[color=magenta][u]|Atlantic Ocean, 400 mi. WNW of Glasgow[/u][/color]

The 900 ft. long USS [i]Tulsa[/i], based in Iceland, drifted above low clouds at an easy 10kts. They were nearing the end of the current babysitting mission and were oh-so-eager for their next interminable period of drifting along the Atlantic. While the [i]Tulsa[/i] normally operated with two other ZRCV's (nominally four, but one of the lumbering ships was always grounded with some problem or essential upgrade or another), the [i]Tulsa[/i] was alone for this mission. [i]Anchorage[/i] was undergoing repairs to her tail after "strong" winds led to a mooring accident, and [i]Tulsa[/i] had been held up in port waiting for fuel. Ironically, the fuel was delayed because the convoy transporting it had been attacked by a Nazi U-boat. Their current escort mission had been quiet. The 38-ship convoy's escort consisted of five Flower class corvettes and the [i]Tulsa[/i].

"Descend to 2,000 feet," Cdr. Owens ordered.
"Descend to 2,000 feet, aye, sir." Lt. Cdr. John Cross, the ship's XO said. "Five degrees down angle. Inflate ballonets."

The elevatorman dutifully responded, and the ship gradually began to descend, nose down, through the clouds. As the mist outside the control car's windows cleared, the [i]Tulsa[/i]'s bridge crew were astonished to find empty ocean.

"What the hell?" one of the bridge crew muttered. Cdr. Owens mulled over the sudden disappearance. [i]Tulsa[/i] had been above the overcast clouds for a few hours, searching for enemy aircraft. The ship had been switching from above to below to search for aircraft, then submarines, then aircraft again. Mostly it was something to keep his crew occupied that wasn't another drill - Cdr. Owens had promised two drill-free days for the crew's performance in the latest loss-of-lift drill (yesterday had also been, coincidentally, movie night. The effect had the crew a bit too relaxed for Owens' comfort). The convoy's speed of 10kts couldn't put them very far from [i]Tulsa[/i] - in fact, they should still be visible. 

"Mr. Griffith," Cdr. Owens said after a moment, "get me our current position and the convoy's last known heading. Mr. Cross, launch the Seafins on a search mission to find the convoy.

An hour later, it was apparent that the unthinkable had happened - Cdr. Owens had lost a 40-ship convoy. There was nothing for it.

"Contact Liverpool. Message is as follows:

[@Iluvatar] [pre]FROM: USS Tulsa, ZRCV 1
TO: Liverpool

Unable to contact convoy HX-161 or escort ships. Convoy and escort position unknown. No enemy action to report. Please advise.[/pre]