subsurface threat as low, basing its assessment on a careful calculation of all reported and confirmed sub kills by U.S. and South Korean forces. Some of his officers even argued that the entire NK submarine force had been wiped out. Brown wasn’t willing to be so optimistic. Preparedness never hurt. Never.
The plot showed the overall formation making a steady ten knots as it traveled northward. Individual frigates and destroyers in the ASW screen showed more variation — with some sprinting ahead at twenty or twenty-five knots, pinging with active sonar, while others drifted slowly at five knots, listening with passive systems. The slowly moving array of dots and lines was almost hypnotic.
Brown switched his gaze to a larger-scale display, one that showed the seas and land around his task force out to a distance of more than two hundred nautical miles. Blips marked the Soviet and Chinese patrol planes hovering near the edge of the declared exclusion zone. And a blinking notation near the corner indicated that the next scheduled Soviet RORSAT ocean surveillance satellite could be expected overhead within minutes.
The admiral grinned to himself, noting the surprised looks among his officers as he continued to stand quietly. Everybody knew that the Soviets were feeding every piece of data they got back to the North Koreans. And every staff officer in the Flag Plot had been prepared for another of his tirades about the damned Russian snoopers.
After all, how could the task force he commanded possibly hope to make a successful landing under constant observation? If the North Koreans and their Soviet backers could track them constantly, the Marines would find NK reinforcements waiting for them on whatever beach Brown picked. And that could spell disaster — no matter how many airstrikes the
“Admiral?”
Brown turned. Captain Sam Ross, the commander of his threat team, stood waiting with a message flimsy in hand. Ross looked as animated as the admiral had ever seen him.
“Admiral, we just got the latest report from our satellites and recon aircraft. The NKs are definitely on to us. One evaluation is that we’ve got the better part of at least two NK divisions moving to block any possible landing site.”
Brown grinned wider. “Outstanding, Sam. Uncle Kim seems worried by our presence.” Then his grin disappeared. “Okay, I’d like a more comprehensive threat evaluation from your people within the hour. We may just be out here to wriggle, but I’m damned if I want to come away with any teeth marks.” He turned back to his study of the display.
Captain Nikolai Mikhailovich Markov lay shoeless in his bunk, reading a tactical manual. He looked up without surprise when
He’d been expecting this visit from the
Today, though, Petrov was not wholly his normal, stolid, unexcitable self. His hands actually shook as he handed Markov a thin sheaf of papers. “Comrade Captain, one of the messages is in Special Code!”
Markov kept his own excitement in check as he looked up from his manual. “Excellent, Petrov. Ask Lieutenant Commander Koloskov to come here at once.”
The radioman left hastily, knowing better than to run, but hurrying all the same.
Markov swung out of his bunk and started relacing his shoes, all his prior torpor gone without trace. He’d thought that he and
He would have to wait to find what the admirals in Vladivostok wanted, though. Regulations required that both the captain and his second-in-command, the
He turned at a soft rap on his cabin door. “Come.”
It was Koloskov, his political officer. “You asked to see me, Comrade Captain?”
“Yes, Andrei Nikolayev, it seems we have a message to decode.”
“Certainly, Comrade Captain.” Without blinking an eye Koloskov sat down next to his captain and took the blank piece of paper he offered.
Using a lead-lined code book placed between them, the two men worked in silence, translating the jumble of letters and nonsense phrases into a readable message.
The message was short:
Markov drew a sudden breath and double-checked the message’s authentication codes. They were absolutely correct. Then he compared the main body of the signal with the
The contents were electrifying. He’d seen orders like that before, dozens of times, in fact — but only during fleet exercises. Never in peacetime. He read it again, checking the decoding to be sure he hadn’t left out a crucial phrase. No, he’d been right the first time through. The Fleet’s signal did not say “simulate attack.” It demanded the real thing.
Koloskov seemed even more shocked. “Comrade Captain, are we at war?”
Markov paused before answering, “I do not think so, Andrei Nikolayev.” He rubbed his chin thoughtfully and then ticked off his reasoning on his fingers. “First, there has been no general war message. And second, the Fleet has not instructed us to attack just any American ship. Only those in this amphibious task force of theirs. So I would guess that we have just been volunteered for limited service with the North Korean Navy.”
He paused again. “But whether the motherland itself is truly at war or not is unimportant, eh? We must behave as if we were. If the Americans find us sniffing around their carriers again, they will do their best to kill us. So we must kill them first, agreed?”
Koloskov nodded his agreement. Or was it merely his understanding? Markov wasn’t sure.
For the present he decided he didn’t care. He read through the message again. Real combat, considered and ordered, unbelievable. He’d prepared for this moment for years, ever since his first days as a snot-nosed cadet, but he’d never really thought it would ever happen. Why,
And dangerous as well. Someone in Moscow was obviously willing to risk escalating this conflict to the superpower level. Markov hoped his superiors had correctly judged the risks they were running, but knew he couldn’t allow himself to second-guess them. He had his orders and they would have to be carried out.
Both he and Koloskov knew why he had been chosen. His experience, his past performance, had all been exemplary. Then, chosen to make that damned simulated attack based on his merits, he had failed. Now he was being given a second chance, a real chance.
He wouldn’t fail.
Brown studied the assembled faces of his staff for a moment before continuing. They still looked alert, despite the hour-long briefing, and now he saw eager anticipation as they absorbed its implications. He cleared his throat and put both hands on the lectern. “Gentlemen, you’ve just heard the details of what will undoubtedly be the single most crucial operation of this war. And though we may not be in line this time for the best actor award, I’ll be
