To a achieve my task, however, I would need to turn the wheel on the hatch, climb down a ladder till I reach a second hatch, close the first one, wait for the water to recede in the little airlock, open the second hatch, and climb down into the hallway.
It sounds easy in principle, but it’s more complicated than it sounds.
The first step was to secure my UPV in one of the submarine’s external storage lockers. I found it easily, already open, and astern of the hatch. Piloting it into the locker, I abandoned my small craft, secured my gear bags to a carabiner attached to my wetsuit, and approached the wheel I would need to turn in order to open the hatch. I signaled for Helena to hang back. There was no sense in risking a possible accident when I could easily perform the operation by myself, and in my sleep.
I began by firmly grasping the wheel, and reciting the age old “lefty loosy, righty tighty” mantra everyone utters before turning something. Next, I planted my feet on the hull, squeezing the slight lip that juts up encasing the hatch. Slowly and surely, I turned the wheel to the left, thankful when it offered little resistance.
After a dozen or so turns, the hatch popped open with a slight sputter of bubbles. The small antechamber would have been filled upon our arrival to ensure the hatch didn’t explosively decompress, probably killing me. I signaled for Helena to swim in first.
Following her in, I pulled my gear bags in behind me, and shut the hatch. The space in the cylindrical airlock was cramped and tight, forcing us to float chest to chest, inches apart. I grasped the ladder with my right hand and right foot, while Helena did the same with the appendages on her left side. With my left hand, I grabbed a crowbar from its resting place and pounded the inner hatch three times, and waited until the water started to slowly drain from the compartment.
As the water passed my face I pulled back my hood and removed my goggles and breathing apparatus as Helena did the same.
“Tight squeeze,” I said, adjusting my position, accidentally bumping my elbow against her breasts.
She glared, and I looked around, trying to ignore her look while also trying to find any way to make the water go faster. Failing, we endured a few more moments of uncomfortable silence, before the inner hatch finally opened.
“After you,” I offered.
Helena gave me a smirk before descending a few steps, lowering her gear to the deck, and dropping behind it. I followed quickly.
I landed in a crouch, and Helena began to close the inner hatch, while I keyed my radio. In order to stay efficient and silent on the battlefield, instead of speaking into the radio to confirm orders, or signal an all clear, we simply clicked the PTT button twice in quick succession, an efficient way to indicate all was well on the other end of the radio. The double click could mean many things depending on the situation, but McDougal would understand that I had sent it as an all clear to send in the next pair.
After sending the transmission, I turned to face the two seaman emerging from the hatch to my left. The pair wore British naval uniforms, midshipmen according to their rank insignias, and had the look of men who spent way too much time under the water. Noticing my inspection, the pair halted and saluted.
“Welcome aboard the H.M. S Triumph, Lieutenant.”
I returned the salute. “Thanks for the warm welcome.”
After securing the hatch, Helena turned and stood next to me.
The pair’s immediate reaction was to salute a second time, but with obvious hesitation. These men probably hadn’t seen a woman in months, especially not one that looked like Helena, who was looking especially radiant with her damp hair and face.
“Welcome aboard the Triumph, Ma’am.”
“Thank you,” she replied.
“Our orders are to escort you to the briefing room after your team has had an opportunity to change out of your wetsuits and secure your gear. If you will just follow the corridor through the hatch we just came through, the second door on your right will be your staging area. You can head there now if you’d like.”
“Thank you. Lieutenant, after you,” I replied as I gestured to the hatch for Helena to go through first.
She offered me a cynical smile and bumped me playfully on her way to the hatch. The two midshipmen watched, tilting their heads to watch as she bent at the waist to fit through. I had to chuckle as I watched as well, a slight feeling of possessive pride passing over me. It me of a time back in college when I attended a party with a foreign exchange student from France. She was beautiful, and every guy there hated my guts because of it. Granted it didn’t amount to much. My arms crossed against my chest, I glanced over at the two seamen who looked at me, jealousy in their eyes, the silent one of the two arching an eyebrow suggestively.
I let out a quick laugh, before placing a hand on the inquisitive man’s shoulder.
“I wouldn’t go there, my friend,” I told him, pointing at my black eye. “Trust me.”
Whether he thought I was threatening him, or merely reaffirming his fears that he had no chance, his shoulders slumped in defeat.
Releasing his shoulder, I followed after Helena.
Halfway through, I heard the inner hatch open and two men drop to the floor.
“Welcome aboard the…”
The man didn’t get a chance to continue before Santino cut him off. “Yeah, yeah, now where’s this ‘tea’ I’ve heard so much about?”
***
It was another fifteen minutes before the last of the team cycled through the airlock, and another ten before we had our gear in lockers, hung up our wetsuits, and changed into duty gear the crew had provided for us.
Gathered in the small briefing room, the team waited and chatted while we waited for our briefing to begin. Joining the team was the sub’s skipper, Captain Billings, whose physicality could have in no way better fit the role of a sub commander. He was short in stature and thin like a runner, a perfect build for the cramped confines of a submarine. His square jaw and perpetual five o’clock shadow gave him a roguish look that ladies probably slobbered over. I couldn’t help but notice Helena’s interest, which was probably more annoying than it should have been.
Don’t be jealous, Jacob, she’ll probably never see him again.
Jealous? What the hell is wrong with you? She’s the one who almost knocked you out.
Shut up. Just shut up.
I tried to distract myself by probing my damaged eye, which was still black, and hurt like hell. At least Santino seemed to think it was funny.
The thought of my troublesome friend brought my eyes across the aisle at him. I found him already looking at me, flicking his eyes in Billings’ direction, then over at Helena, giving me another one of his annoying smiles.
He’ll never let me live this down.
Still, despite his antics, I appreciated his attention. It reminded me I had a friend with me. Someone I could rely on. Even if he was an arrogant jackass. So I did what any good friend would do and took a rubber band from my briefing packet, and loaded it around my fingers. Taking careful aim, I fired, nailing him right between the eyes. One of his hands reactively flung to his forehead to ease the sting, and he gave me the same glare he’d offered earlier when I kicked his chair out from beneath him.
I couldn’t help but chuckle.
“Something funny, Hunter?”
I glanced over at Helena. “Hmm? Oh, nothing. Just Santino being Santino.”
She leaned forward to see him rubbing his struck forehead, mumbling.
“You two have a history don’t you?”
“Oh, yeah,” I sighed. “We certainly do.”
“Oooh, I feel a story coming,” she replied excitedly, clutching her hands together between her thighs and shrugging her head between her shoulders, giving me an uncharacteristically childish smile.
Cute. Annoying. But cute.
I sighed again, realizing I owed her a story. I was doubly annoyed because I knew I couldn’t just end this one with Santino. It was about more than just him.