NationStates Jolt Archive

SIC

West Prussian Sea
300km west of occupied Gross Reich

The SSM-005 Atlantis crept along at 2 knots over the debris field left from the pitched naval battle from the CA-NPE war that took place a few weeks ago.

Captain Johansen's ship started life as an Ohio class strategic missile submarine- one of the most quiet submarines in any of the worlds navies. Then she spent sixteen weeks undergoing a serious refit to accomidate her new role and missions. Her missile tubes had been removed and in their place were facilities for her new mission: intelligence gathering.

Atlantis carries 3 twelve men teams of highly trained Badger commandoes and their equipment. In the expanded section of the hull are a hospital, workshop, mission planning and briefing office and room for a number of intelligence specialists.

The existance of Atlantis and her sister ships Pacifica, Oceania and Titania was so secret that only a select few in the goverenment of the new Republic knew that it existed. The isolationist regiem that had taken over after the failed administration of Prime Minister James could claim plausable deniablity for their actions. Unknown to any of the officers or men of the ship was the final step in securing that the Atlantis would never fall into enemy hands and her wreakage would not implicate her homeland: a 1.5 megaton nuke welded in between bulkheads. If triggered, it would vaporize any trace of the idenity of Atlantis... and anyone else foolish enough to be within several miles of her.

Captain Johansen was dubious about entering the war zone but coded messages via ELF from headquarters vectored the slow moving sub away from combat or hostile warships. Between Johansen's caution and his XO's cool hand on the wheel, the Atlantis huggeg the bottom and crept along between 5-10 knots until she reached her target and quietly settled onto the sandy bottom beside her.

The sleek Griffincrest cruiser had taken a "ship-killer" missile in an NPE air raid in her engineering spaces and lost all power. She had sunk quickly but most of her crew had been picked up by Griffincrest ships or those of her CA allies. In the chaos of near constant battle since she had gone down, she had become just another causalty of war.

The three teams of divers set about their business.

The Alpha team went into the coning tower of the cruiser looking for the communications room. Once inside, they disconnected a number of electronic devices and returned them to Atlantis. They also removed three safes of classified documents that would have been burned had the ship lasted long enough for the crew to follow procedure.

The Beta team removing the cruisers satellite communications link controls and key pieces of the dish.

The third team went for the grand prize: they removed two of the new Blackrazor SAMs that had trashed so many aircraft and missiles of their former NPE allies.

It took the team 16 hours to get their job done.

The electronics and the missiles were put in cold salt water to slow the rate of deterioration. The safes were opened and their contents spread out to dry under fans. They were exactly what they had hoped for: Griffincreast air and naval IFF and recognition codes for the next two years. The key to their single pad message encryption system, system manuals and satellite command and control codes.

There had been an anxious few moments when a patrolling destroyer had passed within a half mile of the area. The sonarman explained to the XO why they were perfectly safe by turning up the volume on the sonar: the wreaked cruiser and other nearby wreaks creaked, groaned, popped, hissed and gurgled so that the only way a quiet sub would be found in all that noise would be if they surfaced.

After plundering everything that the intel specialists could think of from the wreakage, the Atlantis slipped away quietly towards blue water and finally home.

SIC

Ghost Tigers Sound
50 miles North of Crystal Island

Captain Jamison of the Pacifica sister ship of the Atlantis approached her quarry: the hull of a gutted Arsenal Class cruiser hit by a lucky shot by a shore based missile.

Fighting between NPE and CA forces had died down here and moved to other parts of the rapidly disintegrating Empire. The proof of how mistaken it had been of the NPE to take on the CA was playing out on a number of theaters. Simply put: the NPE could build massive forces but the raw economic and industrial power of the CA was simply overwhelming.

Former Prime Minister James of the Commonwealth era saw it. So did high ranking members of the Commonwealth army and navy. CA strategy was to assail every member of the Empire at once so that a coordinated defense would be impossible.

The war against the CA could not be won by fleets of ships or swarms or aircraft or feats of science. The CA was at its essence an economic entity and had to be fought with completely different tactics. This is something that the NPE leadership had failed to understand and were now paying the price for. Sure: the highly trained NPE soldiers, sailors and airmen could easily inflict 3:1 causalities against the CA. With the economic might of the CA could replace those 3 tanks, aircraft or ships with six or nine replacements.

Prime Minister James decision to retreat to Commonwealth (now Republic) holdings in the Emerald Isles had saved the countries national identity and armed forces. The disgrace of it had cost him and a lot of good people in his government their lives. The man that saved the country was put in front of a revolutionary council firing squad and shot.

Jamison was completely uncomfortable with the Special Branch thugs that had taken over in the chaos. The entire character of the country had changed. What had once been a friendly, welcoming country was now extremely angry and xenophobic. Dissidents that had once been welcome in the national dialogue were "bagged" and never seen again. There was even a popular movement to completely withdraw from the UN. They had withdrawn from the nuclear nonproliferation treaty and the BCW convention.

Sooner or later the reactionaries in the government would have to be dealt with. Preferably before they did anything too stupid. Hopefully the Holdovers like Admiral Anderson of the navy and General Kincade of the Air Force would serve to moderate the military but Jamison had no idea about the Army or Marine Corps. The rumors that he had heard about the formation of units of orphans called the Children of the Revolution gave him the creeps.

Jamison said, "Chief of the boat what is your depth?"

"We are at 80 meters, speed at two knots. Zero down bubble, negative blow. We are settling to the sea bed smartly at 1 meter per second. Sonar reports sandy bottom, no obstructions."

Jamison reached for the Intercom, "Conn, Sonar, this is the Captain. Do we have any contacts?"

There was a brief pause , "Captain, this is Sonar. No current contacts."

"This is Chief of the Boat, stand by for touch down. 3, 2, 1, contact."

The gentle rate of decent and the sandy bottom made the touchdown a mere thump.

"XO you have the Conn."

"Aye Sir, I have the Conn."

Jamison made his way aft into Badger country. Things were already spinning up. The teams were geared up and Commander Carlson, a short man built like a fire plug, was going over their assignments:

"The ship we're going into is a standard Arsenal class cruiser. This one is severely busted up compared to the ones you've seen in your recognition books. This one took a Shipwreck missile dead amidships and went down like a $20 hooker. We want the flash ROM with the CA allied encryption codes, code books and satellite links. Remember- the structures can be unstable, so stay with your dive partners. If what you are looking for is Foo-Barred, forget about it. No treasure hunts. We got a list and everything else is junk. Check with your specialists. They've got photos and schematics of the systems we're looking for. You all know the drill so hit it."

All 36 men of the three teams gathered into their teams and completed preparation to go about their mission.

Commander Carlson extended his hand, "Captain Jamison, welcome to Badger country. Come down to wish us luck?"

Jamison replied, "Yeah, something like that. That wreak is a mess."

"Thanks, I've seen the footage from our drone. That missile opened her up like a can of sardines. It will just make it easier to get inside. That's my wishful thinking and I'm sticking to it."

Jamison asked, "Your boys are in motion. Let's get some coffee before you get nailed to your chair."

Carlson nodded, "Good idea sir. This sort of work can be tricky and dangerous."

The two officers left Badger country and ended up in the officer's mess.

Jamison said, "I know what its like. I know you want to be with them. It's hard sending your men out without you."

Carlson growled, "No commander worth a crap wants to sit in a padded chair and watch his men in jeopardy watching on video."

Jamison sighed, "I know exactly how you feel. Just remember- as mission commander you can help them a lot by sorting things out. I know- it feels like you aren't doing enough but you are keeping them alive."

"Thanks Jamison. Always a pleasure to sail with you."

"You too Carlson. Best of luck."

--------------------------------------------------

The wreak was a mess and it did not make the work any easier. It took the Badgers 20 hours to get the job done are the cost of two cuts and a broken foot.

At 3am Jamison hovered his boat over the seabed and got underway to the deep open waters to the East.