SCP-7242

Link to article: SCP-7242.

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**Item #:** SCP-7242

**Object Class:** Neutralized

**Special Containment Procedures:** SCP-7242 no longer appears to be a threat. Any recovered information regarding SCP-7242 is to be kept in the archives for review. These files should be updated if further information becomes available. Beyond keeping a record, no further containment proceedures can be applied.

Should the wreckage of //K-122// be found, it is to be immediately investigated by a mobile task force and searched for any signs of anomalous activity. Implementation of containment proceedures will depend on findings.

**Description:** SCP-7242 was a November-Class submarine constructed in 1963 under the designation //K-122//. According to photographs, documentation, as well as maintenance and construction logs, there were no discernable differences between SCP-7242 and other contemporary submarines of the same model.

The precise nature of the anomaly is unclear. Declassified GRU-P records have offered some insight, as well as the testimony of first officer Vasili Kestrov. Of course, these accounts are limited to what was known by all involved. The following details have been extrapolated from the available accounts:
* SCP-7242 appears to be connected to the submarine //K-122//.
* SCP-7242 produced a memetic effect which could affect the minds of its crew. This often resulted in visual and auditory hallucinations. It could also alter a person's memories and manipulate them.
* SCP-7242 had at most an extremely limited hold over //K-122//'s systems. All machines aboard //K-122// appear to function as normal, and can be operated independently of its influence.
* Although unconfirmed, it is possible that the anomaly's effects were only triggered while submerged.

However, a series of incidents led //K-122// to develop a reputation for being "cursed," although information regarding the full extent of its anomalous nature was expunged from Soviet Records. It is known that several workers were injured or killed during //K-122//'s construction. This was often caused by sudden accidents, many of which they insisted should have been impossible. Some members of the workforce reported hearing voices or experiencing hallucinations.

Despite the strange occurrences, these complaints were initially dismissed as superstition by the Soviet navy and the troubled production was covered up. During its launch, a champagne bottle was swung at K-122 which failed to break.

//K-122// was put under the command of Dmitri Teraskovich, a decorated Soviet Captain. Teraskovich then used his position to recruit an old friend, Vasili Kestrov, as his first officer. //K-122// first left on June 30, 1963 for a three-month patrol of the Atlantic.

**Addendum:** Kestrov's Diary
[[div class="page"]]

**June 31, 1963**

We have entered open water. Current instructions are to proceed into the Northern Atlantic. It is a strange feeling. A week ago I was just another soldier in the naval infantry but Teraskovich... I guess he wanted someone he could trust. He pulled a few strings to get me transferred to this position. Seems hard to believe, but I suppose I'm doing my family proud. My family has a long naval tradition. My granfather was aboard //Potemkin//. I always knew this was going to happen someday, but to actually see it happen.

Teraskovich did a lot to prepare me for this moment. All those years sailing with him up and down the Moscow River are proving to be very useful.

The hard part is the tight environment. It's so narrow, and you're surrounded on all sides. I admit I miss the salty air of the surface, but I knew what I signed up for when I took this position. Being trapped in a tin can with 105 men can be rough, but being underwater is kind of exciting in a way. We're in deep. Not many people can say they've been where we have.

Of course that would be a bit more exciting if I could actually see some of the ocean around me. If only we could have portholes. And it's easy to forget just how vast the ocean is when your days are spent with over a hundred men in a metal tube.

It feels like there's more men aboard than when we left. I keep seeing faces I don't recognize, hearing names I don't remember seeing on the manifest. Sometimes it feels like crew members show up out of nowhere. But we have a lot of people on this boat. I'll have an easier time keeping track once we've spent more time together.

[[/div]]

[[div class="page"]]

**July 2, 1963**

So far //K-122// has performed admirably. We surfaced in the Northern Atlantic at the co-ordinates 75°00'28.0"N 24°42'48.4"E. Teraskovich said he was proud of the crew. At dinner he brought out a bottle of champaign to share with the officers. He made a joking remark about how he'd replace all of //K-122//'s provisions with champaign if Kruschev would allow it. But he didn't want to deny the crew any sort of reward for their hard work. We couldn't carry enough alcohol to give to the entire crew so Teraskovich had a slightly different idea.

He managed to bring a record player on board, though I have no idea how. He treated it as a gift for the crew to enjoy. He also went one better- provided them with several records, mostly classical composers. They have been very excited. Morale seems to have gone up, and I think they enjoy listening to it while working.

[[/div]]

[[div class="page"]]

**July 4, 1963**

Teraskovich received new orders from command. We're expected to change course to the co-ordinates 43°55'19.9"N 59°30'30.3"W. I checked out maps- that places us off the coast of Nova Scotia. That's on the other side of the Atlantic. Seems strange that we would be asked to deploy there, but Teraskovich refused to say why. He only said that it was from the Kremlin, and that information was on a need to know basis.

I hate to doubt the motherland, but why are we heading towards Canada? I know we're not on the best terms but I don't think they pose a significant threat. Do they even have nuclear missiles? There was that incident with the airplane but they're just caught in the crossfire. Surely the Kremlin doesn't hold a grudge against Canada for wanting to avoid mutually assured destruction.

Something about this mission feels wrong. Nothing's adding up, but Teraskovich seems to know what he's doing. Hopefully this will all make sense eventually.

[[/div]]

[[div class="page"]]
**July 5, 1963**

Melnik came down with a sudden fever. Dr. Sobol is doing his best, but we're not sure what happened. He was fine yesterday, but this morning he suddenly collapsed. He's been claiming to see outside, into the water. This shouldn't be possible. We have no portholes. Has he somehow managed to hallucinate windows? I don't claim to understand what's going on in his mind, but it's got him worried.

I tried talking to Teraskovich. He seemed indifferent, insisting Melnik's condition wasn't an issue. He told us to keep him isolated. It was hard to imagine this being the same man who gave them all Vodka just a couple days ago.
[[/div]]

[[div class="page"]]
**July 6, 1963**

Despite Sobal's efforts, the fever seems to be spreading. Now Petrov's sick. The symptoms seem to be the same, but what I find more disturbing is what he's saying. He's also claiming to hear voices from outside- as if someone's speaking to him from the ocean. That's impossible, isn't it? But he's also claimed to have seen glimpses of the outside, and supposedly seen bodies floating the water. It sounds a lot like Melnik's hallucinations.

I can't help feeling worried. Surely there has to be a rational explanation for all this. Maybe Petrov just overheard Melnik and it stuck in his mind. I know there has to be a logical explanation, but there's a small part of me, like a voice in the back of my mind, that just can't shake the thought that they're right. And something really is out there.

Teraskovich seems to be under a lot of pressure to finish the mission. He yelled at Sobal, demanding he "do his job" and cure Melnik and Petrov. I've known Teraskovich for twenty years, he's never once shouted at anyone like that. Whatever command wants from us, it's already taken its toll on him.
[[/div]]

[[div class="page"]]
**July 7, 1963**

I couldn't sleep last night. I thought I heard something. It almost sounded like a voice whispering into my ear, except I couldn't make out anything it was saying. Then it disappeared as soon as it happened. Then Dr. Sobal arrived at my cabin, and told me Melnik and Petrov had disappeared from the med bay. I tried getting the crew to help, but Teraskovich kept overturning my orders. Everyone I tried to ask for help, he kept telling to return to their duties. Like he didn't care about the missing crew members.

We found Petrov's body in the torpedo bay. I don't know how he did it, but he somehow managed to steal a pistol from one of the officers, and shot himself. We couldn't find Melnik anywhere. How is that possible? He couldn't have jumped overboard. How many places can a person hide on a submarine while its underwater?

Unless... no, that can't be right. Could Melnik have put himself into a torpedo tube?

Something is wrong here. I don't know what's happening but the further we go, the more I start to think we're caught in the middle of something.
[[/div]]

[[div class="page"]]
**July 8, 1963**

Teraskovich ordered us to increase speed by 30 knots. Then he called me into his quarters. I found him sitting with a bottle of vodka, glass already poured. He handed the bottle to me. He revealed something shocking, something I'm not allowed to tell anyone. The orders he received- I suspected there was something going on but... I didn't think it would be this.

It's finally happened. We all knew it was a possibility, but we secretly hoped it would never happen. Apparently America has launched a nuclear missile directly at the Kremlin. Moscow's an irradiated wasteland. Our orders were to launch our missiles at the United States.

I can't believe it. It feels so surreal, but there's another part that still bothers me. Why are we moving towards Canada. Teraskovich insists it's the best launch point, but it doesn't make sense to me. We'd be better off approaching the American coastline, would we not?

Whatever his reasons, this situation got a whole lot worse. I never thought I'd live to see this day.

[[/div]]

[[div class="page"]]

**July 10, 1963**

We struck something. It all happened so suddenly. One moment everything was fine. The next I heard us crash into something. The whole submarine seemed to shake beneath our feet. I was thrown to the ground. Sobal had to treat several men for injuries. It appeared we hit a mountain.

Teraskovich was furious. He blamed me for it. He started calling me incopentent, and accused me of being ungrateful for getting me the First Officer position.

The only problem was I checked our maps. As far as I could tell we did everything right. There shouldn't have been a mountain there. At our present co-ordinates there should have been nothing more than open water? So how did we hit a mountain? Or did we hit something else? And if so, what?

We've all been on edge. I hoped this would all make sense but the further we get into this mess, the more confusing it seems to get. Teraskovich didn't want me to telling the men that their homes may have already been destroyed. By now there might be nothing left of Russia. But it seems hard to believe down here.

If the situation was as bad as Teraskovich said, surely we would have begun to feel its effects by now. There has been no sign of radiation outside our reactor. The water currents seem perfectly normal. Maybe we're a little too deep, I don't know.

[[/div]]

[[div class="page"]]
**July 11, 1963**

Luckily, we are still functional despite the damage. We managed to avoid a hull breach, but I don't think we should be taking any more chances. We lost Tchaikovsky. He received a concussion when we hit the mountain. Sobal pronounced him dead this morning. Three more are in critical condition and medical supplies are limited.

The crew are getting restless. Several have come to me to voice their frustration over Teraskovich. I fear I may have to choose between my captain or my crew. But there doesn't seem to be much left of Teraskovich in there.

I'd like to find some way to end this without bloodshed, but that's starting to look impossible.
[[/div]]

[[div class="page"]]
**July 12, 1963**

I was on the bridge when Orlov approached. He asked if I could talk privately. I met with him in my quarters and he told me the crew have been scared. Everyone feels they're going to die and Teraskovich is refusing to listen. He mentioned being afraid of what would happen, and a sense that there was something very wrong. He claimed to feel like there was something outside, watching us. After the last few days, it didn't seem hard to believe.

He finally admitted that the crew had been talking about trying to... relieve Teraskovich of his command. Much as I hated to admit it, he was too far gone. This mission was costing too much.

I won't claim to like it, but it's time to act. We are going to confront Teraskovich. I doubt he will see reason, but perhaps we can restrain him until we can get back to the motherland. Maybe whatever has gotten into his mind will lose its grip and he will eventually thank us.
[[/div]]

[[div class="page"]]
**July 13, 1963**

I'm writing this in the dark, by flashlight. It looks like we're going to die down here. We're sinking. I'm not sure how deep we are, but I can feel us going down. If the worst should happen, I intend to place this journal in a watertight container and release it into the ocean. That way I can at least ensure there is a record of what happened down here, assuming anyone's left to read it.

Orlov approached Teraskovich, explaining the feelings of the crew and their decision to relieve him of command. Teraskovich shot him on the spot. Next thing I knew the rest of the crew was mutinying. Teraskovich shot at least five more men before he turned to me. He called me a traitor, pointed his gun at my head.

I just stood there. All my life I'd known this man. I never thought he would turn on me like this. Before he could fire, the lights went out. I ran. I didn't care where, I just had to get away from Teraskovich. I tried to feel the bulkheads around me, looking for the doors. I finally ran into Zima, who gave me a flashlight.

That was when I started to realize what had happened. It wasn't just dark, it was silent. I found a few more of the men, all of them scared and confused. It looked like every system on the ship was dead.

I found Kovalchuck in the engine room. I'd hoped he knew how to fix the engines, but that was where things got even worse. He told me that he's been checking everything, but can't find anything wrong. I helped him inspect the reactor- it was in perfect condition. Not even a crack.

Nothing seemed to be broken, every system aboard had just shut down at the same time.

When I finally had the nerve to go back to the bridge, I found Teraskovich staring through the periscope. I don't know what he expected to see at this depth, but he seemed to be fixated on something.

I only ever wanted to make my family proud. I wish I could have been the son you wanted.
[[/div]]

[[div class="page"]]

**July 14, 1968**

The lights are still out. We're trapped in darkness, and our options seem hopeless. We can't even get the toilet to work, but nobody can find any mechanical fault. We might be able to ration food, but I doubt our air's going to last much longer if we can't get the filtration running. The air is growing stale. I've seen more men bedridden, and a few have already died. We can't do anything with their bodies, so now we have the stench coming through as well.

But there is something about this darkness that doesn't feel natural. It's not just that we don't have light. It's somehow able to absorb the light from our flashlights. I can't light any further than right in front of me.

I've also been noticing that navigating is becoming difficult. Too many of us are getting lost trying to move around. The doors aren't lining up. I tried to reach the engine room, and found myself in the galley. When I turned back the way I came I was in the torpedo bay.

I haven't been able to find Teraskovich. He was on the bridge when the lights went out, but I can't seem to reach it. I tried several times, but every attempt to enter kept taking me to a different room. It's like something's changing the layout to redirect us. How is that possible?

I'll prepare the container for this journal. If we get no results in the next 24 hours, I'll release it into the ocean.

[[/div]]

[[div class="page"]]
**July 15, 1968**

If ever there was such a thing as a miracle, I think we've just experienced it. I don't know how, but everything started working again. The lights suddenly came back on, the engines started running. Everything seems to be working again as if the blackout we experienced for the last two days never happened. The relief seems to have made it a little quieter, but I worry it is only a temporary calm between storms.

I am relieved we may have a chance to escape this nightmare, but Teraskovich has ordered us to keep going. I wanted to resurface. I don't know how much more //K-122// can take. At this point I wonder if we're not better off taking our chances in whatever radioactive wasteland the world's become. But he wouldn't listen. Instead, he told me I was relieved of command and ordered me confined to my quarters.

Nobody has upheld that order, but I have a feeling it is only a matter of time before they revolt again.
[[/div]]

[[div class="page"]]
**July 16, 1968**

It finally happened. Everything's gone wrong. I can't claim to be proud of what I did, but someone had to act. Someone had to end the madness. Captain Teraskovich is dead. The man I looked up to, who taught me how to sail- his blood is on my hands. But I still can't help feeling as though he was already dead. The man I saw in those final moments was not the man who took me sailing on the Moscow River.

We detected an American destroyer on the surface. But I noticed something strange. We charted its movements. It seemed to be on a regular patrol route, like nothing was happening on the surface. Now I'm faced with a shocking conclusion. Teraskovich lied. There is no war happening above us. But why would he do that?

The men were getting desperate. It was the first sign of anyone who could help us. They didn't care if they were our enemies. Zima begged Teraskovich to surrender to them. He called Zima a coward and a traitor to the motherland. I tried to step in but he just shoved me aside, told me a traitor needed to be punished appropriately. I managed to grab him and wrestle his gun out of his hand. It was enough time for Zima to run.

But it wasn't over yet. Not long after, Teraskovich called everyone to the Torpedo bay. When I arrived, I saw him, holding Zima. Apparently, in an act of desperation, Zima tried to contact the American ship and was caught in the act. Teraskovich claimed he was a spy giving the Americans important secrets. But I won't forget what I saw him do.

He claimed to be making an example of Zima. He ordered us to watch as he opened the torpedo tube and shoved the poor kid inside, then sealed it. Then he activated the launch sequence.

In that moment, something changed. I knew I had to do something. Someone had to stop the madness. I saw a wrench and suddenly a sense of rage overcame me. I waited until the Captain's back was turned and approached him. I swung the wrench with a strength I didn't know I had, right into his head.

It was only when I saw his body I fully realized what I'd done. I didn't want to kill him, but how else was I to end this nightmare. With Teraskovich gone, I was now in command, and I could order the crew to surface.

I went to the bridge, started giving the orders. We put everything we had into upward movement. The crew worked harder than I'd ever seen them since we left.
[[/div]]

[[div class="page"]]

**July 17, 1963**

Finally, some quiet. We have been on the surface for a day. I don't want to take any chances under the water, but everything seems to be in working order. Perhaps a drydock inspection will reveal more about what's been happening to us. For now, we're just glad to be alive. I'm writing this on the deck, with a cool breeze and fresh air. I didn't think I'd experience either again when the power went out.

We laid the bodies of our fallen crew to rest. They have been given a sailors' burial. I couldn't watch as they put Teraskovich into the water. I still can't believe he's gone.

We sent a distress call, and our remaining supplies should last until we are rescued. For now, I think the crew's earned about as much of a break as I can offer them. I have asked no further duties of them.

I know there are going to be questions about Teraskovich's fate. I'll do my best to answer them. I doubt anyone will believe me, but what else am I going to say? For now, I'd just like to enjoy the calm waves. But I wouldn't mind a shower when we get back.

I don't know what we experienced down there. I'll probably never know for sure. My imagination runs wild with speculation. I find myself picturing sea monsters from old legends, maybe that's what we crashed into. Whatever it was, it no longer seems to be affecting us, but it must be out there somewhere.

[[/div]]

**Addendum:** GRU-P Casefile

After the remaining crew were rescued, Kestrov claimed responsibility for the death of Teraskovich. This act briefly resulted in a KGB investigation, during which Kestrov attempted to tell his account of events. Kestrov's description of anomalous occurrences was initially dismissed by the KGB, who were prepared to charge him with anti-Soviet activity for murdering a decorated officer. However, Kestrov was quietly exonerated after his account reached GRU-P officer Sergei Veronin.

The following is a part of the official GRU-P report that was declassified in 1991.

[[div class="blockquote" style="border-radius: 10px; margin: 10px"]]

{{**Detail:** K-122 is the designation of a November-class submarine deployed for a three-month patrol June 30, 1963. On July 14, 1963, K-122 was found adrift at sea with several of its crew members, including Captain Dmitri Teraskovich, dead. First Officer Vasili Kestrov described multiple strange occurrences aboard K-122. Interviews with members of his crew have presented similar accounts. See attached diary.}}

{{The incident involving K-122 has resulted in blame falling upon first officer Kestrov. However, after reviewing the available evidence, I have noticed that some details of his account do not line up. Nothing in Kestrov's record provides any logical motive to kill Teraskovich. In fact, it appears he had every reason not to.}}

{{I have spoken to Kestrov and collected his testimony. His account lines up with what was described and dismissed by the KGB reports, but I have noticed a few peculiarities. He claims that Teraskovich received orders to fire missiles off the coast of Nova Scotia. However, my investigation has found Captain Teraskovich was explicitly ordered to maintain radio silence for the duration of the voyage, and I have found no records indicating this rule was broken in any way.}}

{{I would like to investigate this matter further. It is possible Kestrov either discovered an aquatic anomaly, or there is something anomalous about the submarine. If this is true, it could pose further danger to our fleet. We must identify it.}}

{{Recommended procedure: K-122 should not be redeployed for naval use until its anomalous properties, if any, have been properly understood. Recommend K-122 be brought to a secure facility under the guise of being decommissioned due to damage sustained. Surviving crew members may be released after further questioning. Encourage them to spread rumors about a "curse" affecting the submarine.}}

[[/div]]

Official records indicate //K-122// was decommissioned due to damage sustained on its initial voyage.

In actuality, GRU-P had it brought to an undisclosed drydock for further research. The results of GRU-P's research appears to have been expunged from all known records. The final location and ultimate fate of //K-122// remains unknown.

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Loosely inspired by H.P. Lovecraft's short story //The Temple//
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SCP-7242

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