Shattered Trident (38 page)

“Commodore,
Santa Fe
’s got a major problem,” said Walker, handing the paper to Simonis. “The aft bearing on the port main engine is overheating again.”

“I thought that deficiency had been repaired!” fumed the commodore.

“We made temporary repairs, sir, just before
Santa Fe
sortied with the rest of the squadron. Apparently it didn’t hold. On top of that, Halsey is reporting the same thing the other three skippers have already noted. The Littoral Alliance boats aren’t backing down anymore.”

Simonis snatched the paper from Walker and read the message from
Santa Fe
. His eyes narrowed as he read Halsey’s description of a near collision with a Japanese
Soryu-
class sub.
Santa Fe
’s skipper remarked that it was his opinion that the very close pass was intentional. Without speaking, Simonis handed the message to Jacobs. The CSO scanned it quickly, shaking his head as he read.

“Commodore, we’ve got to get our boats out of there. This spoiler tactic has run its course and is no longer effective,” Jacobs said with a mixture of concern and frustration.

“No shit, Sherlock!” snapped Simonis. “That is exactly what I’m going to do, even if I have to ram the point down the CNO’s throat!”

“Commodore,” interrupted the IT petty officer, “Washington is up on the VTC.”

“Understood,” Simonis replied. “Bring us online.”

“Aye, sir,” answered the petty officer. “White House, Squadron Fifteen is up online, how do you receive?”

“We have you on both audio and visual. Please stand by.”

Simonis watched as two small sub-displays, with the CNO’s conference room in the Pentagon and COMSUBPAC at Pearl Harbor, popped up in the lower corners. It was just a minute longer before Admiral Hughes, Rear Admiral Burroughs, and Dr. Patterson were all in view. Simonis reached over and hit the mute button on his control console, activating his microphone. He saw no purpose in waiting any longer.

“Good morning Dr. Patterson, Admiral Hughes, and good afternoon to you, Admiral Burroughs.”

“Good evening to you too, Commodore,” Patterson replied. The two admirals also sent their greetings.

Without waiting, Simonis launched immediately into his report. “Since my last SITREP, the situation in the South and East China Seas has continued to deteriorate. Two more Chinese merchant ships have been sunk, one medium-sized tanker and one bulk carrier. This brings today’s total to four ships thus far. While this represents a slight decrease in the number of sinkings from yesterday, I attribute the reduction to the continuing decline in overall shipping traffic in the affected areas.

“There is growing evidence that the Littoral Alliance has deployed more submarines into the East China Sea now that the Indian blockade has effectively closed down any approaches to the South China Sea. It is also apparent that China is deploying her own submarines, probably to interdict Japanese and South Korean shipping. My only asset in the East China Sea area has reported nearly a one hundred percent increase in submerged contacts.”

“Chuck,” interrupted Burroughs, “do you have any idea on what China is deploying?”

“Our best estimate, sir, is at least three Type 039 Songs, and a like number of Type 035 Mings.
Oklahoma City
held four Chinese boats at one time as they passed through his patrol area. The commanding officer indicated that a Ming appeared to be heading toward South Korea, while three Songs were heading southeast out into the Pacific.”

Burroughs shook his head. “The situation is getting worse by the day. Dr. Patterson, I recommend that a warning be issued to U.S. merchant ships to avoid Japanese and South Korean ports. We don’t want our ships steaming into an expanding war zone.”

“Concur with the recommendation,” echoed Hughes.

“All right, gentleman, I’ll forward your recommendation to the president,” Joanna responded.

“Thank you, ma’am,” said Hughes. Burroughs nodded his approval.

“Commodore, what is the current status of the spoiler campaign?” Joanna asked, moving on.

“Frankly, Dr. Patterson, it is rapidly losing effectiveness. All four commanding officers have reported it is getting harder and harder to break up any attack by a Littoral Alliance submarine. Within the last twenty-four hours, we have only forced a couple of their boats to withdraw
without
attacking. That’s about a thirty-three percent effectiveness rate. In addition, my COs have noted a significant increase in the use of active sonar by alliance boats, as well as aggressive maneuvering. As I reported in my last situation report, Commander Mitchell lost one of his long-endurance UUVs this morning when it was rammed and sunk by the Indian Akula. Now, Commander Halsey has just recently reported a very close pass, a ‘near collision,’ as he called it, by a Japanese
Soryu
-class submarine. In Commander Halsey’s opinion, the maneuver by the Japanese boat was intentional.”

Simonis paused momentarily to let his message sink in, but he wasn’t finished yet. Not by a long shot.

“Ma’am, it is clear that we have exhausted the element of surprise, and that Littoral Alliance submarines have been instructed, at the very least, to ignore us. Furthermore, I view the recent aggressive maneuvering as a more explicit warning for us to get out of their way. Finally, with the increased deployment of hostile units into the South and East China Seas, the risk to our submarines continues to grow, while mission effectiveness has declined sharply. It is my professional opinion, Dr. Patterson, that we can no longer sustain the spoiler campaign, and that the probability of us losing a submarine is becoming more and more likely. I, therefore, most strongly urge the president to order the withdrawal of my squadron from the declared war zones.”

There, he’d said his piece. He’d been respectful, but Simonis hoped the bluntness of his message would finally shake some sense into the senior decision-makers. Patterson nodded slightly, while Hughes and Burroughs both looked composed. This wasn’t the first time they’d heard the squadron commodore’s strong views on the matter.

“I appreciate your views and concerns, Captain,” replied Joanna. “And to be equally frank, the recent actions taken by Littoral Alliance submarines isn’t the only warning we’ve been given. Late last night, we received demarches from Japan, Vietnam, and India denouncing our uneven treatment of their forces involved in the conflict.” There was no longer any pretense that the United States was not involved; the Asian alliance missives had demanded that they make it official, openly announcing their position.

“All three feel we were providing aid to the Chinese in their war, and they insist that if we were going to officially stay out of the fight, that we needed to declare our neutrality and withdraw our forces from the area. They would not be responsible for the consequences if we did not do so.”

Simonis looked relieved. He wasn’t the only one delivering unwanted news to the president. “This merely reinforces my point, Doctor. They don’t want us interfering, we have little ability to influence their actions, and we are unnecessarily putting our people at greater risk. For God’s sake, let’s get the hell out of there!”

Patterson took a deep breath. She was in complete agreement with Simonis. The submarines of Squadron Fifteen had done everything asked of them, and more. It was time to cut their losses and get out. But on the other hand, she was also a loyal subordinate to the president, who desperately wanted to stop the fighting, somehow. She didn’t like finding herself at odds with her loyalties, and the fact that Jerry was one of the people who would conceivably have to pay for the president’s decision didn’t help matters at all.

“I hear you, Captain Simonis,” she empathized. “I will inform the president of your recommendation, and I will endorse it.”

7 September 2016

2100 Local Time

MV
Tamilnadu

Fifty Nautical Miles Southeast of the Port of Nagoya, Japan

Captain Somnath Manogar sucked nervously on his pipe; the whistling sound it made proved he was only moving air, the tobacco having been consumed hours ago. They were still in what the Japanese Maritime Self-Defense Force called the “danger zone,” and over four hours from safety. The warnings issued over the last two days by the Indian government were now showing up in the Notice to Mariners. The submarine war with China was expected to expand into the Pacific Ocean; the approaches to Japan were now considered a war zone. Manogar wondered what those idiots in Mumbai were thinking.
Why would anyone want to intentionally anger the giant dragon to the east!
It made no sense to him. All he wanted to do was get his ship tied up to a safe berth, then he could think about taking a hot shower and a long nap. He’d slept little once the ship entered the danger zone, two hundred nautical miles out from Japan.

Manogar walked over to the helmsman, checking their course and speed for the tenth time in the last hour. It was totally unnecessary; the automatic pilot had them squarely on course for the port of Nagoya at twelve knots. The young mate at the helm smiled. He knew his captain was a compulsive worrier. If there were such a thing as sea monsters, Captain Manogar would fret over them. The war that he feared was far away, near China. The warnings were merely a precautionary measure the Indian government felt compelled to issue. Ever since the 2008 terror attack in south Mumbai, they’d started proclaiming warnings every time they thought something bad
might
happen. If the government felt the potential risk for severe sunburn was high enough, they’d issue a warning.
A bunch of paranoid old men,
he thought to himself.

“We’re
still
steady on course three three zero, speed twelve knots, Captain,” he reaffirmed sarcastically.

“I can read, Helmsman,” Manogar replied tersely. Annoyed by the young man’s flippant report, Manogar marched over to the bridge windows. Staring out into the dark overcast night, it wasn’t even ten seconds before he felt the overwhelming urge to raise his binoculars and conduct a search. It was pure habit, one he had acquired since his time as a junior mate. He doubted he’d ever see a submarine’s periscope, but a stupid fisherman cruising around the ship lanes without his running lights on was another danger that he had to keep in mind.

He’d completed a full forward scan and had turned to look at the bridge’s radar repeater when suddenly the ship shook violently. Both men were knocked off their feet; the helmsman suffered a nasty gash to his head and was bleeding profusely, but he was still conscious. Manogar pulled himself up on the control console and saw the alarm panel had numerous red lights flashing. The audible alarms pierced the quiet night. Through the din, the ship’s internal phone rang. The captain silenced the alarms and grabbed the phone. “Bridge.”

“Captain, Engineer here, we’re taking on water in holds two and three. We’ve also lost the main engine, not sure what the problem is.”

“Engineer,” Manogar spoke quickly, “we’ve been torpedoed. Get your men topside immediately!” He hung up before the engineer could reply.

“Jack, pass the word, prepare to abandon ship!”

The woozy helmsman responded and headed over to the shipwide PA system. Manogar reached over and grabbed the ship’s radio mike and moved the frequency band selector to “16,” the international distress channel.

“Mayday. Mayday. Mayday. This is Motor Vessel
Tamilnadu
. We’ve been hit by a torpedo, forty-eight nautical miles south-southeast of Irago Suido. Location, latitude, three three degrees, five zero minutes north. Longitude, one three seven degrees, two five minutes east. Repeat. Mayday. Mayday. Mayday. This is Motor Vessel
Tamilnadu
. We’ve been hit by a torpedo, forty-eight nautical miles—”

The second torpedo exploded aft, right under the ship’s superstructure, abruptly cutting short Captain Manogar’s distress call.

7 September 2016

1300 Local Time

White House Situation Room

Washington, D.C.

Secretary of Commerce Joyce McHenry pulled up the next chart in her brief. The diagram showed a disheartening trend.

“Trade with China has been severely reduced due to the Littoral Alliance submarine campaign. Even though the alliance was only targeting tankers initially, insurance costs have gone through the roof for any ship transiting through a war zone—and Lloyd’s of London includes India in that mix. The bottom line is the number of Chinese ships entering U.S. ports is down to a quarter of the normal level, and many of the ships that get here don’t want to leave. We’ve also seen a decrease in the number of Japanese and South Korean vessels arriving, by about one-third.”

President Myles rubbed his forehead; he dreaded asking the obvious question. “Joyce, what is your best estimate on the damage to the economy?”

McHenry sighed deeply. “Mr. President, China, Japan, and South Korea are in the top ten of our global trading partners. Indian and Taiwan are in the top fifteen.
If
the merchant traffic doesn’t decrease further, we’re looking at an estimated loss of sixteen billion dollars in exports to the countries directly in the war zone each month. Unfortunately, Europe was still in a weakened condition and it has been bludgeoned by this crisis. Many of the European Union economies have dropped back into recession—resulting in a similar reduction in our exports. An
optimistic
figure would suggest that we are looking at a fifteen to twenty percent reduction in monthly exports.”

“And the unemployment rate?” groaned Myles.

“Mr. President, we have a ‘just-in-time’ economy,” emphasized McHenry. “It is predicated on an uninterrupted flow of goods, in and out of the country. There is little in the way of stored inventory. Since we produce only a small fraction of the consumer goods sold, particularly in the electronics, appliance, and clothing sectors, you’re looking at two weeks, tops, before many stores will have little or nothing to put on the shelves. Add in the impact of a precipitous drop in exports, and significant job loss is all but inevitable. Initial estimates suggest the unemployment rate will probably exceed twelve percent. Perhaps as high as seventeen percent.”