[h2]And The Sea Shall Yield Up….[/h2] [h3]Part 5[/h3] [img]https://i.imgur.com/0Lcerif.jpg[/img] For a time, the storm’s rage was actually a benefit. Now on her new course, the Mick was taking massive seas directly astern, adding a welcome push to her forward momentum. For a few blessed hours, she held a steady seven knots. Her aft superstructure offered some protection from the punishing waves, cleaving a gap which protected at least a portion of the beleaguered cargo bay hatches. Slocum’s Atoll lay ahead, a craggy volcanic opening whose high face would offer both calm seas and a needed windbreak. Sheltering off the atoll’s lee shore would afford the chance to pump out the water and pursue emergency repairs. With the Darryl Moncrief’s radars to guide her, the Mick had only thirty-five miles remaining. If these conditions would hold, she’d be dropping anchors just past dawn. Unfortunately, hurricanes rotate. The wind began to shift, clocking steadily around to angle across the deck. So moved the waves, twenty foot towers of water that dumped their tonnage in lengthy, rolling crashes which rumbled forward. The ship had taken an alarming amount of water, filling her bilges and piling up in the raceways to curtail any crew movement within. With her cargo deck riding low and the length of her hull twisting through perpetually rolling seas, the Eileen McSorley faced some very grim hours. Yuri had direct control of the reactor. The dog watch mate’s knife-edge manual control dance had ended predictably, resulting in a panicky overcorrection to contain a power spike. Now, the Engineer’s Mate struggled to raise power while the reactor itself was trending toward reduction. His walkie was alive with constant chatter. The bridge intercom had been locked open, permitting all aboard to hear the realtime deliberations of the Captain and his officers. Chief Edwards was doing what he could, marshalling damage control teams to what might be remedied in the fore and aft sections of the ship. [b]LOG ENTRY FROM THE NS DARRYL MONCRIEF: [i]05:45 AM. Lat. 43.4N, Long. 65.2W. Course heading 315. Speed 4 kts. Seas running 20-25’. Wind shifting S 128mph, gusts to 135. NS Eileen McSorley 10 miles ahead, speed 3 kts. Taking water, but capt. reports “holding their own” en route to anchorage at Slocum’s Atoll. Our plan to come alongside and offer assistance until conditions once again passable.[/i][/b] “Four-point-seven megawatts,” he cursed under his breath. “The core is poisoning itself.” Yuri tapped at the control sequencer. Inside the struggling reactor core, the three control rods he’d inserted were now lifted by an inch. In desperate silence he watched the readout, pleading for a slow uptick in the power. Nothing. Xenon gas, a by-product of the fission process, was building within his reactor. Unless he could increase the power...boost the reaction with its’ subsequent rise in temperature, the gas would not burn away. It would accumulate, eventually strangling the core and forcing the safety overrides into a scram. The Mick would be powerless, losing steerage until the hurricane’s fury broached them to the onslaught. Chief Engineer Edwards understood the crisis in his power plant. From the master panel he’d thrown breakers which cut power from every nonessential system. Yuri had also taken quiet note that the man had circulated among his crew, handing out inflatable life vests and doling out tasks to place them near exit hatches. For Yuri, there was no such remedy. Both men knew the closing chapter...the job Yuri would have to accomplish if fate came calling. “Twenty-two miles,” the old man placed a trembling hand upon his shoulder. “Just keep her going for twenty-two more miles.” [b]LOG ENTRY FROM THE NS DARRYL MONCRIEF: [i]06:02. Lat. 43.4N, Long. 65.2W. Course heading 315. Speed 4 kts. Seas running 25-30’. Wind shifting S 140mph, gusting to 145.. NS Eileen McSorley 10 miles ahead, speed 3 kts. At 06:01,this vessel struck in rapid succession by two large waves, est. height 50+ feet, gauged by damage sustained to wheelhouse aft windows.[/i][/b] [i]Watch reactor output. Adjust control rod position...[/i] It seemed maddening that with such calamity in the wings he couldn’t take more action. A steady stream of bridge chatter fueled the adrenaline pulsing through his body. “Zero freeboard, Captain. Cargo deck is completely awash…” “Moncrief reports our position as twenty miles from Slocum’s…” “Number Two Hatch is ajar! Collapsed into the hold!” Yuri’s eyes lifted at the news. A hatch failure now opened the Mick to the mountainous seas. He heard the terror in Gallegos’ voice as the First Mate moved to a kneejerk remedy. “Gantry crew, close up!” “BELAY THAT!” the Captain roared. “NOBODY GOES ON DECK!” The channel fell silent. The Engineer’s Mate studied his readout. For a moment, the urge to calculate the sheer volume of water pouring into the exposed hold busied a corner of his mind. He tried another calculation, weighing the positive buoyancy of the watertight bow and stern sections against the flooded hold. Nineteen miles to go. If Slocum’s Atoll meant nothing else, it could provide a modicum of safety for the crew to abandon ship. The deck tilted beneath his feet. Yuri grabbed the console to steady himself as the stern lifted. He felt a mighty push, as if a great hand delivered a forceful shove. The Eileen McSorley plunged ahead, riding the wave’s face downward. “One...two...three,” he counted aloud, waiting for the reassuring lift of her bow. “Four...five...six…” He didn’t anticipate the hammer blow that sent him cartwheeling over the control console. Yuri tumbled through sudden darkness as a great, rending scream of tortured metal echoed up through the bowels of the ship. The compartment pitched downward, breaking his fall against the forward bulkhead. There were no more speculations...no more worries about maintaining the dwindling chain reaction. Whatever had just happened was cataclysmic. His job was now clear. Fishing the hand torch from a pocket, Yuri hauled himself upward, toward the reactor’s upper housing. Without power to run the automated scram, his task was now the manual reinsertion of all twelve control rods. He sat atop the containment vessel, engaged the clutch to the first, and hand cranked it all the way into the unruly core. A hasty reset, and he pedaled the second into place. When death becomes certainty, inner peace is life’s final gift. In this moment Yuri found no regret, no pang of love lost, or the faces of those he held most dear. There was just the work, simple, beautiful, and as each control rod struck home, satisfying. After the final rod was cranked into place, Yuri Antonov reached for the knife valve. The reactor compartment would soon flood with sea water. Sometime...months, perhaps years from now, the reactor would cool. It’s pressure would decrease...and the sea would finish the job. A violent shudder arose from below. Air pressure built around him, forcing his ears to pop as he clawed his way up toward an exhaust vent. She was taking her final plunge, the invading sea forcing out the last air as it pulled the great ship down. The mounting pressure gave rise to bitter pain in his ears. Yuri crouched before the vent, fingers pressed into his eardrums until the world exploded. He felt a rush of wind, the scrape of metal as it tore at him from all sides...and then, the icy shock of the sea as it swallowed him. Yuri tumbled, his body limp as the violent currents pitched him about. Disorientation slowly ebbed, robbing him of precious oxygen until he realized the Mick had thrown him clear of her...a farewell gift. He forced himself to pause, relying upon the buoyancy of his body to point the way upward. Finally, with ferocious kicks and lungs burning burning for air, Yuri burst to the surface. His fight to survive had just begun. [b]LOG ENTRY FROM THE NS DARRYL MONCRIEF: [i]06:10. Lat. 43.5N, Long. 65.3W. Course heading 315. Speed 3 kts. Seas running 25-30’. Wind shifting S 140mph, gusting to 140. Have lost contact with NS Eileen McSorley. Disappeared from radar, and fails to answer our calls. Issued a distress call on her behalf. Doubled our bridge watch to search for survivors[/i][/b] ***********************To Be Continued********************* [img]https://i.imgur.com/6zMnb0t.jpg[/img]