Straits of Power

“Counting one off Central Africa a few weeks ago, and giving my ship full credit for the Two-fourteen this time, two. Had you taken on the Two-fourteen, as I expected once contact was made, I’d’ve sunk the pair of Two- twelves, as I intended all along, and my score would now be three.” Parcelli made it sound like an accusation, that Jeffrey had grabbed the best kills for himself. He decided to ignore Parcelli’s latest jab.

“You know how many Axis subs I’ve destroyed?”

“No, frankly I don’t.”

“Frankly, neither do I. I’ve lost count, which says something right there. But I can tell you I’ve been in over a dozen separate engagements, many of which went nuclear, and I’m still here to talk about it. I’ve got a lot more combat experience than you. In this context, in this war, experience leads.”

Parcelli stared at Jeffrey hard. “You really don’t get it, do you?”

“Get what?”

“You’ve got all this wonderful experience because you hog the ball. You don’t even know what’s being said behind your back.”

Parcelli sat back triumphantly.

What does he think he just won? And what the hell is he talking about?

“Explain yourself, Commander.” Using his rank, rather than Parcelli’s title as captain of Ohio, was a rebuke that Jeffrey knew Parcelli wouldn’t miss.

“Your one-of-a-kind ship cost a fortune, and is an absolute maintenance nightmare. The navy could’ve had three or four Virginia-class fast-attacks for what it cost to build Challenger. A lot of influential people think we’d’ve been better off. You spend so much time in dry dock between your different vaunted missions, you’re draining skills and materials that other ships badly need…. You had no idea of the resentment this is causing? Up to and including at flag rank in Undersea Warfare?” Parcelli meant some admirals at the Pentagon.

“None of those decisions was mine to make. Challenger’s speed and diving depth, her number of tubes, the size of her torpedo room, all outweigh a Virginia’s, as fine as those ships are.”

“It doesn’t outweigh four of ’em, and in this present conflict we need as many subs in service as we can get.”

“It’s too late, and it’s irrelevant. I’m not the type to look over my shoulder. And I sure as hell do not intend to have to keep looking over my shoulder now, to make sure you’re where you’re supposed to be, doing exactly what I tell you to do, no more and no less.”

“I’ll be full captain long before you, and I’ll be rear admiral and you’ll never be, from the way you behave.”

“All that,” Jeffrey said as coldly as he could, “remains to be seen. You’ll never wear your fourth stripe if you don’t survive this mission. You’ll never don that first star if you get killed in the next week or two. So I strongly urge you to concentrate on the here and now, Captain Parcelli. As far as I’m concerned, as task-group commander, you led us both to expend a large amount of offensive and defensive ammunition to sink three lower-value targets that other of our forces could have, should have, and would have sunk on their own. And since unlike other units, you and I will not be able to replenish our now half-empty torpedo rooms until after our current mission, your behavior decreased our chances of success.”

Parcelli hesitated. Jeffrey decided to throw his hardest punches.

“This isn’t some game about whose dick is bigger. This whole mission is for real, and its success is by no means guaranteed. If it fails, we might all be dead in two weeks, and the whole world might be dead soon thereafter. The whole goddamned world might be dead. Thanks to your impetuous conduct, the Axis might know Challenger is in the company of another nuclear submarine, which was supposed to have been top secret…. Lower your sights and tone down your ego, Commander Parcelli. Understood?”

“Er, yes.”

“Unquestioning obedience or I won’t hesitate to relieve you of command.”

“But—”

“For the remainder of this mission, I have the authority. You can complain about it later, but I doubt the incident would do very much for your precious chances for further promotion. As for this whole discussion, I now consider the matter settled. If you want to complain about that, and you and I are both still alive in two weeks, I cordially invite you to do your worst. Understood?”

“Yes.”

“Now we have a briefing. There’s plenty you still don’t know. With my officers and my guests, you and I must present a united front…. There’s no reason for more animosity. Any hint of a schism between you and me could prove catastrophic.”

“Concur.” Parcelli seemed to be pulling himself together.

The man’s nothing if not practical, Jeffrey thought. If I play things right, he might even feel beholden to me afterward. Better someone like him as a supporter than an opponent down the road…. I have to plan ahead to the next wave of peacetime navy politics too, just in case the U.S. Navy and I both make it that far.

Jeffrey and Parcelli stood. Parcelli moved to open the door for Jeffrey — which Jeffrey took as a good sign, of conciliation, at least temporarily.

More to the point, Jeffrey had succeeded after all, in the first truly no-holds-barred, head-to-head bureaucratic contest of his career. But he needed to get in one more thing for good measure. A final, seemingly casual and harmless afterthought — that was really meant to be a very rough stiffener.

Jeffrey had learned this technique from commodores and admirals who’d used it on him. He leaned toward Parcelli, while the door was still closed, and whispered in his ear.

“Forget for now about raising that flag with your first star. Cast your thoughts even higher, up at the sky, and picture global nuclear winter instead, in a month or less. I think you’ll find the image highly motivating.”

Chapter 14

Jeffrey’s key people were assembled in Challenger’s wardroom. Jeffrey, as captain of the ship and commander of the task group, sat in his usual sacrosanct place at the head of the table. To Jeffrey’s left sat Gerald Parker. To Jeffrey’s right, in what was considered the place of honor, he’d put Captain Parcelli. Jeffrey hoped this gesture wasn’t lost on the man.

Farther down the table sat Bell, Gamal Salih, Felix Estabo, and Jeffrey’s officers who needed to be present. Lieutenants Kathy Milgrom as Sonar, Bud Torelli as Weps, and Richard Sessions as Navigator all had to know what was coming next.

The foot of the table was empty, because beyond it, on the bulkhead, was a flat wide-screen display. Jeffrey’s laptop, already open and on, connected to the display by a fiber-optic cable. Bell got up and checked that chiefs were posted outside the door into the passageway, and also outside the door leading into Challenger’s galley, the kitchen and pantry area.

Bell nodded to Jeffrey, and retook his seat.

Jeffrey cleared his throat, and at once had everyone’s full attention.

“First, ground rules. For security, all crew are to know as little as possible in advance at each stage of this operation. Just in case we get into trouble, and there are survivors whom the enemy can capture and interrogate.”

Jeffrey looked around the room meaningfully. Even though this was hardly the first time his people had had to cope with such a concern, his officers got more serious.

“This map will give you an idea of our general route.” Jeffrey tapped some keys. The big display screen showed a chart of the Atlantic Ocean, extending through to the Mediterranean Sea and the start of the Black Sea, and also down to the Red Sea and the Arabian Gulf at the doorstep to the Indian Ocean.