Seawolf Mask of Command (29 page)

With luck, it would be again.

Wardroom, USS Seawolf

K
risten had expected the second time she took the engineering exam to be a little easier. The written portion certainly was, and she’d breezed through it without trouble. But, the practical application had been, without a doubt, twice as hard. And not because of Ski who simply observed. Instead, it was Graves and Brodie who challenged her with far more difficult and realistic problems to solve. In every space she had to show proficiency in repairing battle damage. Unlike the previous test that had focused on simply knowledge and operational maintenance, this test was different. Rerouting power, flood control, and emergency repairs were what the captain and XO were most interested in, and they cut her no slack.

The test lasted all day, and once they dismissed her, she showered and then retreated to the wardroom where she found all of the off-duty officers already seated for a rare meal together. Now that they were at sea, the ship was running on an eighteen-hour cycle with three six-hour watches. Everyone stood six hours of duty, then six hours of training, and then a six hour rest period before doing it all over again. The result was that everyone’s biological clock was upset.

“Howd’ya do?” Andrew Stahl asked as Kristen entered and moved to her customary seat.

“I’d hate to guess,” she replied honestly, afraid she might have actually done worse on the practical this time around.

Kristen took her seat and no sooner had she sat down, than Gibbs delivered her tea. The usual exchange immediately ensued as the effervescent Gibbs went out of his way to cater to her. Across the table, Martin was at his seat and writing a letter to his wife, his unopened qualifications manual beside him.

It was no secret that Martin had earned the ire of most of the wardroom. All of the qualified junior officers took turns monitoring the reactor and the engineering spaces, and until Martin was qualified, he could take up none of the slack for the others. Thus, until he was a certified watch stander, he was simply along for the ride and hopefully studying for his exams. But Kristen had noticed he spent more time writing letters to his wife and pining away for her than studying.

“I saw you in reactor control,” Terry chimed in. “It looked like the Blade was hitting you pretty hard,” he observed with a friendly smile.

“You aren’t kidding,” she admitted as Gibbs continued to fuss over her. “I thought the reactor was my strength, but I’m not so sure any more.”

“Petty Officer Gibbs,” Martin asked, noticing the attention Gibbs was giving Kristen. “Could I get some more coffee, please?”

Without missing a beat Gibbs replied, “It’s in the pot, Mister Martin.”

Kristen had learned Gibbs had his favorites in the wardroom. Those who were considered one of these elites could do no wrong in Gibbs’ eyes, and he fawned over them, making certain they were cared for like royalty. Thus far she noticed that Brodie, the XO, Andy Stahl the weapons officer, and Ryan Walcott the operations officer had made the cut. Then there was herself. From there, she’d learned he had a pecking order with Terry near the top and Martin at the very bottom. Gibbs was barely polite to the young Ensign.

Kristen thought she knew why. During the
Seawolf’s
transit to the Pacific, when she’d gone in the water, it had been Martin on the sail with the responsibility of keeping an eye out on the aft deck where she’d been working. Kristen had learned that at the time she was diving in after Hodges, Martin had been huddling for warmth, his parka hood pulled all the way up, and not keeping an eye out. The result had been, by all accounts, a blistering rebuke first by the XO and then a formal reprimand by Brodie. Since then, Martin had been ostracized by his peers. Kristen had done her best to be pleasant to him. She knew what it was like to be despised by her peers, and she took no pleasure in seeing it happen to someone else.

“Are they allowing family grams yet?” Kristen asked Martin, referring to a Navy-operated telegram service for sub crews.

Martin looked up from his letter and shook his head. “Have you heard anything about them starting it up?” he asked hopefully. “Rebecca’s birthday is in January, and I want to let her know I might miss it.”

Kristen almost regretted engaging him in conversation. “I’m sure the squadron’s family readiness officer has briefed the wives,” she offered, trying her best to sound sympathetic. She then motioned toward his unopened qualification manual. She knew the main reason her fellow officers had accepted her so readily was because of her work ethic. But thus far, Martin had done little more than complain and write letters home.

“I’m almost finished,” he replied, referring to his latest letter.

Any more discussion was interrupted as the XO, followed by Ski, entered and took their customary seats.

“Is the skipper not joining us, XO?” Weps asked.

“He’s in the radio shack,” Graves reported. “Another message just came in.”

Since leaving port, Brodie had received at least one or two messages a day that were for his eyes only. The contents of these messages he’d yet to reveal to the officers, but Kristen had seen Lieutenant Charles Horner, the ship’s communications officer, looking pretty worried. It was Horner’s job to receive all messages, decode them, and deliver them to the captain. So, Horner knew what was in them. But he’d remained just as tightlipped as Brodie.

Five minutes later, the captain arrived, a folded message tucked in his left breast pocket. He gave no indication that anything might be amiss by his mannerisms as he began joking with several of his officers. But Kristen saw Horner’s expression as he came in behind Brodie. Horner had beads of sweat on his forehead and looked nearly ashen.

Brodie handed the message to Graves while he continued his light-hearted chitchat with his officers. Kristen said nothing, instead she watched Graves and saw the clear concern on his face as he finished reading, folded the message back up, and returned it to the captain. But no words were exchanged regarding the contents of the message. Instead, Brodie continued the usual banter as the meal was served.

Kristen had hoped he would tell her the results of her examination immediately, but he had a habit of not discussing ship’s business during meals. So she waited, trying to hide her impatience as the conversation continued. But once the meal was complete, Brodie shifted to business.

“I’m afraid we’ve had a slight change of plans,” he told them, fingering the message in his pocket.

The possibility the captain might finally fill them all in regarding the nature of their orders and the purpose for carrying two nuclear weapons on board caused everyone to sit up and give him their undivided attention.

“As you already know, we’re heading across the Pacific for a rendezvous with the
Frank Cable.
However, I’ve just been informed the
Frank Cable
has been unavoidably detained. The result is a new rendezvous point in the vicinity of the Bayonnaise Rocks south of Japan.”

“That’ll take us about a week at our current speed, Skipper,” Ryan Walcott offered. As operations officer, he was also the ship’s navigator.

“Not so fast, Ryan,” Brodie explained with a hint of exasperation. “It seems a P-3 Orion out of Japan detected a probable Russian submarine somewhere in the vicinity, which means the Russians might have some knowledge of the initial rendezvous point.”

“Somebody blabbed,” Terry said as he shook his head in disgust.

“Possibly,” Brodie replied. “But, security has been pretty tight on this one, so it may just be an over anxious Orion crew. Regardless, we’re going to slow down a little to let our sonar shack have a good listen to what might be around us.”

“Do you want a direct course for the Rocks, Skipper?” Ryan asked.

“No,” Brodie replied. “I want to enter the Kuril Trench, follow it south to the Japan Trench, staying deep until we reach the Marianas Trench. The Marianas will take us to within a hundred miles of the Bayonnaise.”

Kristen understood what Brodie was hoping to do. The
Seawolf
was one of the deepest diving submarines in the world, capable of reaching depths that would crush any other US boat. He planned on using the deep ocean trenches to help hide the submarine as they headed south. But there was also a problem associated with using these trenches; the
USS Jimmy Carter
had been in one when it accidentally ran into an underwater mountain.

“It’s awful narrow down there, Skipper,” the XO commented, offering a warning.

“It wouldn’t be any fun if it were easy,” Brodie replied confidently.

“When do you want to start the run, Skipper?” Ryan asked.

“That all depends, Ryan,” Brodie said to his operations officer. “Has sonar been able to track down that gremlin in the new processor?” The sonar department had received an upgrade to the processing equipment while in Bremerton just prior to departure. They’d tested it off the coast of Washington, and everything had been operating smoothly. But since then, an anomaly had developed, and Kristen knew the sonar technicians on board had, as of yet, been unable to fix it.

“Chief Miller’s been working on it, Skipper” Ryan answered. “We think there’s some integration problem, but he hasn’t been able to run it down just yet.”

Brodie nodded his head thoughtfully, then looked down toward Kristen. “You worked with the new BQQ-10 processor in Hawaii, didn’t you, Lieutenant?”

Kristen had, but her work had been classified, and she wasn’t aware the report she’d prepared following her work had been released yet. “Yes, sir,” she answered, without adding any detail.

He stifled a yawn. “Would you mind delaying your first engineering watch to give the techies a hand in the cabinet room?”

A sly grin had broken out on his face, and she saw his eyes twinkle slightly. She then noticed Graves giving her a pleased smile followed by knowing grins from her fellow officers, all looking at her with similar expressions. It took her a few moments to register what he’d actually meant. “You mean, I passed?” she asked excitedly, having a hard time not breaking out in a grin from ear to ear.

“It would seem the second time is a charm, Lieutenant,” Brodie offered. “Congratulations.”

“Indeed, Lieutenant,” Graves added and stretched out his hand. Kristen had to lean across the table, but she managed to shake his hand.

Brodie and the XO’s congratulations were quickly followed by everyone else’s. They were all quick to shake her hand and then remind Ski to make certain she was added to the duty rotation in engineering immediately. Martin congratulated her like the others, but she could see the disappointment in his eyes that he hadn’t yet qualified himself.

“Let me know when you’re done in the cabinet room, Lieutenant,” Ski said in congratulations. “That way I can insert you into the rotation.”

Kristen assumed this meant he would plug her into the schedule as soon as he could, but she didn’t care. At the moment, nothing he could say could dampen her spirits.

The Supreme People’s Assembly, Pyongyang, Democratic People’s Republic of Korea

G
eneral Cheong-In listened to the Supreme Leader as he gave the unexpected speech to the entire Assembly. According to the Constitution, the Supreme Leader answered to the Supreme People’s Assembly, but in practice nothing further from the truth was possible. The Assembly couldn’t even be considered a rubber stamp. The Supreme Leader was just that, the ultimate law in the land. What he decided, the Assembly dutifully agreed to.

Cheong-In had heard similar speeches in the past, but given the current climate of growing tension on the peninsula, he felt the cold sweat in his hands. This wasn’t just any speech. This was a war message.

The reserve army was still mobilizing in secret, but he doubted the Americans were blind to millions of DPRK soldiers heading to the southern border. He’d also heard rumors about special operations forces already moving into the south. War seemed imminent, and the speech he was listening to did nothing to dispel this belief.

As a soldier in the DPRK, he’d benefited greatly from the “Military First” policy that made certain that, although the average citizen in the DPRK suffered from starvation and inadequate housing, the soldiers were taken care of. He had enjoyed the perks, he’d worked within the system, he’d trained hard when necessary, but he’d long ago lost the blind belief in the might of the DPRK that so many of his countrymen lived with. He knew the North was a paper tiger. He’d read classified reports indicating the capability of the American military, and although he might applaud the Leader’s speech, he was uncertain. This didn’t sound like the usual bluster. Cheong-In was well aware that the DPRK’s nuclear tests had been only partially successful. He knew the strategic rocket program was far from impressive. He knew that even a maximum effort by their nation’s military would be a futile gesture if they confronted the might of the American military. A single flight of American B-2 Spirit bombers could sweep over the DPRK and in one pass, destroy the majority of the nation’s significant infrastructure.