Yokosuka Naval District Headquarters

1030, October 8th

In a brightly lit command room, there were multiple Blue Mermaids officials as well as foreign officers dressed in different styles of uniform sitting around a long wooden conference table. Steaming mugs of coffee shared space with documents, computers and pencils. At the head of the table was a large screen with faces on them along with two dark haired, red eyed women. Both share similar traits but one is clearly much older with streaks of grey lining her hair and circles under her severe eyes. The younger woman wears a white uniform while the older wears a black one. The atmosphere was tense as everyone grimly read the reports. Even those on the screen were reading as well.

"Good day to all of you," the older woman greets politely.

"Good morning to you Principal Munetani," replies one of the foreign officers on the screen. The background behind him is a rather simple office.

"Thank you Commodore Clouston. We are all gathered here to coordinate our efforts in stemming this new RATt infection," she explains, "I welcome our colleagues from the US Navy, Royal Navy, Royal Canadian Navy, Royal Australian Navy and the Royal New Zealand Navy. Let us begin this meeting."

There was a short pause as the younger woman and Principal Munetani switch places.

"I am Inspector Mashimo Munetani of the Blue Mermaids," she introduces herself before turning on another screen at the back of the room, prompting everyone to turn their attention, "This is the current state of affairs. After the Iwo Jima incident, we've counted 13 capital ships who have gone missing. Eleven of those ships were to be assigned to the Yokosuka Naval District. The two other ships were assigned to other districts, and are unaccounted for as well."

As she speaks, the screen changes to display the outline of 13 warships of different displacement. At the top are two carriers, the Taiho and the Shoukaku.

"There are also nine Victory ships along with their cargo that have gone missing." Mashimo adds as the screen changes again to show the outline of the cargo ships,

"Pardon the interruption inspector. Which Victory Ships have gone missing?" A grey-haired American instructor in another screen asks as he sits up straighter in his chair. The inspector changes the slide to display various diagrams underneath of nine Victory ship outlines.

"Instructor Bogan, this is the latest information we have about the contents of those missing ships."

The eyes of many of those present narrowed as they saw what those ships carried in their holds.

"Are we sure these are the correct ships? That is an awful lot of ordinance," Bogan remarks.

"These are the ships that were part of the relief convoys, but never registered in any ports following the initial outbreak."

"I see. Please continue then."

"At approximately twenty-two-hundred hours last night, a PBY-5 from USS Tangier, Seattle Naval Academy, spotted multiple ships leaving the area of Ioto Ogasawara, sailing in an orderly formation to the south. Shortly thereafter the seaplane was forced to return, and we've since lost the ships. We need to find those ships, before the RATt virus can get to Japan."

"Excuse me Inspector. How many vessels did the seaplane see?" A representative from Australia asks.

"Instructor Wakouski, they couldn't confirm the exact number due to weather conditions, but they could confirm it was at least five."

"We need to know the location of those flattops as soon as possible." An American Navy officer states forcefully.

"We're working on it. So far we've only found a Victory-class transport adrift." A Canadian instructor reports.

"We need more than just working on it." Another American sighs before an arm reaches from out of the camera's view and hands him a piece of paper. He sits up straighter and reads it over, his jaw clenching before he turns his microphone on. "Monterey just sent out a report. They have multiple unresponsive aircraft approaching, and are scrambling their fighter wing to intercept."

"Are they sure of it?"

"Yes. They already had a bomber flight make contact. Three of the four planes are down."

"Start converging on that sector. Find. Those. Ships." A female American instructor snaps, disconnecting from the meeting.


Jack Schumer

USS Monterey

1056, October 8th

Location: 31°45'07.3"N 141°00'16.2"E

Status: Intercept course, 23,000 feet. Accompanied by India-Two and India-Three.

"All elements, combat spread. Eyes out."

{This is Sierra Two-Four, I'm hit! Going down!} The last of the four scout bomber pilots yells through the radio.

"Outback, India One-One, requesting bogey dope." I half-growl into the radio, shifting around in my seat while looking around.

{India One-One, nearest group, one-nine-six for ten miles, at one-eight thousand. Ten-ship, hot.}

"India copies." I snug my oxygen mask to my face and flash my formation lights as a signal for everyone to follow me, turning towards the nearest group. The usual worries and fears start to creep forward, but I beat them down with extreme prejudice and get my head back on the mission. "All India elements, make ready for combat, keep the bags for now."

I reach forward and turn my guns to 'ARMED', then flip the 'Master Arm' switch and flick the switch cover down, looking over my right wing at the six Hellcats on that side. Marco and Saige both give me a thumbs-up to indicate they're armed, and the flight leader of India-Two rocks his wings since he's further out. I shift in my seat and look over my left wing, getting a thumbs-up from Alice and another confirmation from India-Three, making twelve Hellcats locked and loaded. Ready to hunt.

{India One-One, Outback. Adjust heading to Two-One-Zero for intercept.}

"One-One copies, turning to heading Two-One-Zero for intercept."

I put my plane in a gentle turn, taking brief glances at my altimeter and compass until I'm lined up with 210. Then once again I look around, checking for my wingmen and the other flights, finding them right where they were previously.

{India One-One, Outback. Pop-up group, Two-One-Niner for sixteen miles, eight thousand, four-ship, hot.}

"One-One copies. Designate pop-up group Romeo-Two. Requesting bogey dope."

{Ten-ship, one-eight-five for eight miles. Twenty-thousand, hot. Hold heading for intercept.}

I look down at my instruments and check everything, doing some quick math in my head after a glance at my fuel gauge. "All India elements on this net, seal tanks and prepare to jettison."

Multiple chirps in my headset serve as acknowledgements as I pull a small lever up underneath my right armpit, sealing the drop tanks so no residual fuel can leak out. Once the tanks are sealed I select the bomb pylons and release them, feeling the plane lurch upwards from the change of weight and drag. I switch to the internal stores and do a quick aileron roll to make sure they're away, then neutralize my trim and turn my gunsight on. "One-One, gloves on."

{One-Two, gloves on.}

{One-Three, gloves on.}

{One-Four, gloves on, ready to rock and roll!}

As the other reports of readiness come from the other flight leaders I keep an eye out ahead of us, scanning for the planes that I know are ahead of us. I'm almost ready to ask 'Outback' for a bearing when Alice calls out over the radio.

{Tally ten! One-thirty, low!}

I sit up and lean forward, looking down past the leading edge of my right wing to find ten black dots perfectly outlined against a cloud, in near perfect formation, line abreast.

"Tally. One, starting my attack."

{Two!} Alice chirps, informing me she's in trail behind me.

I wing over and open up the throttle, diving at the formation of planes. Green color scheme, yellow stripe on the tail, rounded wingtips, black engine cowling….

"Confirmed bandits, type six-mike, 'Zeke'." I say calmly as I line up on one from four o'clock high, the distance closing rapidly until I finally hold down the trigger for a half-second, the entire plane shaking for a moment before I roll out, climbing up above the formation as it scatters. I level out a couple thousand feet above the Zero's and circle while partially inverted, watching the other flights get their runs in before I dive back in, singling out one belching smoke like it's going out of style. My dive on the wounded fighter is rudely interrupted a few seconds after I start it when a stream of rather large tracers zips past my right wingtip.

{One, feint left, pull out!} Alice warns. I do as she says and pull out of the dive, jinking left then pulling hard right, ignoring the possibility of ripping the FFAR's off my wings.

{I got one!} Marco cheers as I snap my head back to see a brief flash of a Zero zipping past with a Hellcat hot on his ass. I reverse my turn and start corkscrewing upwards, glancing over my left shoulder to find two Zero's plummeting towards the ocean with the streamer chute trailing, slowing them down enough to safely deploy the large parachute.

{Scratch one!} Alice chimes, pulling up on my wing. I look past her at the fight below us, and find it's exactly what I thought it would be, a gigantic furball, with both Hellcats and Zeros turning and burning to try and get on the other's tail. Consistently through the fight, the radio bustles with communications from the other flights.

{India Two-Four going down!}

{Three-One, I've got one on my ass!}

{Two-Three you've got a hole in your right wing!}

{I fucking noticed!}

I take a deep breath and reverse direction, loosely turning so Alice can easily follow me. As I turn I scan the fight below us and single out another Zero, one climbing up above the fight, and open up the throttle, diving on it from 5 o'clock high, thinking Alice has my six covered until I hear her snarl in irritation.

{Two, I've got one on my tail!}

I break off my attack and pull up, letting the R-2800 claw for altitude before I roll inverted and throttle back, searching for my girlfriend in the furball before I spot a hellcat maneuvering away from the mess with a Zero hot on its tail. I roll upright and open the throttle again with a quick glance at my fuel gauge and engine temperatures, then check over my shoulder to clear my six as I pursue the two planes.

{One where are you?! I need help with this guy!} She yells, starting to climb before she snap-rolls left and dives, only fooling the pilot for a moment before it too, rolls and dives. I nose into the dive and follow with the throttle wide open, lining up behind the Japanese fighter while Alice starts a right turn, making it harder for the Zero to pull lead on her, but also making it harder for me to pull lead on him.

"Two, pull hard left, I've got him. Ready? Mark."

True to my instructions, she reverses her turn and pulls hard, just as the Zero lets loose a split-second burst. The shells hit her right wingtip, and her plane rolls inverted as it suddenly stalls, leading into an inverted flat spin. I growl and give the Zero a much longer burst than usual, ensuring it goes down before I break hard into a left turn, spiraling down with Alice as she tries to recover, managing to do so in seconds. All the while she snarls an incredibly descriptive blue streak of words describing what she's going to do with her guardian angel if she dies.

{India One-One, merged, Romeo-Two.} 'Outback' reports, but it's lost to me in Alice's explicit yelling.

15,000.

14,000.

13,000.

12,000.

I look out through my canopy and find Alice pulling out of her dive. I pull back on the stick and strain through the G's, finally getting level and starting to climb up to her, just in time for a loud clatter to make my heart jump into my throat. I snap left and pull hard, looking over my shoulder to find an oddly familiar shape of an aircraft nose staring back at me. It's different from the round nose of the A6M, and is sorta reminiscent of the Hellcat, but it's way too small. Not to mention it's green, not the USN tricolor camouflage pattern we fly with, and the wings are too long to be a Hellcat.

"Sam! I've got a Sam on my tail!" I yell into the radio, using the codename for the A7M.

{All Monterey aircraft, disengage and return to the fleet. Say again, disengage and return to the carrier.}

{We can't disengage, they'll just follow us back!} Someone from India-Two yells in frustration.

{All India elements, pop-up group, one-seven-six for thirty miles, two-zero contacts at ten thousand, hot. Designated Romeo-Three.}

The radio almost immediately falls quiet. I pull back hard on the stick and jam the rudder hard to the left, causing an asymmetric stall. I'm thrown against my harness as my plane starts to fall like a rock, spinning wildly the entire time as I fight to get the nose down.

"I fuckin' hate doing thiiis!" I yell, jamming the stick right and keeping it there. Thankfully the nose drops and I start gaining speed again.

{This is India One-Two, I'm going down!}


Huynh, Kinh-Luyên,

October 8th, 1300

HMCS Rainbow, Observation deck

Status: Heading to patrol area

Standing on the observation deck, Kinh and his crewmen scanned the area around with their binoculars. Their departure from Yokosuka had initially been uneventful until two hours ago when Saïd reported that the American fighters had run into rogue fighters. The captain had ordered the radio operator to keep him updated on the situation. To his horror, his allies were being overwhelmed by superior numbers. Slowly but steadily, the transmissions were lessening until half of the American were still emitting intercom phone suddenly rang.

"Kinh here," the captain said as he held the handset, "What's happening?"

It was from the radio room.

"Saïd here. We just got some new orders."

Kinh raised an eyebrow though he had a gnawing feeling about what was going on.

"New patrol coordinates?"

"Nah man, we're ordered to pick up the Americans who got shot down seeing as they got ambushed in the sector we're heading to."

Kinh paused for a brief moment while Al looked at him in curiosity.

"You sure that's what command wants?" he asks as he did a hand gesture for Al to focus on scanning the area, "The enemy probably has air superiority in that area. That'll make any search and rescue mission a pain in the ass."

"We can always ask the picket destroyer in the area if they have any contacts on radar."

Kinh sighs. It was a risky mission but someone needed to fish those poor sods out of the water. Who knew how long could they hold.

"Smart idea," he finally said, "Do you have the coordinates for the crashed planes' EPIRB's?"

"Yes, I do." Saïd answered, "We've just received them a few moments ago."

"Gimme a sec," Kinh replied before shutting off the intercom. Looking over at Al and the rest of the watchmen, he gave them instructions.

"Right guys, keep an eye out for planes," he says, "New orders just came in."

"Oh?" Al asks with a puzzled look, "We're picking up the pilots who got shot down?"

Kinh nodded as he began to climb down into the command room.

"Exactly, they ran into a fucking trap and got blown out of the skies."

"Their EPIRB's triggered?" the blonde watch officer adds.

"Yup, catch you in a few minutes."

With that, Kinh slid down the ladder and into the command room of the Rainbow where Oliver was busy monitoring the rest of the crew with Olson.

"New orders gents."

XXXXXXXXXX

30 minutes later

"Dammit all!" Kinh swore as he lowered his binoculars, "Still nothing!"

Frustration was written all over his face as he clenched his teeth in annoyance. The Rainbow had finally arrived on the scene of the first EPIRB coordinates. Justin and the engine crew were pushing the sub to its highest speed. Speed was of the essence. Much to their despair, there was no sign of a stranded pilot or even a crashed Hellcat.

"You see anything Frank?" Junior asked anxiously, "Cause I got nothing on my side right now."

"I hope we're not too late," Frank replied with anger in his voice as he held his binoculars to his face, "For all we could know, those RATt infected could have shot them while they were in the water."

"That would be fucking shit," Al added with a scowl on his tense face, "We'd have no way of finding the bodies."

Kinh glared at all three of them.

"Don't fuckin' jinx'em alright? We'll find them and get them back alive am I clear?!"

He scanned the horizon but there was still nothing around them. Grabbing the intercom, he contacted the radio room.

"Saïd! Get me updated coordinates if possible," the captain barks.

"Aye! I'll get in touch with command." replied the radio operator, "Gimme a minute or two."

"Understood."

'Please don't fuck this up command. Those pilots don't want to be fish food.'

Kinh shuddered at the thought.

The intercom suddenly rang.

"Saïd?" he tersely asks as his grip tightens on the handset.

"Got news from the Basilone. Lone plane headed our way."

"Wha-? How far out?"

There's a brief pause from Saïd.

"Bearing 2-4-6, 8 miles and closing in slowly."

Kinh raised an eyebrow.

"Slowly? What speed roughly"

There was another pause.

"150 knots, according to the Basilone," the radio operator replies, "Maybe one of the Americans that are unaccounted for?"

"Maybe or a lost enemy fighter. Either ways, I'll warn Oliver to prepare for emergency dive-"

He's suddenly interrupted by Frank's shouting.

"Contact aircraft! Bearing 2-4-5!" he shouted as he pointed to their south east.

Raising their binoculars, the rest of the deck crew scanned the horizon for the incoming plane.

"I got eyes on it!" Al yelled as he and everyone else spotted a black dot approaching. The black dot had white smoke trailing behind it.

"That is not normal," Junior remarked tensely as he tracks the rapidly closing dot, "That plane's been hit badly!"

"Pilot might be injured from the battle," Al added, "He's headed our way alright!"

As the dot drew nearer, the four crewmen recognized the plane in question.

"It's one of our Hellcats!" Kinh shouts, relief evident in his voice before realizing something, "Why the hell is it still around here!? Didn't they all head back!?"

"I don't know man!" Al shot back, "But it's starting to get alot lower."

"Oh fuck… maybe the pilot got dazed or something," Junior said with horror on his face, "Fella must be running out of gas or fallen over on his controls."

"Shit."

As it neared and started a lazy orbit around the Rainbow, the pilot slid the canopy back, letting the plane get slightly lower as the engine sputtered, then died, and the pilot leveled his hole-ridden wings, gently pulling the nose of his plane up as his flaps lowered.

"He's making a landing!" Frank called out.

"Oh shit!" Kinh yelled as he grabbed the intercom, "All crewmembers! Stand by for emergency pilot recovery protocol!"

Sweat trickled down his forehead as he watched the plane lose altitude. The good news was that the pilot was mostly likely still conscious as he or she managed to guide their crippled warbird in for a landing. The bad news was that the plane had been hit and that it might break apart on impact.

Roughly a mile ahead of them, the Hellcat gently set down on the water, the flotation system working as it's supposed to, fully inflating and keeping the fighter afloat as the Rainbow knifed through the water towards it.

Aboard the submarine, Olson watched the plane through a pair of binoculars while the crew of the sub scrambled around, getting ready to take on a wounded pilot, as well as moving some supplies around inside the sub so there would be room for the pilot to sleep.

"Damn good pilot!" Kinh exclaimed.

"Wouldn't expect anything less. It takes skill to land on a carrier, much less calm seas." Olson grunted as the captain grabbed one of the Rainbow's megaphones.

"This is Captain Kinh-Luyên Huynh of the HMCS Rainbow. Can you hear me?" he called through the megaphone as the sub drew closer, receiving no answer from the ditched plane.

"Merde… don't be dead," he muttered before calling out again into the megaphone.


Jack Schumer

F6F-5, Tail #N3061G

1348, October 8th

Location: 31°43'20.9"N 141°10'46.4"E

Status: Ditched in the ocean.

"Fuck."

Emphasizing the curse, I throw my gloves into the floor by my rudder pedals and rest my head against the back of the seat. The frustration of failing to cover my wingman and girlfriend quickly creeps in, and I clench my fist before beating it against the control panel in rage.

"God damn it!" I snarl to nobody in particular, unbuckling my harness and grabbing my ditch bag from behind the seat, putting my cameras in a dry bag with their storage banks so they're protected before I stand up in the seat and look past the tail at the all-too-familiar submarine approaching, hearing a familiar voice calling through a megaphone.

"Anyone there? Hello!"

"Ah fuck. Hey Frenchie!" I yell back, waving an arm above my head.

"You injured?"

"Nah, I'm fine!"

I hear the familiar voice of the skipper ordering his boys to throw me a buoy as they slow down alongside my plane, roughly twenty yards off the left wing, and I step onto the wing, being mindful of a line of holes where an A7M stitched me up.

"What the hell are you still doing out here?" The annoying captain asks as a rope is thrown to me. "All the other pilots that were still flying returned to the Monterey."

"I was looking for my wingman, Alice. Please tell me you guys picked her up."

The captain and his crew look at each other with unease before he awkwardly rubs the back of his head.

"You're the first one we've picked up," Kinh uneasily answers, not daring to look at me, "We haven't found anyone else yet."

I clench my fist and take a deep breath, jumping off the wing onto the deck and hauling in the rope to leave my Hellcat to drift. "What the fuck. Have any other vessels picked up pilots?"

Kinh sighs, still having trouble looking at me.

"We're the first one on-site," he replies, not meeting my eyes, "We're the closest boat in the area."

Al puts his hand on my shoulder, probably catching that I was talking about my girlfriend.

"Bro we're gonna find her ok?" the hockey player says with a serious look, "We're gonna do our best to find her." The other two crewmen nod in agreement before they turn their attention to the sea surrounding us.

I brush his hand off and sigh, hiking my bag up on my other shoulder. "Roughly bearing one-six-five is her plane."

Kinh nods before getting on his intercom and ordering the Rainbow to change her course. He also asks for another pair of binoculars to be brought up with a quiet but commanding voice. Within moments, one of his boys hands him the binoculars.

"Here," he says handing me the object, "You'll need it."

I take them and pull the loop over my neck, hopping up to sit on the edge of the conning tower railing. Minutes turn to hours as I sit there, scanning the seemingly endless ocean, until I start to get tired and simply sit there, feeling at the velvet case of the ring in my pocket.

" . . . Startin' to think maybe I should've taken that offer from Oriskany."

"Hmm?" Kinh grunts with an innocent look on his face as he lowers his binoculars.

"Oh, that offer I got from Oriskany, flying Corsairs. Maybe I should've taken it after all. At least I wouldn't be in this life or death bullshit."

"Je vois. Well I don't know what to say" he replies flatly, "I can't really see the future."

"Eh, forget I said anything. Mind if I head below deck?"

The captain shakes his head.

"Nah, if you want to sleep, feel free to use my quarters. I'll tell the guys to take you there."

I grunt a thanks and put my feet on solid metal again, picking up my bag and dropping it down the ladder before climbing down, into the sardine can, addressing the crew once I step off the bottom rung. "Pardon the intrusion, where's the nearest bunk? I ain't picky."

I see a chestnut haired, bearded instructor looking over to me as I pick my bag up again.

"Right this way, Kinh told me to take you to his cabin," the man says, guiding me through the sub, "I'm Olson by the way."

"Name's Jack, I believe you've met my sister, Danielle."

The old man nods with a smile.

"Fine girl, though I think you are both cut from the same cloth."

I can see the crew quietly doing their everyday tasks as the old man guides me to Kinh's quarters. Despite being of average stature, I practically have to get on my hands and knees to fit through some of the hatches, and more than once I hit my head on said hatch, earning some laughs from any nearby crew. More often than not I end up plastering myself against one wall to get past someone, but finally Olson motions at a small curtained-off bunk.

"That's Kinh's quarters."

"Thank you sir." I reply with a yawn, climbing into the bunk and propping my feet up on my backpack before closing my eyes, less falling asleep and more passing out.


Huynh, Kinh-Luyên,

October 8th, 1700

HMCS Rainbow, Observation deck

Status: Looking for survivors

The sun started setting as the Rainbow kept moving across the calm ocean. Despite the tranquility, her deck crew was unable to enjoy the peace. They had spent hours looking for a crashed plane with no luck so far with rotations being in place

"Merde, this is looking for a needle in haystack," Kinh mutters his breath, "Fucking hell, I hope the others are coming in soon otherwise those pilots are gonna be fucking fish food."

He shuddered at the thought. The intercom suddenly rang before the captain picked it up.

"Kinh here. What's the situation?"

"Basilone reports that they've picked up three pilots and Harekaze found a one of them too." Said reports.

"That makes five accounted for," Kinh replied, "That means there are two still out there. Fuckin' hell. Tell'em we've picked up one guy and he gave us the bearing for another one."

"Understood."

Kinh changed stations to contact the command post. He heard someone pick it up

"Olson? How's our VIP doing?" he asked calmly, "Not too… messed up?"

"Gimme a sec," Oliver answered before the captain the sound of the intercom phone being handed around.

"Olson here."

"Yeah, how's he doing?" Kinh asked again with obvious care in his voice.

"Passed out on your bunk," the instructor replied, "He's been out since the second he hit your bed."

"Damn," the captain muttered, "Doc had a chance to take a look at him?"

"No, they saw him and said he was too exhausted for a proper examination, but he's not in any danger. Just needs sleep and food. Cook's on it already."

"Right," Kinh finally said, "We'll keep each other updated."

"Yup."

Kinh then hanged up and sighed.

"Let's hope we'll find them soon."

His deck crew nodded in approval before returning to the arduous task. The monotony set in as they searched for a crashed plane. Suddenly…

"Plane spotted!" Al shouted, "10° to port!"

The three other boys swung their binoculars and saw a bullet ridden Hellcat fighter barely floating, and Kinh raised the megaphone for the second time that day.

"This is Captain Kinh-Luyên Huynh of the HMCS Rainbow. Can you hear me?"

No answer.

"Fuck!" he swore before calling out again to the pilot. Still no answer. He grabbed the intercom and began barking orders to whoever picked it up.

"Change heading 5° to port! Prepare for pilot recovery. Possibility of severe injuries! Medical personnel on standby."

He heard Oliver call out exactly the same thing to the command post crew. The captain felt the sub change directions under him as it moved towards the ditched plane.

"You two," he said pointing at Frank and Junior, "Keep an eye out for anything in the sky."

He raised his binoculars to get another look at the fighter.

"Crap there's oil over the canopy," Kinh said before turning to Al, "You see anything man?" he asked hurriedly, the plane surrounded by a slick of aviation gas.

"No, there's too much oil on it."

The sudden clanking of metal rings out as someone scrambles up the ladder.

"What the-?"

Jack heaved himself up out of the hatch and moved quickly to the railing, grabbing the metal, having taken off his flight suit.

"That's her plane!"

"Oh fuck!" Kinh yelled before pausing, "How the fuck did you get here?!" he asked in shock.

Not bothering to answer, Jack scrambled down from the conning tower.

"What the-," Kinh stammered before collecting himself, "Get another buoy ready!" He heard Frank slide down the conning tower. At the same time, Al dashed off the conning tower and ran after Jack. His boots clanked on the sub's metal hull as he called out to the American.

"Calm down man! You're not helping yourself!" he yelled before he decided to grab Jack by the hem of his coat and pull him back towards him.

"Get your hands off me motherfucker!" Jack snarled, knocking Al's hands away. Before Jack could do anything else, Al wrapped his arms around Jack and picked him up.

"Tabarnak, you're gonna calm the fuck down okay!? Your girlfriend's already in trouble… I don't want to have deal with you getting stuck in shit as well!"

Jack thrashed for a second more against the hockey player's grasped before stopping and sighed through clenched teeth. "Alright fine, put me down."

"Now you promise me you won't jump in the water?"

"Sure, but you better damn well believe I'm gonna be the one pulling the canopy off."

"Fine by me."

"Aight now put me the fuck down."

"Ight."

Al released Jack and put him back on the sub's deck.

"You jump, I'm pulling you up and kickin' your ass," he said seriously while pointing a finger at Jack.

"You'd try."

"Whatever," he answered before turning his head towards the conning tower, "I'll go fetch the rope and buoy." Looking at Kinh, he sees his captain with a buoy and rope, and nods, signalling the other boy to throw him the rope and buoy.

Catching the objects, Al suddenly hears a splash near to where Jack was.

"Calisse de tabarnak!"

He saw a figure swimming towards the downed fighter.

"At least he could swim," the watch officer muttered as he made his way forward.

Ignoring the fuel slick he was swimming through, Jack swam around to the leading edge of the left wing and pulled himself up onto the wing, quickly standing up and pulling the oil-covered canopy back.

"What the fuck is this shit!?"

"What's going on?" Kinh shouts from the top of the Rainbow's conning tower. "Oh shit," he muttered, a bad feeling sweeping over him.

"It's fucking empty! She's not here!"

"TABARNAK! What?"

Jack immediately pushed the canopy completely open and leaned into the cockpit, reaching behind the seat and pulling out a small waterproof case. "The camera is gone, but she didn't take her storage unit!"

"What did he say Al?! Not sure I got that," Kinh yells, his face red and his voice turning hoarse.

"She didn't take her storage unit but took her camera!"

"Wha?"

Reaching down behind the seat again, the pilot pulled out a bag similar to his with a frown, looking over at Al who still standing on the Rainbow. "Something's not right here."

"What do you mean?" Al asked hurriedly.

"This right here is what we call a ditch bag. When you ditch, you always take it with you if you abandon your plane, because it holds your survival ration of food and water." He says with a dead serious tone, holding up the bag to show them.

"Oh fuck…" Al whispered before he relayed the information to Kinh who had made his way down.

"Crap… How the fuck could that have happened?" he asked, "That's not good at all."

He really didn't like the bad feeling he had.

"Throw me the line." Jack sighed, putting the bag on his shoulder. Al threw him the line, and he began the slow process of pulling the damaged plane towards the submarine. Once the damaged craft was close enough, he calmly hopped off the wing onto the deck and held up the memory bank. "Hopefully this will give us answers. I've got a little laptop we can view the footage on."

"Right!" Kinh exclaimed, "You can set up in my quarters. There's a plug over there." Picking up the intercom, he asked Oliver to take his place on the conning tower before sliding down into the sub.

Jack climbed up onto the conning tower, then slid down the ladder and made his way to the crew quarters, still dripping wet from his brief swim.

"Here," Olson said, handing the pilot a towel, "Don't get water all over the captain's quarters eh?"

"Thank you sir." Jack said quickly, ducking through a small bulkhead to the crew quarters and tossing the bag into an empty corner, looking around before shucking his wet shirt.

Quickly changing into some dry clothes, he dropped the wet clothes in his bag and pulled out the small computer, turning it on and plugging in the storage unit.

"You there man?" a voice called out. Looking up, Jack saw Kinh going through one of the hatches, "If you want to dry your clothes, we got a dryer in one of the other compartments," he adds nonchalantly as he leans in.

"That'd be great. I'll dry 'em once we're done here." Jack responded while opening the most recent recording, skipping through the flight to the interception, and the initial dogfight, to the part where he saved her from the A7M. Kinh and the pilot both watch the video for ten minutes or so, watching as she's relaxing in her plane, having successfully ditched.

Without any warning whatsoever her canopy is slid open, and she's pulled out of the camera frame by a pair of arms. A minute or so later, a head of silver hair emerged in the upper left corner before the camera is disconnected, ending the video.

" . . . I'm sorry, what?!" Jack yells after a moment, staring in disbelief.

"What the fuck!?" Kinh exclaims, "Play that shit again man!"

Jack quickly restarts the video for him to see. Taking a quick glance, he can see his face contort in disbelief.

"Ah ben mon tabarnak… this is straight out of a fucking movie," Kinh mutters before getting up, "I'm heading to the radio room."

"And I'm gonna make a phone call."

The Canadian grabs the intercom and asks for Olson and Oliver to meet him up at the radio station before heading off. Jack grabs his sat-phone from his bag and heads to the bottom of the ladder to the conning tower.

"Permission to come up?!" He yells up the ladder.

"Yeah sure!" a voice shouts from the top, "Just don't jump in again."

The redhead climbs up the ladder and nods to the watch crew, extending the antenna on the phone and dialing a familiar number.

It rings once, twice, and the recipient finally picks up on the third ring.

{Captain Jeffrey Schumer, USS Tulsa.}

"Hey Dad, got a bit of a situation. I'm aboard the HMCS Rainbow, but that's not the issue."

{Okay, let's hear it.}

"Alice is missing."

{As in they can't find her plane?}

"No, we found the plane, but it was empty. Her ditch bag was still there, and her camera was gone but her storage unit was still there."

{That's . . . Odd.}

"We went through the footage. She didn't leave by her own will. She was dragged out of her plane and whoever did it pulled her camera too."

{What? Why would someone do that?}

"I don't know. Pirates would be a moderately reasonable answer, but we're in the middle of the Pacific, and from how the video looks, she didn't know they were coming."

{Send this video to me. Or, better yet, put their instructor on.}

"Yes sir." He says with a grin, moving to the open hatch and climbing down into the sub.

{How are you taking to this development?}

" . . . . To be honest, I'm torn between wanting to cry and wanting to punch something."

{That's to be expected. We'll find her.}

Jack easily finds Olson and Oliver in the command post, overseeing everything, and offers the satellite phone to the prior. Their faces looking grim. "Instructor Jeffrey Schumer for you, Sir."

He nods and takes the phone, pressing it to his ear. "Instructor Robert Olson here."

As he listens, a intense look grazes his features, and he looks at Jack while he talks. "We certainly can rendezvous with you. . . . Our radio frequency? Two-one-four. . . Of course, it's no trouble. . . . And you as well. Goodbye now."

After he hangs up he passes the pilot the phone and smiles. "Your father seems like quite the down-to-earth person."

"Thank you sir."

"Please, just call me Olson."

Jack hears the sound of approaching footsteps on the sub's floor, and turns his head to find Kinh approaching, Jack's wet clothes under one arm.

"I'll take care of this for you. Go get yourself some food eh?"

"Will do. Thanks."


Danielle Schumer

USS Black, DD-666

1930 hours

{Reminder to all vessels currently conducting Search and Rescue. Alice Houston and Daphne Hunt of Seattle Naval Academy are still unaccounted for. Should you find either of them, report so immediately. That is all, Alaska out.}

I look up from my desk in my quarters and sigh, turning the dial on the radio and grabbing the handset. "USS Black to HMCS Rainbow, come in, over."

{HMCS Rainbow, receiving you loud and clear!}

"Rainbow, might I get a status update on Jack Schumer?"

{Give us a sec.}

There's a brief pause before I hear the familiar voice of my brother.

{Jack Schumer here.}

"Hey Jack, give me the number of your sat-phone so we can talk in private."

{Sure thing, one moment . . . . Ready?}

"Affirmative, send."

As he reads out the number I scrawl it in sharpie on my desk, then once he's done I grab my notepad out of my back pocket, writing it down there. "Thanks. I'll call you in a few mikes."

{Roger that. Rainbow out.}

I hang up the handset and put my crew evaluation papers in the drawer, locking the drawer as I get up and grab my cap, leaving my quarters. I shuffle past some people from the galley as they carry supplies from a storeroom and head to the communications center, finding one of the Sophomore radio operators at her station.

"Hey Nicole?"

"Hey Captain, how can I help you?" She asks, pulling her headset down around her neck.

"Could I use the sat-phone real quick?"

"Sure thing!" She chirps with a smile, pulling open a drawer and grabbing the satellite phone from it. "I heard you talking to your brother. Should've figured you were gonna come up here sooner rather than later."

"His girlfriend's missing, so I want to make sure he's not thinking about doing anything stupid." I explain, taking the phone from her. "I'll be right out on deck."

"Take your time, I don't need it for a couple hours."

I nod and shuffle through the tight space, heading out through the bulkhead onto the deck. I extend the antenna and dial the number, hearing it ring only for a moment before Jack picks up.

{What's up?}

"I'm checking in on you. How you holding up?"

{I'm . . . hangin' in there. Got what looks like food in front of me right now. Not quite sure what it's supposed to be, but it smells good.}

I can hear someone say something to him in the background.

"Try to avoid getting in any fights with the Canadians, please."

{I yam I yam, Jesus, you tryin' to sound like Mom?}

"No, but I'm saying what needs to be said."

{I can't say I'm a fan of being cooped up in this sardine tin, but I'll make a conscious effort to stay out of trouble.}

"You better."

{Okay MOM. Can I eat my fuckin' dinner now?}

"Yeah sure. Call me if you need somebody to talk to."

{Can do Sis'. Later.} He replies before hanging up. I hang up and collapse the antenna, then head back into the communications room, closing the bulkhead to the deck behind me.

"That was quick." Nicole says in surprise, taking the phone when I offer it to her.

"He wasn't in a talking mood."

"Oh. Well, I'll be here if you need me."

"Thanks."

I make my way to the plotting room and look over the map, eyeing the locations of other school's ships coming to help before I continue up to the bridge.

'I wonder what kind of unique foods the Aussie's have?'


Jack Schumer

October 8th, 1940 hours

HMCS Rainbow, Mess hall

Status: Eating

After I hang up on my sister I put the phone in my cargo pants pocket and pick up my fork, digging into the…. whatever it is they served me. To be fair, it tastes pretty good. There's a small bun of bread lying on a nearby plate.

The entire time I'm eating I feel at the velvet case in my pocket, trying to beat down any 'what if' thoughts. Eventually I pull the case out of my pocket and open it up, looking at the $3,000 ring encased inside.

'Come hell or high water, I'm giving it to her.'

"Bonne appétit!" exclaims Kinh as he comes in with the same food as me, "The meatball and potato stew any good?" he asks casually.

"Hmm? Oh. Yeah, it's better than I thought it would be." I say with a faked grin, closing the little box but keeping it in my hand.

"Hey whatcha got in that box man?"

"It's an engagement ring." I admit as I open it back up and show it to him. "Eyes only, don't touch."

He's briefly speechless before lowering his gaze and awkwardly running a hand through his hair.

"Oh… sorry," he says, not meeting my eyes, "Didn't… euh… how was your call?"

"It was alright. I suppose I was a bit of an asshole, but… y'know, siblings and all." I sigh before taking a bite of food, still looking at the ring.

"Know what you mean," he answers wistfully, "Got a little brother back at home. Don't talk much though. Also two stepbrothers."

"I've got Danielle, and supposedly another sister, who I haven't met yet." I sigh. "From what I know, my second sister is 'bout my age too."

"Supposedly?" he asks with a raised eyebrow, "How does that make sense?"

"Yeah, my dad says I've got another sister, but I haven't met her yet."

"How come? Still trying to understand here," the Canadian asks as he tears a piece of bread and sponges some of his stew, "How can you not have met her?"

"My dad volunteered to be a sperm donor, so technically she's my sister. I don't know where she lives."

"Ah… ok," his eyes narrows, "Anyhow… how's Danielle doing? New ship going well?"

"She's doing Search and Rescue with the Harekaze. She hasn't talked to me much, but I think she's getting used to the Black."

By now, the Canadian already have of the meatballs and potatoes in his stew.

"Wonder what they called it after? Maybe some guy called like that?"

" . . . I think they named it after a ship captain. Don't quote me though."

"Probably. Want something to drink?" Kinh says as he stands up, "We have orange juice, milk, Coke and Iced Tea."

"A Coke I guess. Thanks." I yawn while I mop up what's left on my plate with the bread.

"Right," he answers as he disappears into the galley.

I chomp down the bread and wipe my face, closing the box holding the ring once more.

"How are you doing son?"

I look up and find Olson getting ready to sit down, a tray of food in hand.

"Truth be told, I've never been so frustrated, anxious, disgusted, and depressed all at the same time before." I respond while resting my elbows on the table.

The instructor nods before placing a reassuring hand on my shoulder.

"Listen Jack, I know how you feel," he said, "When I was on one of my first patrols, my fiancé's destroyer got caught in a storm. Lost all contact for a week."

I sigh and open up the box again, staring at the little gold roses on either side of the diamond. "I finally work up the courage to pop the question and this shit happens before I can ask…"

Olson's eyes glint before his lips curl into a small smile.

"Sometimes… life likes to hit us bad to make us realize the good things in life."

"I already knew what the good things were good. That's why I've got the ring."

The phone in my pocket suddenly starts ringing, and I furrow my brow as I pull it out, open it up, and extend the antenna.

"Jack Schumer here."

To my surprise, the person is using a voice spoofer, making it impossible to tell if they're male or female.

{You have two days to come up with five hundred thousand dollars, or you will never see your girlfriend again. I'll call again in exactly forty-eight hours to give you the number of the account. *click*}

Slowly, I pull the phone away from my ear and end the call on my side, staring at the small display in shock. ". . ."

"Is everything alright?" Olson asks.

". . . That was a ransom call."

"Wha-?"

Kinh stands in the threshold to the galley with a bottle of Coke and a bottle of Iced Tea, his jaw hanging open.

"Apparently . . . I have two days to get five hundred thousand dollars, or they're gonna do something to Alice." I mutter, dropping the phone onto the table and putting my head in my hands. I ball my hands into fists after a moment of trying to come up with options. "How the fuck am I supposed to get that much money in two days?!"

Kinh flinches at my outburst before clearing his throat and scratching his head.

"We can radio HQ for this," he suggests, glancing at Olson, "What do you think?"

I have a realization and jerk my head up. "Hold on just a tick. I haven't even had this phone for two days. There's no way they could've figured out my number . . . unless . . . I gave my number to someone over the radio . . . In which case . . ."

Olson catches on and gently sets his spoon down. "Our radios are being listened in on."

I nod and grab the sat-phone off the table. "I'm calling my dad. USS Tulsa has the equipment to notify the entire task force without using the radio."

"Merde…" Kinh mutters with realization on his face, "Fuck!"

"No kidding. I'm heading topside." I groan as I get up.

"Wait! If they can listen in on our comms…" the Canadian says through clenched teeth, "Then they must have used it to zero in on the crashed pilots!"

He waves his arms.

"Think about it," he continues, "All our pilots were transmitting where their planes had crashed. That's how they found Alice man!"

I stop and hold the phone tighter, taking a deep breath before I grab the engagement ring off the table. "I'll get ahold of my old man. We rendezvous, and figure out either how I'm going to get the money or how we're going to zero in on this motherfucker."

"Sounds like a good plan to me. Don't you agree Olson?" Kinh asks as he opens his iced tea. The older man simply nods.

"Simple enough," he remarks, "We'll be able to flesh it out once we get in touch with Captain Schumer. You'd get better topside now son."

I nod and rush out of the mess hall, diving through a bulkhead and clambering up the ladder onto the observation platform of the conning tower.

"Watch where you're goin'!" Kinh shouts as he tries to keep up with me all the while avoiding hitting his head on various objects and walls, "Getting a concussion won't help dude!"

"Sorry can't hear you shit to do!" I yell over my shoulder as I heave myself out of the hatch and stand up, extending the antenna on the sat-phone and dialing my dad's number. It rings twice before he picks up.

{Jeffrey Schumer, USS Tulsa.}

"Dad, lots of news, but I'm gonna start with the important bits. Alice has been kidnapped, the kidnappers are asking five hundred thousand in less than forty-eight hours. Secondly, the kidnappers are listening in on our radio frequencies."

{And you know this… how?}

I briefly explain what happened and listen to him typing on his computer briefly before he sighs.

{Alright. I just sent a message to the task force command, and our plan is in motion. Do you have a pen and paper handy?}

"Yeah, one sec." I respond, pinning the phone between my head and my shoulder while I dig a notepad and pen out of my shirt pocket. "Alright, go."

{These are the coordinates for the rendezvous. Twenty-eight degrees, thirty-eight minutes, nineteen point six seconds North. One-three-seven degrees, forty-five minutes, fifty-three point six seconds East.}

"Got it. Are you outbound or inbound from Nagasaki?"

{Outbound. Oh, off topic, but do you still have your Corsair certification?}

"Yeah, but it's only a theoretical certification. I got the time in on the simulator, but I've only flown half the hours in the real deal."

{Would you be willing to fly off USS Leyte temporarily?}

"Leyte is part of the task force?"

{It will be once we meet up, but yes. So, how 'bout it?}

I pinch the bridge of my nose with my free hand and sigh. "What about Marco and Saige?"

{They'll stay aboard Monterey. You'll still be their flight lead.}

" . . . I'm not sure how that's gonna work, but we've made weird arrangements work in the past, so okay."

{Is that everything?}

"I guess so. We'll meet you at the rendezvous. Have a good night."

{You too. Stay safe.}

I hang up and sigh, collapsing the antenna and looking out over the endless miles of ocean before I climb back down into the sub, finding Kinh waiting for me.

"New coordinates for the rendezvous." I say as I tear the page out of my notepad and hand it to him.

"So that's where we'll be heading next then!,' he declares before ordering his crew to change the Rainbow's course. I hear footsteps from the front of the sub followed by a gruff voice.

"I overheard something about ransoms."

I turn my head over to the source of the voice and I see a caveman towering over me. It's Remi who has curiosity written all over his face. He's cracking his knuckles.

"So we're getting ready to blow shitheads up?" he asks with a feral grin on his face.

"Yeah," Kinh answers curtly, "After we rescue the hostages."

"We've gotta find 'em first." I interdict.

"Well of course," Remi replies dryly, "So where are they so we can go kick their asses?"

I shake my head and sigh, ducking through a small bulkhead to the bunk I last slept in, not bothering to respond to Remi. I can hear Kinh groan and explain the situation to his torpedo officer.


Huynh, Kinh-Luyen

October 9th, 1400 hours

HMCS Rainbow, Observation deck

Status: Heading to 28°38'19.6"N 137°45'53.6"E

The sound of crashing waves was mixed with the sound of a submarine crashing against the wave at full speed. The Rainbow was making a dash at flank speed to their rendez-vous point with Force Gold.

"So your dad's commanding the USS Tulsa?" Kinh asked as he scanned the horizon with his binoculars, "Damn good shit there."

The other crew members on deck nodded in approval.

"Talk about being well connected bro," Al adds with a grin, "My parents are pretty damn average."

"Yeeeup." Jack yawned, looking at the sky. "I get alot of cross looks from people when I mention I've got connections. Sure, I've got 'em. Doesn't mean I use 'em, or like to use 'em."

"Eh fair enough," Junior said, "At least you're not like this captain my best friend has."

Kinh's traits hardened before turning his head towards Junior.

"Mom and dad are important people?"

"Yup, got himself a nice spot on one of the cruisers that the cadet academy has. Apparently the whole crew is gambling on when he's getting kicked out of the captain's seat."

"Didn't you say that most of the crew was banking on him getting kicked out at the end of the month," Frank added as he munched on some beef jerky.

"Yup"

"'Hey look at me, mommy and daddy have money'!" Jack said in a nasal voice before laughing. "Sounds an awful lot like the Monterey's ex-captain."

The Rainbow boys laughed at this imitation.

"Did the captain of the Monterey really sound like that?" Kinh asked between snickers, "Wasn't she the idiot that ran for it at Iwo Jima?"

"Yeah. She said we had orders, but she was full of shit. I'm glad she's gone to be honest. Should've tied her to a five-hundred pounder and pushed it off the flight deck. Fuckin' coward."

Al snorted.

"Stupid bitch, but yo, where's she now?" he asked with contempts.

"She's back in the States already. They put her on a one-way flight to an academy expulsion and four months in juvenile corrections for reckless endangerment." Jack yawned again, stretching his arms above his head.

"Ohh harsh," Kinh whistled, "Though I have to admit… that's pretty good for me."

Suddenly, the intercom phone rang.

"Gimme a sec," the sub captain mutters as he picked up the phone, "Saïd? Right understood."

He nodded a few more times before hanging up and looking at his crew.

"Looks like they're rolling out the red carpet for us. There's a flight of Corsairs that'll be covering us. They'll be here in 20 minutes," Kinh stated with a grin, "Guess we're VIP's for once eh."

The submariners all grinned. A flight of fighters escorting them was always welcome.

"If we don't get buzzed I'm gon' be sorely disappointed." Jack chuckled. "It's been… two or three years since I last got buzzed by a Corsair."

"Corsairs… beautiful planes…," Kinh said wistfully, "Always wanted to fly one but my eyesight didn't let me join the Air Force Cadets."

His tone suddenly changed to a more serious one.

"That being said… getting buzzed isn't fun on a sub. It's SOP to crash dive when that happens."

"I see. I'll keep that in mind." Jack muttered before raising his binoculars, scanning the skies around them.

"Say, what planes can you fly?" Frank asked as he wiped off the lenses on his binoculars.

"I've got flight hours and genuine certifications for the regular Hellcat, the night fighter Hellcat, Wildcat, Cessna 172, and the SBD Dauntless. Then I've got theoretical certifications for the Corsair, Avenger, Tigercat, and F-8 Crusader." Jack listed off. "'Theoretical' meaning I've passed the simulator evaluation, I just don't have all the flight hours."

Frank let out a short whistle.

"Not bad at all man," he said with a voice full of awe.

"Which one's your favorite though?" Kinh asked.

Jack sighed and chuckled, puffing out his cheeks when he exhaled. "Ah shit, that's a good question. I'd say it's a tie between the Tigercat and the Crusader. There's just somethin' about having so much raw power at your fingertips. Say what you want, but ah've got the need."

"Crusader… I used to play this game where you could fly the Corsair II. The attack variant, you know?" Kinh replied with a grin, "Fun plane as hell."

"Yeah I know. The Crusader flight hours actually count towards a Corsair II certification, but I want to get my Crusader cert before I try for the more up-to-date stuff."

"You looking to try anything bigger?" Al asked, his eyes not leaving his binoculars.

"My general goal is to get certified for the Tomcat."

"Big dreams eh?" Junior said with a whistle.

"Contact! Fighters inbound!" Frank shouted as he raised his binoculars, "Those are definitely our escorts!"

Cheers could be heard from the Rainbow's deck crew as they saw the fighter wing fly in closer.

"Alright, come on, niiice and low, don't be pansies about it." Jack muttered humorously to himself, grinning as the gull-winged aircraft descended from their perch high above. "I wanna hear that whistle."

"I think I won't crash dive this time," Kinh muttered next to him, "Always wanted to hear the whistle on those things."

A mighty whistling sound filled their ears as the Corsairs ended their dive and flew low above the Rainbow, pulling up into a perch above the sub.

"Man that is awesome!" Frank shouted while high fiving Al. Kinh and Junior were waving at the passing fighters with massive grins on their faces.

"Woohoo!" Jack cheered, waving his hat above his head for a moment before plopping it down on his disheveled hair. "That sound never gets old!"

"I can understand why bro!" Kinh shouted, "Man I want to see them do their magic on the bad guys!"

The fighters soon began flying rings above the Rainbow who continued sailing towards Force Gold. For three hours, the Canadian submarine dashed across the vast but peaceful waves of the Pacific. Finally, Al shouted that he spotted a large force of ships in the distance.

"There's Force Gold." Jack yawned, "With them here, this rodent problem won't be so for much longer."

"Al, ready the signal light!" Kinh ordered. Al pulled up the signal light from a storage bin before setting it on the side of the conning tower. He started sending out a message identifying their sub as the Rainbow. A series of flashes suddenly came from one of the distant vessels a few moments later.

"They're giving permission us to close the distance," Al reported, "and ordering us to transfer personnel with the USS Tulsa!"

"I'll get my shit together." Jack sighed, hopping off the railing and starting down the ladder. He was soon followed by Kinh.

"Right, I'll throw on something presentable!"


Hope you guys enjoy reading it! As always, leave us reviews. They help us improve our writing and keep us motivated - Goodalwayswins98

We're taking a limited amount of OC characters! Send me a message or leave a review stating that you have a character and I'll message you. As always, I hope you enjoyed! - SirStonewall