submarine had been attacked several times without result.
There was no guarantee that the second line would catch the Americans. It was scattered, still forming. Like the first one, it was made up of units that had been out training or had been in a high state of readiness. There were precious few of those in the Northern Fleet.
The second line consisted of every unit that could reach the Kara Sea before the intruder reached international waters. Diplomatically, the Russians could make a case for attacking a submarine in the Kara Sea, even if it was outside the twelve-mile limit, by invoking hot pursuit. That would be harder, much harder, in the Barents or Norwegian seas.
So he’d have to have a reason to risk international condemnation. A strong one, one that represented a clear and present danger to the motherland. Easy to do if you’re not constrained by the truth. He started drafting a message.
His staff knew that the Americans had been operating close to the coast. What they didn’t know was that he’d received top secret, compartmented information from the Northern Fleet’s counterintelligence officer. A foreign agent with stolen codes had evaded the FSB and was trying to leave the country. His last known location was in the Arkhangel’sk Oblast. If he had somehow managed to get to Novaya Zemlya and was aboard that submarine, and that sub made it safely back to port, Russian military communications would be compromised. Even after the codes were changed, Western intelligence would still be able to read a decade’s worth of encrypted messages. The damage to Russian security would be grave. Extreme measures had to be taken to prevent this from happening.
22. Close Quarters
Lunch that afternoon was a celebration, although an ultra-quiet one. Jerry thought the cold sandwiches and canned fruit were a banquet and the thought of going home filled him with possibilities. True, he had a ton of work to do if he wanted to qualify for his dolphins, but compared to their earlier problems, his quals didn’t seem so insurmountable now. He’d make the time.
Especially at twelve knots. Lieutenant Commander Ho had already briefed the Captain, but the entire wardroom needed to know exactly what
The Engineer looked tired, and a little shaken. He’d already briefed them on the four men who’d been injured, none dangerously so, but it was clear he’d felt their injuries almost as much as they had. His tone had improved and become steadier when he’d described the casualties to the plant.
The worst was the port main engine. The shock of the depth charging cracked the main throttle valve casing and caused a major steam leak, scalding three men nearby. Another man broke his ankle trying to get away from the jet of steam. The space had immediately filled with vapor, making it hard to see and to breathe. They’d drilled for it, though, and after donning EABs, had secured the steam supply to the main engine.
But now, to run at the same speed, the remaining engine would have to work twice as hard, which would make much more noise.
And the throttle valve couldn’t be repaired at sea. Because it had to hold saturated steam at six hundred psi and 485° Fahrenheit, it was made of thick stainless steel. The ship didn’t have the capability to weld metal that thick, with a crack that large. They couldn’t even patch it while at sea. The only thing they could do was secure the port main engine until they reached a base with the necessary equipment and personnel to effect the repairs.
Their creep speed was reduced from five to three knots. That wasn’t too bad, since nobody ever tried to get anywhere at creep. The point was to be as quiet as physically possible. Their transit speed was now twelve instead of twenty knots and their top speed, at which they’d make more noise than a boiler factory, was twenty knots. “Over twelve knots, I’d have to shift the starboard main seawater pumps to fast speed, and you can’t be quiet with those on the line.
“The oxygen generator fried itself when some of the breakers were rattled around. Fortunately, the oxygen banks are full and we won’t need to make any more before we reach a friendly port. And there are pumps and fittings knocked loose throughout the engine room and the auxiliary machinery space,” Ho concluded. “The only good news is that if we don’t take any further hits, we’ll probably make it back without any more equipment casualties.”
“That was a ringing endorsement,” Lenny Berg remarked cynically. “Would it help if I got out and pushed?”
“I like the ‘getting out’ part,” the XO answered, with only a slight smile.
“I was only trying to help,” Berg complained.
“Jerry, any luck with the torpedo tubes?” Bair asked.
“None, sir. With the preset panel gone, there’s no way to talk to a weapon. The Senior Chief’s been trying to jury-rig something, but he’s not hopeful.”
Dr. Patterson, sitting to one side with Emily Davis, spoke up tentatively. “But you can still fire a torpedo, can’t you? Emily says there’s nothing wrong with the tubes themselves.”
“That’s not quite true, doctor,” answered Hardy politely. “To fire a Mark 48, we need to apply warm-up power to get the inertial nav system up and running, and then we need to tell it where it is, where to go, and when to enable the active seeker. You need the fire-control circuits, or the emergency preset circuits to do those things; we have neither. If we launched a weapon, it would head straight to the bottom. No, ma’am, we have no weapons capability at all.” On that somber note, Bair stood up and announced, “All right, we’re not out of the woods yet and we have a long trip before us. Let’s get back to work.”
Slowly, the officers filed out of the wardroom, leaving Hardy to think in peace. As soon as he thought he was alone, he placed his face in his hands, rubbing his forehead with his fingertips. Exhausted, frustrated, and tired of having to act so confident in front of his crew, he tried to think about what he would do if they ran across another Russian.
“Excuse me, Captain,” Patterson said softly.
Momentarily startled, Hardy jerked his head up. “Yes, Doctor. What can I do for you?”
“I… ah… I need to apologize for some of the things I said earlier. I didn’t really appreciate all the risks you and your men take and, uh, it was wrong for me to call you a bus driver and your sub a piece of junk.”
Hardy smiled weakly. “I believe the phrase was a ‘glorified bus driver,’ Doctor, but then I’m being picky. Apology accepted.” He then stood up and faced her. “And while we’re on the subject of apologies, I believe I made a remark about your political derriere being in a sling that was inappropriate. I know you didn’t just make the environmental threat up, that you do believe it’s a problem. I’m sorry that I implied you had.”
Patterson nodded her acceptance and then looked down at the deck. “Do you… do you think we’ll make it home?”
“Frankly Doctor, I don’t know,” Hardy said honestly, and then started to walk toward the wardroom door. After a few steps, he stopped and turned back to face her. “I’d like to think we’ll get out of this mess in one piece, but I have nothing but my training to base that on. This is my first time in a combat situation.”
“You and your crew have done very well so far, Captain. It’s obvious that the training they’ve had is paying off.”
“Yes, it is. And Lord knows that I’ve trained them hard. Perhaps, too hard at times. But I’ve found out training only goes so far, Doctor. You have to have confidence that they’ll do the right thing at the right time.”
Patterson chuckled briefly. “We don’t work with trust much in politics, Captain. It’s in short supply.”
“I know that, Doctor. But it hasn’t exactly been plentiful on
