Return of the USS California

23 May 2015, 2010 hours, off the coast of Sydney, Australia, the USS California (SSN 781) cruised on the surface, having arrived early for a port visit the next day. The Captain of the California, Commander Scott Haugen, was up on the bridge, along with the Officer of the Deck, Lieutenant Edward Smith, and two lookouts, just enjoying the clear, cool night air along with all the stars. The lights of Sydney were just a blur on the western horizon, allowing all the stars of the southern sky to shine in all their glory.

“Fourteen more hours, then we can pull in for five days of festivities.” LT. Smith said, as he looked around, backing up the lookouts. It would look bad on his record if his ship rammed another.

“It’s been a hard run from Pearl Harbor, but the ship and crew performed spectacularly. We’ve earned some time in a good liberty port. Australia is one of the best.” Captain Haugen replied as he gazed out at the open ocean, which were calm, no real swells, seeing the wake the ship left as it cleaved through the calm waters. “Our reward for taking the Battle ‘E’ at Squadron,” he added, referring to the ribbon for Battle Excellence.

“Not to mention passing the ORSE with flying colors.” LT Smith said, referring to the Operational Reactors Safeguards Examination, a yearly test of skills and knowledge for the Engineering Department, of which he was the Engineer.

“The fruits of our labors are five days in Sydney before heading south for an Antarctic run.”

“Something I am not looking forward to, sir. I detest the cold,” LT Smith said, being a lifelong Arizonan desert rat before joining the Navy, and had been fortunate to never having really seen snow in his life, except for a day trip up Mauna Kea. He really didn’t like cold.

“Nor am I, Mr. Smith. But, it’s what orders say. You have the conn. I’m heading below. Maybe catch a movie before bed.”

“Have a good night, Captain.”

“I’ll try my best.” Captain Haugen said before he made his way to the hatch and the ladder down to the control room.

Right then, it was 2014 hours. A bright flash passed over everything, and suddenly, the California was no longer cruising under a nighttime sky. The sun was peeking up over and under a cloud on the eastern horizon. More than that, Captain Haugen, Lieutenant Smith, and the two lookouts had changed into little horses. Colorful little horses, from what could be seen of their fur.

Everyone looked at everyone else in alarm. “What the fucking hell happened to us?” one of the lookouts, QMSN Tomlinson, asked. “Pardon my language, Captain.” Tomlinson was now a zebra, black and white stripes patterning his fur.

“Pardoned, Tomlinson.” Captain Haugen replied, finding himself a deep blue horse with an orange horn coming from his brow. “I’d like to know that myself.”

LT Smith, now a brown and gray mottled pony, took a deep breath. “Whatever it was, it happened to all of us at once. What about the rest of the crew?”

“I don’t care about the rest of the crew, what about the rest of the world?” the other lookout, SKSA Bennett, cried out, having been transformed into a blue-green horse. “I gotta get home!” he said, trying to get his body up over the bridge coaming.

“Bennett! Get a grip on yourself! Calm down and let’s figure out what’s going on!” Captain Haugen snapped.

“I got a girl back in Pearl! I got to check in on her!” Bennett said hysterically as he tried to control his new body enough to get overboard. “I’ll swim for it if I have to!”

Haugen swung a hoof, catching Bennett in the side of the head. “Easy, sailor! Calm down!” he said forcefully.

Bennett flinched from the blow, but quickly calmed down. “Thank you, Captain. I’m sorry,” he apologized, the others noticing Bennett’s voice was a bit different than before.

“Accepted, Bennett. Somehow, this was not covered in Navy Regs.” Captain Haugen said. “Now, how are we going to get down the ladder?”

“Good question, Captain.” LT Smith said as sounds of startled yelling could be heard coming up out of the hatch. “Doesn’t sound good down there.”

“No, it doesn’t. Help me with the MC circuit.” Captain Haugen said as he fumbled for the microphone. With some help from LT Smith, he soon held the microphone in his hooves.

“Attention all hands, this is the Captain speaking. Anyone on board with anything resembling working hands lay to ops upper level and the hatch to the sail. Control, come to ahead one-third. Radio, raise the ESM and Comm masts and try to get some signals. Deploy the floating wire for ELF and VLF transmissions. All hands, keep calm. All of us have been changed, and it is up to us to get a handle on the situation. We are United States Navy sailors, tops in Squadron One, not a bunch of drunken fishermen! Remember that and behave accordingly. That is all.”

“Good thing everyone aboard has full confidence in you, Captain.” QMSN Tomlinson said.

“We’ll get through this, Tomlinson. First thing is to get down off the bridge.’

“Maybe I can be of help, Captain,” came a gravelly voice from the bottom of the ladder.

“Is that you, Elricki?” Haugen called down.

“It’s me, Captain. I’m some sort of dog, not a horse. I got hands, so I can carry you all down from there. Permission to enter the bridge?” the Chief of the Boat (also known as COB) called up the hatchway.

“Permission granted, Master Chief. Help the lookouts down first, then Mr. Smith, then me.”

“Righty-oh, Captain.”

Climbing the ladder was a burly canine form, wearing the remnants of a set of khakis that were in tatters, with a Master chief’s anchor and stars on the collar tabs. “Okay, sir, I think I can get all of you down from here. One at a time, please.”

“You’re taking this rather calmly, Master Chief,” the Captain said as the canine braced himself in the hatch.

“I’ll panic later. Right now, I have to save my furry ass, and everyone else’s. Main problem now is figuring out who is who.” Elricki growled. “Voices have not changed much, but looks sure have.”

“Bennett, you’re first. Let the Master Chief get you down.” Haugen ordered.

“Yes, sir!” the blue-green horse said, stumbling around until the sea dog could get a grip on him before heading down. Tomlinson went next, then Lieutenant Smith. The Captain went last.

On the deck of Operations compartment upper level, the three ponies and a zebra quickly figured out how to at least walk, leaning on each other. The stairway proved to be a bit of a problem, but not as bad as a ladder would be. LT Smith headed aft, while the Captain and Master Chief went to Control, where the Captain asked for a situation report, which was slow in coming. He expected that, due to the crew figuring out how to use their hooves.

Of a crew of one hundred thirty-three, seven had any form of hands. Three canine-like types like Master Chief Elricki, and four bird-cat hybrids with front manipulative claws. Of the rest of the crew, there were five zebras, ten horses with wings, thirty horses with narwhal-like horns, and the rest normal-looking horses, just small and brightly colored.

An alarm sounded as a report was quickly passed. “Flooding in the Engine Room! Securing Starboard Side Main Sea Water!”

Captain Haugen fumbled for a microphone. The Master Chief grabbed the MC mic and held it for his captain. “Maneuvering, this is the Captain. What’s happening back there?”

After a few seconds, a report came back. “Captain, Maneuvering. The Engine Room Lower Level watch stander became one of the horned horses. He had some sort of panic attack, and a light came from his horn and punched a hole in the seawater piping starboard side. We have it isolated, and are trying to ascertain status of equipment down there. Reactor is operational, and we can still maneuver with port side steam. It’s bad, but not too bad. I’ll have a better damage report as soon as possible, Captain.”

“You do that. Right now, I’m trying to ascertain our position and make contact with Command. Keep me posted. Captain out.” He then nodded at the Master Chief, who hung up the microphone. “Okay, crew, let’s find out where we are and who is out there.”

The Control room crew got to work, more clumsy than usual, due to their lack of hands and height, in many cases. “Control, Navigation. According to SINS, we are right where we were,” came a report from the Nav room.

“Navigation, Control, aye.”

“Control, Radio. Negative traffic on all military wavelengths, ELF and VLF are silent. EHS and VHS are also silent. We cannot get a lock on any satellites. It’s like the sats are not there to be found.”

“Radio, Control. What about commercial bands?”

“Control, Radio. Trying them now, sir. Stand by.”

“Radio, Control. Standing by.” Haugen looked at the quartermaster’s station, where a pink and yellow winged horse stood, in a baggy first class petty officer’s uniform. “Quartermaster, give me a course to Sydney Harbor.”

“Stand by, Captain. I have to get up on my back hooves,” the quartermaster said, doing that. He tried to reach for his tools, but could not quite reach them. Shrugging, he reported, “Going by eyeball, I would steer two-eight-four. We’ll have to adjust that later.”

“Very well, quartermaster. Diving officer, rudder ten degrees to port, new course two-eight-four, ahead one-third.”

“Rudder port ten, new course two-eight-four, aye.” The diving officer, now a black and red horse, repeated back before passing it on to his helmsman.

“Control, Radio. I’m picking up a commercial transmission from Sydney, AM band. Three others as well, but that’s all. No FM, no digital TV, just four AM stations.”

“Very well, Radio. Monitor the transmission and give me a report in half an hour on the state of affairs.”

“Aye aye, Captain.”

Master Chief Elricki looked at his commanding officer. “Captain, why don’t I check around the boat, seeing how conditions are?”

“Do that, Master Chief. Gather all that have hands and bring them to Control. We’re going to have to depend on them for a while yet.”

“Aye aye, Captain!” The Master Chief headed forward to accomplish his task.

Back in the engine room, the Engineering Watch Supervisor, MMC Clarendon, surveyed the damage to the piping. How he managed the ladder, he could not explain, he just did. Seawater filled the bilges, but did not spill over into anything. One pump was soaked, but it was not in operation. He did the surveying over the shoulder of the watch stander, MM2 Burnside, who was clinging to Clarendon, trying not to break down. “I don’t know how or why… I just was in the middle of panicking when this flare came from my head and blew a hole in the pipe and I could not stop it…” the new horse sobbed uncontrollably.

“Easy, Burnie… everyone changed. Just get a grip on yourself, take a deep breath or two, and know you are not alone, okay? We’re all Californians here, and we never abandon each other, do we?”

Burnside took a deep breath and visibly fought to control himself. “No, Chief. We’re all Californians. Californians always stick together. We count on each other. The Eng is going to be pissed.”

“The Eng has his own problems, I’m sure. You have yours. I have mine. What am I going to do with these wings? I can’t fly with them! But, we can stick together. Now, start pumping out the bilges into the Waste Oil tank. By then, we should be able to pump Waste Oil out and try again.”

“It’s going to be a bitch turning the valves, but, I’ll think of a way.” Burnside let go of Clarendon and shook himself. “Thank you, Chief. Let’s get to work. I did this, I’ll clean it up.”

Clarendon smiled at the words. “That’s showing Calie spirit!”

“We’re all bearish for the Calie!” Burnside said as he looked at the valve he would have to open to pump the seawater bay bilge out. Sitting on the deck, he took the handwheel in both forehooves and twisted, getting it open before turning on the pump, which took him taking the clipboard in his mouth and flicking the switch with a corner.

Chief Clarendon looked at the ladder leading up. It was a good twelve to fifteen feet straight up. He tried to climb the ladder, but could not get a good grip with his hooves. He snorted, flapping his new wings in irritation. He found himself zooming up and through the square meter hatch, clipping the edge with a rear hoof and managing to fall in the only safe way possible, along the walkway. The horses in Maneuvering stared at the sprawled chief. “Guess these wings do work…” he muttered.

“How did you do that, Chief?” asked the throttleman, EM2 Raines.

“Pure fucking magic, for all I know.”

In Control, Captain Haugen was getting a better understanding of the ship’s situation. Damage aft, under control. Ship’s crew, coming back from panic. Communications, no one answered the calls out, but can still get the Sydney stations.

“Conn, ESM. Picking up a contact bearing two-nine-zero. Looks like a ship coming out of Sydney Harbor.”

“ESM, Conn, aye.” Captain Haugen said, before using his nose to rotate the photonic mast to the desired direction. Zooming in did show what appeared to be a ship, but the distance was still a bit extreme. “Sonar, Conn. Are you picking up anything bearing two-nine-zero?”

There was a pause before a reply came. “Conn, Sonar. We could be, but right now, we’re not sure. We’re having difficulty working the controls with hooves. We’re also picking up a lot of unusual biologics. I've never heard the likes before on many of them,” reported the Sonar Supervisor, STS1 McCandless.

“Sonar, Conn, aye.”

After an hour or so, at 2200 ship’s time, Captain Haugen could finally piece together the condition of his crew. Three doglike beings, four griffins, several zebras and the rest horses of one of three types, winged, horned, and none of the above. Another discovery was that one-third of the crew had changed gender, from male to female. Of the forty-four that had been gender bent, six were catatonic and four had suicided. Of the rest, three others had also suicided, including the Executive Officer.

The ship was determined to be a freighter, which turned once clear of the harbor, heading north. A random sweep of frequencies found radio in use by several agencies, that being fire, police, air traffic control, harbor control and ship to ship. Captain Haugen went to Radio, where he had the ship’s transmitter tuned to the harbor control frequency.

“This is the USS California calling Sydney Harbor Control. Do you copy?”

There was a short pause before a reply came. “Ey! What’s this USS stuff? What you be doing on this frequency?”

“This is Commander Haugen, Captain of the United States Submarine California. We were off shore, due to pull in to port on May the 24^th, two thousand fifteen, when at twenty-fourteen hours, something happened.”

The voice at the other end let out a laugh. “Oh, I see. You’re Returnees. Yes, it is a bit of a shock, I’m told. I was born here, but I know a bunch of Returnees. Here’s some advice for you, Captain. Head for Sydney Harbor best possible speed. I am going to call on some ponies I know to give you a hoof.”

“I take it this has happened before, yes?”

“Oh, yes, Captain. Oh, I’m Green Wave, the duty harbor controller. Do you have a location fix?”

“We’re about sixteen miles east by southeast of Sydney Harbor. We’re making our way there, but slowly. We’ve had some problems aboard.”

“Oh, I can understand that, Captain. I was on duty last year when a fishing trawler Returned about a hundred kilometers south of here. By the time help arrived, only six ponies were left alive. The rest killed themselves in one form or another.” Green Wave informed the sub. “Stand by this frequency, Captain Haugen. I’m going to get some help to you. Some ponies that can help navigate your ship into harbor.”

“How can any horse operate a submarine?”

“We have ways, Captain. Sydney Harbour Control out.”

Green Wave picked up a telephone and dialed a number he knew, Toowoomba seven-zero-zero-zero. When someone answered the other end, he said, “Get me Mach, please. I have something for him!”

A short time later, “Machspeed? Green Wave at Sydney Harbour Control. Have I got an interesting one for you!”

“What? Did a seaplane appear over the Harbour?”

“No, something called a submarine appeared about fifteen miles or so off Sydney Harbour. The United States Submarine California. They can use some help getting to safety. Yes, you’re airborne, but you can get there faster than anypony else I know.”

“A submarine?” Mach said, surprised. Then a smile crossed his face. “I have no idea about how to fly a submarine, but I know a pony who can. How much time do we have before they come near port?”

“Best guess is within two hours. Will that be enough?”

“It should. I’ll call you back when I have matters set to go up here.”

“Sounds good to me, Mach. We’ll be waiting. Later!” Green Wave said cheerily before hanging up.

After Mach hung up, he touched the button for the complex’s loudspeaker. “Flash, get to my office. We have a job to do!”

In Las Vegas, Hal Sleet opened his mic as the last notes of The Kinks ‘Tired of Waiting for You’ faded. “It’s ten minutes to six on a Friday night, Hal Sleet here on Las Vegas Retro Radio Two, and I don’t know about you, but I’m tired of waiting for the weekend. Wait no more, because the weekend is here! Okay, give it another nine minutes and thirty seconds, and it will be! I’ve got a busy weekend planned for me and mine, namely watching Kalie and Onyx while Mama Raven attends a conference at the Bummer all weekend long. Boney, the coffee, please!”

“Roight, Mister Sleet. Got it roight here, I do. Fresh and hot and adulterated just the way you loike it for a Friday.” Malone Fonebone, his faithful, loyal and (apparently) not-too-bright diamond dog producer.

“You have better got it right this time, Boney. Last week, I outran the Green Line train between here and Vegas Central Station when I got off.” Hal said as he picked up the mug.

“Fly next time, Mister Sleet. It took Raven an hour to get the fence wire out of your chest and legs.” Malone said, just at the wrong time. Hal geysered the coffee, coughing, hacking and wheezing, the mug falling to the floor with an audible thump. This went on for about ten seconds before Hal got his breath back.

“Boney, are you looking to be kicked up and down Frenchman Mountain again?” Hal managed to gasp.

“Not this Friday, Mister Sleet. I brought protection.” Malone said, followed by the sound of a claw tapping a cast-iron skillet.

“No wonder you’ve been sitting funny all day, Boney. Go on, get out of here before I shove wing feathers up your nose!”

“Roight, Mister Sleet.” Boney said before leaving, the sound of a cast-iron skillet clanging to the floor and a door slamming on his way out.

Hal snorted. “Hmm- finally, after seven years, I found a way to motivate him. Okay, pones, until Monday at noon, this is Hal Sleet saying enjoy your weekend!” he said cheerfully before starting his typical Friday night signoff song, ‘See You Later, Alligator’ by Bill Haley and the Comets.

“Hal, you have a visitor waiting in the office. Says it’s urgent,” the oncoming deejay, Pete Mahedrin, said once the mic was turned off.

Hal’s wings fluttered a little as he got up. “Wonder who it is.”

Going to the outer office, Hal was quite surprised to see Flashpoint there. “Flash? What are you doing here?” he asked.

“We need you and the Subvets, Hal. The USS California has Returned off Sydney Harbour.”

Hal grimaced. “This can’t be good. How bad off are they?”

“Damaged, but still mobile. They are on the surface, but you know how mana flares can happen, and what damage they can do.”

Hal nodded. “Oh, yeah. Give me ten minutes and I’ll see who I can gather. Have you told Raven yet?”

“No, I told Wordy. Raven wasn’t at home. He told me how to get here. The kids sure have grown in the past year.” Flashpoint said with a bit of a smile.

“Get dive-bombed by Kalie?” At Flash’s nod and grimace, Hal grinned. “She can get away with so much right now…

“But, let me get on the phone. See who I can round up.” Hal went to the phone and dialed a number. “Bruce? Hal. We have a Returning sub alert. Australia. The USS California. Round up all you can in ten minutes and I’ll meet you at the hall, with transport.” Hal then gave a snort. “Don’t call me Captain, I’m a Lieutenant Colonel, Corporal!” he snapped before hanging up.

“Where’s the Subvets hall?” Flashpoint asked.

“On Northwash Boulevard, about two miles from my house. Let’s go to my place, I’ll fly there, call you and you find me. Deal?” Hal asked.

“Sounds good to me, Hal. Ready?”

“I’m ready. Night, Inky. See you Monday, I hope.” Hal said to the black earth pony receptionist as he reached out with a wing for Flash. When they touched, the pair winked out, reappearing at Hal’s villa a little way away from the intersection of North Elevator Road and Lake Hills Street. Hal quickly took wing, arching up over the villa, heading northeasterly.

“Did you find Hal, Flash?” Wordsmythe, Hal’s housemate and good friend, asked as he came out from the kitchen.

“Yes, I did. He’s going to Subvets Hall and call me from there. Then, I’ll find him.”

“Always thought he was smarter than he looks. Kalie, don’t even think of it.” Wordy said without turning around. Kaleidoscope was about to leap into the air to pounce on Flash, but desisted when she heard her Uncle Wordy say no. Uncle Wordy gets real loud when she does something he doesn’t like, and she does not like Uncle Wordy getting loud with her.

“So are you, Wordy.”

Wordy snorted with a little amusement. “No, I know my niece well,” he said before the phone rang.

Flash took the receiver in her glow. “You there, Hal?”

“I’m here. Come on down!”

“Be right there!” Flash said before hoofing the phone back to Wordy. “I owe you a longer visit when this is over. Later, kids!”

Flashpoint appeared in what appeared to be some sort of lounge, a bar running along one wall, tables and chairs scattered about the room. “Welcome to the Submarine Veterans of Las Vegas meeting hall, Flash.” Hal told his friend.

She looked at the seven assorted ponies- three pegasi, two unicorns and two earth ponies. “Ponies, the USS California has appeared off shore of Sydney. Interested in helping her back to port?” she asked.

A black and silver unicorn spoke up. “Hell, yes! Sub vets always help each other, even though it may have been years since we last set hoof on one!”

“Got that right, Demetrios!” Hal said. All the ponies stomped in approval.

Hal turned to Flashpoint. “Sub vets of Las Vegas are ready to head out!”

“Let’s go! Everyone come close to me, please, so I can teleport all of you.” Once all were crowded around to her satisfaction, she lit up her horn and teleported the bunch to ARRRS headquarters in Brisbane.

“We are going to use this area as a staging place before we go to the sub itself. I want to go there personally before taking the lot of you, so I can know exactly WHERE to place every pony without one or more of you going swimming.” Flash announced to the crowd before disappearing again. After she left, Hal organized the ponies into specialties, ready to go help in the two key areas, Engineering and Control.

Flash blinked in at the sub, where she had earlier dropped Machspeed and several others of the ARRRS crew, who were busy helping calm the crew. “I got Hal and six others waiting at the base, Mach. Where do you want them?”

Machspeed was with Captain Haugen in Control. “Three aft in Engineering to help there, and the rest up here in Control. We’ll distribute them up here.”

“Where can I transport them in at?”

Captain Haugen handled that one. “The Wardroom. There should be enough space there. I’ll lead you. Captain Machspeed, you have the conn.”

“I have the controls, okay.” Machspeed said from the conn position.

“Bloody Airedales…” muttered the Captain good-naturedly.

“Bloody doggy-paddlers…” muttered Machspeed in return, which caused a ripple of laughter to spread through Control.

Captain Haugen led Flashpoint to the Wardroom. “Enough space here?”

“Looks like it. I’ll be back in a minute or two.” Flashpoint’s horn lit up and she blinked out returning a moment later with the SUBVETS team and a few of her counseling team.

Hal looked around and spotted the Captain. “Captain, I’m Lieutenant Colonel Hal Sleet, of the Nevada Aeronautical Society, as well as a former first-class ET on the old six twenty-four and the six-fifty-six. We’re submarine veterans, with enough time as ponies to learn how to operate things. None of us have ever been on a Virginia-class before, but my assistant, Mr. Morrow, was a helmsman on the Ohio until last year. Permission to come aboard?”

Captain Haugen looked at the ponies, three with wings, two with horns, and two with neither. “Permission granted. I’m Captain Haugen. We can use all the help we can get bringing the ship into port safely.” He then looked at Bruce. “Hellbender Morrow?”

Bruce grimaced. “Yes, that’s me. You were the Exec of the Ohio my first year there, right?”

Haugen smiled. “That I am. You can take the helm and planes, Morrow. I know my ship is in good hands with you. Just no angles and dangles, okay?”

“Yes sir, Captain!” Bruce said with a smile, saluting smartly. “Lead me to control!”

“Captain, these four here are trained engineers. Need help aft?” Hal asked, indicating the two unicorns and two earth ponies

“Yes, we do. I’ll have someone take them aft and help take care of the flooding in the engine room. And maybe patch the seawater pipe. Will help in stability.”

“Just lead the way, Captain!” one of the unicorns said. “Been over a hundred years since I was at sea, and I was a top mechanic at the dam. If it broke, we can fix it!”

“Let’s do it to it, men! The California needs your help!” Haugen said, smiling in relief.

“That’s ‘ponies’, Captain. But, we agree with you!”

Captain Haugen led the ponies to Control, where Hal, Bruce and one other took up positions. Master Chief Elricki led the four aft to help, and Mach had his team go to the mess decks to help stabilize the crew. Within moments, Control was clear except for Captain Haugen, Machspeed, Colonel Sleet, Morrow, and Hendricksen, a pegasus who took over at the quartermaster’s stand.

“Good thing it’s calm today, otherwise we’d really have trouble handling the ship.” Captain Haugen said from the conn.

“I’m just glad we’re on the surface. It’s been a while since I’ve handled depth control, and this layout is unfamiliar.” Hal said from the Chief of the Watch’s panel, which had the buoyancy controls.

“You did well enough with the blimp last year, Hal.” Machspeed said from his position.

“As I said then, blimps and subs are different. There, we could see where we were going, and we had outside help for navigating. Now, we’re not getting outside help.” Hal replied as he located all the controls, figuring what did what. “She looks heavy astern.”

“We had some flooding aft. Haven’t pumped it out yet.”

“When they’re ready to, go ahead. Do you have the ability to pump bilges with the drain pump?”

“Yes, we do. Think you can get it done?”

“With the help of your crew and mine working together, we can. Have Chief Conyers pick up the JA, please.” Hal asked from his console, extracting the sound-powered phone from its clip.

Captain Haugen made the call over the 1MC, and soon, a voice came over the JA. “Conyers.”

“Connie, Hal. Where are you at?”

“Engine Room Upper Level, geeking out at the gear here. I’m trying to puzzle out the pump-jet.”

“Report to Engine Room Lower Level, get with the watchstander there, and line up the drain pump to pump the bilges. We’re heavy aft.”

“On it, Hal. I’ll call you on the JA when we’re lined up.”

After Hal hung up the phone, Captain Haugen asked, “This Chief Conyers knows the engine spaces, I take it?”

“Yes, she does. She was a watch supervisor aboard the six thirty-four and the six forty-five before she retired back in 1978. When the Event occurred, he was pushing eighty, living a nice retired life in Henderson, Nevada. The Event made him a female unicorn. Her talents got her a job at Hoover Dam, servicing the turbines there. She retired from that a decade ago.” Hal explained.

“Just how old is she, as a unicorn?” Captain Haugen asked.

“She Returned almost a hundred years ago, Captain. We were in the process of planning her century party when Rainbow King called.” Bruce said from his position at the helm.

“Rainbow King?”

“Long story, Captain Haugen. Maybe later we’ll get into it.” Hal said, studying his panel with interest, trying to dodge the topic.

“If you make it to Vegas, I’ll take you to Archives so you can see the newsreels, sir.” Bruce said, trying to hold back a snicker.

“You do that, Bruce, and I’ll have you and Harper foal sitting Kalie and Onyx this weekend. Angela would like that.” Hal said sharply.

“Oh, shit. There goes the paint job I just did.” Bruce said in a voice so dry, dust bunnies sprouted and ran off.

“Control, Engine Room. Drain pump is lined up to pump engine room bilges.” Chief Conyers called over the JA.

“Switch control to me, and keep me informed.” Hal said, readying the controls.

“You have control, sir. Pump when ready.”

“Pumping.” Hal activated the drain pump, and it was only a moment or so before Chief Conyers called back to secure pumping.

“If it’s all right with you, sir, I’ll see about patching the hole in the piping here. Just give me a couple of strongbacks from a DC kit and I can have this patched in no time. Just don’t dive much with starboard Main Sea Water going.” Connie said.

“Have at, Chief.”

“Having.”

Captain Haugen looked confused. “How could she patch holes in inch thick steel piping without tools?” he asked.

Machspeed handled that. “We unicorns, once trained, can use our magic for many varied purposes. Apparently, this Chief Conyers knows how to weld metal with her horn alone. During orientation, you will learn how to use your horn for various basic effects, like telekinesis and light. You may have the talent to teleport, like my wife does. You can go as far as your talent can take you, the same as any pony.”

Haugen carefully brushed a hoof against his horn. “This I have to see.”

“You will, in time. Let’s get the ship to port first.”

“Conn, Sonar! Unknown sound source approaching fast from the port side and below!” called the Sonar Supervisor over the intercom.

“Sonar, Conn. Patch display to mine. Let me see.”

“Patching, sir.” McCandless reported. “It looks like it’s the size of a blue whale.”

Simultaneously, Machspeed, Colonel Sleet, Hendricksen and Morrow said aloud, “Oh, shit. We’re in trouble now.”

“Trouble? How?” Captain Haugen asked.

“The sea life here does not get along with surface life. While ships do ply the waves, the chances of pulling into port are definitely less than a hundred per cent. I think the drain pump’s action attracted one of the leviathans.” Hendricksen said from the quartermaster’s chart table.

“What can we do about it?”

“Well, seeing as we don’t have any unicorns with the proper deterrence spells, there’s really only two things we can do. Run for cover or open fire with everything you got. How many Mark 48’s you got aboard, Captain?” Hendricksen asked drily.

“Twenty, plus twelve Tomahawks in the VLS forward.”

“More than enough, but can we load and fire them in time?” Hal asked.

“We can buy some time.” Haugen said, picking up the microphone in his hoof, something he was getting better at. “Maneuvering, Conn. Shift main coolant pumps one, two, three and four to fast speed. Advance throttle to fifty percent power.” Looking at the helm, he went on with “Come to ahead full, Hellbender!”

“Ahead full, aye!” Morrow reached for and turned the knob on the annunciator, which jangled back. “Maneuvering acknowledges ahead full, Space Ghost!”

Just then, the speaker crackled. “Main coolant pumps one, two, three and four are in fast speed. Coming to fifty percent power,” reported the former Lieutenant Commander Papageorge, the only officer in the Subvets contingent. “Good thing your Reactor Operator stayed behind. He knows the what to do with the throttles.”

“The California is only five years old. A bit different than before, yes?”

“More than a bit. More on that later, Captain.”

“Conn, aye.” Haugen said, then shifted the MC to the 1MC circuit. “Attention, all hands, this is the Captain. All available fire control, sonar and torpedo room crew that are capable of doing their jobs, man battle stations torpedo. This is NOT a drill. Repeat, this is NOT a drill!” he declared before sounding the General Alarm for five seconds. “All other personnel stand fast until I say otherwise.”

“This is going to be interesting. Bruce, hold course and speed. Hendricksen, assist in fire control tracking.” Hal emphasized after a glance at the Captain for approval.

“Colonel Sleet, your assistance with your crew is gratefully appreciated. Sonar, Conn, direction to target?”

“Conn, Sonar. Range ten thousand yards, speed thirty knots, depth coming up through five thousand feet, bearing one-nine-five.” McCandless reported from Sonar, where he was the only watchstander on duty.

“Very well, Sonar.” Captain Haugen said as some crewfolk started filing in, manning the fire control stations. He was pleased to note that two of the dogs and a griffon were responding, taking stations at fire control, with ponies to tell them what to do.

“Conn, Torpedo Room manned and ready. Orders, sir?” Master Chief Elricki’s voice came through the JA speaker.

“Torpedo room, Captain. Load all tubes with mark 48’s, and prepare VLS tubes one through six for firing.”

“Load torpedo tubes one through four, prepare VLS tubes one through six, aye.”

“Captain, fire control manned and ready. I take it the target is the Master One bearing one-nine-five?” said a voice from Fire Control, the voice of the Assistant Weapons Officer, LTJG Winstead.

“Correct, Mr. Winstead. Inform me when tubes signal ready.”

“Aye aye, Captain.”

“Captain, I presume you want to remain on the surface?” Hal asked.

“For now, Colonel Sleet. If your chief aft can repair the piping, I will authorize a dive to one hundred feet, no more.”

“Aye, Captain. I’ll find out.” Hal said, picking up the JA phone and dialing Maneuvering.

“Maneuvering. Papageorge.”

“Pappy, Hal. See how Connie is doing, and let me know when she’s done with the welding. We may be under attack by a leviathan.”

“Oh, what fun. I’ll check on her. Maneuvering out.” Papageorge looked out the maneuvering room door. Spotting Chief Clarendon, he called out, “Chief, check out Chief Conyers down below. Once she’s done, we’re going to need full power.”

“Aye aye, sir!” Clarendon said before going down the hatch, to find Burnside helping Conyers, whose horn was lit up, welding a strongback patch to the seawater pipe. “Burnie, how’s it going?”

“Shouldn’t be long now, Chief. Back hole is patched, welding front one on now.” Burnside reported.

“Holler when you’re done, we got something deep going on, and we’re going to need full power ASAP!”

“Must be a leviathan. They’re big, nasty and fast.” Conyers muttered as she finished welding the patch. “One minute for weld to cool, then we can refill the system with seawater.”

“Okay, I’ll get on it.” Clarendon said before shooting back up the ladder to upper level. “Welding done, one minute to cool, then we can fill and vent the system, sir!”

“Sounds good to me, Chief! Need a hoof out there?”

“Just someone who can follow directions, sir.”

Mister Papageorge reached for the 2MC. “Drake, Crank, lay to Maneuvering.”

Seconds later, two earth ponies trotted up to the Maneuvering room door. “You called, sir?” The red one, Crank, asked.

“Yes. Follow the chief there. We need starboard side steam up ASAP. He’ll tell you what to do.”

“Aye, sir!” The two ponies chorused, looking at the pegasus chief.

“This way!” the chief said, leading them aft. Together, the three ponies got starboard main steam up in several minutes.

On the bridge, Captain Haugen’s weapons were being made ready. “Range to Master One now five thousand yards, bearing one-nine-five!”

“Very well, Fire Control. Colonel, check on repair status.”

“Aye, Captain.” Hal said, dialing Maneuvering again and getting a status update. “Three to four minutes. Seawater patches are holding, and system warmup is in progress.”

“Very well. Torpedo Room, Conn, status report.”

“We can use another body to help out, Captain.” Master Chief Elricki reported. “There’s only three of us here.”

“Conn aye. Hellbender, you know about torpedoes, yes?”

“Not as much as I used to, but enough to get me into trouble, Space Ghost.” Morrow reported from the helm.

Okay. Captain Machspeed, you take the helm. Hellbender, lay to the torpedo room and assist Master Chief Elricki.” Haugen ordered.

“Yes, sir! Captain, get in this seat.” Morrow said, indicating the planesman’s chair.

Cautiously, Machspeed sat down in the indicated chair. Morrow threw a couple of switches before saying, “Okay, we are holding course two-nine-zero, ahead full, on the surface. Any questions, ask Colonel Sleet.” Bruce said before getting up and heading forward and down.

“Now you can add flying a submarine to your resume, Mach!” Hal joked.

“Yeah, but I can use Amelia up here. The less I have to do, the better I can do it. She’s with the rest of my team, calming the crew.”

“I’ll handle that.” Captain Haugen said, keying the 1MC. “Captain Amelia, report to control,” he announced.

Within a minute, she came trotting in. “Someone call me?” she said.

“Amelia, take the planes, I have the helm. Somehow, I think you would hate me if you missed this chance.” Machspeed said, indicating the second seat with a hoof.

“Hate you, no. Pound the snot out of you, yes.” Amelia said, sitting down.

Hal reached between them and threw the switches Bruce threw some seconds before, and a few others. “Okay, just like the blimp, Amelia. You have elevation control, Mach has directional. Watch the indicators and follow orders exactly. We don’t have time to make any mistakes,” he instructed.

“Got it, Hal.” Amelia said, looking at the instrument panel.

“Not like flying an A380, is it?” Mach said to his partner.

“Not hardly.”

“Conn, Maneuvering, starboard steam now available. Full power at your discretion.”

“Maneuvering, Conn, aye. Come to ahead flank.”

“Come to ahead flank, Conn, Maneuvering, aye.”

Hal reached between Mach and Amelia to turn the Bell Order Annunciator to the Ahead Flank position. “You’re supposed to do that with every bell change order, Mach. It’s a manual backup,” he explained.

“Conn, Torpedo Room. VLS tubes one through six are ready for launch, as are torpedo tubes one and two. Loading tubes three and four now.”

“Torpedo Room, control, aye. Fire Control, match bearings on Master One, spin up torpedo tubes one and two.”

“Spinning up torpedoes one and two. Range to target thirty-seven hundred yards and opening slowly.”

Captain Haugen watched his information display repeaters. Once the torpedoes indicated readiness, he gave the order, “Match generated bearings and shoot torpedoes one and two, Master One. Sonar, go active on Master One. Fire Control, steer the fish in. Ready VLS tubes one and two for snap shot launch.”

“Torpedo One fired.” Fire Control said as the California shuddered under the force of the launch. Torpedo Two fired.”

“Very well. Colonel Sleet, rig ship for dive. Torpedo room, reload tubes one and two with Mark 48’s.”

“Hold on reload, Captain. Wires are still attached to one and two. Tube three loaded, tube four one minute.” Master Chief Elricki said from the torpedo room.

“Nice catch, Master Chief. Fire control, time to impact?”

“Torpedo One, one minute twelve seconds. Torpedo Two, one minute twenty-two seconds” reported LTJG Winstead, who now is an orange and yellow earth pony.

“Captain, the ship is rigged for dive. Recommend we go no further than one hundred feet.” Hal said from his console.

“Understood, Colonel.” Haugen said before keying the 1MC while putting a hoof on the Diving Alarm. “Dive! Dive! Dive!” he announced while sounding the diving alarm three times. “Chief of the watch, vent all main ballast tanks, planes down five degrees, right ten degrees rudder, come to course zero-zero-zero.”

“Venting all main ballast tanks, aye, sir.” Hal said as he stood up on his hind legs and opened all six ballast tank vent valves. A sound like a million toilets flushing ran through the ship.

“Elevators five degrees down.” Amelia said, catching on to the repeat-back mode the Navy used, pushing the yoke forward until the indicator read five down.

“Right ten degrees, come to course zero-zero-zero.” Mach said, turning his wheel right until the rudder indicator said ten degrees.

“Helm, make your depth one hundred feet.”

“One hundred feet, yes, sir.” Amelia said as she found the depth gauge. “Just like flying an A380. Take things slow and easy,” she said to herself.

“Conn, Sonar. Master One is not dodging at all. It is still trying to close in, range thirty-eight hundred yards, impact of Torpedo One in twenty seconds,” reported STS1 McCandless.

“I see, Sonar. Here’s hoping.”

“Passing fifty feet depth. Shall I lower all masts?” Hal asked, keeping an eye on all gauges, knowing Mach and Amelia do not know Navy procedures.

“No, leave them up. We’ll be surfacing in a moment or so.” Captain Haugen said as LTJG Winstead said, “Torpedo one hit! Torpedo two closing!”

“Let’s hope it is enough, Mr. Winstead.” Captain Haugen said drily as the sound of the first torpedo’s detonation rumbled through the sub.

“Torpedo two hit!” came the call from Fire Control.

“Sonar, getting anything from that direction?”

“No, Captain. Slow to one-third and give me a moment, please.” McCandless asked.

“Sonar, Conn, aye. Captain Machspeed, slow to ahead one third. Planesman, make your depth five-zero feet. Turning photonics in that direction.”

“Ahead one third, yes, sir.” Machspeed said, turning the knob on the annunciator so the arrow pointed to one-third.

“Make depth fifty feet, yes, sir.” Amelia said, easing the planes back gently.

After about a minute, the sonar imaging cleared enough to get a better picture of what happened when the torpedoes hit their target. “Captain, I’m picking up some biologic signals from that direction. Real faint, and heading to the surface. Whatever it is, we hurt it bad.” McCandless reported.

“Very well, Sonar. Colonel, shut all ballast tank vent valves, normal blow all main ballast tanks. Surface the ship. Planes, up ten degrees. Helm, steady on course zero-zero-zero.” Haugen ordered before keying the 1MC. “Surface! Surface!” he called out, hitting the diving alarm twice.

Once Hal verified all ballast tank valves shut, he threw the switch for a normal blow of all main ballast tanks. A slow flushing sound ran through the submarine as air forced the water out of the ballast tanks. The ship took a bit of an up angle before breaking surface.

Captain Haugen swung the photonic mast cameras in the direction of their target. A mass of disturbed water was showing on the surface, streaked with red and green. He put the image on shipwide broadcast as a massive body broke the surface, a massive broken body, the front part of it blown to a bloody pulp, some fins twitching feebly as blood and ichor sprayed from the thing.

“Charybdis is not going to like this.” Hal muttered, Mach and Amelia nodding in agreement.

“Who is Charybdis, Colonel?” LTJG Winstead asked from Fire Control.

“Charybdis is not a who, it’s a what. A large demonic creature that has taken over the oceans of this planet. He suffers surface traffic, only occasionally sinking a ship. Usually, he and his sea minions raid shoreline villages, razing them and taking lives. This looks like what can be called a regional supervisor. One of Charybdis’ lieutenants. Whatever Charybdis truly is, it ain’t gonna like this.” Hal explained to the Control room crew.

“How can we be safe from this Charybdis?” Captain Haugen asked.

“By making it to Sydney Harbour before Charybdis can mobilize an army. Once the ship is in littoral waters, or the Harbour, it generally will not attack, because we can fight back.” Machspeed explained.

“Any idea for guidance there?”

“As a matter of fact, yes, Captain. I command the Aeronautical Returnee rescue and Response squad, or the A.R.R.R.S. I have several good pegasi working for me, and we can use them as guides to the Harbour. You have been in touch with Harbour Control, yes? In that case, I can arrange to get a welcome mat set up.” Machspeed said from his seat.

“Captain Machspeed, make your arrangements. Planesman, take helm control as well. Colonel, set that up, please.” Haugen ordered, but phrasing it nicely. Mach got up from his seat, twisting a little to get the kinks out.

Keying his radio, Mach called Flash. “Bring the pegasi and meet me in the wardroom, Flash.”

“Will do, Mach.”

Machspeed made his way to the wardroom, to be met by his wife and the team pegasi. “I need you four to find Sydney Harbour and guide us that way. I would not say we’re lost, but I’m sure this ship needs to be led to where we should go. Featherdrop, you circle the ship. The rest of you, find Sydney. We should be about ten miles out. Flashpoint will get you out of the ship, and will act as a lookout and signal relay so I can give them to the Captain. Let’s do this, ponies!”

Sunbeam asked, “What do you think our cut of rescuing this ship would be, Mach?”

“A bit more than an A380 or a space shuttle. Details later. Let’s get to work!” Flashpoint got the pegasi up and out of the ship, before teleporting to the top of the sail.

Meanwhile, Captain Haugen was in Radio, having turned over command to Colonel Sleet, with orders to maintain course and speed until he got back, and keeping fire control manned just in case. Torpedo tubes and Tomahawks were all ready for snap shot launch, so he took the chance to call in to Sydney Harbor Control.

“You did WHAT to one of Charybdis’ underbosses?” Green Wave said incredulously over the radio.

“We managed to kill it. We used two torpedoes to be sure. We’ve been advised to make best speed to Sydney Harbor before Charybdis finds out. Right now, we need to determine where you are and where we are. Without GPS, we’re not too confident of our position. I have the ARRRS pegasuses up searching.”

“The word you want is ‘pegasi’, Captain. I’ll alert the airport tower to try to call them, and I’ll send out a motor launch once we’re sure of where you are.”

“Sounds good. Right now, we’re heading due north from our previous position, trying to clear datum from the kill.”

“If by that, you mean getting out of the fireplace before the cook comes back, good move. Suggest you come to two-seven-zero to head towards shore. Once you spot land, turn north again until we find you or the ARRRS starts giving you good steers.”

“Sounds like a good plan. Let me patch the radio to the conn, so I won’t have to dash to Radio to talk to you. California ten-ten.”

“Sydney Harbour Control standing by.”

Captain Haugen worked the computer to patch the ship to shore radio to the control room before returning to take the conn again. He found Machspeed waiting for him. “Your pegasuses in place, Captain?”

“That’s ‘pegasi’, and yes, Captain. They are searching for shore.”

“Harbor Control advised me to head due west until either we sight land or your spotters find Sydney before turning north. They will send an escort boat out once we have a better position fix.”

“Smart of them. My wife is up on your…” Mach pointed up, forgetting the words he was looking for.

“Up on the Bridge? Let me turn on the bridge console, so she can call down here.” Haugen went up on the conn, reached for a switch but could not quite manage to throw it. “Turn this switch here, please.”

Mach’s horn lit up and the switch turned, powering the bridge console. Haugen picked up the microphone to it. “Madam, you may now talk to us by using the microphone. Be advised, we will be turning to proceed due west until land is sighted, then head north. Harbor Control will send out an escort once we get close.”

“Sounds good to me, Captain. Do you need Machspeed down there, or can I bring him up here? He’s the pilot, I’m just the teleporter.” Flashpoint said from the bridge.

Haugen thought for a few seconds before replying. “If you want him up there, I can see fit. However, if I find a need for him down here, I will call. Deal?”

“Deal.” Flashpoint said before she teleported to the conn, smiled at the Captain, touched Mach, then blinked out.

“I could be able to do that?” Captain Haugen said, intrigued by the thought.

“It’s possibuhl, it’s possibuhl!” Hal said from the Chief’s board in a hokey southern voice.

It was several hours later when the California neared Sydney Harbour, cruising on the surface. About half the crew had stabilized enough to assume standing watches, enough that the assistance provided by the ARRRS and the SUBVETS was no longer needed, just good to have when fine manipulation was called for. The escort ship from the Harbour was chugging away two hundred yards in front of the sub, curious ponies at the stern, marveling at a sight none had seen before, that of the big black bulk of the submarine cutting through the waters of the Pacific Ocean.

Inside, Captain Haugen still maintained the fire control tracking party and torpedo staffing. He also had two crew ponies in Sonar, keeping a lookout for more unknown subsurface life. Less than a mile from harbor, they got a contact.

“Conn, Sonar. Getting an unusual biologic contact, range one hundred thousand yards, depth twenty feet, bearing zero-five-seven, speed… seventy knots.” STS1 McCandless reported.

“Sonar, Conn, aye. Looks like Charybdis found out about us. Fire Control, spin up Tomahawks One through Four. Man Battle Stations Missile.” Haugen ordered.

“Yes, Captain!” said the Weapons Officer, LT. Hardesty, who had relieved LTJG Winstead.

Haugen triggered the General Alarm before passing the word on the 1MC. “Man Battle Stations Missile. All Hands, man Battle Stations Missile. All hands cleared to go back to duty, that is,” he announced.

Haugen then called the bridge. “Captain Machspeed, we have a sonar contact, bearing zero-five-seven, fifty nautical miles out, closing at seventy knots just below the surface. Can your lookouts give me an idea on what I’m going to be shooting at?”

“By the time they got a good look, it will be too close. I would advise shooting first and praying. Something moving that fast can only be from Charybdis.” Machspeed reported from the bridge.

“Okay, then. Please inform your lookouts, and get down off the bridge before I fire missiles. I don’t want you catching the exhaust.”

“Two minutes, Captain. Let me call my crew first.”

“Let me know when you come down, Captain.” Haugen said before hanging up.

Hal Sleet, Hendricksen and Morrow came running into Control, the others still helping in the engine room. “Where do you want us, Captain?” Hal asked.

“Colonel, you and Hendricksen up here with me. Hellbender, lay to the torpedo room and assist there. If we need torpedoes, we are so screwed. Hendricksen, you put on the radio headset and coordinate with Harbor Control.”

“Aye aye, Space Ghost!” Morrow said before heading for the torpedo room.

“Space Ghost?” Hal whispered as he and Hendricksen got up onto the conn platform.

“Long story. We’ll have time later.” Haugen muttered as stations called in, stating readiness for battle stations.

“Captain, Tomahawk tubes one through four are ready for firing.” LT. Hardesty reported.

“Coordinate with Sonar for bearings. I want a bracket pattern, one that will ensure at least one hitting it, preferably more.”

“Okay, sir. Pray it does not swerve or dive before the Tomahawks arrive.” Hardesty said as he set up the console for the flight paths desired, a process that took three minutes instead of thirty seconds. In that time, Machspeed reported in that he and Flashpoint were on the mess decks, and his pegasi were heading off to standby distance, one going to warn the escort ship.

“Missiles ready for launch, Captain!” LT. Hardesty finally could say.

Haugen managed to place a key in a console and turn it. “Weapons free! Rapid fire VLS tubes one through four!” he ordered.

“Rapid fire VLS tubes one through four, aye!” Hardesty said, keying his own console.

There were four thumps in rapid succession from the forward part of the ship as the four Tomahawk missiles were fired from their tubes, their rockets flaring and dropping free as they lofted the missiles up out of the water. All four missile’s jet engines activated, rapidly pushing their lethal payloads northeasterly up over the horizon and out of sight. The ponies on the escort ship marveled at the sight.

“Missiles away, Captain!” Hardesty reported.

“Come to ahead standard, we have a port to make. Missile flight time?”

“About four minutes, give or take, depending on what Master Two does.”

“Maneuvering acknowledges ahead standard, Captain,” the helmsman reported.

“Weps, spin up Tomahawks Five through Eight. If this salvo doesn’t off the thing, we’ll need another.”

“Aye, Captain.”

Four minutes later, Weapons reported, “Warhead detonations recorded, bearing zero-five-seven true. Let’s hope we got the kill.”

“I hope so, too.” Haugen said.

“Almost in to port, Captain. Want to handle mooring from the bridge?” Colonel Sleet asked.

“Not a bad idea, but let’s see if more trouble is coming from seaward first.”

“Captain, signal from shore. They have a pier being made ready for you, one well away from the harbor mouth. By the time we get there, it will be ready.” Hendricksen reported.

“Good to hear. Now, to see how long before we get to the harbor itself. But before that…” Haugen picked up the mic and called Sonar.

“Conn, Sonar. I’m not picking up anything from target point. No noise at all. No death throes, no movement. Whatever was out there, I think it is quite dead, sir.”

“Let’s hope that’s the case, McCandless. Keep watching that direction, just in case we’re wrong.”

“Conn, Sonar, aye.”

It was not until late in the afternoon, outside time, and far too damn early in the morning, ship’s time, before the California found itself securely moored to a pier at the old Jones Street Wharf. The reactor needed to be kept running, because the Sydney port authorities have yet to build a rectifier to supply proper AC power to the ship. The injured, traumatized and dead were removed to find proper care, or burial, ashore, leaving the ship with a total of fifty-eight functioning crew, out of a starting crew of one hundred thirty-four.

Captain Haugen was sitting pier side, with a representative from Sydney Maritime Authority, the ARRRS team, and the Subvets team. Lt. Hardesty, now the California’s Executive Officer, remained aboard, but had radio communications with his Captain. A small kitchen setup was also nearby, supplying fresh food and coffee to the ship’s crew.

“I’ll see to it that Returnee educators will be here, starting in the morning. Your casualties are being looked after, but I also understand you have to keep some parts of your ship working at all times, for now. Rehabilitation will take longer that way, but we will see it done,” said the SMA rep, Red Tide, a red and sea-green unicorn mare.

“On behalf of my ship and crew, you have our thanks for your support, Red Tide.” Captain Haugen said, sipping from a mug of coffee. He had been awake now for almost forty hours, and the toll was showing.

“Captain, you definitely need to get some rest. Would you like to have us Subvets stay an extra day, to give you some more support until you can catch up with yourselves?” Colonel Sleet asked. “I recognize the look in your eyes. Been a long time since I looked that way.”

“We of the ARRRS also offer our assistance, for a day or so, while you get yourself situated and acclimated.” Machspeed offered. Both groups stomped and whistled their support.

Haugen looked thoughtful, or was that asleep, for a few moments before replying. “Your offer is gratefully accepted, for not more than forty-eight hours. If we don’t have our act together by then, we don’t deserve your aid,” he said with a yawn.

“I can have another detachment of Subvets out here in the morning, local time, to spell us.” Hal said.

“Volunteering me again, Hal?” Flashpoint said with a laugh.

“Well, I do need to go back to Vegas long enough to do two things, they being arranging for a fresh Subvets team, and explaining to Raven just what the hell I have been doing for the past seven hours. You’re going to help there.” Hal said with a groan, dreading the upcoming encounter with his wife.

“Plus, I’m going to need help explaining things to MY wife and daughter, too.” Morrow said from where he was sitting.

“Harper’s due in a month or so, right?” Hal asked. Bruce just nodded.

Machspeed got up with a smile. “Seems like you two need a trip home, and fast. Anypony else need a ride back home?”

“Half an hour, Mach. I need to feel stable before I go anywhere.” Flash said, having rediscovered a bit of queasiness in her hours on the sub.

“Okay, then. Half an hour before the return flight to Vegas and Brisbane departs from Pier Six.” Mach said, sitting back down.

“What is bothering me is what am I to do with the ship, my crew and myself?” Captain Haugen asked.

“That, Captain, is up to you and the Sydney authorities.” Red Tide told him. “You only just got here. Bureaucracy has yet to figure things out.”

“Some things never change, do they?” Haugen said, draining his coffee mug.

Three months later, Mach and Flash were visiting Hal and his family in Las Vegas. “Got some news about the California you may want to hear.” Mach told his friends.

“Oh? What’s news with them? I admit I have not been keeping up. Blue Blizz has been keeping me busy as his adjutant.” Hal said, sipping from a beer.

“The Sydney authorities have offered to buy the sub, but not as a warship. They want it as a power station, the nuclear reactor aboard being estimated to provide electrical power for about fifty years. Probably less, as components wear out. We’ve been offered a contract to ferry high-tech components to various research places.

“The crew has settled in, for the most part. Seven have gone completely insane, but the rest have stabilized in their new society. Some are staying aboard to help operate the ship, while others are being hired as instructors or workers in Sydney’s industrial areas. Captain Haugen is doing well in his unicorn studies, and the rest of the crew are doing well in theirs.” Mach reported.

“Good for them! I’m glad to see a rescue come out so well. Any news of Charybdis?” Hal asked.

Mach shook his head. “Nothing. We know we killed the one, but by the time they got a research ship out to study the corpse, nothing was left. Nothing was found at the second spot, either. Shipping has been left alone, as far as anyone can tell.”

“And may it stay that way.” Flash added. “Oh, how are Bruce and Harper doing?”

Raven smiled as she used her glow to bring over a photo album. “She gave birth to a lovely pegasus colt seven weeks ago. They named him Hard Charger, because he was born in a hurry and hasn’t stopped running full tilt yet,” she explained as she showed pictures of a blue-green pegasus colt with white wings and a striped light blue/dark blue mane.

“Leaving divots in the duvets?” Mach asked as he and Flash looked over the pictures.

“That, and driving his parents and big sister up one wall and down the other.”

“Kalie just loves him, while Onyx can’t wait for him to get old enough to talk, so they can get into trouble together.” Hal said.

“Let’s just see if they can get OUT of trouble as fast as they can get IN to trouble!” Raven said, brandishing her small skillet in her glow, to everyone’s amusement.

Author's Note:

Dedicated to the crew of the USS California and those of us who are mariners and submariners. I'm a former submariner myself.

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Lt Rainbow Slash

Lt Rainbow Slash #1 · Aug 20th, 2017 · 1 · ·

So is this a one shot? Cause the bit at the bottom says 'incomplete'

SolangeEggbert

SolangeEggbert #2 · Aug 20th, 2017 · 1 · ·

Enjoyed this greatly, thanks!

Bronzedragon

Bronzedragon #3 · Aug 20th, 2017 · · ·

Exactly what I was talking about. Found this for you this section repeats. Love the story USCGC 82361 Point Charles here.

four minutes later, Weapons reported, Warhead detonations recorded, bearing zero-five-seven true. Let's hope we got the kill.
I hope so, too. Haugen said.

Almost in to port, Captain. Want to handle mooring from the bridge? Colonel Sleet asked.

Not a bad idea, but let's see if more trouble is coming from seaward first.

Alden MacManx

Alden MacManx #4 · Aug 20th, 2017 · · ·

Sorry, meant to fix that, but bunkie suction was too hard. Will fix now. Incomplete, that is. It IS done, though I may revisit later.

Sir Budginton

Sir Budginton #5 · Aug 20th, 2017 · · ·

“Conn, Sonar. Getting an unusual biologic contact, range one hundred thousand yards, depth twenty feet, bearing zero-five-seven, speed… seventy knots.” STS1 McCandless reported.

Wait the sonar on this ship can detect things 100,000 yards away. Are modern subs really that awesome or is that an exaggeration, seriously I want to know.

“Captain, fire control manned and ready. I take it the target is the Master One bearing one-nine-five?” said a voice from Fire Control, the voice of the Assistant Weapons Officer, LTJG Winstead.

Also I'm fairly certain a target is only designated as "master" when it has been detected on two or more systems, for example sonar and radar. I think if it's only detected on sonar then it is designated as "sierra"

Alden MacManx

Alden MacManx #6 · Aug 20th, 2017 · · ·

8377579
Yes, they can detect at 100,000 yards, if it is a Convergence Zone (CZ) contact. Note they got range, bearing and speed, but not size. They were able to hold it enough to program the Tomahawks.

You may be right there, I was engineering, not Sonar, and I got my dolphins almost four decades ago. Errors can creep in, but i don't have any recent contacts to validate some of my claims. For sure I know nothing about the 774-class that does not come up on Wikipedia.

bluemoon1996