His thinking by this point was thoroughly muddled. Hours ago, he'd been rousted out of a warm bunk less than fifteen minutes after he'd crawled in, summoned by the bears, also known as the "Royal Masters-at-Arms to Their Imperial Majesties," and to appear before them and answer specific charges of crimes against King Neptunus Rex and King Borealis Rex. Those crimes, an official and impressive-looking warrant declared, included but were not limited to slovenliness, still having manure stuck between his toes, having a non-regulation face, excessive liberty, not knowing larboard from starboard, impersonating a seaman, and being a general disgrace and scum-sodden poor excuse for a landlubber trespassing within His Imperial Majesty's domain.
In the following hours, he'd been stripped, painted, repeatedly doused with ice water, forced to crawl on his hands and knees down a gauntlet while shipmates to either side stung his buttocks with paddles, been humiliated with shouted questions impossible to answer… and been generally and bewilderingly tormented until he was so dazed he wouldn't have known what day it was if he'd been back in Monroeville with a calendar in his hand and his watch on his wrist.
"I'll give you one last chance, pollywog!" Neptune roared. "What fucking day is it?"
Somehow, through the haze, inspiration struck. "It's… it's whatever day you decree it to be, Your Majesty! Since you are all-powerful, you can make it be any day you wish!"
Neptune roared with laughter. "Ha! I like this one! We'll kill him last! Next!"
Helping hands pulled Wallace aside, as the hazing spotlight fell on QM3 Tom Simmons, another of the shivering, huddled mass of pollywogs waiting to complete this bizarre ritual.
The Virginia's mess hall, the largest compartment on board, had been decorated for the occasion, with fishnets and seaweed hanging from the bulkheads and overhead like curtains, with blue-green filters over the lights, and with an impressive triple throne for Neptune, Borealis, and Amphitrite. Various members of the crew — those who'd gone through this ritual earlier in their naval careers — had taken the parts of various characters: Jack Frost, the Royal Barber, the Royal Bears, a Royal Scribe, Neptune's Officer of the Day, the Devil, and assorted court jesters. Wallace hadn't counted, but there were at least twenty men in various degrees of costuming and paint making up the joint Royal Courts of Neptune and Borealis.
Besides this bizarre assembly, the mess deck was packed with both officers and enlisted crew watching the mayhem or actively taking part. Wallace caught sight of the captain, leaning against a bulkhead with folded arms, laughing. The skipper had played a small part in the drama, formally welcoming Neptune and his entourage as they emerged from the eight-man lockout trunk just aft of the control room. He'd told Neptune that there were several men aboard who'd never crossed the line before, nor ventured into the cold wastes of the Arctic, and asked that he be gentle with them. Bollinger had pretended to consider this request, then said, "I am sorry, Captain, but I must be severe with them. You have no idea what craven weaklings and scum-sucking landsmen have been invading my domain of late… used car salesmen, television evangelists, even lawyers! I will have a tidy ocean!"
Captain Garrett had bowed before the king and formally surrendered command of the Virginia to him, then spent the rest of the time by the bulkhead, watching. He wondered if a ship's captain had to go through this if he'd not done so before. It didn't seem right, somehow.
Odd. RM1 Padgett had just stepped into the mess room from forward, spotted Garrett, and made his way through the crowd to Garrett's side. Wallace saw the radioman whisper something in Garrett's ear. Garrett frowned, then nodded. At that point, Wallace was distracted by a sudden raucous burst of laughter. Simmons had gotten an answer wrong to some trick question or other, and been doused with ice water. When he glanced back again at where Garrett had been, he saw that the captain was gone.
The submarine had not been entirely abandoned to the forces of chaos, of course. Watch standers remained at their stations. When he felt the deck tip gently a few minutes later, the fore end of the mess hall rising higher than the aft, he knew that something unusual was going on. What was the message Padgett had delivered?
And what was important enough to interrupt the Imperial Court of Neptunus Rex?
Garrett stepped into the radio shack. "Anything yet?"
"It's just coming through, sir." Padgett said, tapping on a keyboard. "Coming out of the printer now."
The printer in the back corner began buzzing. Virginia might be a paperless vessel, but there were still times when hard copy was preferred. Garrett picked up the sheet from the paper feed and read it.
Padgett's whispered message in the crew's mess had been to the effect that the Virginia had received an ELF alert — someone had "rung the bell." A submarine cruising at three hundred feet could not receive ordinary radio messages, which were effectively blocked by just a few feet of water. Extremely Low Frequency signals could penetrate deep water, however, and be picked up by a special long wire antenna trailing in the submarine's wake. The radio waves were so long, however — about four thousand kilometers—that information transfer was painfully slow, on the order of.03 bit per second. ELF messages were limited, then, to signals known as "bell-ringers," which meant, simply, "come to the surface to receive orders."
And those orders were what Garrett held in his hand, now that the Virginia had come to periscope depth and lifted her satellite communications receiver above the waves. In his experience, such breaks in the routine were either training-related, or they were trouble. He read the message quickly.
Yup. Trouble. And lots of it.
TO: CO USS VIRGINIA
FROM: COMSUBLANT
RE: MISSION UPDATE/NEW ORDERS
1. PASSENGERS AND CREW OF A SAILING YACHT OF AMERICAN REGISTRY HAVE REPORTEDLY BEEN KIDNAPPED IN THE SOUTH CHINA SEA. HOSTAGES INCLUDE MATTHEW C. DUPONT, A HIGH-RANKING EXECUTIVE OF GLOBAL OIL, SEVERAL GLOBAL OIL EMPLOYEES, AND TWO VIETNAMESE NATIONALS. THE SITUATION IS UNCLEAR AT THIS TIME. HOSTILES COULD BE PIRATES OR PLAN ELEMENTS OPERATING IN THE AREA.
2. USS VIRGINIA WILL PROCEED AS PER ORDERS TO YOKOSUKA, ARRIVING NO LATER THAN 1200 HRS, 3 JUN, WHERE YOU WILL TAKE ON BOARD ADDITIONAL SUPPLIES.
3. NO LEAVE OR LIBERTY WILL BE GRANTED CREW IN JAPAN. USS VIRGINIA WILL DEPART YOKOSUKA NO LATER THAN 0600 HRS, 4 JUN, TO RENDEZVOUS WITH SEAL TEAM ELEMENT AT N21°42.50', E120°46.75', AT 0900 HRS, 6 JUN. VIRGINIA WILL TAKE ON BOARD EIGHT-MAN SEAL ELEMENT AND ASDS IN AT-SEA PICK-UP.
4. USS VIRGINIA WILL THEN PROCEED WITH ALL POSSIBLE SPEED TO THE GENERAL AREA OF THE WEST SPRATLY ISLANDS, N9°26′, E111°39′, DESIGNATED AO THUNDERHEAD. FURTHER ORDERS WILL BE TRANSMITTED AT THAT TIME.
5. CBG EIGHT IS PROCEEDING TO AO THUNDER-HEAD. USS VIRGINIA WILL OPERATE IN SUPPORT OF CBG EIGHT, UNDER COMMAND OF ADMIRAL GILLESPIE, COCBG EIGHT. OPERATIONAL COMMAND HEREBY TRANSFERRED TO VICE ADMIRAL THORNTON, COMSUBPAC.
6. OPERATION TO SECURE RELEASE OF AMERICAN HOSTAGES IN AREA HEREBY DESIGNATED OPERATION CLAYMORE. USS VIRGINIA HEREBY DESIGNATED TASK FORCE STILETTO. SEAL ASSETS HEREBY DESIGNATED TASK FORCE TRIDENT. CBG EIGHT HEREBY DESIGNATED TASK FORCE BROADSWORD.