An Impossible Island, Part 1
An Impossible Island, Part 1
"It’s not on any of our maps. It shouldn’t be there."
This is a submission, intended for the Soaring Twenties Social Club’s Symposium, a collaboration amongst writers of the STSC, for a monthly theme of “the Beach”.
SSN ETERNITY
LOCAL TIME: ZERO-ONE HOURS
SECTOR: Pacific Theater of Operations
Coordinates: CLASSIFIED
“Chief of the Boat, ready the team. Zero-two hours, deploy.”
“Aye, Ex-Oh. Conn, Launch Berth, Team make ready. Zero-two hours, deploy.”
“Launch Berth, Conn. Team make ready. Zero-two hours, deploy.”
"We still receiving the same message?”
“Yes, sir. Encrypted chatter, on a loop. Scheduled feed through Starlink relays confirms that’s all there is. Saildrone telemetry from our surface updated orders.”
“How’s the weather?”
“We’re in the clear, Sir, meteorological concurs. No swarms, last nano sighting scrubbed by counter-measure coverage from the Seventh Fleet’s umbrella.”
“Updated orders. Map Table, configure, open mission file, Captain’s authorization.”
“MAP TABLE, CONFIRMED CAPTAIN, FILE DECRYPTED. CONFIGURED.”
Charts on the display table in the control room glowed, a topology rose from the display. A small faint blinking gently circle was the boat. The sector’s bases and depots mostly subsurface, some were in deep stealth. An island that blinked green.
“That island looks like it should have luxury short-term rentals for billionaires. Another paradise in the middle of the ocean. There’s something about it. It’s not on any of our maps. It shouldn’t be there.”
“I’ve seen lots of counter-intelligence and electronic warfare tricks, but what is this?”
“All we know is that it appeared sometime after all hell broke loose. This rock in the middle of the ocean just appeared. Not volcanic. No geological disturbances from detectors. Faint readings from sector sail-drones picked up on currents and airflows.”
“And whatever pings these are, coming from it, just began. Whatever we’ve been blaming each other about, making us shoot each other, seems to be connected to this island. Maybe the Navy beats the Air Force and Space Force and found a UFO. Maybe we got little green men at last. Maybe we can stop the shooting before it’s too late.”
“That’s why we have special riders on board, the ones we picked up during our last stores load. CINCPAC diverted us to Wellington. We got one new crewmember too.
The additional crewmember was assigned to mechanical but has made himself very helpful outside of A-Gang. He’s not above cleaning rota and helped relieve reactor crew too. All crews across the fleet have been stressed for extra hands since hostilities began so the best are versatile. Too bad, we can’t keep him.”
“We’re not the only ones on this heading. We have company. Another boat.”
The Exec expanded a part of the map with a gesture, and turned a palm up.
“This is their last known location and bearing, relayed through Starlink crypt. A submarine, fresh out of the shipyards at Bohai. Unknown designation, no registry.”
Another blinking light was on the map, a submarine on the other side of the island.
"Is this a base, under a cloak? Maybe they built an installation, they’ve had experience with that, turning rocks in the water into more to expand sovereignty. Who knows.”
”Naval Intelligence reports the boat is like ours, based on faint heat and electromag signatures. It makes it look like whatever is going on, they’re also looking for answers.”
“Time for a trip to the beach.”
SSN ETERNAL, REAR BERTH, LAUNCH BAY
LOCAL TIME: ZERO-TWO HOURS
SPECIAL SERVICES OPERATION, SPEC. TEAM 12
“Chief, where’s that kid from A-gang? The one who doesn’t let on he’s smarter than the best Nukers and code-freaks in the fleet.”
“Here he is. Congratulations, boy, you’ve been drafted into Special Services. Have some breakfast, straight off an Admiral’s table. Real coffee too.”
“Chief, this feels more like the Last Supper. I’d never hear the end of it if any of the A-gang knew I finished school, never-mind where I graduated. I’d appreciate it if you didn’t say anything. If I do comeback, I want it like it never happened.”
“Your secret’s safe with me. We’re not the Silent Service for nothing. But M.I.T., I knew you were to good to be true.”
“Thanks, Chief, we’ll take it from here. Breakfast is done. You, put this on, then sit there, and buckle up. Two, help the kid into his suit.”
“Happy hunting.”
“Skipper, launch is ready.”
“Let’s go, Two.”
The Chief of the Boat nods, leaves, and seals the hatch shut. A red light flashes.
“LAUNCH IN THIRTY SECONDS….”
SSN ETERNAL, Control Room
“Launch deployed, Sir.”
“Good, prepare to dive. At our next surface, send a ping through the sector Starlink.”
Alerts begin sounding in the Control Room.
“Conn, Sonar, multiple contacts.”
”Sonar, Conn, identify contacts.”
”Conn, Sonar. Multiple ‘Facelifts’.” Surplus sail-drones and aerial drones, refitted.
”Sound general quarters.” Lights inside the Conn turned red and an alarm began.
”Weapons, Conn, Spin up drones 1 to 4, rig for counter-measure. Plot firing solutions.”
”Conn, Weapons, drones 1 to 4, rig for counter-measures. We have firing solutions.”
”Weapons, Conn, fire drones 1 to 4.”
”Conn, Weapons, drones away.”
Time slows down, breathing changes. Fear rises. Shockwaves shake everything. There is distant rumbling which seems to roll on without end.
“Conn, Sonar, we got them all.”
The Captain and Executive Officer stared at the map, as fast blinking lights converged on other blinking lights. A faint rumble washed over everything while alerts flashed. The Captain scanned the map for one flashing light but he didn’t see it.
”Ex-Oh, where is the…?”
“Conn, Sonar. We’ve lost the other boat.”
“Make depth one-five-zero. Orders are no engagement, return later for extraction.”
The Captain looked at the file and maps one last time before deleting them.
“They’re on their own for now. I don’t know if that boat is waiting for us further out. My guess is they did the same as us, dropped off a team, and then distracted us with drones to blind us long enough. Not sure what other orders they have but we’re not waiting to find out. Chief, give me 1MC.”
”Captain, 1MC.” The main channel for general announcements.
“Crew, this is the Captain. We have company. We do not know their intentions. We are to evade and then return to these coordinates in 48 hours, beginning now. Chief, start the clock running. Ex-Oh, let’s get out here.”
“Aye Aye, Straight board, Captain, submerging.”
THE ISLAND
SERVICE TEAM ONE-TWO ON APPROACH TO THE BEACH
TIME: ZERO-FOUR HOURS
“Skipper, We’re closing in. We can get cover on that strip of the beach.”
“Very good, Two. Three, still getting signal?”
”Same pings, same heading, inland.”
“You felt that? Those explosions before. Something happened to the Eternal. Why am I even here?”
“Someone ordered us to catch a ride on her, and pick you up. You weren’t assigned to that boat by accident. Someone high up decided you’re useful.”
“Me? The only things I was useful at were machines. Most places I never fit in, except my Dad’s garage and the Eternal. My rating and quals might be crap but even the Nukers trusted me. That’s all I ever was good at. Fixing things.”
“Well, it looks like you we need you to fix something here.”
“What?”
The Team leader, “Skipper” to the Team, or “One”, said nothing. They landed.
To Be Continued.
NOTES:
This entry began with one word, “Beach”.
I have been writing fiction, and in particular, science fiction, a major part of my journey these past 18+ months. (Details in earlier posts, like this one on my home-made “antirules” of writing.) Part of my writing has been past plus future, and that has meant research in different ways.
Seeing the Soaring Twenties monthly theme “Beach”, I thought about one of the most haunting fiction novels, “On The Beach”. It’s a post-apocalyptic cold war era novel, about the last surviving submarine crew spending time at the last surviving outpost of humanity in Australia/New Zealand.
To add to the sense of being cast into the middle of the fray, I write the dialogue but with almost none of the “said so-and-so”, to force myself and everyone else to pay attention to what little has been written. The characters themselves have been thrown into the fray of their story, and must make sense of things too.
Here, the story is set in an undefined “future” with hints of familiar things. Its one anchor to the present is the jargon of submariners, used to give us an anchor at the story’s launch, as the mystery unfolds, where the characters are not lost at sea but will that be the case on the dry land of the unknown beach of an impossible island?
There’s not telling, just like in real life. We’re sometimes anchored, sometimes adrift.
I plan to write subsequent chapters but I may simply post them and write a post with links to those chapters, instead of pestering readers with endless fiction, we’ll see.
"To add to the sense of being cast into the middle of the fray, I write the dialogue but with almost none of the “said so-and-so”, to force myself and everyone else to pay attention to what little has been written. The characters themselves have been thrown into the fray of their story, and must make sense of things too."
Love how raw your stories and dialogues are. I'm thrilled to be accessing these on Substack now!
This is great. Most stories with military details are intriguing for me and this one was too.
Great work extrapolating this intro from the word beach. It's a showcase of the powerful visual style of writing you command.