"The Vortex"
HMNANB (His Majesty's North American Naval Base) Hampton Roads, near Norfolk, Virginia, aboard the HMNAS Alexandria
12 December 2019, 0800 hours
Commander (Cdr) Robert Hairston was a very happy man. He couldn't be more happy, though he kept any expressive emotion to a minimum, given his rank and position as the officer commanding a ship. He was at the bow, with his binoculars hanging around his neck. He glanced up to see the RNAN ensign raising; just like the NAU's "Jack, Stars, and Stripes", though the blue field was white and the eight-pointed stars were red instead of white. He looked around 'ship row', the orderly lines of ships within the naval base, seeing the variety of vessels that made the RNAN (Royal North American Navy) one of the best blue-water fleets of the world. He saw the HMNAS Mississippi, a super-aerocraft carrier of the Atlantic fleet, slowly go on its way out of Hampton Roads. One of the revamped Quiet War era CVAs for the modern age, it still was on par with the RN's carriers, and with the recent Japanese, Chinese, and Russian carriers.
The Alexandria was a guided missile frigate, specifically one of the Dominion-class, a multipurpose frigate used in fleet escort, anti-aerocraft combat, coastal bombardment, patrol, and anti-submersible warfare. First laid in the late 1980s, it became something of the bread and butter of the RNAN for both main surface fleets. On its own, it could take on an individual target with some ease, though limited by design, armament, fuel, and supplies. It was built for being faster than other capital ships, at 30 knots.
Being a small command, Hairston was still pleased with his current career trajectory. He already served for 10 years as executive officer on a destroyer, and now his own command of his own ship for 4 years. From a military family from Georgia, the Hairston family served in every major conflict the NAU was in from the Southeastern Rebellion where his great-great-grandfather served as a freedman in one of the black regiments of the American establishment and the Provincial Corps (British-American forces trained to operate as regulars) against the rebelling provincial militias opposed to the North American provisions of the 1833 abolition bill, to the Third Continental War against Mexico where his great grandfather also served in a black regiment that seized Cancun early in the war, to the War of Wars to Burma War where his grandfather served as a fighter pilot, to the Svalbard Incident where his father led Royal North American Marines in rooting out rogue Russian army units that have seized the research stations there. He put the binoculars to his eyes for one last time, seeing the main building of Hampton Roads and the NAU flag fluttering on top of it. Thinking of his father and family, they stayed close even though Robert went off to naval college and his father's health gradually declined and prevented him from travelling to see his son on his graduation. He died last year, one month after a somewhat brief reunion between father and son.
Nearing cast-off, Hairston recollected his thoughts and returned to the bridge to give orders for leaving Hampton Roads. "Get us to open water. We'll rendezvous with the flotilla for the exercise near Bermuda," he ordered to his navigational and communications officer, Lieutenant Marc Saint-Denis, a Quebecois who has served aboard the Alexandria for four years now, straight out of RNC Baltimore, one of the premiere naval colleges in the world. High quality ships, high quality fleet, high quality officers. That is what makes the NAU and the United Empire the superpower of the world. His father would be proud of him right now, where he was right now.
Hairston's world was organized and demarcated clearly in nearly every respect. Professionally, politically, militarily, socially, and personally. One of the King's commissioned naval officers, and a family man of two kids. He would never expect a major tumult for himself or the people that knew and depended on him, such as his family, or his crew.
In the Atlantic
They were 3 hours away from the ATLANTEX-19 rendezvous point. ATLANTEX-19 was the "Thursday War" for the Atlantic for the 19th year of this century, as well as doubling as a binational exercise between the RN and the RNAN. The Alexandria's role was to provide a variety of support for the new ships and crews that were the subjects of today's Thursday War. All frigates of this class, though the ones being tested were refitted and updated with new Y-Range (radar) technology and analytical (computer) systems. Hairston's ship was already fitted with the new tech upgrades, and regular drilling is critical to a unit's success, no matter the service.
About 15 minutes ago, the crew performed a milk run of a hull breach drill, beating the flotilla's record by 12 seconds. So far, so good, nothing out of the ordinary. "...excellent work, everyone," finished Hairston with his intercom congratulatory speech. He turned to his executive officer, Lieutenant-Commander Bernard Rawls. "Indeed, sir, this may be one of the most...conventional exercises we've had since we went on our length of service together," he remarked to Hairston. "Perhaps, though who knows, maybe a rival fleet might appear out of thin air or something, or an island full of mermaids and alcohol for the men" joked Hairston.
The weather and water was getting too choppy for Hairston's liking. "There's a low pressure front southeast of us, about 50 miles northwest of Bermuda, with speeds above 50 knots and gaining," said Lt. Saint-Denis, summarizing weather reports from the North American Meteorological Organisation and the RNAN Weather and Allied Sciences Office. "Storm is coming our way. This might cancel or delay the exercise. Maintain course but keep us at 4000 yards from the other ships. Prepare the ship for the storm, and get a line to Hampton Roads and the carrier Victorious" ordered Hairston. This was strange. Weather was projected to be fine at least in the initial days of the exercise, and this should be the brief reprieve from hurricane season. The Victorious was the RN carrier and command vessel for the exercise, which was already at the rendezvous point.
As half an hour went by, the storm had gotten worse. So bad, that all hands had to retreat to the relative safety of below decks. Rain pounded on the bridge's windows, with it appearing sideways, indicating very strong winds. "Our systems indicate about 70 knots regarding windspeed, sir," shouted Lt. Saint-Denis. "Dammit, why did NAMO drop the ball on this? Have everyone get into bracing positions and avoid rogue waves to minimize everything flying around below decks!" ordered Hairston to his officers responsible for ship control, Lieutenants Smith and Whistler.
A few seconds after barely managing to avoid a series of rogue waves, screams of pain and yelling were emanating from everyone on the bridge, and even a few from immediately below decks. Hairston was barely conscious, suffering from a severe headache. "The storm, sir, it's...it's a hurricane for sure..." said Saint-Denis before passing out.
Hairston called out to Saint-Denis but collapsed and was caught by Rawls before both of them lost consciousness.
Unknown coast of an unknown land
After what felt like an eternity, Hairston woke up from his very deep sleep. "What in God's name happened? Rawls? Saint-Denis? Smith? Whistler? Hey, anyone!" yelled the commander. Saint-Denis woke up next, followed by Rawls and the others. "Moi dieu..." said the Quebecois.
Hairston stood up to peer out of the windows. Some of them were rather beaten and cracked somewhat, but not totally destroyed. Others started to break, though most of the glass was still intact. The engines were dead and they were gradually drifting with the waves towards the coast.
"Get propulsion going, and get me a damage assessment. Dammit, that was a very hard hurricane. And what about everyone? Everyone was screaming and in pain. I'll have the Sick Berth Attendants up here soon after they check out everyone below."
A few minutes later, power, propulsion, and medical assistance was reporting to the bridge. As the two medical attendants helped up the weapons officer with his head gash when he collapsed, the other bridge officers gave their report.
"We have all systems online, though navigation and communications are completely in the blind regarding anything to fleet command or to another ship. No satellite connections, radar functions but only locally, and only local communications too--I can't raise any RNAN or RN ships from the exercise contingent or talk to Hampton Roads," finalized Saint-Denis.
"The weather most likely. But what is that land there? It goes on and on in both directions. It can't be Bermuda. North America? Europe? The latter should be impossible. See if you can raise someone there. Sheriff, or police, or some provincial militia barracks. We should still have means of contacting someone," ordered Hairston. He got ayes from Saint-Denis and the technical team that was on the bridge working on the comms console. Half an hour later, still nothing.
"Alright, have the marines land on the coast to find some kind of civilization nearby. Some yokel must have a telephone. First have the 'copter do some reconnaissance and then send in a fire team of the Marine section stationed on board to go to that place."
His orders were carried out, and one hour later, reports came in of a startling discovery by the 'copter recon mission.
"Several cities that looked like Medieval Europe? Did we drift to Europe? It felt so long since we were unconscious that much time must have passed. Though, all of our clocks are not right, even the mechanical ones on our wrists," wondered Rawls.
"Nevermind that, it's civilization at least. Send in the fire team. They can take the RIB to the coast and find someone there. There's got to be someone who can help us."
On the coast of the unknown land,
provisionally 13 December 2019
0913 hours
Lieutenant Morton Green was a man of quiet expression, just like the commanding officer of the ship he served on, and even the same age too--late forties. He was with three other men: Corporal David Wainwright, Sergeant Mark Fuller, and Lance Corporal Bernard Barnes. Getting off the RIB a few minutes ago, they all realized that landing on potentially hostile coast was something they were all a bit rusty in, as they were all more dedicated to security functions for the ship. However, they will all be prepared for any conflict they could encounter--as infantry. They all carried Stensa sub-machine guns, personal defense weapons with the magazine horizontally placed on the weapon, and with a collapsible stock. They wore standard CRNAM (Corps of Royal North American Marines) fatigues and had light gear.
Green took out his binoculars and scanned the environment. Mountains, and then a large forest, he could barely make out with the binoculars. His team headed from the coast to atop of a hill about 400 yards away to get a better vantage point. There, the mountains and forest became more clearer to see in full, as well as the road that was about 300 yards away from the hill. About 50 yards beyond the road was what appeared to be a hamlet of some kind. A homestead, perhaps, or just a couple farms with a bunch of smaller houses or huts.
Green laid out his plan to the others as they started walking down the hill, with their weapons over their shoulders. "Gentlemen, let's go house to house. We'll be polite and ask for any telephone or any other kind of communication, and radio back to the Alexandria. Judging by this...place, telephones may be a luxury. We may have to find a larger town, perhaps use the road to go somewhere else. Two-man teams and go door to door. All clear on what we are doing?"
"The most embarrassing thing for an already embarrassing situation for the ship and crew? What if we are in Europe and they speak French or Spanish, or Portuguese? We just say: "Je suis Americain? Americano? Ayudame?" asked Corporal Wainwright as he drank from his canteen. "Possibly. We'll have to try all three official languages of the NAU."
The four man squad broke into two-man groups and split off to the first houses that were on the outskirts of the hamlet. Green and Fuller walked up to a small hut-like construction. The morning sun was out in full right now, but the hamlet sounded very quiet for some reason. Green looked around a bit near the front door, and then went up to the entrance and knocked on the door.
