Re: The Wretched Rite - Round Two - Inferno Alpha
10-12-2012, 11:27 PM
Originally posted on MSPA by MrGuy.
Nick Tesla (No, not that one for God’s sake, and he was really sick of people making cracks about it thank you very much, given that he was a biologist and that Tesla was more of a physicist and engineer) sighed as he stared at the radar. As usual, not a single blip came up. Over the past week, he’d gone from fearing a DRD submarine, to expecting some kind of reconnaissance probe, to hoping desperately for a large and vaguely threatening cephalopod. Slowly, his gaze shifted to the big red button on the console. He grumbled and began his 3,872nd game of cell-phone Solitaire, occasionally glancing out the window (which was, somehow, even more uninteresting than his typically-blank six-color radar screen).
Across the room, Franz chuckled. “Any electric eels today, Nick?”
“Still just as funny as the last thousand times, Warner.”
The engineer shrugged and yawned. “Hey, at least it’s only eight hours a day. I have to work twelve.”
Nick quickly whipped his head around. “You also get paid three times what I do and get to actually do important things, jackass. I swear to God –”
Ping-ing-ing-ing-ing…
Both men quickly shifted their attention to the radar screen, Warner scooting his chair over to look at it more closely. Now visible was a large yellow blip – “Unidentified Organic Object.” The two men shared a glance. Then, Tesla waved dismissively. “Whatever. Probably just another narwhal.”
Franz took a deep breath. “…Yeah, probably.” He quickly returned to his station, fiddling with a small piece of machinery. “Hey, Nick. Do you know if–”
“I can’t help you with your goddamn wiring, Warner. Do it yourself.” Though he briefly looked back at his phone, Nick found his eyes returning to the radar screen. On a hunch, he checked his guide to see if blips normally came in such a large size. He was relieved to see that, in fact, they did, and it was rarely if ever anything dangerous.
Ping ping ping ping ping-ing-ing-ing-ing-ing-ing…
Three or four equally-sized yellow blips, with several tiny orange blips (Unidentified Inorganic Object) trailing behind them, was slightly abnormal. He quickly glanced out the window again. Way in the distance, he could see several scattered green lights, an extreme contrast to the pitch-dark depths of the ocean trench. He squinted, but couldn’t make much out – though he thought he saw the lights outline a tremendous, shapeless silhouette.
He quickly sat back in his chair, breathing more quickly. “Uh… Franz? Can you get a look at this?” The engineer, despite being rather irritated by the interruption, decided that it sounded important enough, and strolled over to the window where Tesla was pointing.
After a rather uncomfortable silence, Warner coughed. “Uh… I’m sure it’s just some anglerfish or something.”
“Anglerfish don’t make big blips, Franz. And they’re sure as hell not inorganic.”
Franz scratched his head. “Well, hell if I know. Maybe they really are sending spy probes.”
“Yeah… that sounds about right.” Nick sighed and began half-heartedly fiddling with his phone again. Franz just continued to stare out at the lights, frowning.
“…Well, if they are sending spy probes, you might want to send an alert, don’t you think?”
“…Yeah. I guess so.” Nick moved his slightly-shaking hand past the big red button, and pressed down on the blue one labeled with a microphone.
--------
Something had, indeed, gone horribly wrong. However, it wasn’t one of those blatantly-obvious-alarms-blaring-everywhere horribly-wrong sorts of thing, like a ruptured window or a sudden air leakage. What happened in this case was, in fact, a single defective communications circuit; this circuit in turn had been ruined due to being packed tightly into a slightly defective crate which could not quite handle the water pressure necessary for delivering things to the bottom of the ocean.
(In retrospect, it would be clear that crates should really be placed inside of submarines rather than made to be especially strong and carried in a trailing net behind one; but at the time, they were already over budget and this method promised to save them $120 per trip and quite a bit of time. The investigation of the wreckage would note that the lack of two or three repair kits was “possibly related.”)
As it happened, the defect in the circuit was minor enough that nothing had come up during testing; obviously, if it had, the project would have been delayed and a new circuit ordered. But nobody realized a replacement was needed, and thus, the alarm that really should have sounded in every sector produced no apparent response in four of them.
--------
Click.
Click. Click.
Clickclickclickclickclickclickclick
Both men were breaking out in a sweat as they realized what was going on. Franz hastily wiped his brow. “Wh-what are we going to do now?”
Nick closed his eyes, counted to ten, and turned to Franz. “I’ll tell you what. You need to go run up to the directors and tell them what’s going on. I’ll stay here and keep an eye on things.” The engineer quickly saluted and dashed out of the room and down the hallway.
The lookout stared intently at the radar screen, its rhythmic pinging emphasizing the fact that the blips were coming closer and closer. Looking out, he could see the silhouettes more clearly. Was that a tentacle? A fin? Some tremendous, writhing tail? Whatever it was, it was dragging those lights along with it. That thing ought to have destroyed those lights, it’s so huge. Oh, god, they didn’t train these things, did they? Or… oh god, what if they’re bioengineered? Oh god, oh god, oh god…
He glanced down at the blips. The closest yellow one was almost at the center, and it was in the blind spot of the ship; he could fire on it, but damned if he could see it for himself.
He glanced to the side, at that bright red button with the outline of a torpedo on it.
He glanced back at the radar screen and tentatively touched the closest yellow blip. A square quickly formed around it, narrowing in and beeping.
Nick Tesla took a deep breath, said a silent prayer, and fired.
Nick Tesla (No, not that one for God’s sake, and he was really sick of people making cracks about it thank you very much, given that he was a biologist and that Tesla was more of a physicist and engineer) sighed as he stared at the radar. As usual, not a single blip came up. Over the past week, he’d gone from fearing a DRD submarine, to expecting some kind of reconnaissance probe, to hoping desperately for a large and vaguely threatening cephalopod. Slowly, his gaze shifted to the big red button on the console. He grumbled and began his 3,872nd game of cell-phone Solitaire, occasionally glancing out the window (which was, somehow, even more uninteresting than his typically-blank six-color radar screen).
Across the room, Franz chuckled. “Any electric eels today, Nick?”
“Still just as funny as the last thousand times, Warner.”
The engineer shrugged and yawned. “Hey, at least it’s only eight hours a day. I have to work twelve.”
Nick quickly whipped his head around. “You also get paid three times what I do and get to actually do important things, jackass. I swear to God –”
Ping-ing-ing-ing-ing…
Both men quickly shifted their attention to the radar screen, Warner scooting his chair over to look at it more closely. Now visible was a large yellow blip – “Unidentified Organic Object.” The two men shared a glance. Then, Tesla waved dismissively. “Whatever. Probably just another narwhal.”
Franz took a deep breath. “…Yeah, probably.” He quickly returned to his station, fiddling with a small piece of machinery. “Hey, Nick. Do you know if–”
“I can’t help you with your goddamn wiring, Warner. Do it yourself.” Though he briefly looked back at his phone, Nick found his eyes returning to the radar screen. On a hunch, he checked his guide to see if blips normally came in such a large size. He was relieved to see that, in fact, they did, and it was rarely if ever anything dangerous.
Ping ping ping ping ping-ing-ing-ing-ing-ing-ing…
Three or four equally-sized yellow blips, with several tiny orange blips (Unidentified Inorganic Object) trailing behind them, was slightly abnormal. He quickly glanced out the window again. Way in the distance, he could see several scattered green lights, an extreme contrast to the pitch-dark depths of the ocean trench. He squinted, but couldn’t make much out – though he thought he saw the lights outline a tremendous, shapeless silhouette.
He quickly sat back in his chair, breathing more quickly. “Uh… Franz? Can you get a look at this?” The engineer, despite being rather irritated by the interruption, decided that it sounded important enough, and strolled over to the window where Tesla was pointing.
After a rather uncomfortable silence, Warner coughed. “Uh… I’m sure it’s just some anglerfish or something.”
“Anglerfish don’t make big blips, Franz. And they’re sure as hell not inorganic.”
Franz scratched his head. “Well, hell if I know. Maybe they really are sending spy probes.”
“Yeah… that sounds about right.” Nick sighed and began half-heartedly fiddling with his phone again. Franz just continued to stare out at the lights, frowning.
“…Well, if they are sending spy probes, you might want to send an alert, don’t you think?”
“…Yeah. I guess so.” Nick moved his slightly-shaking hand past the big red button, and pressed down on the blue one labeled with a microphone.
--------
Something had, indeed, gone horribly wrong. However, it wasn’t one of those blatantly-obvious-alarms-blaring-everywhere horribly-wrong sorts of thing, like a ruptured window or a sudden air leakage. What happened in this case was, in fact, a single defective communications circuit; this circuit in turn had been ruined due to being packed tightly into a slightly defective crate which could not quite handle the water pressure necessary for delivering things to the bottom of the ocean.
(In retrospect, it would be clear that crates should really be placed inside of submarines rather than made to be especially strong and carried in a trailing net behind one; but at the time, they were already over budget and this method promised to save them $120 per trip and quite a bit of time. The investigation of the wreckage would note that the lack of two or three repair kits was “possibly related.”)
As it happened, the defect in the circuit was minor enough that nothing had come up during testing; obviously, if it had, the project would have been delayed and a new circuit ordered. But nobody realized a replacement was needed, and thus, the alarm that really should have sounded in every sector produced no apparent response in four of them.
--------
Click.
Click. Click.
Clickclickclickclickclickclickclick
Both men were breaking out in a sweat as they realized what was going on. Franz hastily wiped his brow. “Wh-what are we going to do now?”
Nick closed his eyes, counted to ten, and turned to Franz. “I’ll tell you what. You need to go run up to the directors and tell them what’s going on. I’ll stay here and keep an eye on things.” The engineer quickly saluted and dashed out of the room and down the hallway.
The lookout stared intently at the radar screen, its rhythmic pinging emphasizing the fact that the blips were coming closer and closer. Looking out, he could see the silhouettes more clearly. Was that a tentacle? A fin? Some tremendous, writhing tail? Whatever it was, it was dragging those lights along with it. That thing ought to have destroyed those lights, it’s so huge. Oh, god, they didn’t train these things, did they? Or… oh god, what if they’re bioengineered? Oh god, oh god, oh god…
He glanced down at the blips. The closest yellow one was almost at the center, and it was in the blind spot of the ship; he could fire on it, but damned if he could see it for himself.
He glanced to the side, at that bright red button with the outline of a torpedo on it.
He glanced back at the radar screen and tentatively touched the closest yellow blip. A square quickly formed around it, narrowing in and beeping.
Nick Tesla took a deep breath, said a silent prayer, and fired.