Shattered Trident (18 page)

Wei paused for a moment, then added, “Of course, if we were to begin convoying, those escorts would have to be taken away from our upcoming ‘exercise.’” Even in this supposedly secure area, Wei was circumspect. “We would probably have to cancel it altogether.”

The council’s expressions at that suggestion ranged from simple frowns, to shock, to near anger.

General Shi, listening to Wei’s explanation, turned back to Xi. “Colonel, I apologize. Our opponents are more than clever. They know our plans and present us with an unpleasant choice.”

“We have taken some steps,” Wei continued. “Patrol aircraft are flying along the routes of the heaviest shipping. It’s impossible to be everywhere at once, but they can react more quickly to news of a sinking than surface ships, and hopefully catch a submarine after an attack. Even if they can’t sink it, they can lay sonobuoys and possibly record its acoustic signature.”

“So we can’t prevent them from robbing another bank, but we may, with luck, be able to get the criminals’ license number as they speed away.” General Ye of the logistics department didn’t sound pleased.

“Confirming their identity is exactly what we need, General.” President Chen Dao had been silent since the start of Xi’s briefing in the operations room. Everyone turned to listen. “Economists on my staff say that on average, it takes a large tanker a day to meet China’s oil import needs. Thus, we’ve lost over twelve days’ supply in the past thirty-six hours,” he swept everyone in the room with his gaze, “without a hint of how to stop it. This will mean drawing even more heavily on our strategic reserves.”

Chen stood and moved toward the front of the room. Xi quickly stepped aside and sat down in an out-of-the-way corner. “Our enemies have correctly identified and struck at our greatest weakness. This does not change our needs. It highlights them. The ‘exercise’ will proceed with all possible speed. Its success will remove our vulnerability. It will also give our enemies something else to think about.

“China is strong enough to endure this attack, even if it grows worse. I will tell our economic planners to prepare for additional losses, so we can follow our chosen path without distraction.

“Colonel Xi, thank you for your hard work. Redouble your efforts to identify our antagonists. Also, inform General Bao that I wish to see him immediately. I have several questions for him.

“General Su, at this time we may not be able to demonstrate that Vietnam is behind this, but we must have a plan in place when their culpability can be proved. Develop one that inflicts punishing damage on their economy and armed forces, particularly their submarine base. However, do not use any of the units needed for the ‘exercise.’” Su nodded, but looked worried.

“Admiral Wei, determine if there is any way to speed up the timetable for the exercise. The sooner we consolidate our position, the better. Have a report ready by the end of the day.”

After Chen left, the commission members headed back aboveground. Wei at least felt hopeful. They had a plan, and he had something useful to do.

31 August 2016

USS
North Dakota

Off Hainan Island, South China Sea

Jerry sat in the wardroom, fidgeting, fighting the urge to go to the control room. The troops had seen his disagreement with Thigpen, and had heard about his dressing-down by Commodore Simonis. Although he’d done his best to stay positive, he was still frustrated. The crew picked up that vibe and their tension rose.

Bernie Thigpen poked his head in. Seeing that the wardroom was empty except for the captain, he came through the door, and after pouring a cup of coffee, sat down near Jerry. He wasn’t near enough to crowd his skipper, but close enough to show something was on his mind.

“What’s the latest scuttlebutt, XO?”

“A lot of the crew is wondering what we’re up to out here. One of the snipes described it as, ‘All the risks of combat but none of the laughs.’ A lot of them also think the Vietnamese are nuts starting a war with the Chinese.”

“What do you think, XO?”

Thigpen sighed. “I’m worried about what happens when you decide to stretch our orders again.”

He paused, waiting for a reaction, but Jerry didn’t respond immediately. Thigpen continued, “Nobody on this boat has ever done this before. That makes everyone nervous, me included, and the last thing the crew needs on top of the external situation is a disconnect between the CO and the XO.”

“Do you think I was wrong?” Jerry kept his tone even and nonconfrontational. He wanted a discussion, not an argument.

“It isn’t about being right or wrong. You’re the skipper, and it’s your call, but I think you violated the spirit, if not the letter of our orders. I understand why you did it, and I’m glad it worked. I like it when nobody dies, especially us. But the commodore was seriously pissed, which confirms my suspicion that the brass wants us to keep well clear.”

After a few moments, Jerry nodded. “You’re right, of course. I thought we could walk right up to the line without crossing it. In hindsight, though, I did cross the line, and you were right to point it out. But I can’t promise that something else like it won’t happen in the future.”

Thigpen made a face. “Where does that leave me, Skipper? It’s my job to warn you at times like that, but we can’t be seen disagreeing by the crew, especially now.”

“Also right,” Jerry answered. “Do you believe me when I say I’m listening when you raise those objections? That I’ll always act in the best interests of the mission and the boat?”

“Of course,” Thigpen answered almost automatically. Then he added firmly, “No doubts, Skipper.”

Jerry smiled. “Good. Doubts are my job. Since my orders have been ‘clarified’ by the commodore, I’ll do my best to follow them precisely. But you’re also right that this is a unique situation. If I have to leave our guidance behind, I’ll listen hard to your counsel, but it’s always going to be my decision.”

“And I’ll do my best to implement it,” Thigpen confirmed.

“If you want to take notes, or keep a separate log, I understand. If the fertilizer starts flying because of something I did, I’ll do my best to keep it away from you.”

“Thanks, Skipper, but that’s negative thinking, and the last thing I need is more paperwork. We’ll get it done somehow.”

The XO got up and left, his coffee untouched. Jerry thought about what Thigpen had said. Nothing had changed, really, but it was good that each had spoken his mind. And Bernie had started the conversation. Jerry felt he’d been assigned a very good XO.

*   *   *

Jerry made it a point now to always be in control during the UUV data downloads. The vehicles were on a four-hour collect-and-report cycle, sending their accumulated data to a satellite. He wanted to look at the data immediately, and was willing to risk coming shallow at predictable four-hour intervals to get that information the instant it was available. Of course,
North Dakota
did it at a different spot each time, and always made sure nothing was nearby.

Putting a communications mast up also allowed them to get the latest intelligence update from the squadron and to take a sniff of the local airwaves. That gave Jerry three good reasons to be in control.

Thigpen was working with Lieutenant Covey in the same back corner of the control room as before when he reported, “Skipper, you will want to see this.” The XO sounded worried.

As Jerry walked over, he tried to sound positive. “At least Fargo’s earning its keep.”

Thigpen didn’t smile. He just pointed to the display. “It’s another submarine.”

The screen showed a familiar mix of lines—the straight lines of merchants’ tracks, clustered to the north, as they sailed from Point A to Point B; the irregular shape drawn by Fargo’s path; and a highlighted line that entered from the southwest corner of the screen. It zigged once to the west, and some time later turned north again.

“This track data was collected ninety minutes ago. I’m starting the replay from that point. This is at ten to one.” The XO pressed a key and then stood aside.

Jerry watched the highlighted line advance. It seemed fast, even with the replay in fast-forward. He paused the display and checked the readouts. “He’s transiting at ten knots. This is not a diesel boat.”

“We both concur,” Thigpen replied. “It’s not a Chinese nuke, either. The quick ACINT analysis says it’s an Improved Akula I, so it has to be
Chakra,
the attack sub India leased from the Russians.”

“The Indians?” Jerry was so shocked all he could do was stare at the display, disbelieving.

“It’s the only thing that fits. I have sonar confirming the signature, but it can’t be the Russians. I checked the latest ONI data and all the Russian PACFLT Akulas are either in port or in the local operating areas. Which leaves only the Indian Akula. And watch what happens.” He pressed the key to resume the playback.

The submarine made another small course change and closed on one merchant’s track. Jerry didn’t need the computer’s help to see it was an intercept course, and a perfect setup for a torpedo attack. As the range closed, Jerry slowed the display rate down to three to one. The boat continued to close on the unsuspecting vessel, and at four thousand yards, almost point-blank range for a modern torpedo, the sub fired four weapons. They hit a few minutes later, with the explosions appearing on the display as a series of bright bearing strobes. The merchant’s track stopped moving and ended at the point of intercept.

The attacking sub turned away from its target and headed west. It was still in the UUV’s patrol zone when the playback ended ten minutes later.

Jerry had just watched what could have been a simulation in the attack trainer, or a video game. He was chilled by the destruction the attack had caused, but also felt detached. He had to make a conscious effort to remind himself that this was real.

“Four weapons, four hits. It must be—” He corrected himself. “—must have been a big one. Do we know who it was?” he asked.

“Thanks to the intelligence update, yes. It was MV
Hai Tun Zuo,
43,718 gross registered tons. She’s a tanker last known headed for Tianjin, China, with over 75,000 tons of refined petroleum products. Chinese-flagged, too. You were right, Skipper, for a target that big they would have used four torpedoes. She sent out an incomplete distress call less than an hour ago, and her emergency-position-indicating radio beacon has been activated. There was no information on survivors, or even her crew size.”

Jerry tried to estimate their chances of survival. A big ship like that could take a lot of damage. Depending on where the weapon hit, the crew could be hundreds of feet away from the impact point. But the crew quarters were right above the screw, if the weapons were Russian wake-homing torpedoes …

That wasn’t his problem. “Did the update from squadron include anything about this?”

The XO answered, “No, which is why we’re doing the analysis. They got Fargo’s sensor log the same time we did—” Thigpen glanced at the time. “Fifteen minutes ago.”

Jerry almost laughed. “So do you think they’re taking this any better than we are?”

“This isn’t the only thing they’ve got on their plate, Skipper. If this is the local situation, here’s the big picture.” He gestured toward the starboard VLSD. Jerry saw the image zoom out from the local area to include the entire South China Sea. The shipping lanes were marked by dozens, perhaps over a hundred symbols for merchant ships moving along the coast, and through the different straits. A heavy band of traffic moved straight across the middle, cutting from southwest near the Vietnamese coast and heading northeast, passing south of Taiwan.

Dotting the shipping lanes were red circles, each with a time. Jerry could see four, including one that corresponded with the loss of
Hai Tun Zuo
. He checked the times.

“All in the past eight hours?” Jerry asked incredulously. The circles were scattered all over the South China Sea and just south of Taiwan. He shook his head sadly; the attacks had already claimed twelve ships. Resigned, he said, “It’s become a war. Twelve ships lost while we sat here and watched.” Thigpen heard his CO’s frustration.

Jerry started looking at the information on the ships that had been sunk. Maybe there was a pattern he could squeeze some data out of.

He didn’t have to work too hard. “Look at this. They’re all tankers, and all bound for Chinese ports.”

“Which means they’re loaded,” Thigpen continued.

“At least we know their intentions,” Jerry remarked. “Shutting off Chinese oil imports. This is going to get very bad.”

31 August 2016

0415 Local Time

Georgetown, Washington, D.C.

Ray Kirkpatrick had called Joanna at her home. There was no need to explain, nor could he give her details over a cell phone. And it didn’t really matter that it had been 3:30
A.M.
, after a very long day.

By the time Joanna had dressed and given her happily sleeping husband a good-bye kiss, the car had arrived. The streets were empty, of course. She used the ten-minute ride to check her smartphone and clear away the last of the cobwebs.

She was in the situation room ten minutes after that. Kirkpatrick didn’t even bother greeting her. “We went to DEFCON III in the Pacific an hour ago. All exercises have been canceled. Detached personnel recalled to their units, the whole banana. The president gave the order and went back to bed. I doubt he’ll get much sleep, though. There have been three more sinkings since you left.”

“Have there been any attacks on U.S.-flagged ships?” she asked.

“No, only Chinese-flagged and -owned tankers bound for Chinese ports. It’s probably the only thing that will keep oil prices from tripling tomorrow morning. They’ll still go up somewhat, of course, but that’s somebody else’s problem.

“And frankly, I’m glad we’re at DEFCON III,” Kirkpatrick remarked almost casually. “It means we’re better able to react, and the rest of the world knows it, too. But there’s more bad news: the Indians have joined the party.”