The Secret of Vladivostok - Part 3
"Phoenix 12, Captain Canderlaria here, how copy, over?"
"Phoenix 12 here, we read you, Captain," the Phoenix pilot radioed.
"Yeah, we'll begin knockdown procedures at the top of the hour, that’s eleven hundred hours. We're just lowering the Firefly into the dry dock now, over."
"Understood, Captain."
"Firefly will cover the bottom sections of the sub, you guys get the top. If this new foam is all its worked up to be, it should put out the fire no problem, over."
"Let’s hope," the pilot radioed. "Phoenix 12 is standing by. Circling at 500 feet."
"Copy. Over and out," said Canderlaria, watching the helicopter make its rounds in the grey, cold sky through her firefighting mask.
She looked back down at the submarine. Water from the hoses the Russians had placed was still being discharged onto the strengthening fire. A large construction crane to Canderlaria's right was slowly lowering the Firefly into the dry dock; its white and blue hulk straggled by harnesses and chains affixed to tracked yellow construction crane. Soon, the Firefly and its two drivers would be the only things down in the concrete canyon besides the Samara.
On her glass tablet, Canderlaria pulled up the live feed from one of the six quadcopters buzzing about the bow.
"Crap," Canderlaria whispered, noticing the temperature. It had increased.
Flames suddenly spewed out of the sub's bow as pieces of the hull fell to the ground, dislodging more scaffolding as it did. A small explosion near the conning tower tore another hole in the hull, taking out one of the drones.
"All UNIRO personnel," Canderlaria hailed into her earpiece. "Watch your dosimeters on your glass tags."
The Firefly's wheels gently touched the cold concrete floor of the dry dock. Members of her squadron quickly unstrapped its harnesses, then boarded a crew basket that was hoisted up by another crane.
"Feist," Canderlaria called, the driver of the Firefly. "How's she handle?"
"Like my ‘70 Camaro, ma'am," he joked.
"So, horribly," Canderlaria grinned. "As long as it protects you, that’s all I care about."
"In that regard ma'am, she's doing her job just fine. Tanks are primed and the ceramic plating is holding. Radiation levels are zero. Permission to approach the fire, ma'am."
Canderlaria nodded to the machine from atop the edge of the dry dock. "Permission granted," she said, hiding her nervousness. "Good luck."
The huge machine slowly accelerated forward, turning towards the Samara. As it moved, Feist aimed its two high-pressure hoses upwards until they hit a thirty-degree angle.
"Phoenix 12, move into position, over," Canderlaria ordered.
"Moving into position."
The black smoke started to swiftly disperse as the Phoenix, an S-64 Skycrane equipped with foam tanks and remote control nozzle, lowered over the bow. At 200 hundred feet, the helicopter stopped. The full extent of the damage became clear as the helicopter held the smoke at bay, the bow now almost unrecognizable.
Canderlaria watched as the helicopter’s nozzle was aimed downward, into the inferno. Air break hisses turned her attention below to the Firefly. The rig had stopped.
"Phoenix 12. Firefly," Canderlaria called over the common channel. "Are you ready?"
"Firefly ready, ma'am."
"Phoenix 12 is ready."
"Right," Canderlaria gritted. "Cut the water please."
The water hoses were switched off, allowing the fire to momentarily reach a veracity not yet seen by the teams.
"Mission is a go," announced Canderlaria. "Begin Ignis-Z17 spraying on my mark. Three. Two. One… Mark."
Like the opening of a dam spillway, the two machines let loose a torrent of bright green foam, discharging at hundreds of gallons per minute. Upon contact, the foam expanded ferociously, smothering whatever it touched in seconds.
"Firefly, where we at?" Canderlaria asked after three minutes of spraying.
"Nearing a quarter empty, Captain."
"Phoenix 12?"
"Twenty percent of capacity discharged."
"It's working," Canderlaria said somewhat apprehensively.
Black smoke eased. Temperatures dropped. The green foam continued to build up across the bow, the sight almost comedic, like that of a middle school science fair project gone wrong. But then…
A disturbing metallic groan reverberated through the sub; echoing inside the dry dock. Canderlaria's facemask lit up with red light, as did her glass tag. It was a radiation alarm.
"Shit… Aguilar…"
"Yeah?" radioed the other team leader.
"Are you seeing this?"
"Yes. It's plutonium."
An enormous explosion ripped through the blanketing layer of foam, scattering flaming debris across the dry dock's floor and over the Firefly. Phoenix 12 shuttered backwards from its hovering position, momentarily losing altitude, its rotors whizzing loudly.
"A torpedo's propellant tank probably just blew. There must have been a small radiation release," Aguilar guessed.
"Small?!" Canderlaria shouted over the roaring fire.
"Yeah. Readings would be much higher if a full-blown breach of one of the warheads had occurred. I still suggest calling all our squadron members back though, at least the ones without shielding! The Firefly crew should be safe for now!"
"Copy… Phoenix 12, do you read?"
"Go ahead, Captain. That was one hell of a jolt."
"Get your aircraft back, that’s an order! Radiation levels are climbing!"
"Yes ma'am. Falling back now, over."
"Firefly, do you read?"
"Still here," Feist said.
"Can you continue spraying the foam?"
"Yeah! We still have full function."
"Good, keep spraying until your tank is dry."
"Copy that, Captain. Forty-five percent capacity discharged."
"Understood! We - "
Another explosion blew apart the rounded bow, exposing the mechanical steel guts of the submarine. The sonar dome fell away. Torpedo tube doors broke off just above the dome. A piece of debris smashed down onto the Firefly, pinning it in place under its weight.
Canderlaria grabbed the handrailing in shock. "Firefly!" she shouted over the blasts.
She watched in horror as the bulkhead surrounding the torpedo room shattered apart, exposing the underwater weapons. As if in slow motion, a torpedo dislodged itself from its holding bay and slide down, out of the hull. It landed head first on the ground directly below the sub, about forty feet from the Firefly. Flaming debris landed on top of it, covering the entire weapon.
Another one fell, but this time it rolled once it hit the ground, but this time in the direction of the Firefly, stopping mere feet from its wheels. Its dented casing was on fire.
"Feist! Can you move?" she frantically radioed.
"No, Captain. We're stuck!"
Aguilar ran up beside Canderlaria. "Did you see that?" he asked, pointing to the fallen torpedoes out of breath.
"Yeah," Canderlaria answered. "Firefly and her crew are trapped."
"Oh no, look," Aguilar said, again pointing to the torpedo nearest the Firefly.
Canderlaria followed Aguilar's finger. A gash in its side was profusely sparking.
"Those sparks are coming from the lithium-ion batteries inside that help drive the prop. If those catch fire they could explode…"
"…And release radioactive material," Canderlaria finished. "How long do you think we have?"
"Minutes," Aguilar said. "We have to tell the military."
"You can do that," Canderlaria said, reaching for her glass tablet Velcroed to her pants. "I'm going to warn the people who count."
"What?" Aguilar huffed. "You can't do that, Canderlaria," he said, grabbing her shoulder forcefully.
Canderlaria swiped his hand away just as forcefully. "It won't matter for us. We'll be dead if one of those torpedoes explodes. But, if we warn the city, they have a chance to live, to prepare."
"Captain - "
Canderlaria removed her mask and shouted, "This is what we signed up to do, Aguilar! This is the sacrifice we swore to uphold! But, I didn't sign up for meaningless sacrifices. We aren't just going to die while trying to put this thing out. We are going to do our duty and save lives."
"You'll lose your command… I'll lose my command," Aguilar said angrily. "We'll go to jail!"
"Cell mates it is then," Canderlaria smirked.
She held up her glass tablet with both hands and activated its camera feature. The tiny camera came to life. She quickly focused it down towards the smoldering torpedo resting by the Firefly. A few hundred feet behind her came the shouts of several men.
Canderlaria and Aguilar looked back. Seven armed soldiers had seen her attempting to record the disaster and were racing over to stop her. One even fired warning shots into the sky as he yelled in Russian.
"Stop!" Aguilar cried, grabbing the tablet, attempting to rip it from her hands.
Canderlaria pushed Aguilar away, ripped his mask off, and then punched him unconscious. She threw the camera back up and started recording a live video through her personal Facebook account.
"My name is Rebecca Canderlaria and I am with UNIRO. If you are seeing this video please share it to help warn the residents of Vladivostok, Russia. They must evacuate their city now! A submarine in the nearby naval base is on fire!" she said, zooming in on the nuclear symbol painted in yellow on the torpedo. "You haven’t been told the whole truth though! The Russian government has hid the fact that nuclear tipped torpedoes are on still board and could explode, releasing deadly radioactive material across the entire area! Leave now while you still can!"
Canderlaria looked back. The soldiers were almost on top of her.
"Leave now!" she pleaded back at the tablet. "Leave!"
As one of the soldiers reached out to tackle her the entire front of the submarine exploded in an enormous fireball that blew the captain and the soldiers backwards over ten feet. She landed hard on her oxygen tank, tumbling several times over.
Dazed, Canderlaria took a moment to collect herself. She stood up just as the submarine fell off of its support columns that held it off the floor of the dry dock, rolling over with an ominous moan of bending steel, crushing the crew of the Firefly.
"Noooo!" Canderlaria gasped, running back to the handrailing. "Feist, do you copy? Do you copy, over?"
No one answered.
"Damnit!" she raged, kicking the handrailing.
The entire dry dock was now filled with fire. Smaller explosions continued to slowly rip apart the Samara. With each one came a new moan, as if the sub was being helplessly tortured.
Canderlaria looked down into the fiery concrete gorge, her heart burning just as fiercely. She looked beyond the blaze at the far end of the dry dock at the singular floodgate holding back the ocean.
"Lets finish this…" she muttered to herself, removing her oxygen tank.
She began sprinting to her right, kicking a soldier in the face as he tried to get up. She sprinted around the corner of the dry dock and down its long side towards the sea, sprinting faster than she ever thought possible.
Debris suddenly rose up from an explosion, flying up over the handrailing and landing just a few dozen feet in front of her. She tucked her face behind her arms as she blew through the debris pile, not losing one step.
Less than a minute later she reached the control station for the floodgate. As she began to try and read the controls, bullets zipped by her helmet. She ducked behind the station, which was about the size of a podium. Three oval green military trucks were thundering towards her, one having a machine gun atop it.
Without hesitation Canderlaria stood back up and grabbed the lever responsible for opening the gate. A string of bullets slashed through her chest, knocking the air out of her lungs. The dying Captain pushed the lever up, then fell to the ground in a pool of blood, gasping for air.
An alarm sounded. Canderlaria looked over at the gigantic floodgate as it opened almost imperceptibly slowly. But, soon enough, water found its way through, flooding across the dry dock, extinguishing the fire as it rose in a haze of steam and smoke.
Canderlaria smiled, blooding dripping from her mouth. "Worth it," she weakly chuckled. "So… Worth it…"