Hong returned to his side with a rifle.
“Right choice,” Yoon said. “Even if you’re a mediocre shot, you’ll do better with a rifle covering the length of the control room. Come, prop me up behind the doorway.”
“Which side, sir?”
“To the right. I will shoot left-handed so that you can shoot normally.”
Hong stooped and yanked his jumpsuit collar. Yoon clenched his teeth and growled as pain shot through him.
“Lift me. Lay me against the doorway.”
The cook obliged and balanced Yoon’s torso between a bulkhead and an air reducer. The reducer’s corners dug into his ribs, adding frustration to the flame burning his entrails.
As a test, Yoon leaned his torso against his supports, lifted his rifle, and aimed it down the control room. The sickening sight of bodies littered his vision, and his belly pain consumed him. He lowered the rifle, relaxing his stomach muscles and welcoming the reduced agony. He would fire if needed, but it would hurt.
As Hong hid behind the doorway’s opposite side, Yoon heard stirring behind him. He winced in pain as he turned to see three men who wielded wrenches as clubs creeping towards him.
The eldest, a senior chief petty officer, studied the carnage and revealed wide eyes to Yoon.
“What the hell’s going on, sir?”
“Captain Tong is killing everyone,” Yoon said. “He must be trying to take over the ship. The prisoner is armed and helping him.”
Senior Chief Nang surveyed the dead commandos behind him, and then he stared at the motionless bodies of his former shipmates on the other side of the door. Yoon watched acceptance register on his face as his features relaxed.
“Then I guess we’re in a gunfight, sir,” he said. “Are you strong enough to give orders?”
“I am, at least for now. I’m losing blood.”
Nang barked an order, and two crewmen departed.
“They’ll fetch the first aid kit from the torpedo room, and we’ll patch you up the best we can, sir.”
“Senior Chief Nang?”
“Yes, sir,” Nang said.
“Grab a weapon.”
The veteran stepped away, stooped over a corpse, and came back to Yoon with a pistol.
“What’s your plan, sir?” Nang asked
“I hadn’t thought too far into the future.”
“You know you’re in charge now, right, sir?”
Yoon looked at the bodies of his former commanding officer and executive officer. Death had promoted him to the senior sailor.
“I know.”
“You need to do something.”
The two younger men returned with a first aid kit. The senior chief popped it open, ripped bandages from their wrapping, and pressed gauze against Yoon’s belly.
“Let’s roll you over, sir.”
Nang added cloth to the exit wound and mummified Yoon’s gut with tight bandages underneath his ribs.
“Good, sir?”
He felt weak, and a mild chill enshrouded him, but intuition told him he had survived the worst.
“Good for now. We need to establish communications with each compartment. Let’s see who’s able to fight.”
“We would be better positioned if we advance into the control room. We’d also assure ourselves control of the ship’s systems. Can you move, sir?”
“I need help, but yes. We’ll take position around the periscope, and we’ll have two riflemen watching the aft door to the compartment. I won’t be able to fight, but I can give orders if you recline me against the control station.”
“You heard him, men. Take rifles and take cover behind the last seats of the tactical system.”
The men obeyed.
“Are you ready, sir?”
“Unless I say stop, ignore my screams.”
Yoon clenched his jaw and stifled a yelp as Nang helped him to his feet. They staggered to the control station where the veteran lowered and reclined the lieutenant.
“Should we announce our new position, sir?”
“Yes. We need to risk open communications to fight as a team. Hand me the microphone.”
The veteran obeyed, and Yoon clicked the handset.
“This is Lieutenant Yoon, the new commanding officer. Captain Tong has teamed up with the captive, and they have killed much of the crew. But there are survivors, and we are fighting back. We are armed, and we have secured the control room. Everyone contact the control room if you can, but do not expose yourself to danger.”
“Well said, sir,” Nang said.
“I can do more.”
He lifted the microphone again.
“We know our ship better than our adversary. Use your knowledge to hide. Use your knowledge to arm yourself. We will unite and take back our ship.”
He winced, lowered the handset, and waited.
“What if they’re all dead, sir?” Nang asked.
Three more survivors emerged from the berthing area in varied states of fatigue and fear. They had reached the gun locker and appeared with shotguns and rifles.
“Excellent!” Yoon said. “We now outnumber them fourfold, and we’re better armed.”
“But Tong,” Nang said. “He’s a trained killer. And what if the supposed admiral is also an enemy commando in disguise?”
“I don’t think so.”
“Why not, sir?”
“Because he shot me, and I’m still alive.”
The senior chief nodded.
“I’m going to advance our position farther aft, sir. We need a clean line of site to guard the door.”
The macabre aura of corpses surrounding him had dulled Yoon’s senses. As he focused on them, he wanted to respect his former shipmates, but necessity trumped decency.
“You need to set up a bulwark before doing so.”
“A bulwark?”
“A mound behind which you will stand and aim your weapons. It must be made of a material dense enough to stop bullets.”
“What do you have in mind?”
Yoon nodded at the dead.
“Them.”
The control room became less stifling as the survivors dragged the deceased from Yoon’s sight. After half the corpses had disappeared behind electronic cabinets, Nang returned alone.
“I’ve got three rifles and three shotguns aimed at the door. I don’t care what sort of training Tong has, the only way he’s coming into this room is full of holes.”
“Keep piling bodies, senior chief. You need to be ready for anything. I don’t remember if he had grenades.”
“I don’t remember either, but I’ll keep dragging bodies back there. Here, take this.”
Yoon accepted a pistol and rested it beside his hip. As he watched the senior chief carry away bodies, he thought he sensed the ship slowing. He craned his neck towards a display and verified that speed tapered towards zero. Tong had cut propulsion.
Nang returned to his side.
“All stop, sir. What’s he up to?”
“It means Tong wants us to be found. This is deep treason, and there must be enemies with knowledge of our mission and location. We need to retake this submarine quickly and leave.”
“You mean to storm the engineering space?”
Yoon pictured Tong waiting in ambush and considered it insane to challenge the commando’s defensive position.
“He controls propulsion, and we’re dead in the water until we change that. We either wait for barbarians to hunt us down in foreign waters, or we face danger on our own terms.”
“So be it.”
“Since I can’t move, I insist that you prop me outside the door so that I’m the first target he sees when we open it.”
“I can’t ask you to, sir.”
“It’s an order. If I die, you’ll be in charge. After you regain control of the ship, you must make five knots southwest for ten hours. Then due south for twenty hours. Then southeast for ten hours. At that point you will be safe to attempt communications.”