NationStates Jolt Archive

-=Aboard the R.C.S. Sima (R.C.S. = Republic of Chancland Ship), 70 miles off the coast of Chancland=-

"General Quarters! General Quarters! Man your battle stations"
A loud siren sounds off across the vessel, indoors red lights flash on and off.
"XO, status!?"
"Skipper, we've got internal damage on our port side, we have minimum flooding, however we have massive electrical and engine failure."
"Take her down, I want to switch to reserve power, main compartments, do we have any casualties?"
"Yes sir, twelve fatalities, plus we got ten seaman in sickbay with injuries."
The Communications Officer immediatly radios in...
"This is the R.C.S. Sima, we have internal vessel damage, we request assistance, do you copy, command?"
Only static could be heard, the electrical failure included the communications room. Slowly the amount of water flooding in become larger and larger by the minute.
"Captain, we believe one of the crew members did this..." the Command Duty Officer sounded off.
"Damnitt..."
"Ensign Chancag to Captain DeChanc"
"Captain here" he said over the radio.
"We have communications failure...I...I..we'll be working on it, sir."
The Captain stood up from his command seat and looked out from the bridge view door.
"Fire off red flares, maybe someone will see us......this ship will be underwater in five hours....tops, we must work quickly and effeciently."

On board the DN Zion
"Sir, someone just fired a signal flare off our port bow."

"Someone? Identify the vessel."

"We don't know what nation it is from, and all I can tel is that it definatly isn't civilian."

"Comm! Radio that ship, and ask if it needs assistance."

"Yes, sir." The comm officer sets the frequencies and radios out "Unidentified vessel, this is the DN Zion. Are you in need of assistance?"

Silence.

"Unidentified vessel, this is the DN Zion. Please respond, are you in need of assistance?"

Silence again.

"She's not answering, sir."

"Send two helicopters over there to investigate."

-=Aboard the R.C.S. Sima=-

A large flame shot straight out of a now gaping hole in the port side.
"Chief! Chief! The fire got to the reserve tanks!" a young seaman yelled as the fire roared into the sub compartments.

"Captain, sir, the ship...we have to do something, we can only hold off the bulk of the fire for another hour tops...when it reaches the tanks the entire ship will go up in flames."
The Captain, with a dazed look on his face, retorted "Keep sending the flares...do anything...SOS...send it across the morse digital system..."

The fire roared onward towards the tanks.

"Eagle One to base, we are about 5 minutes out. Pr- Sir, a large flame just shot out of the ship. Orders?"

"Continue on, Eagle One."

"Roger that."

Aboard the DN Zion
"Signal the fleet, and set an intercept course to that ship. Go to General Quarters, man the battlestations and have the naval guns pointed and prepared to fire. I don't want any surprises."

"Yes, sir."

Alarms sound throughout the ship, the crew races to battlestations and the naval guns are pointed at the ships trajectory.

--=Aboard the R.C.S. Sima=--

"Sir, we've been sending out morse code digitally, no one is responding....our condition is getting worse, in the last fifteen minutes we've had four more fatalities and another person admitted into the sickbay." Cdr. Chanc-Tet stated.

The Captain slowly nodded as he paced around the bridge, not fully sure of what to do. All around them smoke clouds could be seen filling the air, small bursts of flames here and there popped up.

-=Engineering Compartment "C"=-

Whoosh, a large flame wiped away three crew members as is swept through the compartment destroying all in its path.

-=Secondary Supply Room=-

"AH! God no!" yelled out a Petty Officer before he was engulfed in the fire that was shooting across the room, filling it.

-=Armory=-

People began to scatter as a small burt flew inward through the door and a large blazing fire followed it.

"Move or you're going to die!"

-=Administration Office=-

It was gone...there was no sign of the Administration Office...nothing was there...the bottom two decks, save the triple layered fuel holding compartments, were engulfed in the giant flame, now bigger than ever, it was only about another forty minutes before the flame would find its way into the fuel tank rooms.

Onboard the DN Zion
"Admiral, we are picking up a signal... in morse code.."

"What?" :lol: :lol: "Where is it originating from."

"It's from the unidentified vessel, sir."

"Decode it, quickly."

"Yes, sir." The comm officer hastily decodes the morse code message.

"Sir, it's an SOS. They require assistance, apparently they are on fire?"

"Radio the fleet, we need to get to the ship to help. Increase speed to 40 knots."

The DN Zion races towards the Sima at 40 knots, hoping to get there in time. (The Zion is 15 minutes out)

wuts this?

((It's golf...fore!)) -.-