Caught off their guard

Drew did her best to hold back the tears of fright that tried to well up in her eyes. How could such a thing as this be happening on her first watch?! And yet, the crew on deck were looking to her for guidance and encouragement. She knew she had to say or do something.

Her voice cracked as she began to speak. "O-over to the depth charge launchers! Start firing! Wide pattern!"

"But..." Yang said, clearing his throat and calming himself, "you haven't even gotten a sonar contact yet. Miss, shouldn't you be getting back to fire control so that you can get updated reports? Oh, ohh, I need to hurry down to the bridge and speak to the captain so that we can change course and be within range to pick up lifeboats if that ship is going down..."

"We'll be going down with them if we don't **** any u-boats to break off the attack!" Drew shouted. She ran over to one of the depth charge launchers as fast as she could manage... of course a lifetime of training to only walk or run 'sexily' was hard to break, so she kept up a feminine, hip swaying, wrists held high style of trotting even in such a dire situation.

Looking not dissimilar from a refrigerator crossed with a vending machine, the four slab-sided depth charge launchers were situated at the rear of the ship and lamentably uncrewed at the moment. This meant that even is panic spread and the Seas grew more choppy by the moment Drew had to both rally whatever odds and ends of the crew happened to be on deck to prep those launchers and run several hundred feet on sexy-yet-unbalanced footwear. The Lieutenant Commander was panting and out of breath by the time she reached them.

Specialized motors wound up springs inside the launchers. Deciding that such an imminent threat merited dropping a salvo of them despite not having any confirmed enemy contacts ( and not remembering what Navy regulations had to say on the subject in the heat of the moment, anyway) Drew whistled at the shaky handed sailors around her, ignoring their protests that they weren't qualified on these weapons yet, and ordered them to fire.

Unlike the old 'ashcans', these new depth charges were rounded at one end like bullets so they sank nose down. They resembled nothing so much as the suppositories prescribed to (usually female) citizens who needed soothing relief after their ass got too much use. Since they were being launched with the manual override, these depth charges would be even less precise than usual. But at the very least, Drew and the deck crew got to feel like they were doing something in their own defense.

Drew watched expectantly as the powerful bombs sank and disappeared into the brine. A vessel such as this was much too small to be carrying the nuclear version, so there was nothing to do but imagine what effect they might have on a lurking U-Boat down there, assuming that the presence of such a submersible was not itself a figment of Drew's imagination.

Drew found herself deploying the same phrase as on many of her worst days; "They're going too deep!!" She waved her fist at the Gunnery crew in frustration. " you've got to crank the arming lever all the way back, so that those firecrackers pop at the depth and attacking U-Boat is likely to be at!"

Just as the reverberating twang and splash of the next round of charges being dropped was fading, they exploded, the shallow detonations sending up great columns of frothy water and Rocking the Boat ( in the literal sense, as opposed to the commonly used euphemism meaning sex on board a vessel).

"Commander!" A lanky Ensign had been sprinting over to Drew's position as the latest round of charges was launched. " belay that! Captain says to cease firing immediately and get back to Fire Control where you belong."

Drew, still staring intently into the churned waters over the side of the boat, waved dismissively at the messenger without looking up. " shut up for a second pal, I think I just saw some debris come floating up! I think we just got something! You guys, throw a rope over the side there! I may need one of you to go down there and see what that is. Looks like it might be a hatch cover or maybe an oil slick..."

Mine still racing and eyes angled downwards, Drew then experienced something most peculiar. The dim cloudy afternoon gloom was suddenly consumed by a flash of pure white. For a moment it was like the dark green sea head turned into one gigantic light bulb, forcing the commander to squeeze her eyes shut on account of the glare.

Before Drew could ask what had happened, a chorus of at least a dozen howls of agony assaulted her ears.

"Oh shit, oh Jeezy Pete! I'm blind, I'm fucking blind!" When Drew looked over and blinked away her tears she saw that most of the crewmen who had been on deck with her were clawing desperately at their eyes.

And when the young Lieutenant-Commander looked out over the sea, she beheld something terrible, yet oddly beautiful; there was a hole in the sky, like the fist of God himself had punched through it.

To be more specific, the dense blanket of rainclouds had an enormous, perfectly circular empty spot in it now. It must've been several miles across at least, she realized. Adding to the awe-inspiring pseudo-sanctity of the phenomenon was a column of sunlight streaming down through the hole and plumes of mist and steam rising from the ocean surface.

"Oh." she said simply, pursing her bright red lips and trying to reconcile herself to the shock. "That was... that was an A-bomb...!" That was the only thing that made sense. It wouldn't have been the first time that terrible weapon had seen use, far from it. Looking down from the sky, though, Drew noticed something puzzling. She expected the stricken battleship in the distance to be obliterated... but it was still there, albeit still trailing plumes of smoke, despite the fact that the blast seemed to have come from directly over it. Suddenly a hot wind like a sudden storm gust blew past, making the ship rock from side to side and nearly bowling Drew over.

Blinking and trying not to think about how close she'd just come to having her eyes burned out, Drew racked her brain - if not the battleship, what had that atomic blast been targeted at? Had it been launched by a U.S.N. ship at a surprise air raid? But that couldn't be - there had been no radar contacts, and nothing smaller than a super-sized airship could fly in weather this rough.

Walking a little unsteadily, Drew started stumbling back towards a hatch leading inside... trying to ignore the screams of the blinded men she could do nothing for. That was odd, she thought to herself - why were all the hallway lights out? Was that part of a submarine-defense drill that she had forgotten about?

Before she could question that too much though, a much stranger sound jerked her attention back to the side of the ship, now that the stricken sailors had finally gotten sore throats and quieted down for the moment; from somewhere down over the side of the ship was a ragged, hacking cough and something pounding against the side.

In the process of dashing back to the side where she'd been having a rope thrown over before most everyone else got flash-blinded, Drew accidentally knocked over a couple of blindly groping seamen, who in their shocked state would lose their footing from the barest push. Despite being a Navy woman now, she hadn't the faintest idea how to swim... and that was clearly a person overboard there. Did someone get so shocked by the flash that they fell over the railing?

Drew threw a lever and a diesel-powered winch began hauling up the rope. Judging by how taut the rope was it was definitely attached to something. When she rushed over to meet it, without thinking she reached down over the side. "Here sailor, I've got you!!" she belted out proudly.

A hand took hold of hers, and Drew lurched backwards, using as much strength as she could muster to pull the drowning sailor up to safety. She tumbled backwards, and a feminine form with a very ample chest landed atop Lieutenant-Commander McKnight on the cold steel of the deck, a line of rivets perfectly in line with her left leg and thigh (and, fortunately, not sticking up enough to really hurt).

But when Drew had finished sighing with relief and sat up to look at the figure in front of her, she felt a chill colder than the touch of the bare steel run through her body. There were a great variety of U.S. navy uniforms, particularly for women. But they always had an insignia and symbols of rank on them somewhere.

Perched atop her now was a tall, voluptuous woman in a completely featureless, all-black drysuit complete with all-black goggles. The only sign of human flesh was a pair of plump, rosy lips that had spit out the respirator. There was a clearly visible sliced-away portion of the back of the drysuit, probably where an air tank had been attached... and, most likely, cut away after it had snagged on something.

Startled, Drew reflexively reached up and gave the strange woman a hard push away from her - which, given their positioning, ended up forcing her palms against those voluminous breasts with a pleasantly soft squish that revealed they were all natural. Rather than resist, the strange diver rolled backwards with the **** of the push, kicking her hips and legs up high into the air as she put all her weight into her shoulderblades, revealing that her swim-fins had nasty metal spines poking out from the 'toes'. Whether it was made for climbing or not, they looked menacing.

Without skipping a beat, the woman in the black drysuit executed a smooth three-part roll kip-up, springing up and landing with her knees bent into a squat, and then rising back to her full height before Drew could even begin picking herself up off the floor.

"Wh-who...?" Drew sputtered, reflexively clinging to her hat as she stumbled to her feet.

Although the diver did shout a response back at her it felt more like an insult than a name: "Fica!!" the woman shouted at her in a harsh, confident tone.

Sweating and eyes wide as saucers, Drew tried to remember the air of authority she'd addressed her lecherous crewmembers with. For the first time she could remember, there was another woman standing in front of her that she actually WANTED to see manhandled to the ground in the roughest way possible, stripped, and if need be fucked into submission. Yet the men around her were all even more dazzled and disoriented than she... that is, the ones who weren't permanently blind.

His voice groggy as if drunk, the black sailor who'd been screwing the girl over the railing before looked in Drew's direction as he heard the scuffle. Fumbling with his large clumsy hands, he tucked his dripping, now-limp cock back into his trousers. "Hey, uhh, officer lady, whatever your name is, what the hell's goin on?"

But even as he was sheathing his 'weapon', the Stadti diver that Lieutenant-Commander McKnight had unwittingly rescued was unsheathing a weapon of her own - a five inch long knife with a double-sided, leaf-shaped blade. Moving with a spring in her step, the infiltrator gracefully slid past the man who'd spoken. He jerked in surprise and stumbled backwards away from her, still unable to see what was happening. A squeaky, wheezy cry like the air going out of a balloon escaped the sailor's lips, his unsteady footsteps on the swaying deck leaving droplets of crimson blood speckled on the deck in his wake.

Drew's mouth fell open. She knew she should turn on her heel and run but, just like the 'hole in the sky', there was something arresting about the sight in front of her that made her hesitate. Black skin-tight material showing off every curve of her magnificent body, the female assassin(?) in front of her was the epitome of grace, confidence and sensuality. Yet in her mask, with those claw-like fins worn over her feet, she projected an otherworldly menace... an aura of horror that was heightened, not diffused, by the way her busty, long-legged body drew the eye.

Suddenly, belatedly, it all made sense as something from her training leapt to mind. Manned torpedoes - a type of miniature submarine with a detachable limpet-mine warhead, ridden by the operator straddling it as if it were an underwater motorcycle. Berlinstadt rarely deployed them, except among the Mediterranean Fleet, and only ever against ships in harbors... thus little effort was devoted to training against them. Apparently there was now a model fast enough to catch up with a ship underway. Though she still didn't quite realize how or why that atomic shell had been launched and burst at such a high altitude, it was clearly related. Perhaps it had been intended as nothing more than a giant flare to blind sailors on watch?

As she backed up fearfully against the wall behind her, LtCmdr. McKnight couldn't help but think there was something amusingly sexual to it. This woman had just pounced on a virgin ship, with a huge, pumping, phallic machine between her legs... and delivered a potent load right to the poor vessel's **** underbelly. In a very real way, this diver had just fucked the destroyer and everybody on it. And suddenly Drew was wishing desperately that her first day had ended with her pinned under a pile of sweaty, oily sailors fucking her until she was too sore to move.