Date: Fri, 21 Jul 2006 20:24:16 -0700 (PDT)
From: resq merman <merman_resq@yahoo.com>
Subject: Responders chapter eleven

Disclaimer: The following story is a work of fiction.
Certain characters are based loosely on people known
to the author, other similarities to actual persons,
places, and events are purely coincidental. This story
also includes graphic homosexual acts, some by minors.
If this material offends you or is illegal in your
area please stop now. The name Aquatic Rescue Response
has been used with permission of Aquatic Rescue
Response of Maine. Thank you.


Chapter Eleven: Nightmare


Climbing over the railing Brad lowered himself
silently to the gently rolling deck of the motor yacht
Ellie Lane. Checking that his suppressed H & K MP-5
nine-millimeter submachine gun was ready to go he
glanced at the rest of the team. The other seven fully
blacked out men that completed Lieutenant Brad
Pastor's US Navy SEAL boat crew were very difficult to
see in the almost pitch dark. Brad gave the signal to
move out. Leap-frogging from positions of concealment
the eight man team moved cautiously to the starboard
mid-ship hatch, their movements mirrored by the second
eight man team on the port side of the vessel.
Arriving at the hatch Brad's team went into a
tac-stack. A tactical stack, or tac-stack, closely
positioned the men heel to toe lined up ready to go
through the door able to meet any resistance
encountered inside. Brad keyed his throat mic and
whispered.

Blue ready.

Gold ready.

Came the immediate response. Both teams had come into
position at the exact same time. Brad reached his hand
to the lever to open the hatch. Just as his gloved
hand closed around the handle his radio crackled to
life.

BLUE AND GOLD, THIS IS BLACK CROWN! ABORT AND EVAC!
CODE WORD SCRAMBLED EGG!

Black Crown was the call sign for the command and
control aircraft, in this case a carrier launched V-22
Osprey and Scrambled Egg was the appropriate abort
code word. Cursing to himself Brad acknowledged the
abort and used hand signals to inform his team of the
change of plans. Again leap-frogging from positions of
cover the team made its way back to the point on the
railing where they had come aboard. One of the men
removed a black nylon rappelling rope from his gear
and attached it to an upright on the railing. By
letting one end of the rope down either side of the
post they would be able to recover the rope the rope
without leaving evidence they had ever been there. One
by one the men descended back to their twelve foot
inflatable boat which they had attached to the hull
using a special magnetic device.

Glancing over to their left the members of Brad's Blue
team could just make out the corresponding member of
the Gold team. With all Blue and Gold team members
secured in the boats, the bow man of each boat
released the magnetic coupler allowing the boats to
drift away in the wake of the larger craft. The men of
each boat started silently paddling away. As soon as
they were approximately a mile from the Ellie Lane,
the coxswains fired up the heavily muffled outboards,
made a minor correction, and applied full throttle
toward their rendezvous with a Los Angles class attack
sub. By the time they got to the sub it would be over
the horizon from the Ellie Lane. None of the men felt
much like talking, even to speculate why they were
told to abort. As they neared the pick-up zone the
light chop had progressively gotten worse and was now
running two to three foot swells with an occasional
six foot swell.

The two boats were about five hundred yards from the
rendezvous coordinates when a very slow moving
periscope surfaced not more then one hundred feet from
them. The scope slowed more, to about four knots(about
five miles per hour), just enough to maintain steerage
in the worsening seas, then descended back below the
surface. Almost immediately the conning tower of the
sub broke the surface. Soon the sleek leviathan rose
from the water exposing the fore and aft decks.
Lookouts were posted and sub crewmen scrambled onto
the decks in preparation to take aboard the SEALs from
the inflatables. Brad's boat moved alongside the
attack sub bouncing on the swells and bow wake. Lines
were thrown to the sub crew and all eight men made
their way onto the slippery deck of the sub, then
helped pull the inflatable aboard. The boat was passed
to waiting crewmen who would deflate and stow the boat
and motor.

The gold team now brought their boat alongside, were
secured by the sub crew, and started to move from the
inflatable to the sub. Six of the eight men had
transferred over when to Brad's horror and that of
everyone else watching an unexpected ten foot swell
threw the inflatable assault boat into the air
flipping it. The boat smashed against the hull of the
sub landing inverted on the two SEALs and one sub
crewman before slipping upside down back over the
side. The crewmen manning the lines held tight as
others tended to the stricken crew members. Only one
SEAL was on deck and he was not moving, a corpsman
rushed to his side, applied a spinal immobilization
collar and started barking orders to other crewmen.
The sub crewman had an obvious compound leg fracture,
the bone was sticking out just below his right knee,
and another corpsman provided aid to him. As the final
SEAL floated out from under the capsized boat, a fast
acting crewman snagged the man's webbing harness with
a boat hook. With assistance the inert form of
Lieutenant Dustin Marshal was pulled aboard. The
Lieutenant's skull was crushed. Brad looked on in
shock as he realized his step brother, best friend,
and swim buddy at BUD/S was dead.

HHHUUFFFF!!!

Brad jolted awake dripping with a cold sweat. Luke
stirred ever so slightly in the bed next to him.
Silently Brad slipped out of bed to the bathroom.
Cupping his hand under the faucet he gently sipped the
cold water to relieve his dry throat. After toweling
himself off Brad crept back into the bed, spooned up
behind Luke, kissed him softly on the back of the neck
as he put his arm around Luke's waist, closed his
eyes, and drifted into a restless sleep trying to
block out the events of five years ago still feeling
somehow responsible.



Thank you for reading at least this far. This has is
my first story I have been confident enough of to post
online. Feedback and comments are welcome, however if
you feel the need to flame I will, as the firefighter
I am, assume that you are on fire and take appropriate
action comenserate with my training. Also, I apologize
to those of you reading this story from outside the
United States. Depending on your country of origin, I
may or may not reply to your comments for security
reasons. Thank you again. Merman_Resq@yahoo.com