“No, I guess not…so those little bastards really wanted to get ahold of all of our specialists on the ship, and get them to spill the beans on all the subtleties of the electronics — so they could make a submarine of the same standard as
“Lieutenant Commander, you have it right there.”
“Jesus Christ, cunning little bastards…but what I don’t know is how they managed to capture the submarine in the first place, sir…what happened?”
“Well, it might be classified, but since ten thousand Chinamen and more than one hundred crew and half of SUBPAC know, I guess there’s no harm in my enlightening the officer who rescued us…”
Rick Hunter chuckled in his deep, quiet Kentucky manner. “In any event, sir, you may count on my discretion…we’ll say it was passed on under the ‘need to know’ syndrome, since we’re not out of this fucking hellhole quite yet.”
Judd Crocker laughed. “May I call you Rick?”
“Of course.”
“Well, Rick, I am about to impart to you a brief shining example of a monumental snafu. On a dark night, way out there in the South China Sea, we managed to wrap our propeller hard around the long towed array of a six- thousand-ton Chinese destroyer.”
“Holy shit!”
“To the best of my recall, those may have been my own precise words when I realized what had happened.”
“Did you have the conn, sir?”
“Hell, no, I was asleep. I’d just come off watch.”
“How’d you find out?”
“Are you kidding? When something like that happens in a big nuclear boat, everything suddenly changes. You lose propulsion and it goes kinda quiet, the trim changes, and machinery sounds that you all live with all the time are suddenly different, even the angle of the boat is different…”
“Who had the conn, sir?”
“That, I am afraid, is classified. But the truth will in the end come out, I’m sure of that.”
“Do you think there will be a Navy inquiry?”
“Christ, yes. A full one first, listening to the evidence of everyone, plus his wife and his dog. That’ll take God knows how long. And there’ll be a recommendation, if they think someone failed in his duty: possibly that certain officers of
“You mean they may court-martial you, sir?”
“They just might. Unlikely, but possible. Any commanding officer who manages to lose his ship faces deep trouble. But in the light of the evidence, I hope they will find me not guilty…”
“I would, sir.”
“Thank you, Lieutenant Commander. I hope they’ll be as understanding.”
“Well, if they’re not, I’ll come forward and tell ’em you took out the armed camp commandant singlehanded right there in the death cells.”
“Don’t do that, for Christ’s sake. Some left-wing politician would probably want me charged with murder under the new Act to Prevent Unreasonable Cruelty to Far Eastern Dwarves.”
Both officers laughed, although somewhat grimly.
Colonel Lee Peng was mainly concerned about his orders. Personally issued by the Commander-in-Chief, they were coldly specific: “Seek and pursue any suspicious vessel in the area six miles due south of Xiachuan Dao. You have authority to open fire on, and sink, any United States naval vessel in national waters, or, in hot pursuit, in international waters.”
And now he stood on the bridge, continuing a short conference with his executive officer, Lt. Commander Shoudong Guan, and his combat systems chief, Lt. Commander Anwei Bao. And the discussion bore a somewhat fatalistic edge.
All three of the senior officers on board knew that the main trouble with the American Navy is that it is likely to hit back, very fast and very hard. They also knew that even if they managed to get helicopters up and were able to blitz the Americans with depth charges, depth bombs and maybe even torpedoes, an American SSN could still fire three or maybe even four torpedoes right back, hard and accurate. They’d keep well clear. And privately, all three of the Chinese officers thought that to open fire on a big, fast American warship of any kind was something very near to suicide.
Colonel Lee, however, was adamant. “The C-in-C left no room for manuever,” he said. “He told me to open fire and sink it.”
“Did he have a view about losing the best surface ship in our Navy?”
“No, Guan. He did not. He seemed not to listen, or at least not to hear. Then he told me the honor of my country was at stake. The only thing that mattered, both to him and to his masters in Beijing, was that we hit and sink a major American submarine. And he was certain there was at least one out there, possibly two…”
“Well, he may not know it, but I do,” replied Lieutenant Commander Anwei. “The Americans, if we find them, will hit back. Like mad dogs, probably. I think a lot of people may die out there this morning.”
“Have you considered the possibility of just ignoring everything and denying we ever saw anything?”
Colonel Lee smiled. But he said, “My old friend Guan, I must be honest. Yes, I have. But consider those consequences. It would be known that we saw something, possibly overhead, certainly among this very large crew. If we were to turn a blind eye in the face of the enemy, the entire senior command of this ship would be ‘disappeared,’ possibly jailed for life in national disgrace…I think we would all prefer to take our chances with American retribution, and return as heroes.”
“Hopefully not in a coffin,” replied Guan. “Anyway, we may not see anything.”
“Indeed.”
“Anyway, how do we look now, navigator…?”
“We’re fine, sir. Making very good time, just approaching longitude 111.30, just a little less than two hours to go, sir. This is a very fast ship. We’ll be in the area at a little before oh-six-thirty at this speed.”
It was the first time in living memory that anyone had marched along the corridor and just barged straight into the President’s private office without even knocking, regardless of who might be in there. Even President Clarke’s secretary was slightly taken aback as Arnold Morgan made his entry.
The Chief Executive, unused to being interrupted this brutally, was on the phone and looked annoyed until he saw who it was, and noticed the broad smile on the face of his National Security Adviser.
He just dropped the telephone, quite literally on the floor, and left it dangling there. And he stood up and said in a tremulous voice, “Tell me he’s safe, Arnie. Please just tell me he’s safe.”
“He’s safe, sir. On board the nuclear submarine USS
President Clarke almost collapsed with relief. He sat back in his chair and just kept saying, over and over, “Thank God…Thank God…Thank God…,” and he let the tears stream down his face. He was too happy to stop them, too joyful to care.
Admiral Morgan just said, gruffly, “You need me anymore, sir? We’re still pretty busy on this. I was going over to the Pentagon…”
“No, Arnold. No, I’m fine now. You go right ahead. But could you ask Kathy to come in and see me, soon as you’re on your way…”
“Sure, sir. Maybe catch you a little later?”
“Arnie, I sure hope so. If it hadn’t been for you…for your belief in our ability to hit back…I don’t think I would
