic blast of razor winds and freezing rain, carefully navigating the narrow steel steeps and metal grating as she made her way to the back of the vessel to join the breaching party. The night was blacker than coal, the only boundary between the sky and the ocean was the chain of running lights that rocked and bobbed on the violent waves. Diesel fumes poured from the stacks, hanging low and cloy on the pallet in the frosty air. Once she was at the back of the ship, she found an oval steel door illuminated by a soft yellow light. Inside, twelve fearless men were crammed inside the staging area, suited up and armed with only the minimum equipment they would need to defend themselves once they made contact with the target. The Colombian captain's voice came over the intercom speaker as he announced the next time marker.

The plan was straight up suicide. Submarines were the epitome of stealth and solitary predator. Destroying one was relatively simple with instant ramifications of retaliation, but to capture one whole had presented a plethora of challenges. The idea to hijack one while evading discovery had seemed impossible until Cassy, their intellectual engineer had proposed using her latest satellite arrays to passively attack the vessel. Through an intricate design and complex network of variable communication barriers -both through air and through sea, their circle of ships would create a communication "dead zone" and eliminate any emergency signals from escaping once their target was compromised. Affixed acoustic hardware on each ship would run interference through the water, blinding the primitive navigation system, and using both the fleet and overhead aircraft would block radio signals. During this time the dive team would be busy affixing EMF mines and attaching the press that would jeopardize the outer door.

The greatest power of this operation rested in their growing network of orbital satellites. Cassy's communication killer, aptly named Deep Chatter, was an information hacking and interference satellite that worked in tangent with Andromeda, a partially weaponized satellite equipped with a high powered electromagnetic pulse "cannon" and photographic lenses that made the Hubble telescope's pictures look like pixel art with its pinpoint accuracy. It had taken over a decade to construct, covertly assemble, and troubleshoot the complex celestial behemoths, especially in the wake of world terrorism in 2001 when any and all activities were questioned by NATO. Makarov had wanted to bring the world to its knees, and Sofija wanted to secure her place at his side by disarming any opposition through taking their resources. Hyrdra may have been extravagant in her taste of destruction, but she was ultimately lethal and ruthless.

Now they were minutes away from attacking a United States nuclear ballistic sub in open water and without backup. Deep Chatter would run interference with bogus cover signals and shut down any and all SOS coms. By now the dive time had already deployed the EMF mines to the USS Maryland, crippling her electronic internals completely while the press chewed away at the top hatch. The sudden catastrophic failure would hopefully force an emergency surfacing once the manual override was engaged.

Two minutes.

The breaching team of six had left the warming room and were onto the slick deck. A large wave crashed against the rear port, swamping the team and back platform in a foamy wash as they swiftly moved to the staged zodiac to prepare for launch. Of course, they had to pick the worst night to begin their assault, but time was of the essence and the Maryland was moving with purpose across the vacant ocean towards the Morana's covert harbor.

One minute.

All the lights went dark as the diesel cut to electric idle, the small room barely lit by a single red shade from the ceiling corner. Run silent, run deep it was once said. Every light on the horizon winked out of existence in unison. Despite the wretched winds, an eerie silence filled the void, voiced only by the battering waves of the sea. The first of the zodiacs were already drifting out into the darkness and away from the safety of Our Fair Lady and the sister ships. Each squad would be separately and simultaneously, covering the escape hatches that dotted the crest of the Maryland. Capricorn grabbed the aluminum clad suitcase from the arsenal lockers and slipped on the full faced respirator, pulling each tab tight before nodding to her assigned partner Henrich from across the cramped quarters.

Zero

She switched on the integrated night vision and fell in with the second team as they left the warm safety of the staging room and traversed the ice laden deck towards the second watercraft. Outside the world was reborn in a monochromatic green as her eyes adjusted to the new light, the grainy shadows of their attack fleet coming into focus. A column of bubbles began to churn in the center of their formation, the inflatable zodiacs seeming to idly circle as an indescribable low roar welled from below. The massive waves of the Barents parted as the black visage of the Maryland broke the surface in a violent rush, the sleek 560ft monster lurching upward. The displacement sent out dangerous swells that threatened to roll everything in its wake, all personnel on deck holding fast to the frozen railings and hunkering down.

The breaching team wasted no time as they clambered onto the submarine, setting to work on finishing the primary first hatch. Years ago, it was an impossible feat to hack through the defenses of one of the most feared and well-built seafaring vessels, but with today's technologies, high powered tools and explosives anything was becoming possible. In the distance the sound of popping steel seems cracked like a gunshot. A small whirring of hydraulics continued to crush against the tempered steel, the vibrations carrying across the oblong hull. Over 150 of the United States' finest sailors were packed inside about to face an unknown foe.

A heavy metallic thud signaled the success of the first hatch. The team pulled the broken hatch backwards and sent a different type of tool down the shaft deal with the secondary door. Capricorn held fast as the boarding team launched from Our Fair Lady towards the lumbering Maryland, the conning tower a great smooth monolith jutting above the vicious waves. Two operators from the initial landing teams assisted with mooring the craft as the boarding crew positioned themselves for the next phase of the mission. Strange sounds were beginning to amass from the chute as the pneumatic drill pounded away. The spotter signaled they were almost through the secondary hatch.

Capricorn and Henrich immediately went to work and began assembling the contents of the metal case as the spotter counted down until final impact. Separate large vials of clear and amber liquids were carefully mixed and stacked inside the delivery system. Once the long cylindrical device was fully loaded, it was carried over to the ring of personnel manning the long pneumatic drill.

The racket ceased as the carbide bit decimated the second hatch's lock. In fluid silence, the breaching team retrieved the obtuse tool and cleared the entrance as the boarding crew moved into position. Henrich climbed into the chute with the tall cylinder cradled against his chest. Compressed air back flowed as the cocktail was dispersed into the chamber, eliciting the first sounds of successful contact. Capricorn mentally counted out the allotted time, each passing minute feeling like an hour as they awaited for a clear entry. Henrich scaled the polish ladder and handed the expired cartridge back to his partner before returning below the surface to lift open the hatch. Capricorn rallied her entry team as Henrich slipped into the abyss, following in after him.

As she descended the ladder the banshee winds above were snuffed out by the pounding in her ears. Henrich guided her last steps off the ladder, sidestepping the expired soldiers who continued to twitch in the last of their death throws. A wet fog still hung in the first room, slowly dissipating as it seeped into the bowels of the USS Maryland. Two more of the boarding team climbed down the chute and stacked into a defensive formation as the second batch of chemical nerve agents were cautiously lowered into the room. Several more dispersal canisters were armed and flushed through the re-circulation vents, ensuring widespread delivery throughout the vessel. Their priority now was to reach the control room and secure the Maryland's navigation while the clean up crew flushed out survivors.

The inside of the Maryland was completely dark. In the corners of her peripherals, Capricorn could catch the shuddering forms of the dying crew as the nerve agent shut down their systems in punctual time. One wrong maneuver, and their team would be suffering the same fate if one of their suits failed. She hugged closer to Henrich as they slipped down the narrow corridor towards the control room. The bulkhead door was securely shut. Henrich and Capricorn flanked the oval compartment door as they contemplated executing their next move. Henrich grabbed hold of the large circular handle, rotating the device until the lock disengaged.

Capricorn stood braced at the threshold, the pistol in a low ready against her ballistic vest as her back was pressed against the cold steel wall and her team poised behind her. With her eyes fixed forward, she gave a slight nod to signal her readiness as her partner peeled open the door.

...

A/N: Thanks for suffering through this with me.