Seawolf Mask of Command (66 page)

Brodie glanced over at him, thinking for a moment and then explained, “I’m not about to jump start World War III until I know for certain we have no choice,” he replied simply.

Graves understood perfectly the orders that went along with firing any nuclear weapon. Besides the elaborate safeguards that were meant to preclude either an independent missile launch by a rogue officer, or an accidental launch by some computer foul up, the final check on whether or not the
Seawolf
could launch would be common sense. If either Brodie or Graves felt their orders made no sense, they had the authority to abort the launch. Of course, they had to have a real reason to believe the orders were erroneous other than just a hunch. But Graves, who didn’t want to incinerate potentially tens of thousands of North Koreans, wasn’t about to argue with Brodie for his prudence.

“I mean,” Brodie confided to Graves, “does any of this make sense?” He paused and then said, “The North Koreans have been rattling the saber for decades, but they’re smart enough to know that if they go nuclear we’ll turn them into a cinder.”

“True enough,” Graves agreed. “But how do you intend to prove it? If we’re ordered to launch and you don’t, there’ll be a board of inquiry. If you can’t show cause to abort, they’ll have your nuts.”

“I’d rather explain myself to a bunch of Brass Hats than accidentally kill thousands of people that never did anything wrong other than having the bad manners to be born on the wrong side of the 38th parallel.”

“I’m with you on that,” Graves agreed, relieved Brodie was finally explaining himself.

“Just get back to the forward escape hatch. I’ll keep an eye on the store up here,” Brodie ordered.

“Aye, sir.” Graves headed aft.

Brodie turned his attention back to the image from the periscope. The SDV had just appeared in the murky water moving slowly toward the
Seawolf.
But as he watched, he could see it was moving awkwardly. The driver and the navigator had their “doors” slid back, and their heads were sticking up out of the mini sub, piloting it by eyesight and not by the GPS. One of the stabilization fins was flapping along the side and there appeared to be more damage to the SDV’s hull. Finally, an ominous stream of air bubbles were rising up from the craft. These air bubbles would act like a clear visual signal for anyone on the surface searching for the SDV. Plus the clanking of the stabilization fin could be picked up by passive sonar easily.

“Con, sonar,”
Chief Miller reported.
“I have an active sonar search bearing zero-nine-five, range less than three thousand yards. It sounds like a dipping sonar from a helicopter.”

“Roger Chief, where’s the
Tral
?” Brodie asked as he looked at a stopwatch he wore around his neck.

“Eighteen hundred yards, bearing constant, sir,”
Miller replied, which meant the
Tral
was coming directly at them. No one in the control room had to be reminded that it was virtually impossible for the
Tral
to just happen to be on an intercept course with the
Seawolf
.

But before Brodie could answer, he heard Miller’s frantic call,
“Transients! Torpedo in the water, bearing zero-nine-five! The helicopter dropped a torpedo. It went active as soon as it hit the water and is searching.”

“Very well.” Brodie started the stopwatch and then spoke with a calmness belying the growing peril of the moment to the officer of the deck. “Mister Massanelli, please bring the hands to general quarters.”

There was a moment of stunned silence as the dozens of men trying to watch what was happening in the control room heard his calm, almost conversational tone, order them to battle stations. Then, as the alarm claxon blared overhead, there was instant pandemonium as men ran for whichever exit from the control room would get them to their battle station the quickest.

Brodie, mindful of the danger his boat and crew were now in, knew they had run out of time and options. They had to move and move fast if they were going to escape yet again. He called Graves now positioned at the forward escape trunk where the SEALs would soon be reentering the sub.

“XO?”

“Jason,” he heard Brodie’s steady voice over the phone. “We’re about to have the Tral breathing down our necks. Do you have communications with the divers working in the DDS?”

“Aye, Skipper,”
Jason answered.
“How much time do we have?”

“We’re out of time,” Brodie admitted, hoping to keep his own concern out of his tone. His young crew had been through a lot in the last seventy-two hours, and the last thing they needed to see was a frantic commanding officer. “Have them get our people out and set the self-destruct charges in the SDV. We need to button up and get underway.”

“Aye, sir.”

Brodie hung up the ship’s phone and returned his attention to the tactical display. The torpedo was still searching for a target, but its search pattern was bringing it closer to the
Seawolf.
He listened impassively as Andrew Stahl reported six tubes ready for firing. COB was watching him nervously. Their orders prevented him firing on the Koreans in their territorial waters. Yet Brodie had loaded four torpedoes which could only be used against the
Tral.
In addition, Brodie had also ordered two Aselsan decoys loaded.

“Set Aselsan in tube seven for course bearing zero-nine-zero, have it run for five hundred yards and then turn onto a new course due north.”

“Aye-aye, sir,” Stahl replied. Brodie could hear the confusion in Stahl’s voice. Brodie was ordering the decoy to enter the minefield.

COB turned to Brodie. “Condition Zebra set throughout the ship. All departments report general quarters manned and ready, Captain.”

Brodie looked at the television screen showing what was happening on the aft deck of the
Seawolf
. The launching cradle for the SDV was being retracted while the SDV itself was swarming with support divers helping get the passengers out and back into the DDS. Another group of divers were standing by the large hatch used to seal the DDS once everyone was inside.

Then Brodie saw a group of divers swimming back toward the open hatch of the DDS. With these support divers, Brodie saw what had to be the slightly built Korean. But there were also two men in camouflage drysuits indicating they were SEALs who’d gone ashore. At least one of the SEALs needed assistance and both men had what appeared to be battle dressing on them. He then saw two divers swimming with someone in baggy camouflage and long flowing blond hair.

Brodie felt his jaw tense. It could only be her. She wasn’t wearing a LAR-7 rebreather like everyone else, and she wasn’t moving. He could see no clear injury to her or any of the others in the grainy image, but there could be no doubt things had gone terribly wrong. He’d sent five people ashore to snatch the doctor. There should be a total of six of them returning, but all he counted was four. He knew the SEALs orders only too well. Two missing men, meant two dead. There would be no prisoners.

Another memory to live with.

“Sir, tube seven ready in all respects,” Stahl reported anxiously, his finger on the launch button.

Brodie look down from the image on the screen, not even hearing Stahl.

“Captain?” Stahl asked.

“Fire seven,” Brodie ordered, feeling a terrible sinking sensation deep in the pit of his stomach.

“Fire seven, aye, sir,” Stahl replied and launched the Aselsan submarine decoy.

“Sir?” COB asked softly with a hint of concern in his voice. He’d stepped close to Brodie and lowered his voice so no one else could hear. Brodie knew COB thought he was crazy, but didn’t have time to explain his reasoning. The Aselsan would enter the minefield almost immediately. As soon as it did, the minefield would come alive with activity as bottom moored homing torpedoes went after the decoy. Brodie’s hope was that the noise created would mask any sound the
Seawolf
would soon make as he maneuvered to avoid the inbound torpedo.

Brodie gripped his friend’s forearm. “Go aft, help Jason get all of the divers out of the DDS,” he told him. “We’re going to have to move and move fast, and they can’t be in there as deep as we’re going to be heading.” Brodie explained quickly.

The DDS was made out of HY80 steel and could withstand a depth of no more than two hundred feet if pressurized. But, if there were no personnel in the DDS, it didn’t have to be pressurized and could be flooded and so withstand any depth the
Seawolf
might dive to.

“Aye, sir.”

Jason Graves stood nervously beneath the hatch leading to the escape trunk. The hatch was sealed and the trunk itself was flooded. Beside him, waiting to receive casualties, was Doc Reed with several men. Graves checked his watch. The divers were going directly from the open sea, through the transit trunk, and into the submarine escape trunk because Brodie needed them inside the sub as soon as possible. But all of the divers couldn’t enter the escape trunk at once. So the Dry Deck Storage team would have to wait in the transfer trunk until the first group of divers cleared the escape trunk.

By the book, all of the divers should take a few minutes to decompress, but there was no time for the book. None of the SEALs had been very deep, and they would just have to risk the bends. It was either that, or all of them die when the
Seawolf
was caught in the trap currently closing around it.

Graves kept his eye on the various gauges, waiting for the indicator light letting him know the SEALs, Kristen, and Dr. Dar-Hyun were in the trunk and the outer hatch was sealed. The
Seawolf
could not begin moving until all of the divers were at least inside the DDS and couldn’t go deep until they were all inside the hull of the submarine itself.

After what felt like an agonizingly long time, the SEALs in the DDS reported it was sealed. Graves immediately relayed the information to Brodie. Seconds later, he felt the
Seawolf
accelerate. COB arrived a few seconds later.

“Are they all inside yet?” COB asked.

“Negative,” Graves replied. “What’s happening?”

“That helicopter dropped a torpedo about three thousand yards off. It’s searching.” COB explained. “We need to get everyone inside, fast!”

“The first group is in the escape trunk, and we’re pumping the water out,” Graves explained. “How much time do we have?”

“None, the skipper just put the hammer down and is taking us out to sea.”

The squawk box outside the escape trunk then came to life.
“We’re depressurizing now.”
Graves didn’t recognize the SEAL’s voice.

Graves clicked the talk button. “What’s the status of the casualties, over?”

“One bullet wound in the upper chest and the other is a heart problem, plus multiple minor wounds.”

“How long before the SDV’s scuttling charges will detonate?” Graves asked.

“It’s on a thirty minute timer and started eight minutes ago.”

Graves passed this bit of information up to the control room and then waited for the decompression to end. As he waited, he was struck with the terrible feeling that he was going to see Kristen’s lifeless body come tumbling out of the hatch as soon as they opened it. How many were dead? He couldn’t know. He glanced at the gauge and saw the pressure was now virtually equal. Everyone watched the wheel locking mechanism spin, and Graves motioned for Doc Reed’s men to get moving.

Water showered down all over them as the hatch was lifted up in the escape trunk. Graves scrambled up inside, almost frantic to see what was going on, and COB was right behind him. The chamber was damp and crowded with SEALs. Most were with the mini sub crew, but he saw two wearing the camouflage drysuits the assault team had worn. They’d sent four SEALs ashore. He didn’t need to ask questions to know the missing men would not be returning.

Hoover was checking the Korean’s vital signs, and Graves saw the corpsman had deep scratches across his face, as well as a rip in the right sleeve of his wetsuit and a bloody bandage over a wound to his left arm. He then saw Kristen and nearly gasped.

There were still three inches of water on the floor of the lockout chamber and she was sitting in it with Dar-Hyun’s head in her lap. If her eyes hadn’t been open and she weren’t talking softly to the doctor in Mandarin, he would’ve thought her dead. Her cheeks were like ash, with no color at all except streaks of black grease paint. Her eyes—which were normally bright and clear—looked hollow and lifeless. There were scratches on her cheeks and one of her ears was cut and dripping blood onto her torn camouflage blouse. She had a battle dressing on her right upper arm and someone had ripped her blouse open, tearing the buttons off in the process.

Hamilton was sitting back, a pair of soaked and blood-stained battle dressings covering a wound in his upper left chest. But, he didn’t appear to be in any distress. Instead, he was in the process of pulling a piece of chewing gum out of a waterproof bag and sticking it in his mouth. “What’s up, sir?” the unflappable SEAL asked casually.

“Jesus,” he whispered upon seeing them.

Kristen looked at the XO. She couldn’t quite form a smile or make any real sign of recognition. Instead, she settled for a brief, tired nod. She then turned her attention back to Dr. Dar-Hyun. The Korean was resting his head in her lap as she talked to him and caressed his cheek, trying to keep him calm.

“Sir, we’re safe on the submarine now. We’re going to help you down out of this room and get you to the ship’s hospital, do you understand?”
she said as calmly as she could, still speaking in Mandarin.

Choi gripped his chest in apparent pain, but he nodded and then said a few words.

“What’s he saying?” Hoover asked as he listened to Choi’s heart with a stethoscope while the other divers started exiting the escape trunk.

“He says he’s having difficulty breathing,” she translated. She then glanced back up at the XO who was looking at her with alarm on his face. “Sir, we need some oxygen in here for the doctor. Is Doc Reed down there?”

“That’ll have to wait. Right now we need to get everyone out of here,” Graves urged them. “We got North Korean’s climbing all over us.”