NationStates Jolt Archive

(ooc: This RP is MT and open to all MT nations for Diplomatic, Economic and LIMITED military actions. All MT nations interested are welcome to join in, provided no extremely large fleets or military forces are used.)

http://www.helleniccomserve.com/images/supertanker2.jpg

The KarshkaMAX slowly made her way towards the open ocean on her maiden voyage. She was one of the few new super-max oil tanker in the world and though she was not the largest, she certainly was the newest. State-owned, she has a DWT of over nine hundred and ninety-seven thousand (997,000) tons, and the capacity to move 4 million barrels (168 million gallons) of crude oil in one load. Due to these facts, she was an extremely controversial ship. Environmentalists the world over had fought her construction and departure every step of the way, including two incidents of sabotage during construction by extremists. The major international and environmental concern had always been that such a large vessel would have the potential to break up in a storm which she would not be able to steer clear of, or she would be hazard to run aground, as had other tankers prior. This fear was made all the more frightening due to the fact that she carried more than 12 times the oil spilled by the Exxon Valdez.

The Karshkovian Government was well aware that this ship represented a very adverse political, economic, and even military risk. Hence, the KarshkaMAX used a new triple hulled tanker design, with oil absorbent materials in between the second and third hull and an internal honeycombed design for the tankers keel support between the first and second hulls. She was also the first Karshkovia merchant ship to be permanently assigned a small military force that was armed to the teeth to repel borders. She also had two small destroyers assigned as permanent escorts to prevent pirate or hostile military actions against the large tanker.

She was a magnificent ship and no-one doubted that she was certainly a feat of human ingenuity and engineering. Seeing her float out to sea for the first time with the Montana-class Battleship “Freedom” as an honorary escort was a sight to behold. Especially as the KarshkaMAX was three and a half times longer and ten times wider than the Freedom was. Even this belied the enormity of her hull, two-thirds of which lay under the waterline. It was this size, of course, that provoked even the most mild ecologist and environmentalist into angry protest, but even so, her departure was uneventful. A day out of port, the Freedom signaled their well-wishes and headed off to join the rest of the fleet in military exercises off the eastern coast, leaving the KarshkaMAX and her two destroyer escorts to brave the open ocean on their own.

In the deep ocean off the southern coast of Karshkovia where light at full noon just barely reaches, a grey phantom slowly appeared to drift quietly out of the dark water and take the shape of a submarine. Lighter grey Cyrillic lettering on the side of the passing sail stated this was the “Retribution”.

KVSA – 98612 was the military designation - a Project 971 Щука-Б, Akula, class nuclear submarine – one of only three operated by the Tazhistani Navy, purchased directly from the new Russian Republic. Captian First Rank Ivan Petchkin of the Russian Navy reviewed the topology map of the Karshkovian coastline in stolid Russian fashion while he reviewed the history of this country in his mind.

Tazhistan and Karshkovia had both been occupied by the Soviet Union for many years, however after the collapse came both had broken away as independent states. Karshkovia, under the leadership of that damnable President Radchenko, was able to flourish with the help of traitorous communist nations such as Stoklomolvi. Now Karshkovia was strengthening its military and economic arms and soon would be able to stand on its own feet. The old guard in the Russian Government wanted nothing of the sort to happen. Karshkovia needed to be brought back into the Republic, willingly if possible but forced if needed. Tazhistan, on the other hand, luckily had no true leadership after it broke away and the current dictator was merely a puppet, put in place and controlled by the Russian Government. Oh, he certainly had tried once or twice to assert his independence, but he was quickly and quietly reminded that without mother Russia’s support, his position and even his life was to be fleetingly short.

It wasn’t hard to convince anyone in the Tazhistani Government to give a Russian Captain command of one of Tazhistan’s Akulas once they were told that it was a mission to embarrass Karshkovia, Tazhistan’s historical nemesis. The two countries had been at odds since medieval times, when Tazhistan’s control over trade in the area was stolen away by Karshkovia. Since that time, Tazhistan had always been in Karshkovia’s shadow economically, and they were very bitter over that. This hatred was re-enforced and intensified when Karshkovia was able to stand on its own while Tazhistan was brought back under Russian rule. Oh Tazhistanis disliked Russia but their jealousy and hatred of Karshkovia was magnitudes beyond that, and Russia used that hatred for their own ends. The fact was, Tazhistan believed that if they must suffer Russian rule, then so must Karshkovia.

So when Petchkin was given command of “Retribution” to make the first push on Karshkovia towards reunification, he was given a hero’s welcome by the crew.

Petchkin looked up from the chart. Lieutenant Borodin was looking over the chart Petchkin had been observing for a few minutes, ticking off their position on the chart. A cigarette hung from his lips and quivered as he softly spoke to himself the calculations needed to make an accurate mark on the chart.

This Akula did not have the modern GPS sets that could track the sub’s movements through the water accurately, nor would they have worked at these depths even if so equipped, however that did not mean they were not able to accurately say where they were. While the sub’s older internal navigation computers helped give the human navigator their position, give or take the length of the ship, those were intended for backup us. This sub did have the older, but reliable, Gradiometer and a newer, classified mass-sensing system.

The Gradiometer was basically two lead weights hung separately 100 yards apart in separate vacuum chambers. A computer-assisted laser measured the space between the weights down to a thousandth of a nanometer. Distortions of the distance between the weights indicated variations in the local gravitation field and navigators were able to compare these readings with those recorded on the hyper-accurate maps of the ocean floor. Using these readings, coupled with the computer’s calculations based on speed and heading and the still-classified mass-sensing system, one could plot this sub’s location within 2 meters. While Borodin was using the information calculated by the computers to mark their location, he was also using the older slide-rule and mental calculation method, mainly because he wished to keep in practice in case the equipment they currently relied on was damaged he would be able to quickly and accurately track where they were.

“Captain, surface contact bearing 242, range -”, the michman checked his readings, “range 15,900 meters, heading 124, speed 16 knots.”

Petchkin looked down at his watch and nodded, they are right on time, he thought to himself. “Verify contact information and plot an intercept course.“

Sonarman Second Rank Mikhail Borisovich listened to his passive sonar array aboard the Karshkovian Udaloy class destroyer "Odin", as they followed their newest member of the Karshkovian merchant marine fleet, KarshkaMAX.

It was Mikhail's sixth month out of the academy and already he had a reputation for being able to pick up very faint noises clearly that others in his graduating class were hard pressed to hear, however being the new man on this team meant that there was much to be learned from the older crew members, which nearly all were foreign in birth.

It amazed Mikhail when he stepped aboard the Odin that over half the crew was not of Karshkovian blood. While he knew that his country openly welcomed foreigners who wished to become Karshkovia citizens and the military was accepting those same foreigners into it's ranks (at their equivalent former-military ranks even!), he had not prepared himself to be working with so many on the same ship.

It was a culture shock at first, however the crew was surprisingly well coordinated and previous seamen who had been on opposing sides in their previous lands were now working not only hand in hand on this ship, but were making loyal friends. And the world, previously confined to their small country, was thrown wide open for the new Karshkovia graduates.

Mikhail's CO was actually a former Stoklomolvi naval Lieutenant Second Class, who was fair but firm with his men when on duty but was not adverse to playing poker with the rest of his men off duty. Mikhail liked him immediately, and listened intently to all the wisdom his CO had to share from his years as a Sonar Operator himself.

Over the past 14 months, the country of Karshkovia had undergone a radical set of changes. Due, on no small part to the nation of Stoklomolvi, to international aid the country's infrastructure had been totally renovated and modernized from the decaying ex-soviet area equipment and buildings to state-of-the-art western designs. Jobs had been created, electric wires ran to even the most remote village and hamlet, new dams and power stations built, roads had been repaved and every willing person given a right to free college educations.

The military was not exempt from this overhaul either. Military academies were rebuilt and modernized, with the best foreign teachers money could persuade. Some equipment was modernized, while brand-new equipment was still arriving even to this day. Why just nine months ago the Navy received it's first Nimitz-Class aircraft carrier, and already the pilots were trapping with nearly no mishaps.

The Odin herself was literally eight months out of the shipyard, and she still smelled brand new. It was a point of pride to be assigned to her, Mikhail believed and that sentiment was shared by most of the crew.

The merchant marine fleet had been increased a hundred fold and now goods which Karshkovians had only heard about in foreign magazines and newspapers were now on store shelves in their own country. Year ago, if one owned an IPOD, they were considered rich and privileged. Now, even Mikhail, a hemp farmer's son, had one.

The highlight of the merchant marine fleet had been the arrival of the KarshkaMAX. Delivered to Karshkovia from a foreign builder, she was now filled with 4 Million Barrels of Karshkovia Sweet Light Crude, bound for refineries in Stoklomolvi. Mikhail really didn't know what the types of crude there were but he did know that 4 million barrels was and extremely large amount. He certainly had been impressed with her size, as the Odin was merely a gnat buzzing near the KarshkaMAX elephant.

The only blemish on this bright rise of the Karshkovian phoenix was Tazhistan. Over the last six months, Tazhistan naval ships had stopped Karshkovian merchant ships numerous times in international waters under the guise of "maritime safety checks". While they never harmed anyone or confiscated anything, these checks did create issues where the ships were consistently late delivering their cargo. Also, there had been rumors of Tazhistan purchasing new submarines and surface ships from the Russian naval yards. Nothing confirmed but it still stuck in the back of Mikhail's mind.

Mikhail chewed absently on a plastic toothpick, as he listened to the ocean noise all around him. He of course was able to hear the deep throbbing of the KarshkaMAX engines, and the shooshing of it's huge dual screws slowly propelling the big ship forward. Occasionally he heard sounds of equipment turning on and off on the gigantic ship, and once he heard the sound of a large wrench hitting the hull of the ship. Later he confirmed some engineer had knocked a wrench off of a catwalk onto the inner hull. Though the Odin's sister destroyer, the Sovremenny class destroyer "Intrepid", had taken position on the KarshkaMAX's Starboard side, her 2 shaft steam turbines and four boilers were still hissing audibly, even with the big ship between the destroyers.

He normally liked to listen to the humpback wales which swam off the coast of Karshkovia, and had even become so familiar with a local pod that he was able to pick out individual whales through their calls. He even had took to giving each their own unique names, and made tapes of their songs. The professor had taught at the Academy the underwater sounds of Marine life and how to differentiate that from artificially created noises, and Mikhail was instantly captured by the sounds of the whales. As a thank you gift, Mikhail took the tapes he made of the local whales and when he was off-duty, he would transcribed the tapes, indicating which whale was singing during each minute of the tape. He would send these tapes to the professor whom he was told was ecstatic over each tape sent. He often received letter of thanks from the professor and offers of a job at the university if he should ever leave the navy. The offer was very attractive and Mikhail thought that after a few year in the Navy, perhaps he would take that job offe...

A sound, barely audible, stirred Mikhail from his thoughts. He leaned forward and adjusted the pitch of his headset input, reset some noise filters to block out the surface ship noises and listened again.

"Got something, Mikhail?"

Mikhail looked up to see his CO, Anatoly Yakovlevich, watching him intently.

"I'm not sure", Mikhail said slowly as he reset the gain controls, "perhaps...a swish of a propeller far off but I...I lost it"

Anatoly plugged his set of phones into the console and listened, his eye's shut as he concentrated for the sound. After three minutes he started to shake his head and take off the phones when he heard it...a very faint, low frequency swishing. He first thought it may be a whale far off, swimming at a quick pace but the swishing was too rhythmic.

Mikhail's eyes grew bright, "I have it, sir! There it is again. Very faint."

"I hear it to, Mikhail. Run it through the computer and see what you can find."

While Mikhail ran the sound through the computer's memory banks for a match, Anatoly called up to the bridge to inform the command crew.

"Con, Sonar, new contact Bearing 120 designate contact number Sierra one four.

"Sonar, Con aye. Contact Sierra one four. Designation?" Captain Yury Vladimiro answered back after taking a sip of the hot coffee hi yeoman had delivered just moments before.

"Distant underwater contact, possible submerged submarine." Anatoly referred to the information on the console, "Sir, the computer is not able to determine speed or heading as she is too far out or running too deep and silent to get a fix. Sir, computer designates contact as an Akula-class submarine"

"Sonar, con aye. Keep an open ear and let me know when you have it's heading and speed." Yury switched off the connection and turned to his First Officer, Mitch Thomas, without taking a breath between sentences, "Do you know if any of our subs are operating in the local area?"

"I'm not sure, sir" Mitch said as he turned and referred to a printout that was stamped TOP SECRET - EYES ONLY . This printout was delivered from Naval command before every mission, giving the captains of the fleet the approximate location of all surface and submerged ship in the fleet. Quickly scanning the document, Mitch found the reference he was looking for.

"Sir, it looks as if it could be one of our Akula's, the "Volograd". We are a little outside of her operational grid area but it's possible that is who we are picking up."

The Captain thought a moment and nodded. "That makes the most sense. Let our sonarmen know to mark her as one of ours."

"New Sonar contacts captain, forward quarter. Udaloy and Sovermenny class destroyers bearing 241 and 243, range 12,000 meters, heading 124, speed 16 knots."

Petchkin was aware of the destroyer escorts but the tension became heavy with the announcement. "Very well, Battlestations, give me a solution on all three targets. Set the safeties on the torpedoes to arm after 5000 meters, then slowly pressurize the tubes. Open the outer torpedo tube doors on tubes one through four when able."

The first officer was repeating the order back while Petchkin continued without pause, "Make our depth 100 meters, 15 degrees up angle, silent surface on the Fairweather planes make turns for 16 knots. Keep silent running."

The ship exploded in quiet but furious activity as the word was passed along the ship via word of mouth. The submarine slowly climbed from her cruising depth of 600 meters slowly up to a depth of 100 meters, allowing the ship to gently relieve the strains of the ocean pressure along her hull, preventing the pops and groans of metal normally associated with a quick climb. In reality, the "Retribution" was well within the range of it's Type 65-76 DST 92 long-range wave-homing anti-surface vessel torpedoes. They were rated to run up to 50 Km at 35knots at less than 12 KM, they were well within range of the torpedoes.

While the Captain's training and years of experience told him to wait until he was within 5000 meters, the orders from High Command explicitly stated he was to fire his torpedoes from at least 10000 meters and immediately dive deep and escape undetected back into Tazhistani waters. The orders stated a kill on the escorts was not required but a kill on the tanker was. Hence two torpedoes were designated for the Super Tanker and one a piece for the escorts.

It took about five minutes to climb up to 100 meters, and the targets were now 11,500 meters directly ahead.

"Verify solution on targets. Prepare for emergency dive after firing our torpedoes. Close the tube doors after launch and reload the tubes. Make counter-measures ready in case those destroyers decide to give chase."

As the crew prepared to carry out the orders, the old Captain silently said a prayer for the men he was about to kill.

Mikhail looked up from his console to find his CO. For the past 45 minutes of his shift today, he had intermittent contact on the Akula. He had determined after 15 minutes of listening over a week ago that the sub was trailing the escort group but doing so in a manner that was very hard to track. This had been nagging him for days and it finally came to a head...

"Sir, I don't mean to question the Captain or yourself, but I do not believe that is our Akula, Sir."

Anatoly Yakovlevich, sighed and shook his head signaling his disbelief that the new sonarman wouldn't let this go, "Alright, Mikhail, explain your reasoning on why that isn't our submarine."

Mikhail gulped down on the knot in his throat and felt a wave of perspiration bead on his forehead. Make or break time, Mikhail.

"Sir, he is maintaining a deep water position and trailing us just at the edge of our sensor range..."Mikhail was interrupted by his CO.

"Which could just be our sub practicing and using us as training for his crew" Anatoly finished.

"Sir, I don't think so. They are well outside of their operational grid and if the sensors are correct, they have gone shallow in the past few minutes..."

"Again, Mikhail, he may just be coming up to periscope depth to either check us at periscope depth or run another series of shallow water drills." Anatoly sighed as he spoke to his junior crewman.

"Sir, the acoustic signature of that ship does not match any of our subs. It is close to that of the Volograd but the computer is 100% certain that is not the Volograd as am I."

This information stopped Anatoly cold. This could not be explained away as all the other explanations and was very troublesome. He hesitated and Mikhail pressed the matter.

"Sir, I would stake my career that the sub is not ours. Sir, we have to warn the captain that we have an unknown submarine trailing us."

Anatoly nodded, "You have convinced me Mikhail. Good work. Keep an ear on him." He turned and spoke into the ship's communication network to the bridge.

"Con, Sonar. Designate contact Sierra One Four as unknown Akula submarine."

"Sonar, Con. I thought we decided that was the Volograd, First Lieutenant. " The Captain had been working with the First Officer plotting a course around a growing hurricane off the Kinstantia Coastline and was not happy in being interrupted by this.

"Con, Sonar, Aye Captain however our computer was able to get a good fix on the submarine's acoustic signature and it does not match any of ours. Sir, she is an unknown sub and my men report she just went shallow."

Suddenly Hurricane Amanda took a back seat in the Captain's mind. "Have you checked your equipment? Have you ran diagnostics and triple checked to be sure?"

"Sir, we have. The computer confirms all equipment is functional and operating correctly...this is not our sub, Sir."

"Alright, stay on him."

The Captain cut the signal barked orders over the bridge, "Alright, sound general quarters. I want to treat this as if it is a possible threat. If that turns out to be our own sub, I am going to chew that Captain's ass....and have the heads of our sonar crew. Make turns for 30 knots, change heading to 121 and come hard to port."

Further aft, Mikhail's blood turned cold as he heard the sound of multiple high-pitch quickly-rotating screws quickly growing in volume. Mikhail slammed his hand against the 'squawk box'.

On the bridge, the Captain was still giving orders as Mikhail's voice blared through the overhead speaker, " Alert the Intrepid of our intruder...they know what to do from there. Get our depth charges prepared and torpedo tubes ready. Get a solution to that sub locked into firing control. I want to be ready in case this..."

"CON, SONAR! HIGH SPEED SCREWS! MULTIPLE TORPEDOES IN THE WATER! ESTIMATE RANGE 10,000 METERS AND CLOSING!"

Petchkin opened his eyes after making peace with the ocean he was about to commit an untold number of men to die in.

The sonarman spoke before the captain was able to, "Captain, we have diminishing signal to noise ratio on the Udaloy....she is turning to port and increasing her speed drastically."

The First Officer swore and turned to Petchkin, "They have detected us! We must escape!"

In a calm and controlled voice, as if he was ordering for a cup of coffee, Petchkin gave the order, "Fire tubes one and two."

The First Officer quickly repeated the command back to the captain and gave it to the firing control officer immediately, "Fire tubes one and two"

The firing control officer, a Tazhistani, called back the order "Firing tubes one and two, Aye!"

Inside the submarine, high pressure air was injected into the torpedoes which forced them out of the sub and started the torpedoes' own internal motors.

"Torpedoes away, Captain. Tubes cleared and Outer torpedo bay doors on those tubes are closing."

The sonarman tracked the departing torpedoes. "Both torpedoes running true to targets. "

"Very well, Fire tubes three and four," the Captain stated while lighting a cigarette, and blowing the smoke towards the ceiling of the Con.


Again the First Officer repeated the command back to the captain and gave it to the firing control officer, whom repeated the commands he was given.

The torpedoes leaped away from the sub in a manor that made them look eager to join their sisters whom were already speeding towards their designated targets.

"Torpedoes three and four are away, Captain. Tubes cleared and Outer torpedo bay doors on those tubes are closing. The forward torpedo crew says the tubes will be reloaded in two minutes."

"Good, let us make our escape. Change heading to 310, 20 degrees down bubble, make turns for 20 knots, Crash dive! Prepare counter measures. Once we reach 500 meters, rig for silent running and change heading to 300."

As their parent submarine quickly dove away, the Type-65 anti-ship torpedoes raced towards their targets. Torpedoes one and two split their attack and each raced to their own designated destroyer. This would gave the Captains of those ships something to worry about, tying up their attention on those torpedoes while torpedoes three and four raced head-long for the Super Tanker.

The torpedoes prepared their 557 kg high explosive warheads at 6000 meters but did not arm them until 5000. At 3000 meters, the torpedoes would activate their wake homing sensor, which points upwards to detect the ships wake. The torpedoes would then sweep from side to side to find the edges of the wakes and their computers would quickly calculate direction, speed and distance to each target. At 1000 meters they would go into active acquisition mode...and from there only prayers would save their targets.

"CON, SONAR! SECOND SET OF TORPEDOES IN THE WATER, RANGE 10,000 METERS"

On the, Odin, Captain Yury Vladimiro's crew raced to their battle stations while the powerful ASW Destroyer quickly reversed it's course and headed towards the torpedoes. Captain Vladimiro knew if he could close the range fast enough, he could slip by the torpedoes without them even being aware that their quarry was past them. The wouldn't have time to go 'hot'...though that depended on if they could trust that devil of a submarine Captain not to have modified the range limits on his fish.

As the Odin raced towards the last known coordinates of the submarine, the Intrepid quickly turned to starboard and raced at 32 knots to place herself behind the Super Tanker and between that Tanker and the incoming torpedoes. Captain William Gresson III launched his Ka-27PL "Helix-A" ASW helicoper to assist the Odin and the Odin's own Ka-27PL "Helix-A" which was already in search of the submarine.

On the Odin, Mikhail was mindlocked in shock at his captains actions though some part of his brain was still functioning and allowing him to update the Captain with the torpedo range, "Con, Sonar, estimated range to torpedoes 2000 meters and closing quickly. Range to KarshkaMAX4000 meters and increasing."

Captain Vladimiro quickly said a prayer to Christ which the First Officer finished with "Amen to that".

"Con, Sonar! Torpedoes 1000 meters of the bow...800 Meters....600 Meters....Five Hundred...Four Hundred...Three Hundred...Two Hundred...One Hundred Meters!", at three hundred meters, Mikhail had removed his headphones to save his ears from the increasingly loud volume of the torpedo screws, and was surprised to learn he could hear the torpedoes right through the hull as they screech by his ship.

On the bridge, Captain Vladimiro watched as the torpedo wakes drifted by his ship on either side.

The First Officer spoke relieved "Captain, we are clear of the torpedoes...ah...Sir, the Intrepid reports the torpedoes went active 200 meters off our stern and increased their speed from 25 to 32 knots. They also report that the KarshkaMAX is turning to port and has increased to 18 knots, but she is such a whale that they don't believe it will do much good by the time the torpedoes reach them."

"Understood. Let's get this bastard while the Intrepid takes care of those torpedoes. They have the UDAV-1 system which should give them hard kills on those fish. We just need to worry about finding and sinking that sub."

Captain Gresson of the Intrepid ordered the Masker system activated and the UDAV-1 system activated and coupled with the sonar array, just as they started to swing in behind the KarshkaMAX.

The Masker system was a special custom system ordered by the Karshkovian Military for it's warships to have. Basically it is a system that blows pressured air (approx. 28-75 psi) into the water through thousands of small holes on the bottom of the hull. By blowing bubbles, the air bubble against the hull absorbs the sound emitted by the hull. Being flexible, the bubble would absorb the noise but not transfer any energy to the water on the other side. Thus reducing the total amount of noise introduced into the water.

The air is supplied through a system of small tubes welded to the exterior of the hull. These small holes bored in these tubes emitted an envelope of bubbles around the hull's exterior greatly lowering hull noise emissions. This system reduces the noise and as a decoy system has a chance of fooling military type sonars.

At the propeller hub, the air enters drilled passages in the hub body. The passages direct the air to the base of each propeller blade. Air reaches each blade through a bushing connection between the blade base and the hub body. Air then flows through an air channel in the blade leading edge and discharges through 302 miniature holes.

The UDAV-1 system included a 10-barreled KT-153 remotely controlled automated launcher with indirect elevation/traverse stabilization, which fired 111SZ mine-laying rockets with hydro-acoustic proximity fuse used mainly used to make a barrier for incoming torpedoes, and the 111SO decoy rockets to divert homing torpedoes from the surface ship by creating false acoustic target that the torpedoes would chase after.

No sooner had the sonarman called out that the torpedoes were 4000 meters out, the KT-153 started firing off 111SZ's. Ten were fired off before the crew had to reload the launcher.

As the torpedoes reached the mines, they were able to traverse through them. The Captain had made a mistake in firing the Mines too late, and they had little time to deploy and go active before the torpedoes were screeching past. As luck would have it, one mine had fell closer to the ship than the others and was able to arm in time. A column of water shot skyward as one torpedo was destroyed by the exploding mine.

Unfortunately for the Intrepid the victory was short lived as three torpedoes were still headed for him and the Tanker.

At 2000 meters, the 111SO decoys were fired off in multiple directions. They were equipped to sound like warships racing away at high speed, however, they also were deployed too late.

The # 2 torpedo struck the Intrepid amidships, just aft the boilers. Engine Mechanic Seaman Boer, was facing away from the ship's hull were the torpedo hit. He had heard a high-pitch sound quickly grow in volume behind him and he turned to look, just as the torpedo struck. He saw a glimpse of the hull bowing inward towards him and just barely was able to register one millisecond of the airborne shockwave, before he was vaporized by the 557 kg of high explosives. A great plum of brown smoke shot our of the ship's stack and men were tossed off their feet as the explosion lifted the boat's midsection into the air.


http://upload.wikimedia.org/wikipedia/commons/thumb/5/51/Mark_48_Torpedo_testing.jpg/800px-Mark_48_Torpedo_testing.jpg


The Captain and most of the bridge crew were instantly killed, and a large section of the super structure was ripped away and tossed into the ocean. The aft section of the ship quickly sank while the bow section remained on the surface for several minutes more before finally sinking, itself.

While the aft section was sinking, the second set of torpedoes bound for the KarshkaMAX shoot under the floating warship corpse. As fate would have it, one of the torpedoes was struck by a large section of rapidly sinking metal as it passed by the Intrepid.

This torpedo had been homing in on the center of KarshkaMAX's stern, however, the torpedo now had stabilizer damage to her control fins and she was performing lazy, and ever increasing spiraling barrel rolls. The on-board computer was not programmed to handle such a bizarre happening, and thus each correction it tried to make, only increased the ever growing erratic path it was on.

The #3 and #4 torpedoes raced towards the laden Super Tanker as their homing sonars locked in on their target.

The undamaged #4 torpedo hit 10 meters below the surface directly in the middle of the stern. The explosion punched a hole through the first and secondary hulls, severing the controlling linkages to the mammoth, 5000 ton rudder, freezing the ship in its turn to starboard. Fortunately, the oil absorbent material was un-intentionally able to absorb the remaining blast damage and keep the torpedo from punching through the third hull.

The #3 torpedo, in it's erratic path missed it's intended target, which was nearly the same spot the #4 torpedo had hit. Had it been able to, the KarshkaMAX would have received a near-fatal blow, which would have holed her hulls and allowed thousands of gallons of sea water to flood her engine room, potentially creating a situation were she may have sunk, or been badly flooded and unable to move when Hurricane Amanda moved through the area.

As it was, the torpedo struck the port propeller, totally destroying the prop, bending the shaft and sending a hard jolt into the drive unit, cracking mounts and allowing seawater to trickle in from those cracks.

On the bridge, the officers felt a sudden jerk forward, followed by another jerk forward. Quickly there after a distant and muffled sound of a concussion followed by tow very large vibrations reverberated through the bridge.

Captain Drew Hammerick, looked around at his officers. They had heard from men on deck that the Intrepid had sacrificed herself and was quickly sinking, but the shock of being attacked themselves was beyond words.

"Those fucking assholes torpedoed us!" he yelled to no one in particular. The First Officer, Ben Dailer, sounded General Quarters as the standby generator kicked in to offset the loss of the starboard engine, which the engineers had shut down after the explosions.

Checking the status panels and computer displays, officers were reporting in, one over-talking the next.

"No water alarms, Sir"
"All doorways Secured"
"Oil containers secured, no loss of cargo"
"No fire alarms activated, Sir"

"Get on the horn to the Odin, let her know we've been hit and that the Intrepid is going down. Damned that we can't assist those men on the Intrepid...it would take use nearly 100 nautical miles and to stop will full reverse engines and then some.... And that's six hours, fifteen minutes of full reverse...not to mention trying to turn this beast." The Captain sighed.

A Junior officer, visibly shaken looked up from her station, voice quivering "Sir, do you imagine the sub is going to take another crack at us?"

"No, I imagine those S.O.B's are going flat out north of here as far down as they can dive to avoid the Odin and her helos. Let's just worry about damage control for now and leave the Odin to worry about that sub."

The Captain looked out over his massive ship as tiny dots of white moved hurriedly over the orange decks. Men and women were scrambling to their stations while they were snapping on their life jackets.

"Engine room to Bridge, you guys alive up there? What the bloody hell happened? Did the damn Navy Captains fall asleep at the wheel and ram us?" Matt Derrick, the ship's Chief Engineer sounded shaken but alright.

"We are fine up here, Matt. No, we weren't rammed, we were torpedoed." The Captain sighed as he spoke the words.

The line was dead for a moment and then Matt asked incredulously, "What in bloody hell are you talking about? Torpedoed? If this crate was fished, we'd go up like a flaming Roman Candle. Say, what in bleeding christ are you guys smoking up there!?!"

"I'm dead serious, Matt. The Intrepid took one amidships and she's going down as we speak. I'm told the torp broke her back. There are a few survivors in the water and Odin is breaking off their chase of the sub to pick them up. It sounds like the helos are still looking for that sub driver."

Matt whistled low, "Christ, I'm sorry to hear that, I am. Anything we can do to help out?"

"No, we just need to worry about ourselves for the moment, and let the navy tend to the navy. On that note, what's our damage down there?" The Captain was afraid to ask, but he felt it was best to get he bad news out of the way first.

"We'll, we have no fires and no water gushing in...yet. Mind you, I've got a few crew members with a lot of bumps and bruises, a few deep cuts and one or two with broken bones so I am tending my people first. Medical lads are sending a group down to tend to us hardhats. I can say that I'm surprised our ass-end is still here with that blow and all. I'll need to get back with you later, Captain, after I've had a chance to get my team back in functioning order."

"Understood, Matt. Let me know what you find. Bridge out." The Captain hung up the handset and turned to his First Officer, "Well Ben, we are not taking on water, have no fires, and we are not leaking oil. I think we got through that relatively well."

"I'm going to find the engineers who built this bucket and buy them a big round of drinks. It felt and sounded like we took a few in our stern...but we are still floating and nothing seems to be seriously wrong..."

"Captain, the Odin is asking our condition." the radioman reported

"Tell the Odin, we are not taking on water, have no fires, have found no leaks of oil and only minor injuries to the crew."

"Aye Captain"

The helmsman looked over his shoulder at the commanding officers, "Uh...sir's, I think we have a problem with our steering"

The Captain's stomach sank deep into his chest with dread, while Ben steeped quickly to the helmsman's side, "What's the problem?"

The helmsman quickly pointed to the computer displays in front of him that showed course, speed, and the diagnostic readouts for all the helm controls. "Sir, everything shows green across the board but she won't answer her rudder. I have the wheel set as far port as I can but she is not responding. We are suck in a 5 degree turn to starboard. I've run the diagnostics three times and I keep coming up with green lights, but she won't respond to manual or computerized course adjustments."

The Captain quickly looked the compass and back at the helm information. "He's right...we are stuck in a slow turn to starboard."

"Engine Room to Bridge, Captain, I have some bleeding bad news sir. Our starboard engine seized up after that jolt we took and we found cracks all over the place where water was leaking in. The shaft on that side is blown, Sir. We patched all that, now, but only the port prop is turning..."

"Matt, we don't seem to have any rudder control up here and it looks like we are stuck on a turn to starboard. I need your people to find out what in hell is going on and fix it. Also, shut down that port engine. That may be causing our turn to starboard!"

"Oh, Bleeding Christ in a handbasket! Alright, we are on it, Sir. Engine Room out."

Captain Hammerick turned and walked quickly over to the table used to manually plot courses and check maps. As he did so, the helmsman called out that the starboard engine was shutdown.

"Alright, Ben...we are here, ~100 miles east the Kinstantia southern coast. Ok, we have a turn to starboard of about 5 degrees. Figure in our deceleration rate from 18 knots and variables for decreasing turn to starboard, factor in the current...oh God Damn it!"

Ben looked over his Captain's figures, worked them in his head on his own, reworked them and came up with the same results.

"Christ, we are going to run into those shallows just off their coast in under 5 hours at over 14 knots! Anyway that the Odin may be able to latch on to us and pull our bow to starboard enough to miss those shallows, Skipper?"

"Ben, come on. We'd drag the "Odin" along as if she were a toy. Not only that but we would need a Montana-class battleship or better to even make a dent in our direction. You think there are any big ships like that could get to us, let alone match speed, attach towing wires half a meter in diameter, and then try dragging our bow out of danger?" Captain Hammerick sighed.

"Engine Room to Bridge, Captain I sent one of my men into the crawlspaces that service the control wires to the rudder and he says that it's flooded down near the waterline so he is guessing it's to open to the ocean and the wires are damaged or severed because of the torp. He tried going down to see if he could repair anything but about a foot under the water the ladder is gone and he said the current is very turbulent. He didn't want to risk getting sucked out."

"Alright, Matt, see what your guys can do from inside the ship...maybe they can route around it some how. You've got four hours to figure it out."

Matt scrunched up his face and looked at the squawk box, "Why only four hours?"

Captain Hammerick closed his eyes and sighed, "Because in five hours we are going to run aground and I intend to have everyone off the ship before it comes to that.

"Mayday, Mayday, Mayday. This is Super Tanker KarshkaMax with 200 souls on board bound for the nation of Stoklomolvi with 4 million barrels (168 million gallons) of crude oil. We are sending a general distress message to anyone who can receive this signal. Mayday, Mayday, Mayday. This is Super Tanker KarshkaMax with 200 souls on board bound for the nation of Stoklomolvi with 4 million barrels (168 million gallons) of crude oil. We are sending a general distress message to anyone who can receive this signal.

We and our escort ships have been attacked by an unknown submarine and are currently without the ability to navigate our vessel. We will run aground in less than three hours off the coast of Kinstantia. One of our escort destroyers had been sunk and the other is unable to take us on-board due to having no room left after rescuing survivors from their sister ships' wreckage.

I repeat, We and our escort ships have been attacked by an unknown submarine and are currently without the ability to navigate our vessel.We will run aground in less than three hours off the coast of Kinstantia. One of our escort destroyers had been sunk and the other is unable to take us on-board due to having no room left after rescuing survivors from their sister ships' wreckage."

"Mayday Mayday Mayday....."

(ooc: missing time found here (http://forums.jolt.co.uk/showthread.php?t=559804&page=6))

Aboard the KarshkaMAX the crew watched the helicopters descend from the sky, buffeted by the growing winds.

As Rescue Bravo 46 and 47 settled on the helipads set far out on the edges of the top of the superstructure, a few of the men and women of the crew loaded onto the helicopters in an orderly fashion, while others gathered to be winched up to the other hovering rescue helicopters.

Captain Hammerick watched as the First Officer oversaw the evacuation, bawling out orders on his walkie-talkie to department heads, who in turn were talking to crew managers who were keeping the crew calm during the evac.

The small regular army unit stationed on the KarshkaMAX had already been dispatched to the Odin an hour before to help with the wounded until the medical ship arrived.

When the first helicopters had landed and were ready to lift off, Ben Dailer turned to Captain Hammerick, "How long until she runs around"?

"One hour, give or take a few minutes," the Captain said, without looking at his wrist watch.

"Do you think we will all be evacuated by then, Sir?"

"At this pace, I see no reason why it would still be here, one way or another."

Ben looked over at his Skipper, "Why, I would think it would make a difference. Leaving means we live to see another day, staying means we possibly die in an explosion or fire when this ship runs aground."

Captain Hammerick sighed as if the weight of the world was about to collapse on his shoulders and there was nothing he could do about it.

"Ben, when this ship runs aground, it will be the worse tanker spill in history. Sixteen times the Exxon spill...Our names will be in the papers as the command crew. Everyone will be playing, "Monday Morning Quarterback", second guessing what we should have done. Boards of inquiry we will sit though for the next five years, the civil lawsuits, the papers and television shows that will slander our names, to the point we will never be employable again."

The Captain pointed to the crew waiting to be rescued, "None of them will be blamed, nor will their names be in the paper. They will go on with their lives as if nothing happened...except a few who will brag in a bar or to family that they lived through a submarine torpedo attack."

"Captain, how is our fault? We were attacked! We didn't do anything to provoke this! I just don't see how-"

"Ben, it doesn't matter who is to blame or not. When this oil hits open water and the entire eco-system in this region is damaged...or even destroyed...for the next twenty to thirty years, of course we will be blamed because we were at the controls. Ben, you think the media hounds will rather run a story of a submarine that damaged the ship six hours ago and have no picture to run when they tell the story, or do you think they are going to say, "After a torpedo attack crippled their ship, Captain Hammerick and his First Officer Ben Dailer, had six hours to figure out a way to gain back their steering and get their vessel pointed away from shallow water. Let's post up a picture of each of them and say they were to blame. Sure the sub attacked them but they had lots of time to figure something out...right?" Just think Ben...you know it and I know this is what is to be of our lives from this moment forward. And you know the worst thing? This hurricane is going to strike the tanker and crude oil will be carried up through the waves and high tide onto the land. Just wait until that oil is under a downed power line or finds an open flame... Remember the Tora Valley spill about 23 years ago? 12.5 million gallons of crude oil were released along the Servainian coast. It completely ruined the fishing grounds off their coast, coated their beaches with crude oil for over 200 kilometers. The Servainians still haven't recovered, and 5 known local species of wildlife were made extinct. What do you think 168 million gallons will do to Kistantia? What do you think their government and their people will want to do with US?"

Ben felt uneasy. He didn't want to believe his Captain, but he had seen how the world treated people and this was exactly what they probably would do.

"I think I am going to be sick."

The Captain looked over at his First Officer's frightened eye, "On the bright side, your mug will be all over in newspapers and TV shows. I'm sure some young thing will see your mug and probably fall madly in love. Hah! Come, let us find a helicopter and let come what may."


One hour later

The KarshkaMAX's grounding was serene, almost tranquil. The reef she hit was at the edge a sea-cliff, where the ocean bottom rises from over 200 meters to less than 10 meters in a very short distance. The rougher seas slowed her to under 14 knots before she hit the bottom, but that was still enough potential energy built up to send the massive ship far up the reef. At a distance above the water, everything seemed peaceful. On board, the sound of thousands of nails scratching against a blackboard battered the inside of the ship. Items were thrown from their place. Dishes crashed against the walls in the galley, and on the bridge the Captain's forgotten coffee mug fell to the floor where it smashed into many pieces, spraying lukewarm coffee around and empty bridge.

As a credit to the engineers that designed her, the first hull held up against the battering it took rather well. It wasn't penetrated until the ship had traveled about 150 meters through the shoals. Rock and coral were ripped up from the reef and tossed away from the ship. Fish and ocean creatures of all sorts fled before the titanic intruder came too close and returned after it had past.

When the water depth reached less than 8 meters the primary hull started pealing back exposing the secondary hull to the reef. This hull was not designed to take the same punishment that the primary had been so it was penetrated almost immediately. It stripped away nearly immediately, leaving the third and final hull to deal with the ocean's bottom. Surprisingly, the third hull was able to last the longest, but even it had limits which were reached when the ship was approximately 700 meters into the shoal. Acres upon acres of the ship's hull were pealed away and left behind in it's wake, and left the ship looking as if some had cut away the bottom of the tanker.

No one that had built the great ship envisioned what was about to happen, so no precautions had been taken to prevent it. There was no slow leak or single compromised compartment that was releasing oil. Every storage tank on the ship had been literally stripped of it's bottom, and was now vented to the sea. In one moment in time, the entire 168 million gallons of crude oil being carried by the KarshkaMAX hit the ocean floor and trailed behind the dying ship marking it as mortally wounded. As the water depth reached six meters, the great ship quickly lost momentum and it slowly came to rest just over 1 kilometer from were it first ran aground. For thirty minutes, oil raced out of holes in the side of the tanker, were the hulls had ripped on the sides of the ship...some holes nearly the size of the Odin.

167 million gallons of crude were in the water when fumes on the ship were ignited by an electrical spark from a fallen high-pressure sodium vapor light used to illuminate the ship's deck . An enormous fireball ripped from the deck skyward, followed quickly by two more explosions of highly flammable oil fumes. Those humans crazy enough to be outside as the edge of the hurricane hit, 90 miles to the south of KarshkaMAX could see the northern part of their sky light up as if the sun had broken through the clouds, just for an instant, and then left a reddish-pink glow which slowly faded away.

Three kilometers away, on the Odin, Captain Vladimiro was out on the decking, watching his escort through binoculars when the ship exploded. The searing light made him instinctively throw his arm up to protect his face and even at the distance of the Odin the heat of the fire warmed his exposed flesh as if it were a noon day sun on a cloudless summer day. The shockwave that followed seconds later struck the ship with a gust of over-pressured air, ringing against the hull furiously, though no real damage was done. Trees near the shoreline, however, were either completely uprooted or had their trunks snapped near the ground. They were all stripped of their branches and leaves.

Though fires consumed oil still inside the ship and on the surface surrounding the vessel, the hurricane's growing wind and driving rain soon started and quenched the fires on the ocean before they could burn off more than half a million gallons of crude oil. The fire inside the great ship raged on out of control. The million gallons of oil trapped inside the ship burned hot, expelling great plumes of thick black smoke from the holes in the decking of the ship. The oil outside the ship to a distance of 700 meters literally extended all the way down to the ocean's bottom and it was still extending as a wall of oil, as the slick had not had a chance to expand very far and start thinning out.

And now the Natural Disaster, Hurricane Amanda was about to strike the Man-Made Disaster, the 167 million gallons of crude oil spilled from the KarshkaMAX....

_____encrypted message to the government of Karshkovia

We have received the message from your ship, the KarshkaMax, but are unable to assist with the evac. Our medical ship, Caridd, is in the area and will take on any wounded, that are being evacuated. We will be making our way to the Kinstantian coast, so as to assist in rescue operations. We wish to know, if you would require military assistance. If you require our assistance with this unknown assailant, please respond, at the soonest possible time. Good luck.

Kolitburo, Graith Dr'klow

The Most Holy Bishop of the Theocracy of Gabriel Possenti was awakened from a sound slumber of a most erotic and unholy dream by an unnamed and breathless cabinet minister.

"Your Grace! Your Grace! That supertanker? The KarshkaMax? It just blew up!"

The Most Holy Bishop opened one eye.

"Where?" He growled sourly. "Where did this whooziwhatsit blow its top? Was it full? This better be @#$%ing important."

The cabinet minister spent the next five minutes bringing the Most Holy Bishop up to speed on the incident. At the end of the moving and powerful presentation, the Most Holy Bishop appeared to consider this, after pushing a button to summon his morning breakfast.

"And this means what to us?" He said disinterestedly.

"Well, uh, I...er...it's out in the ocean, sir..." the cabinet minister stammered.

"The ocean, you say? Well, no s#!%." The Most Holy Bishop said sarcastically. Then, like someone turning a switch, his voice went cold and flat: "Go put Intel on it, son, and while you're at it, grow a spine. Tell those layabouts and lab rats to get me solid humint and elint and an impact analysis. Tell 'em I want it before lunch. It don't have to be pretty, it just has to be here, you got it?"

"Yes, your Grace," said the cabinet minister, who stood fast, appearing to be waiting for more orders.

"Why are you still here?" The Most Holy Bishop said, giving the cabinet minister the Hairy Eyeball and speaking slowly as if to a child who has just wet his pants: "Was any part of that order unclear to you?"

"No, your Grace. Good Morning, Your Grace," the cabinet minister genuflected, his ceremonial holster bumping the floor. And with that, he turned and exited the bedchamber of the Most Holy Bishop.

"Geez Leweez," grumbled the Bishop as a young, scantily-clad Personal Religious Attendant entered, carrying his breakfast tray and conspicuously wearing a custom Colt .45.

"Thank you, dear," said the Most Holy Bishop absently. She left without a word and the Most Holy Bishop chewed his toast thoughtfully.

Supertanker blew up, huh? he thought. Hmmm. Environmentalist wackos, conflict between nations, or some lush was put in charge again. Whoever owns that thing better get some spin doctors on that. Should make for some fun light reading this week.

And with that, he went back to concentrating on his breakfast.

OOC: That was by far the best satirical depiction of a theocracy I've read all week!

OOC:that was funny.nice.

Admiral Sergeyevich Pulitz had served in the Navy for 35 years beginning his career during the time when the soviets had occupied Karshkovia, as a second officer in the Russian Navy aboard a small 20 meter shore patrol boat. He had commanded light frigates, small destroyers and large cruisers during his time with the Russian Navy, rising to the level of Admiral in command of a small fleet of ships. When Karshkovian independence came, he retired from the Russian Navy and offered his experience to his homeland.

He now was the Supreme Admiral of the Karshkovian Navy, a long way from the lowly fisherman's family he had began his life with. He often visited his elderly parents who were in their early nineties and extremely proud of their prominent son. His great-grandfather, grand-father, and father had all served in the Navy at one time or another, however none had ever commanded a ship let alone a fleet of ships. Now the family's name would live on in history, the lowly family of fisherman would be remember along side that of of royalty.

However, he now wondered if that name would be remembered fondly or with disdain after he delivered the news to the President . . . " The Intrepid was sunk. . . 210 lost, KarshkaMAX lost"

He snapped out of his internal reflection as the Captain at Fleet HQ continued speaking on the phone, "The Odin picked up 100 sailors with various injuries from the water and are speeding back to Karshkovia with the crew of the KarshkaMAX on board as well."

"The Odin definitely stated it was an Alpha? "

"Yes Admiral, they confirmed several times that it was an unknown Alpha that attacked their convoy. The Odin broke away from hunting the submarine to assist the crew of the Intrepid and KarshkaMAX. The contact with the submarine was last plotted out to deep ocean waters."

Pulitz swore. He would have to be the one to explain to the National Counsil and the President how he lost two ships and...what was the current barrel of crude oil price currently....ah yes $145.18 USD...times by 4 Million Barrels and there was...holy christ...$580,720,000USD in just the cargo. Adding the price of both ships lost, Karshkovia was looking at a $600 Million USD loss. That didn't include the cost of replacing the sailors lost or the possible economic dispensation they may need to give to the nation whose waters the oil had spilled into. Pulitz next assignment may be commanding an outpost in the high frozen reaches of the Karshka Mountains.

"Alright, make the calls needed to assemble the National Council in the next 30 minutes. Tell them it is of the highest national priority. No leaks. You keep this information to yourself, understood?"

The lieutenant stated he did and disconnected the call to start summoning the Council. Pulitz's aide brought in the all the information Navy HQ had on the KarshkaMAX incident, which Pulitz reviewed fully before a call came through to his personal phone.

"Admiral, the council is assembled and awaiting your news."

"Da", Pulitz replied, hanging up the phone and walking out of his office, down the hall to the elevator and then down the elevator to sub-level six. There a small room resided, which currently was set asside for a meeting of the President and National Council.

Admiral Pulitz 's mind was racing as the security check-point triple checked his credentials and then allowed him to pass through into the meeting room. The Directors or Foreign Affairs, Intelligence, State Affairs, Supreme Admiral of the Marines, Supreme General of the Air Force and Supreme General of the Army all sat at the large round table, most with paperwork or laptops set up in front of them. A few spoke on current issues together while the President spoke with the Director of State Affairs and the Prime Minister, though they cut off their conversation when Pulitz walked into the room. They allowed him to find his chair and sit before drilling him with an awkward question.

The Prime Minister addressed him first, "Admiral, perhaps you can explain why I was dragged away from a diplomatic luncheon with the ambassador from Tazhistan with no explanation other than being told is was of "extreme national urgency", and the President's flight to Stoklomolvi was canceled while he was taxied for take-off."

The Admiral gulped, Might as well get this finished quickly and as pain free as possible. A desk in the High Karshkas, definitely.

"Ms Prime Minister, Mr. President, 45 minutes ago I was informed that the KarshkaMAX and Intrepid were torpedoed by an unknown submarine. Approximately 210 sailors were killed aboard the Intrepid, with only 100 survivors recovered from the water. Some are not expected to live through the night. The KarshkaMAX was damaged to an extent that the crew was unable to maneuver the ship away from shallow waters and she was abandoned. She ran aground and has lost her entire cargo of crude oil into the sea."

He quickly but carefully explained every detail of information he had to the Council over the next 20 minutes. When he finished, the entire council sat stunned in the announcement; then all hell broke loose. Everyone was speaking furiously to those around them, seeking answers where there were only questions. The President slapped his palm against the table, making a sound similar to an assault rifle crack. The room quickly fell silent.

"That is enough! We need to stay calm and focused right now. The Karshkovian people will be looking to us for guidance and leadership. Let us start acting as they believe we should. Karshkovia is about to be ridiculed and given sympathy by the world population sometime in the next few days. We need answers, not theories or guesses when we go public with this. I need the FSB checking internal sources to see if there was any out of the ordinary activity or hint of this incident being planned or worked from inside Karshkovia. Get the GRU to check their intel on foreign militarizes. See who would benifit the most from this action, and if there was a hint of this anywhere in the military world. Find out who has Alpha submarines, where those subs are and if any submarines are missing. I want the SVR checking their Bureaus for intelligence. If this was a plot and not an accident, then someone, somewhere knows this information. I want that information too within 48 hours. Activate BI2, KPI, CCI if needed. I'm going to make an announcement to the world in 24 hours, and and before I do, I need to know who to point a finger at, otherwise Karshkovia is going to be remembered as helping create the largest tanker oil spill on record."

The Prime Minister spoke quickly after the President had finished, "Admiral Pulitz, since this was a submarine attack we may need to highten our patrols of our harbors and shoreline. Let us put enough detection equipment in the water so a person could walk from Zostar to Volograd without getting their feet wet. I do not want a repeat of this incident closer to our own waters."

The President nodded his agreement, "Let us also put our Air Force at combat alert and fly overlapping patrols through our skies. This may just be a prelude to a larger or different attack via the air. Also naval air patrols will help look for suspicious activity at sea. I want security tightened at all our military bases. No one is allowed on or off without verifying credentials."

As the Director of Intelligence, Fedor Tuchkov, scribbled notes furiously into his personal notepad, the Director of State Affairs raised her voice, "Mr. President, I believe that may be a mistake to wait to address the nation. If we wait a day to announce this to the world, everyone will already have known about this incident and will be wondering why we are taking so long to officially acknowledge it. Rumors will begin after our military forces are put to this high alert status and by the time you do address the nation, many will already have decided to believe what they want about the situation."

Valentina Borofsky, the Prime Minister quickly responded, "What do you have in mind, Madam Director?"

"Madam Prime Minister, we have the Supreme Commander of the Navy and yourself address the national press in a hour to explain what we know. The President would address the nation later this evening to acknowledge the incident and provide any more information that we may have uncovered in that time."

The President agreed with a nod of his head, "Well put. I agree with your thoughts. Admiral Pulitz will work with the Prime Minister and her staff to set up the Press Conference while the rest of you will do what we have just spoke on. Intelligence will seek out who did this, State Affairs and I will handle the Public Relations with the press. The Navy and Air Force will begin dense patrols of our boarders just in case. All right, my friends, this meeting is adjourned. We have a lot of work and not much time."


An hour later the the Prime Minister stood in front of the press corps in the People's Palace with Supreme Admiral Pulitz standing behind her on the left side of the podium. She announced that she was going to make a short statement and there would be no questions answered after it was read.

"Good Afternoon. It is my sad duty to inform the people of Karshkovia, and the world, that six hours ago the KarshkaMAX and her escort destroyers fell under torpedo attack by an unknown submarine. The destroyer Intrepid took a torpedo we believe was designated for the KarshkaMAX and was sunk. There were 310 Karshkovian sailors aboard at the time of the attack, however only 80 have survived and are now enroute to medical facilities here in Karshkovia.

The KarshkaMAX was hit with, we believe, two torpedoes. Neither damaged the ship enough to breach the hulls and there were only minor injuries among the crew from the attack, however the ship's navigation control was destroyed and the crew was not able to repair the damage before it ran aground in shallow water off the southern coast of Kinstantia. The crew was evacuated off the ship before it ran aground and all that were aboard the KarshkaMAX are alive.

Reports from the remaining destroyer, Odin state that the 4 Million Barrels of crude oil bound for Stoklomolvi have been released into the sea after the KarshkaMAX ran aground. Projections now indicate this is the worst oil tanker spill in the history of the world. We do not know who perpetuated this attack, nor their reason for doing so, however I assure the Karshkovian people and the people of the world that we are going to find those responsible and deal with them accordingly. We have been in contact with the Kinstantia Government about this matter and will work hand in hand with them to clean up this massive spill.

At this time, the President has canceled all military leaves. Our armed forces have been placed at a higher level of alert, and patrols of our shores have been intensified. I want to caution the people of Karshkovia that this is merely a preventative measure. We have no reason to believe those that master-minded this attack would attack ships inside Karshkovian waters. We are not at a state of war and there will be no hoarding of supplies or price gouging.

The President has also announced he will address the nation later this evening. Until then I urge you to remain calm in this time of national tragedy. Thank you."

The press corps exploded out of their seats, all shouting to be heard over each other. Flashes from cameras snapped off like dozens of strobe lights. Decorum was forgotten as the reporters assulted the podium with questions.

"Do you have any idea who would attack Karshkovia?"
"Is this attack proof of navel incompetence?"
"Will the Admiral step down?"
"When will a list of the dead be available?"
"Will the Karshkovian Government be responsible for monetary compensation to the nation of Kinstantia?"

The Prime Minister ignored the questions and quickly left the room followed by the Admiral while the Press Secretary tried to calm the reporters.

Captain Ivan Bestuzhev looked around the cramped, red-lit bridge. Everyone was at their post and alertly tending their consoles as they should be, though the tension was high. Captain Bestuzhev puffed on a new cigarette, blowing the smoke from the first drag towards the ceiling. The orders they had just received was clear. Captain Petchkin succeeded. It was time to Live or Die for Bestuzhev. No sense putting this off any longer.

"Sonar?"

"Unchanged, Captain. Harbor noise is to much to say for certain on ship movement."

The Captain sighed, "So be it. Mr. Vasler, periscope depth, gently please."

"Aye, Captain"

The "Belgorod" had been laying in the mud on the bottom of the bay for the last two days, waiting for orders. Now they had orders in hand. The submarine slowly became unstuck and rose towards the surface.

"Periscope depth sir"

"Up scope, ahead 2 knots", Ivan Bestuzhev ordered calmly. A quick sweep of the surface showed only one ship, a 40,000 ton Cargo-container ship headed out to sea from the harbor. No air or sea radars were detected and he could see no patrolling warships.

In the early evening hours, the lights of Zostar glowed against the water and the several ships anchored in the harbor.

Twenty minutes later, the submarine was inside the harbor and Captain Bestuzhev had his designated targets. A Cargo-ship loaded with aircraft parts that had just arrived in from the Northern Baltic States, an full Liquid Petroleum Gas tanker that was to set sail tomorrow morning, a cargo ship full of foodstuffs currently being offloaded and bound for market in Karshkovia, and cargo ship laden with ammunition. Another ship was a Kara class ASW cruiser which looked as if she was being prepared to put to sea. Bestuzhev wanted two torpedoes for that beast.

There were various smaller private ships, motor- and sail-powered, moving through the harbor in the fading light. They were of no concern to Captain Bestuzhev, though they would be of help later as all the conflicting reports would confuse the Karshkovian military.

After a quick check of the surrounding water and air was taken, and the firing solutions rechecked, the Captain nodded to the First officer.

The torpedoes were large vessels of destruction measuring 533mm (20.9 inches) in diameter and over 9 meters long (nearly thirty feet), they carried warheads with enough explosive force to damage even the legendarily tough Oscar-class submarines.

Fired one at a time, the torpedoes guided out of their tubes towards their targets. Thirty seconds after the first torpedo left it's tube, the cargo vessel which contained aircraft parts was hit amidships, sending a plume of water and thick black smoke upwards. The explosion was clearly audible though the hull of the submerged submarine. The sailors on the cruiser had fifteen seconds to scramble madly about their ship before they were tossed off their feet by two explosions which doomed the docked warship. The cargo ship laden with foodstuffs took a torpedo near the bow, which crippled her but was not fatal.

It was the LPG tanker which would prove to be the most shocking display of all. The first torpedo slammed into the hull of the tanker, annihilating a large segment and letting tons of seawater pour into the bowels of the ship. The second torpedo drifted far enough off course to flow into the ship with the water where it impacted with the pressurized container. The explosion itself made a massive dent in the container, deforming it, however it was the molten shrapnel that punctured the vessel and allowed the liquefied gas to vent out of the many small holes in supersonic streams. A high-pitched whistle was audible to the crew of the giant tanker and those on the dock. In horror, men futility ran for their lives.

The gas quickly formed a cloud around the damaged container. This cloud took only a few seconds to find fires started by the torpedoes and ignite.

The fireball from this explosion took less than a thousandth of a second to reach back inside the pressurized container where 2,000 tons of liquefied petroleum gas ignited all at once. It ruptured the tank and sent shrapnel out to the four other pressurized containers, which in turn added to the fury.

The result was akin to a nuclear explosion in violence. The tanker was vaporized completely and the surrounding ships were ripped apart. The overpressure shock wave and thermal pulse hit the dockside petroleum refinery nearly at the same time, igniting holding tanks full of various grades of petroleum products, from Av-gas and JP4 to civilian 88 and 90 grade gasoline to natural gas and propane. These added to the mind numbing explosion and created an even larger shockwave and thermal pulse. Dockworkers and those driving on a freeway nearby the docks were instantly cremated.

The thermal pulse ignited all exposed surfaces, and the surface of the water instantly heated to steam. Ships in the harbor caught fire and any cloth sails became towering torches for a brief time. The concussion rolled over the water next, ripping small boats and yachts apart and blowing people apart like ripe watermelons. It reached through the water and shook the Akula like a rat in a terrier's jaws. Men were thrown from their feet and the lighting was knocked offline, plunging the boat into darkness. The great warship groaned and popped with the strain. Sparks exploded from damaged panels and steam pipes vented through out the ship. For those that had served in war-time they likened it to an intense depth charge attack. The second explosion from the refinery wasn't as intense under the water, however above the water, it was nearly worse.

The entire harbor was destroyed and the city for a mile around the explosions was leveled to rubble. For seven miles around the explosions, the city was on fire. The thermal pulse followed by the over-pressure wave started the destruction, but the surge of air away from and towards the explosions fanned the flames to great heights. The refinery and dock was ablaze, and nearly all the merchantmen docked their were fatally damaged or already below the waves.

"Damage reports. I want damage reports, and these fucking lights back on" Captain Bestuzhev called out between coughs as he pulled himself to his feet.

In the darkness of the bridge a crewman asked in a frightened voice, "Did we hit a nuke?"

"Silence, you fool!" The captain barked back, "If that had been a nuke we wouldn't be alive. No more non-sense. See to your station."

"Captain" The XO called out, "Engine room reports our atomic pile is scrammed, and it will take six hours to bring it back on-line. Two banks of batteries are offline, but we have engine power and can make it back to Tazhistan waters. Bilge bay reports we are taking on water but they believe they can repair the pipes. Torpedo room reports damage to tubes one and four. They are non operative. Tube three and six have damage to their outer doors. Sonar is damaged. Numerous injuries reported through the ship."

The lights came back on dimly and the captain smiled, the blood on his lower lip a dark black in the red light, "Be grateful we are still alive, eh comrade? Set course out of the harbor, flank speed. Let us get back to Tazhistan waters. Our mission is down here."


(ooc: for reference, here is a LPG explosion from a small tractor trailer in korea (http://www.porkolt.com/other//-36024.html). Take this and increase it ten to twenty times over for an idea of the explosion in the docks)