I could see that my black lorica segmentata armor was a hardened polymer instead of iron, and I assumed it was bullet proof. It was unfortunate that due to the operational needs of my vest, with magazine and equipment pouches festooned over the front, back, and sides, my armor couldn’t similarly be refit to mimic the original design. I’d have to settle for the hidden gel pads buried inside for protection. In any case, I appreciated both the protective and aesthetic value these new shoulder pads provided.
Stuffing the vest into my bag, I gave the locker a final look over. Everything was secure and ready to go. My rifle was secure in its waterproof bag, and my other equipment was stored in another waterproof bag.
With a breath of satisfaction, I began lacing up my black waterproof boots, but my thoughts continued to stray towards that equipment cache. Something just did not click with this mission. In all the years I’d been in the field, never had I been provided with additional gear to help out if things got bad. Sure, I’d raided the enemy’s supplies numerous times, but I’d never been given this kind of support.
Maybe working for the Pope has more advantages than I thought.
Tying off my second boot, I stood, and turned to see if my lovely swim buddy needed a hand.
I immediately wished I hadn’t.
Helena was in her form fitting wetsuit, bending over at the waist to retrieve something out of her foot locker. Thanks to the skin tight material, I could see that her body was more than just lithe, but well-muscled in all the right ways and places.
Recovering as quickly as I could, I tried to shift my eyes before she caught me.
I wasn’t quick enough.
Expecting some form of backlash, I was instead rewarded with a sultry smile.
“You all right, Lieutenant? You’re as pale as a ghost.”
I coughed, and Santino, seated next to me, elbowed my thigh.
“Ah, um, I was just wondering if you needed any help. McDougal mentioned your lack of underwater experience.”
“I’ll be fine, just stay close and don’t let me wander too far down there.”
“I’ll stay right on top of you.”
I winced. Oops.
“Don’t get any ideas, Lieutenant,” she said coldly.
I was saved by McDougal’s commanding voice. “All right everybody, we’re leaving in ten. Get your gear and meet up at the airlock.”
I shouldered my gear bag, as well as my rifle bag, and grabbed my Mk VI, noticing Helena was ready as well.
“Ready, Lieutenant?” she asked.
“Lead the way, ma’am.”
***
The airlock was little more than a room with a hatch one would find on a submarine and a grated floor. On the floor were seven underwater propulsion vehicles, or UPVs for short, little more than a thin bed to lay in with foot rests. At the front was a dashboard with a windshield, propulsion lever and a joystick. The dashboard had a night vision view of what was in front of the sub, a GPS radar screen, fuel and power readouts, and a radio. The craft was simple enough to carry one person, a reasonable amount of gear, and travel through the water at a respectable speed. It didn’t possess a cockpit so it forced a pilot to use his own breathing device. I was extremely familiar with the little ships, but the rest of the crew rarely had the opportunity to even work with flippers, something every diver should be competent with anyway.
McDougal ordered me to give the team a quick briefing on the crafts since I was the most familiar with them. I went over the basics: throttle and directional controls, dashboard equipment, as well as to remind them that they keep their legs firmly secure in the foot rests.
Only Santino had a question. “Phasers?”
I shook my head and tried not to laugh.
Honestly, any eight year old could control the small submersibles. The controls were designed like any video game controller and as long as the user stayed on the bed, feet secure, they wouldn’t float away. Even if they did manage to separate from the sub, the controls had an automatic shut off if separated from the pilot. All it would take was a quick swim back.
After I finished my quick briefing, the team spread out amongst the UPVs, McDougal in the center flanked by Wang and Bordeaux, Santino and Vincent on the left, and Helena and myself on the right. After we were situated, the room automatically began filling with water, and the team was left floating within. I looked through my goggles to make sure Helena wasn’t freaking out or anything, but thankfully she seemed fine. Noticing my inspection, she turned and gave me a thumbs up. Her face was masked by her goggles, and unable to communicate via our radios, I couldn’t tell if she was truly all right, but she was tough. She’d be fine.
McDougal pressed a button on his dash board, and the double doors in front of us began to crack open. Beyond them was nothing but blackness, no plant or aquatic life visible. I knew ancient sewer systems had been discovered by modern archeologists over the year and could be used as a means to navigate the ancient city beneath the modern city. They were also pretty disgusting. They had been steeping for millennia, a breeding ground for hundreds of kinds of bacteria and disease.
McDougal gunned his UPV, and the team smoothly exited the room into the murky water. Our headlights only penetrated a few feet into the darkness, forcing us to rely on our GPS. It provided us with waypoints laid out on a rudimentary topography map, connected by lines already programmed in the system. Our progress was slow going though not through any lack of skill on our part, but simply because we were new to the terrain. As I promised, I stayed just above and behind my swim buddy the entire way out, and was happy to note she handled her little boat supremely well.
One problem avoided.
About fifteen minutes into the trip, we came to a solid wall, but our waypoints clearly indicated we needed to go through the blockade. McDougal held up his fist, indicating for us to hold our position. He manipulated another switch on his dashboard, and I began to hear a steady whirring noise and could see the water clearing. I glanced behind me and noticed a wall was blocking the way we had just come through. McDougal must have activated some kind of system that filtered the water in the sewer.
A few seconds later, I saw the water clearing noticeably before the doors opened before us. McDougal motioned forward, and the team gunned their engines, making a quick right turn into a narrow passageway to follow the Vatican’s artificial corridor straight to the Tyrrhenian Sea.
It took us another forty-five minutes before we left the coastline and came face to face with a lumbering, whale shaped behemoth that would become our ride.
My earpiece crackled to life as McDougal contacted the submarine using his radio’s push-to-talk button to transmit a quick burst of Morse Code. The Navy still taught the archaic form of communication developed in the 1840s, and most Special Forces outfits learned it as well. Quickly squeezing a radio’s PTT button transmits a quick bursts of static which makes for a perfect way to send the code.
I heard a return transmission that indicated the sub was ready for our arrival, and saw McDougal point in my direction. I sent him a thumbs up, and made my way to the gigantic vessel, Helena right behind me.
Boarding a submarine in nothing but a wetsuit wasn’t a challenge for a seasoned Navy SEAL, but could be potentially lethal for an amateur. Had I been in a companion submarine, and not alone in a wetsuit, a docking collar would be used to attach the two subs together. The collar would pressurize, and coming aboard would be as simple as opening both hatches and crossing the threshold.