Cavitation is just a fact of life. You go fast in the water, you cavitate.
So, distracted as I was and with atomic bombs more or less whiting out SONAR, I didn’t notice the sub until it was about a kilometer distant, and had surfaced.
And shot at me.
With a gun.
‘…not my proudest moment.’ I rub at my head a little. The shell it’d fired went wide and blew off my antenna, so my radio was gone. Grazed my helmet too…
On the plus side, I’d panicked and shot it (her?) with both barrels of my cannon-pistol… Thing, so it couldn’t dive, and then shot it again with HE instead of Prox Frag.
The Abyssal… Hadn’t reacted well.
‘Can full of explosives explodes. More at the top of the hour.’ Now having slowed down so my SONAR could at least see a little, I look down into the water and…
“That’s a lot of submarines.”
I’m reasonably sure some of these are friendly, given the torpedo exchanges, but there’s a lot of them between…
“…shiiit. Okay. Seer guide my path.” Oh boy! A 23km run through a gauntlet of submarines! Yeah this is a good idea.
Right. Cavitation limit of 18kt, load the torpedo launchers with actual torpedoes instead of RADAR decoy rockets… ‘Wow.’
I think this is the first time I’ve ever used these damn things for those. I cycle the launchers mounted on my hips just to make sure they’ll actually run smoothly.
“Armed and ready. Observers topside, report incoming torpedoes.” Noisemakers and wake decoys won’t work, so it’s just down to maneuvering and throwing countertorpedoes…
“Here we go.” I bring myself to 17kt, listening carefully over SONAR, as a dozen of those little… Ghost people?
Still weird. My crew’s watching for any torpedoes SONAR misses, in any case.
“…” Just 22km more to go.
The scuffle undersea begins to wind down a little. One side is running and given how this day’s gone I’m gonna guess they’re not friendly…
…but also I can’t radio them to check.
So, y’know. Nervous waiting game.
===
Fleet Of Wrecks | Port Of Call 2.5
===
The door opened to the briefing room, buried deep in a bunker. In walked an aging man, with bright eyes. “Gentlemen. What’s the situation thusfar?”
“Afternoon, Admiral Devouile. Here’s what we know so far.” The veteran officer sat, watching carefully.
“Approximately 3 hours and 23 minutes ago, Midway Naval Center reported they were under significant engagement by Abyssal forces. 2 hours and 5 minutes ago, they reported artillery weapons or some other long range strike impacting the base.” There were a few murmurs.
“What kind of artillery weapon?”
“Reports are consistent with ballistic artillery missiles, but how this is possible-” One of the men recoiled, a Rear Admiral Lower Half. He was young.
“What the hell?!”
The admiral waited for a moment as the man wilted under the silence, cleared his throat, and gestured to the outburster. “…ahem. Yes, this is worrying. If the Abyssals have now accessed artillery missiles, it stands to reason they might well have access to nuclear ordinance. Is there any sign of them having broken the Minkau Limit?”
The presenter shook his head. “No, but we might have. Or at least, something did.”
There was no second outburst, though as he looked, Admiral Cain Devouile had to repress a laugh. The man from earlier had visibly suppressed himself, twitching slightly.
Everyone else simply sat up a bit straighter, as the presenter continued.
“Identification code DDG-144 Rampart, Graznian Naval Vessel. Appears to be making use of multiple conventional technologies, including medium and long range air defense missiles, and sea-rated stealth systems.”
The willowy Rear Admiral from Japan dropped the keepsake he was fidgeting with. “…are you telling me, that we have a fictional warship on our side?”
“Well gee willikers Emily, I don’t remember a Graznia being part of geography class.” A woman of the United States Coast Guard gave the Japanese man a look, before turning back to the presentation. The presenter waited a moment for any more chatter.
“According to reports, it is also capable of ballistic missile intercept , and engaged over two dozen missiles with shipborne missiles as they headed for the island. However, it did not have enough interceptors.”
The presenter continued through the sudden silence. “It is known that two nuclear missiles impacted Midway Naval Center. Casualties likely 78% of base personnel due to radiation sickness or flash burn, as well as secondary effects caused by the blast.”
“That’s a helluva lot better than I thought. Why’s it only seventy eight?” A few murmurs followed her comment.
“Based on survivor reports, because the commanding officer Cpt Monitor was informed of the situation roughly four minutes before impact. A general evacuation was ordered and the harbour partially cleared out. It is also known that beforehand, she had ordered a defensive posture due to the conventional weapon impacts.”
As the group chewed this all over, Cain looked at the presenter.
“…What’s the situation now?”
===
Bringing it around…!
‘Finally! Torpedo 2, firing!’ I run a wild pattern at top speed, throwing torpedoes into the water on whatever tracks I can fix, SONAR screaming at combat volume-
The submarines below are resorting to spraying fish up at an angle, after I sank three in quick succession with my deck gun. Another fish misses and leaps from the surface-
BLAKAM! The torpedo explodes at the surface, showering me with hot metal and sea spray.
“Fuckoff!” Another of my torpedos splash into the water, SONAR seeker screaming.
I think they’re getting the hint, because fewer and fewer pings are coming up in the SONAR sweeps. Hopefully, anyways.
Another couple of submarines surface-shit that’s a lot of em-
I sink two before they manage to crash dive, torpedo trails approaching fast.
Countertorpedoes away, evasive pattern, here we go!
“Shitshitshit-” Dodged it!
No more torpedoes come out of the water, all sonar contacts retreating. A good thing too, because I’m down to four torpedoes.
'I-i think… That’s the last of them. They’ve… Finally given up! ’
‘Good… Good workout.’
Right. Let’s get back to that rescue ide…
‘Oh shit.’
The good news is it doesn’t look like any of them are dead.
Part of that though, is because apparently I’m a very priority target and they’re looking kill me with an unholy number of planes.
The story has been illicitly taken; should you find it on Amazon, report the infringement.
‘…maybe I should run.’
‘And then that help never materializes for Tenryuu, then what?’
‘But…’
‘…y’know, Rampart, she’s just doing it for the meme.’
‘True. But also, if I run… can I really live with that?’
‘…Harant Steelworks didn’t build no bitch.’
“All ahead flank. Gunnery, prepare for anti aircraft warfare. Cycle for air defense artillery.”
I line up my deck gun, and wait.
Target locked, engaging. BLAKAM! BLAKAM!
Two rocketboosted guided shells streak towards the cloud of planes.
BLAKAM! BLAKAM!
Water kicks up a bit from the muzzle blast. “Laser One, track.”
There’s a faint whine as the capacitors fill and then-
SPAK! The FEL vaporizes water vapor in an instant, surface spray becoming steam and violently expanding.
I see a plane fall, burning. The cloud just keeps coming, apparently unphased by the minor casualties.
BLAKAMBLAKAM! SPAK! whirrrSPAK!
Exposing my broadside to bring both lasers and cannon to bear, I also spool up power for the 40mm guns. “Laser Two, track. Guns, standby.”
‘Lets make this count.’ I don’t have much ammo for the 40 mils. 800rpm is the lowest they’ll go, all the way from 1800rpm. Flak rounds should be a real fucking surprise for them though.
BLAKAM! SPA- BLAKAM!
More tracing lines mark another couple planes gone. Shells explode midair, the advanced explosive-frag payload cutting and shearing through airframe armor, then through the ones next to them.
They come. “Twenty-five… Twenty six…”
I see them more clearly now. Some are larger, slower, lagging behind. Others are faster, smaller, pushing forward. ‘Probably to soak up the ADA fire. Bombers? Probably.’
It’d work too, if I didn’t have missiles left.
“Missile launch, target the bigger ones. Seer guide my hand…!” The three cells, one on my hip the other two coming up from my back,
FRAWR! FRAWR! FRAWR! FRAWR! Twenty-seven missiles blaze into the sky, eyes staring.
Ten minutes. All I gotta survive for. This was a bad idea but I’ve committed and I literally can’t run away in either case, so…
“Come and get it.”
They enter effective range of 40mm.
BRAKKABRAKKABRAKKABRAKKA-
Proximity fuzed tracer rounds mark long lines of angry red against aircraft, a stream of explosions downing a dozen at a time.
-BRAKKABRAKKABRAKKABRAKKA-
It’s not enough, they will get through, but holy shit it’s like using a power washer on a sidewalk!
‘This HAS to be a record of some kind for anti air kills with CIWS.’
They-“shit!”
An Abyssal plane nosedives into the water meters away.
Then another! And another!
Every plane that can tries to slam into me, even as they burn up and get shot to bits by air defense!
‘This was a terrible idea, Rampart! Tenryuu might not’ve forgiven you if you’d run, but if you die here it doesn’t matter much either way!’
-BRAKKABRAKKABRAKKABRAKKA-
“One hundred and twelve! One-shit-, hundred and sixteen! One hundred and TWENTY!”
BLAM! Splash! Another bomb falls into the ocean and throws up a great gout of salty water, drenching me again.
-BRAKKABRAKKABRAKKABRAKKA-
It’s nice that we’re magically mostly waterproof, or something.
I-
‘Torpedoes!’ Where’d they come from?! I turn hard, launching two of my own to punch a hole in the salvo-
Kerchunk-chunk! -BRAKKABRAKKABRAKKABRAKKA-
Their active SONAR seekers lock on as I dodge another fucking bombing run-
BLAM! BLAM! BLAM! Splash!
Water washes over me again, drops cascading off my aviators. “Pfeh! Gah.”
On a side note, seawater, especially blown up sea water, tastes awful-
RADAR registers 127mm rounds incoming from one of the three friendlies on RADAR!
Thum! Thum!
The first flak shells explode, more or less completely missing, but they’re coming in a steady stream.
Black smoke bursts overhead, mixing with the bright tracers of my 40mm guns-
-BRAKKABRAKKA- clikclikclik
“…oh.” Yeah this is bad.
They start to close in as I slash at them with my reflex LASERs and override the safeties for the 120mm gun-
“Gah!” Machine gun fire riddles my hull, most glancing away or embedding in armor-
Autocannon fire?! Fuck!-
PangpangSPOK! One of the RADAR panels go dead and I lose vision on that side-
Thum! Thum! Thum!
“Chaff!” I trigger countermeasures, the rocket screaming up, out of the launcher, trailing a storm of chaff and flares before bursting.
One or two planes ingest metal and flares into their engines, burning up from within, going down in fire as the others dodge-
Another series of strafes, rear reflex LASER dead, gun jammed, another fucking near miss bomb-
BLAM! Splash!
‘No no no! Not yet!’
SPAK! SPAK! With my last weapon I swat plane after plane but they just keep coming! Those kamikazes are barely fucking missing at this point!
Thumthum! Thumthum! More flak as the anti aircraft barrage intensifies overhead, actually taking a plane here and there. Just a few more… Seconds!
BLAM! “Gah! Fuck that was close!”
A bomb throws up a massive fountain, and I rush through as it temporarily drives away or plays merry havoc with the Abyssal planes.
“Gh…” Water has begun soaking through my clothes and into grazes and punctures. On the plus side…
BLAKAM! 120mm’s back in action.
“One hundred and eighty! One hundred and eighty one!” Machine gun rounds lash across my superstructure, riddling the armored housing of a 40mm gun.
BLAKAM! BLAKAM! Both my flak and the steady hammerbeat of the… Other?
‘I should’ve fucking gotten a name out of Tenryuu!’
Whatever! They’re putting out enough flak that the fighters are mostly peeling off instead of-
WHAM! Crnch!
“…a-agh…!” Fire! Fuck! FIRE!
I drop into the sea, rolling to try and get it out, the world blurring and darkening-
Hands, grasping at me. Someone… No!
I flail around blind, my sensors dead, feeling my fist connect with something solid three times and then SMACK! into something soft.
“…easy! Easy, we’ve got you!”
“…huh?” Vision clearing up, I can see a bit again…
“Rampart! Calm fuckin down, holy shit!” Oh. Yeah…
Sounds… Familiar… “…okay.”
‘…wait… What… Hey that-that’s the good voice!’
“…Tenryuu? Is… is that you?” I hear a sigh. It… Sounds comfortable.
“Yeah, it’s me dumbass. Shit… Puerto Rico, gimmie a hand, I can’t tow her on my own.”
For a moment I see her… “…damn.”
“What? Shit, we’re losing her!”
I blink, and-
‘A pool?’
Where am I? This place looks a lot bigger than the repair bay from earlieeeee-
Oh there’s, uh, someone else here.
‘…still not past the 18 year old virgin phase, huh Rampart?’
I’m going to stop staring at her… Now.
…or now.
Definitely now.
‘Sometime between now and the heat death of the universe would work.’
“…hrgh… Eggh? Oh. Gud. Yer awake.” Tenryuu shakes her head as she sits up in the pool. Ah shit.
“…what happened?”
The cruiser sighs. “Well, you were a fuckin idiot, that’s what. As you were runnin to us, one’a those planes slammed into your back. Was pretty bad. Fire made it worse.”
Tenryuu fixes me with a look. "Be thankful by not almost dyin next time. You were touch and go for a day, out for another two."
Wait what? "What happened? Besides the plane?"
"The plane apparently burst. That, and a bomb hit your rear launchers. 's kinda lucky you didn't go bang."
I suppress a shudder. I've seen ships hit in their VLS. It's... not pretty. "…affirm."
Tenryuu swims a bit closer, the green water rippling. "Look, you're kinda new, plus you prolly saved our asses durin that run. Pulled a helluva lotta planes off us. So thank you, arright?"
There a beat, before she grins slightly. "Also, only good Ramparts get to stare at this if they come back safe and not bloodied."
"…w-wait what." The fuck was with that conversation swing-
She comes closer and I do my best impression of a submarine, shrinking back.
“You heard me.” Tenryuu looms over me, as I sit up to my chin in the pool.
If I hear a single fucking ara ara I’m going to kick her. This, I swear.
===
“So, question. How does one of these not fucking bankrupt your country?” Akashi stares at me as I try to keep my face passive.
“…very carefully?”
Bonk. The wrench bounces off my helmet.
Another missile cell loads, the quad packed SMM-42s clicking into place.
“…you are very lucky, that we have the United States bankrolling this.” She sighs, shaking her head in disbelief as the piles of steel, copper, silicon and reagents disappear in the circle, becoming factory fresh missiles.
“Probably, yeah.” I’ve recycled all my old cells to try and offset some of the cost, but apparently modern smart weapons are expensive as fuck. Who knew?
The crane on her back pauses above the stack of angry telephone poles. “Right. How many, again?”
“Sams refilled to 96 in 24 cells. Antiships at 24 in 12 cells. Hand me four more of the ASROCs I guess?”
“As you wish.”
I’m honestly kind of in awe at this woman. She got nuked apparently three days ago and she’s still working. On light duty and a battery of chemotherapy drugs but…
“There you are.” Akashi sits heavily, slumping into the chair. Chicago almost phases out of the dark holy shit to put her arm around the repair ship, offering water and murmuring something.
“Thanks. I’ll get out of your hair, leave you to her tender mercies.” The fleet tender glows red gently, as Chicago sighs.
“Honey, please…” The cruiser gently massages Akashi’s back.
“I know, I know…” Akashi hums something, as I close the door behind me.
Leaving the repair wing, and the half dozen other woman plus one distinctly uncomfortable man in the hands of the other repair ships and technicians, I pass through the sickbay.
Most of the normal cases are gone; now it’s just rows of rad-touched men and women.
Many have quick airlocks and decon showers. Some, hazmat suits walking out with bodies covered in lead blankets.
I keep walking, trying not to think about how many must’ve died in Midway instead.
In the hallways, I pass battered women and men, some sitting in the hallways gently sobbing, others just… Standing there. Staring.
“Excuse me, are you DDG-144 Rampart?”
“What?” I turn, to find a disheveled man with shiny rank-
I twitch, resisting the instinct to salute the shiny rank. “You’re wanted at an officer meeting. They’d like to know more about you.”
“…of course. Lead on.” Oh boy. A meeting with the brass. What could go wrong?
===
END 2.5