Larry Bond - Shattered Trident

“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.