Back In Blue

by G R Matthews

  "What is the target building?" Abrahams said, his voice deep and calm.

  "This one," Anderson pointed to one near the edge of the complex. "Intelligence suggests that the main repair depot is this building here. Large dock doors and a sizeable moonpool indicate the ability to tackle a wide range of submarine repairs."

  "That will be well defended," Abrahams said.

  "Our best intelligence reports suggest that it is defended but that there are holes within the grid for a Fish-Suit pilot to navigate through and plant the explosives."

  "And get out again?" I asked.

  "That is desirable," Anderson said.

  "But not essential?"

  "We would prefer all Fish-Suit pilots to return from the mission," the Commander said.

  "They'll know we were there," I said. "Blowing the doors, blasting through the hulls, destroying a whole building tends to make them notice us."

  "The explosives will have a delay timer on them," he pointed out.

  "But one explosion and they'll be looking for us and the submarine we came in on. They're not stupid, Commander. They know what we can do and we know what they can do. All that really separates us is the name - the technology and people are the same."

  "That's almost treason, Hayes." It was Columbo who spoke.

  I turned to meet his eye. "Grow up a little, Lieutenant."

  "He's right," Anderson nodded, "and it's not treason. However, you may be a little behind the times, Hayes."

  "I am?"

  "We believe that VKYN have perfected Super Cavitation. With no way to detect them they can be anywhere, anytime and strike at any city," Anderson said, a little speckle of spit arced from his mouth.

  "Super Cavitation is a myth," Abrahams said. "We've all been searching since we ended up below the oceans and no one has come close."

  "Reports indicate that VKYN have found or manufactured a mineral or alloy which allows for it," Anderson said.

  "And we haven't?" I piped up.

  "Naval specifications are restricted," Columbo said before the Commander could get any words out.

  "Really?" I arched an eyebrow. "Give me a computer access and a few moments, I'll bet I can pull together some pretty accurate specifications."

  "Nevertheless," Anderson interrupted, "any scientific breakthroughs in this area would be well above your clearance, Lieutenant."

  "You'd be surprised," I said, aiming for an aura of mysterious confidence and achieving irritably smug without too much difficulty. Back when the city fell on me, I'd been interviewed and cautioned by NOAH intelligence. I knew something was going on back then and I'd bet my last credit it hadn't stopped. Super Cavitation was the holy grail of underwater travel and every religious nut with a PhD in engineering, physics or maths had been searching for it. I'm mostly agnostic, I'll believe it when I see it.

  "No," Anderson said, "I wouldn't."

  "When do we go, Commander?" Abrahams cut in.

  "Three days," the Commander replied.

  "All of us?" Abrahams said.

  "The three of you."

  "What about Norah?" I said.

  "The investigation is ongoing," Columbo said.

  "If she is fit and ready," Anderson said at the same moment.

  Both men looked at each other. The investigator with a scowl on his face and the commander's calm with just a subtle hint of stubbornness in his eyes.

  "What about her suit?" I said, more to break the stare than out of true interest. This was the navy, they had spare parts.

  "It is being repaired as we speak, Lieutenant," Anderson answered without looking away from Columbo's face. "Is there some problem, Lieutenant Columbo?"

  "Yes," Columbo responded.

  "Then take it up with my superiors. The decision is mine and I've made it."

  "She is still under investigation," Columbo said.

  "What, for almost dying?" I said, and it was my turn to face the Commander's glare. I smiled. "Commander, she was with me when her suit went wrong. If she is under suspicion, then I should be too and neither us can go."

  Which suited me fine in many ways. I knew I was innocent of any subversion, treason, or crime since I’d been forcibly re-enlisted and the thought of going after those docks was not one I relished.

  "You are under suspicion, Hayes," Columbo muttered.

  "Enough," Anderson barked. "Bickering will get us nowhere. This mission has come down from on high and we will complete it. Columbo, you've your own investigation to carry out and your own orders. I expect neither of those to interfere with the successful completion of our mission. It is worth remembering, gentlemen, that we are war with VKYN not each other."

  I met Columbo's eyes, noticing for the first time that his left eye took a little longer to focus, and nodded. "I understand, Commander."

  Columbo grunted in return.

  "I think he says yes too," I said with a smile.

  "Good," Anderson said.

  "Does that mean we get to see Norah?" I asked.

  This time Anderson did glance towards Columbo who ran a hand through his hair before grunting.

  "I'll take that as yes?" I said.

  "She'll be released from hospital tomorrow," Anderson answered, moving to his seat. "No doubt, she'll be glad to give you her thanks. However, you are not to tell her of the mission, nor discuss it with anyone else."

  "But what if she is coming with us?" I said, sharing my own glance with Abrahams. He shrugged. No help.

  "If," and Anderson raised a warning finger, "if she is going with you, we will be the ones to tell her. Not you. Understand?"

  I nodded.

  "And you both have your own preparations to make for the mission," Anderson said. "I've sent the files to your secure accounts. Review the information and pay special attention to the plan put forward by the intelligence tacticians. I am sure you will have your own thoughts and tweaks."

  Too bloody right we would. There was no way I was trusting some desk bound soldier whose only experience of combat was total up the number of casualties his plan had led too. I bet his school report card would forever read 'must do better' in the sure and certain knowledge that he never would.

  CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE

  My Pad skidded across the smooth surface of the canteen table, coming to a stop under Abrahams's hand. I slumped into the chair opposite and waved a disgusted hand at the device.

  "Have you seen the," I made rabbit ears with my fingers, "plan?"

  "Don't do that," Abrahams said, pushing a cup of coffee across the table towards me.

  "What?"

  "Those stupid rabbit ear things," he said. "How old are you?"

  I gave my fingers a suspicious glance, clearly they had betrayed me. "Sorry, but have you read it?"

  "Yep." He leaned back and took a sip of his coffee.

  "Big steaming pile of shit?"

  "The biggest," he agreed.

  "And..."

  "We'll come up with our own," he suggested.

  "Good, because if you hadn't said that I seriously thought about going AWOL."

  "On a naval base with no way off and a long way from anywhere?" He raised an eyebrow at me.

  "I'd have found a way," I protested. "I'm resourceful. It says so in my personnel record."

  "That isn't what it says."

  "You've read it?"

  He laughed. "I don't need to read it, Hayes. I know you."

  "Smart arse." I picked up the coffee cup and took a healthy sip. The hot, bitter liquid washed across my tongue and down my throat, cheering me up in the microsecond it took for the taste centre of my brain to notify the rest of my body that, at last, caffeine was on the way. I'm not addicted, I am acclimatised.

  "As long as one of us is smart we'll be alright," he said, saluting me with his own coffee. "You seen Norah?"

  "I went and checked before I came here," I answered. "She is being discharged later today. They wouldn't tell me much of anything. She's fine. No lasting damage. That kind of thing. I tri
ed telling them I was her brother to get more information out of the nurses."

  "What did you get?"

  "Kicked out of the hospital," I smiled.

  Abrahams laughed out loud and a few heads turned in our direction. I ignored them and let the coffee settle in my stomach, bringing me to life, firing up my neurons and tickling the underside of my brain. Toast. I needed toast. At least, that's what my brain was telling me in-between its giggles.

  "Be right back," I said, meandering over to the food counter and snagging two bits of white bread and putting them in the toaster. Five seconds later, two gorgeous slabs of golden tinged bread slid down the metal tray and onto my plate. A generous helping of butter to smother the crispy surface and the wander back to my chair gave it time to soak in.

  "What do you suggest?" Abrahams said as I wiped my mouth clean of the evidence of my first bite. Crumbs rained down upon my uniform and I left them there.

  "Reworking it from the beginning."

  "From the drop-off?"

  "Yeah," I nodded and took another bite, chewing slowly, swallowing and chasing the masticated bread with another slug of coffee before continuing. "There isn't a lot we can do about that and it seems pretty standard. I meant the route in, the timings and what to do about the sensor grid they've got surrounding the base."

  "You don't want a full speed torpedo entry?"

  "Fuck off." I almost spat the mixture of coffee and toast in my mouth all over him. "There's no way you’re strapping me a in torpedo and firing me at the city. That's a sure way to death or serious injury."

  "It's been done before," he pointed out and he was right. In the last conflict, we'd all heard the stories and some unlucky ones had seen the results.

  "I'm fine the height I am," I replied. "Getting squashed against the hull of a city isn't my idea of fun. And they'll take out enough of the torpedoes with their security measures that one or two of us won't make it anywhere close enough to the city. And they'll know we're coming. They'll be on high alert and we'll stand no chance."

  "You're thinking at least," he said. "I wasn't sure."

  "Thanks. What ideas have you got?"

  "Same drop off routine as they've detailed here. The insert sub is quiet enough and gets us close," Abrahams said, tapping his own Pad and showing me the map that popped up on the screen. "We drop here and go the rest of the way under our own power."

  "Using those ridges and valleys?" I pointed to the crowded contour lines.

  "Yep."

  "They'll muffle any sound we make," I nodded. "We know what the rocks are made of?"

  "I've got the geological survey here." He flipped the Pad around and tapped a few of the icons. "There."

  "It’s got a high iron content," I agreed. "That'll make the magnetic sensors a little less discriminating." I paused. "You think it has been mined? That looks like a pretty good quality rock."

  "Since when did you turn into a geologist," he said with a smile.

  "I've seen a few reports in my time." My brain conjured up the memory of a small mining complex with screens detailing the composition of samples.

  "I don't know," he said, shaking his head. "I'll send a query. You think there might be another way in?"

  "If there are mine shafts and tunnels, we might be able to use them?"

  "Or steer clear. Especially if they are still in use."

  "Either way it would be nice to know for sure." I took the Pad from him and using two fingers zoomed into the map. "How recent is the topographical survey?"

  "Couple of decades," Abrahams said. "I asked if there was something more up to date."

  "And..." I raised a questioning eyebrow.

  "There isn't."

  "Great."

  "That's what I said too." Abrahams took the Pad off of me. "Use your own. Anyway, Hayes, we don't have a lot of choice but to go on the mission."

  "The three of us," I began, "to take out those docks."

  "To put them out of action," he corrected.

  "Even so, that's a lot to ask. You know how much the explosives we'll have to carry will weigh?"

  "Yes," and he showed me the figure on his Pad.

  I whistled in response. "How are we going to carry all that and not set off every sensor, in every ring of their grid?"

  "Buoyancy will help," he pointed out.

  "Not enough. Even with four of us that would be too much to carry. What do they want us to do, blow the bloody doors off?"

  "Apparently so." Abrahams pointed to the orders now on his screen.

  "We're not built for this," I said, shaking my head.

  "You've a better idea?"

  "Of course I do, and you know it." I looked at my coffee cup, it was empty. This day wasn't starting well.

  "Let's hear it," he said.

  "We let the sea do our work," I said, a satisfied smirk on my face.

  "Go on." He sat back and picked up his coffee cup. I saw him glance down and realise his was empty to.

  "We've just got to damage the doors, stop them opening or closing."

  "So?"

  "We don't actually need to damage the doors, just the systems controlling them. A few cuts in the hull, a couple of well-timed explosions and I think we can take them out of action."

  "If the damage is light, they'll just repair them quickly," Abrahams pointed out.

  "Not if," and I leaned forward, ready to share my masterplan, "we cut a few strategic holes and let the sea into the docks too. It should fill up before they can get repair crews to them. The explosions will focus their efforts. If we're lucky we might even take a few subs out of the fight for a while too."

  "How much explosive do think we'll need?"

  I turned my Pad around and showed him the figure, around a third of the initial plan.

  "That'll make insertion easier," he agreed. "I'll have to run it past Anderson. Do you think you could work it up into a viable plan that we can present later today?"

  "You want me to do the paperwork? You're the senior officer, it should come from you."

  "Hayes, you're correct. My apologies. I am the senior officer and I am ordering you to do it." Abrahams smiled like a shark spotting a particularly juicy fish.

  "That's not fair," I protested.

  "That's the navy," came his answer. "Now, I need more coffee. Want me to get you another while you start work?"

  "Fuck," I muttered.

  "Was that a yes?"

  "Yes, get me the damned coffee and let me get on with it."

  I heard his laugh as he walked away. By nature, I am not a planner. I'm a make it up as you go along kind of guy. Which meant the plan I was about to spend a lot of time writing was a total waste of those minutes and hours. It would get swept away on the tide the moment I stepped off the insertion sub. I seriously hoped this Pad had a decent spell checker.

  CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO

  "You look like shit."

  "And this is one of my good days," I said. "I'd say you don't look to hot either, but hospital food will do that to you."

  Norah smiled, her pink hair tied back in a ponytail and a little dimple appearing on her chin. "I should say thank you."

  "You should?" I gave her one of my best smiles, from the look on her face it scared her slightly. I jumped in before she could say anything and further elevate my embarrassment. I don't get a lot of thanks in my life. It took some getting used to. "You don't have to thank me. Out there," I pointed vaguely towards the ocean and as it surrounded the base, I was bound to have chosen the right direction, "we have to look out for each other. You'd have done the same for me."

  "I..." Her words faltered, and I watched her take a deep breath.

  "The techs, the new ones, tell me your suit will be ready this evening," I said.

  "That's, um, great."

  I saw the twitch around her eyes and the little downturn at the edge of her mouth. "We'll go out later, for a few minutes, just to put it through its paces."

  "Hayes," she started, paused and after a
quick shake of her head, continued "Lieutenant, have you ever known a Fish-Suit go wrong like that?"

  "I've known a lot of things go wrong out in the oceans, Norah. Nothing is predictable, and a single mistake can end your life." At which point I would have cheerfully strangled myself with a fresh squid.

  "I didn't make any mistakes," she answered and there was a flush of red on her cheeks followed by a flash of anger in her eyes.

  "That wasn't what I meant," I interrupted before she could let the anger grow. I'd been told off by the best, my wife and daughter.

  Whenever I did something even slightly wrong, or not quite the way they'd have done it, they had no hesitation in letting me know just how I'd let them down. Sometimes it would take them a couple of days just to make every single one of my faults clear to me. At one point, when Tyler had been about nine, I'd thought of keeping a list and just ticking them off as we went, but wisdom prevailed. Better to listen, nod and stay quiet unless asked to speak. Much like the navy, but family can make you suffer in ways the military has yet to dream up. You want to break a man under torture, get valued information that you can trust? Put him in a room with his wife for half an hour and tell her that he forgot their anniversary. Guaranteed.

  "Go on," she said and settled back down into her seat though the challenge in her eyes didn't waver.

  Almost dying will do two things to a person, both at the extremes of response and both at the same time. First, it will scare you, terrify you, right down to the marrow of your bones. No one truly wants to die. Even me, at my lowest, it wasn't death I desired, but escape and release. I know that because my court appointed psychiatrist told me so. The second thing it will do is give you confidence and a fuck-it attitude. If that was death, it wasn't so bad you'll realise. What were you scared of after all, you'll ask yourself. And if that's all it is, why should I care what people think, what I do and how I act.

  They're both dangerous emotions and they'll war with each other for months, years, a lifetime afterwards. The key word, the concept to grasp as soon as you can, so I was told, is that these are extremes. They are not normal behaviours and thoughts. Fear can paralyse when you should act. Confidence can make you act when you should be still. Somewhere in the middle, on the slippery edge between terror and bravery, is where you should be. Balanced.