Chapter 26
"Captain's Report to the Admiralty, Regarding Certain Actions off the Southern Coast of 'New Island'.
"After receiving intel from the Admiralty, regarding the possibility of Enemy submarine activity within my sphere of activity, I ordered Helicopter Squadron 112 (one helicopter), to deploy 50 sono-bouys in a calculated pattern, 15 miles SSW if the 'New Island'. I calculated that this was the most likely area of submarine penetration, due to the subsurface topography.
"I ordered that the helicopter be armed with 'Hellfire' air-to-surface missiles on the winglet hardpoints. I also ordered that seven Hunter/Seeker 4, Mod 1 mini-torpedoes, be mounted on the helicopter's 'belly' hardpoints.
"After 17 hours of surveillance, contact was made. ECW {Electronic Countermeasures Warfare}confirmed that it was an Enemy contact.
"I ordered helicopter 112 to attack the Enemy contact, and destroy it.
"Helicopter 112 lifted from the USS Discovery, at 1441 hours, and proceeded at maximum speed to the point of contact.
"Subsurface to Air munitions were detected by the 112's ECW officer. Evasive maneuvers and ECW actions were successful. The 112 then launched 2 Hunter/Seeker 4, Mod 1 torpedoes. The Enemy responded with multiple micro-torpedoes, destroying the 2 Hunter/Seekers.
The 112 launched 6 Hellfires at the submerged submarine, knowing they would not make contact. Into the highly disrupted water that resulted, the 112 dropped all 5 remaining Hunter/Seekers. The Enemy was able to counter 3 of them. Two Hunter/Seekers got through, though, and utterly destroyed the Enemy.
Respectfully Submitted,
Captain Ronald Clark
Captain: USS Discovery
Admiral Allen Page read the report again. Damn! The admiral read again the report on who Captain Clark was, and how he had become a freighter captain. According to the information in the Captain's file, Ronald Clark had once been a cruiser Captain.
His Cruiser had been in port going through a Sensor upgrade, at Norfolk Naval Station, Virginia, when he had been given leave for a family emergency. He had been far inland during the asteroid strike, and the subsequent loss of all Atlantic fleet ships.
Well, as far as Admiral Allen was concerned, if this captain could find and sink an enemy submarine with a freighter, then he was going to be the captain of a warship, if the admiral had to build one himself!
Steve Baron was in a geosynchronous orbit, overlooking Korea, China, and Indonesia. He had just finished placing a satellite in orbit. This satellite was dedicated to monitoring North Korea and the surrounding areas.
Having done that, Steve moved towards a low orbit. It would take him several hours, but he was going to do a flyby of the space station. Although telemetry reported nominal conditions, there was a warning indicator that tripped every once in a while.
When the last of the station personnel left, they had lowered the pressure inside, and pumped most of the air into storage bottles, leaving just a bit inside to keep the pressure seals working, and a bit of atmosphere for some of the electronics. Although why they did it the way they had, was beyond his knowledge.
While the station was using minimal power, the solar collectors had been doing their job, and the on board storage batteries were fully charged. All other systems showed nominal, except for that one glitch that showed up.
Actually Steve didn't care. He loved flying. He, his niece, and a general were the last humans to circle the moon, and would be for years to come. He didn't care if his name went into the history books, he just wanted to be in space!
Due to the difference in altitudes, Cheyenne had had to send him a program update. With the burn he would be doing to make the orbital changes, he was looking at about 18 hours 'till rendezvous. No problem. He had supplies to maintain orbit for several days, if he had to.
4 hours after the second course correction burn, the craft bucked, and alarms went off! Within 15 seconds Cheyenne was calling for a situation report.
"This is Orbital 1. I have damage alarms showing external damage. Cheyenne, this area of space is supposed to be clear of space junk, correct? Over," Steve asked.
"Thats a roger. We are going over all telemetry now. We show you have total internal integrity, is that a roger?" control asked.
"Affirmative. Damage is to external portions of the vehicle. Request permission to go EV (Extra vehicular. Means to exit the ship) and asses damage, over" Steve asked in a steady voice.
"Suggest you wait until we have ascertained what caused this problem. Cheyenne out," the voice of mission control said.
Steve ran as many checks as he could, and checked radar. He noticed that he was close to a Russian satellite. He started to get suspicious. They had threatened him, the last time he had gotten close to one of their satellites. Could they have actually fired something at him?
None of the damage was in visual range of the externally mounted cameras. Two of the problems he had, were, his cargo door indicator no longer showed locked, and the camera that showed the bottom of the ship was not working.
For 12 long minutes mission control was silent. Then they informed him of what they knew.
"Orbital 1, we have reviewed the telemetry during the time period in question. Radar reports an object released from the Russian satellite. Probability is high that they fired some sort of weapon at you. Over," mission control said.
For the next hour Steve and mission control worked to clear the trouble lights on the board. They cleared all except the cargo bay doors. The indicator still showed them to be unlocked. That would be a disaster if they did not totally seal for reentry.
Greg Baron left the radio room with a sinking feeling in the pit of his stomach. His brother had been fired on while in space, and his craft was damaged. There was a possibility he could not get back. On the other hand, he was on course for the space station, and ground control was already powering up the station in preparation for Steve's arrival.
The aircraft carrier Ronald Regan was steaming north, but the freighter helicopter was going to meet it, so Greg could be transferred to it. Then the carrier was going to head south, and as soon as they were in aircraft range of Ft. Hood, Greg would be flown there.
Greg was to wait at Ft. Hood until further information warranted his presence elsewhere. The Captain headed his freighter south at the fastest, but safest speed for the waters.
A short time later, Greg found himself welcomed aboard the USS Ronald Regan. Greg was escorted up to the Admirals cabin, where he was welcomed again.
"I want to say how sorry I am about your brothers plight. The whole crew is pulling for him," Allen Page told Greg.
"Thank you. I don't know what I would do without my brother. He's been like a rock through this whole mess," Greg responded.
"I've been following your career, General. You have led an interesting life, if I do say so myself. Remarkable things have been happening. I am sure that something can be done for your brother," Admiral Page finished.
Despite his reason for being on the aircraft carrier, he was fascinated with this huge machine. He requested a tour, and it was granted. It was a good way to keep his mind off what might be going on with his brother. The admiral had promised him word as soon as it came through.
He watched as they did launch and recovery operations. Since the disaster, they did not keep 24-hour flight operations. They just didn't have the fuel to sustain such expenditure.
He toured the maintenance bays, saw where aircraft were stored, munitions lockers, and fuel tanks. He saw enlisted men's berthing areas, and some officer's cabins. An aircraft carrier was basically a small city, that had every amenity that a modern city had, including 2 barber shops, and a post office with it's own zip code.
The ship carried a vast library of movies that off duty crews could watch. Before the disaster, they had been able to email friends and family. Now those computers were turned to other purposes. The galley could feed 5000 men and woman three meals a day, plus plentiful snacks and sandwiches at midnight (called 'mid-rats', short for midnight rations). That was 15,000 meals, plus an average of 500 to 700 'mid-rats'!
Of course, there was more than one galley, and two crews for each galley; but still, it was an exercise in logistics that was amazing, to say the least. Greg realized that he was lucky that he did not have the headaches the ship's captain did.
Two days later, Greg found himself strapped into the backseat of a fighter, and was winging his way to Ft. Hood Texas. One of the first people he met after shaking hands with the pilot who had flown him there, was Col. Ellis.
"Sorry to hear about your brother, Sir. Have you heard the latest?" Col. Ellis asked him.
"Depends on what you mean by the latest. Last I heard he had made it to the space station, and was doing what he could to effect repairs to his craft," Greg responded.
"They think they have found a way to insure that the cargo doors stay closed. It involves welding them closed," Col. Ellis told him.
"Thats great news! Wait. Does he have what he needs to do welding up there?" Greg asked.
"Yes, Sir, he does. But they discovered a few gouges and holes in the hull that have to be patched. That is proving to be just a bit more difficult. They are hopeful though. He has all the time he needs to make repairs," Col. Ellis said.
Steve had just reentered the space station and was in the process of removing his suit, when he got an incoming call.
"What's up, ground control?" Steve asked.
"Stand by for a patch," ground control said.
A moment later he was hearing his brothers voice coming over the radio.
"Hey, Steve! Damn it man, if you wanted to stay in space, couldn't you have found a better way to do it? Over," came the voice of his brother, Greg.
"Greg! Good to hear from you. Hell, you know me. Anything for a lark," Steve said, finding himself with his throat tightening a bit.
They talked for 20 minutes, then mission control broke in. They said they had run the numbers and wanted Steve to get to work on cutting a section of a non-critical support beam that would and could act as a filler for the holes in Steve's craft. With this good news, Greg signed off, and silently thanked God.
Edited by TeNderLoin