Larry Bond - Cold Choices

“Is that what you call it?” Lavoie grumbled.” ‘Announcing his presence,’ he says. Might as well have used a torpedo.”

“He was trying to herd us,” Constantino observed. “He cut across our path as we headed northwest.”

“That was on his third run,” Jerry countered. “On the first two, he passed down our port side, west of us. Was he telling us to sail east, toward the Russian coast?” Even as he said it, Jerry knew that was wrong. Russia was a hundred-plus miles away. Way too far.

“Was he herding us away from something else, then?” Wolfe asked.

“What’s out here?” Constantino asked. But they all knew the answer. Nothing but them.

“The UUV. He was trying to herd us away from LaVerne,” Wolfe said.

“So he could capture it?” Lavoie asked. “We had it under control the whole time. We could have kept it away from him.”

“He didn’t know that,” Jerry realized. “He must have assumed we had a wire to it. Break the wire, and it goes dead. Then he sits on it until someone arrives to salvage it.”

“And the Russians have an intelligence coup,” Shimko concluded. “It might have worked, if LaVerne had a tether.” He looked around the table. “Anybody see any holes in his theory?”

Jerry couldn’t. The Russian captain didn’t know that LaVerne was controlled by an acoustic modem. It explained a lot, and Jerry kicked himself mentally. He should have thought of that. It would have been simple to deceive them.

“I’ll take it to the Captain,” Shimko concluded, and stood. Everyone else turned to finishing dinner. There was still a second seating, and the discussion seemed to be finished.

It was Will Hayes who finally asked the one question that had eluded everyone. “What about the Russian? What do you think happened to him?”

Jerry’s first thought was reflexive: He didn’t want to know about him, and he didn’t want to think about him. But the question demanded an answer. He’d been damaged, certainly, but Russian subs were double-hulled, with internal compartmentalization that U.S. boats lacked. Their design philosophy had a significant emphasis on survivability, while U.S. designers focused predominantly on stealth. All other things being equal, the Russian sub was probably in better shape than they were.

“He wasn’t waiting for us when we submerged,” Lavoie reported. “If he headed south, toward home, while we were headed west, then we’ll never see him again.”

“Fine with me. He’ll be back in his home port before we get to Faslane,” Wolfe concluded.

“He found us easily enough out here,” Jerry remarked pessimistically. “I hope none of his friends know how to do that trick.”

“Which is why we’re headed westward at our best speed,” Shimko remarked, standing at the door to the wardroom. “Mr. Mitchell, the Captain has some questions for you.” He didn’t ask whether Jerry was finished with his meal.

Jerry followed the XO back up to the captain’s cabin. The door was closed, and Shimko knocked, but hardly waited before opening it.

For a moment, Jerry thought the XO was waking Rudel, because the only light was from the lamp over his desk. But that didn’t make sense. The captain had just asked to see him.

Rudel was sitting in his chair, tipped back against the bulkhead, a pad of paper in his lap. Jerry could see a few lines scrawled at the top, but the pen lay on the table next to him. He didn’t speak, or even look up when Shimko opened the door.

“Sir, here’s Mr. Mitchell. You wanted to ask him about tethered vehicles,” Shimko prompted.

Rudel raised his head without moving the chair. It was hard to see in the dark, but from what Jerry could tell, Captain Rudel looked terrible. His face was drawn, and there were dark areas under his eyes. He saw Jerry and the XO, then straightened up in the chair but didn’t stand. “Mr. Mitchell, do you think the Russian sub was trying to cut a line between the UUV and Seawolf?”

“Yes, sir, I do.” Admitting it made Jerry feel more guilty. Understanding that one fact could have changed everything. Rountree might still be alive.

The captain leaned back, seemingly satisfied, but the XO spoke up. “You’ve been to school on these ROVs, haven’t you?”

“Yessir, before I reported to Memphis”

“Do most of our vehicles use a tether?”

“Many do, sir. Only the LMRS and our UUVs are untethered.”

“What about the Russians? Did you learn anything about their ROVs?”

“We spent some time reviewing their technology in class.”

“Is their stuff tethered?”

“Yes, sir. What little they have.”

The XO’s questions occupied Rudel’s attention but the captain didn’t ask or say anything else until the XO said, “That’s all, then.”

As jerry started to turn, Rudel called him by name. “Jerry. I was sorry to hear about Dennis Rountree.”

“Yes, sir.”

“I want to have a short service when we pull into Faslane. They’ll take the body off then, and it will give the crew a chance to say good-bye. Please set it up.”

“Yes, sir.”

“I’ll make a few remarks, and some of his friends may want to say goodbye. But keep it short. This isn’t a funeral. That will come later, after we’re back.”

“I understand, sir. I’ll take care of everything.”

“Very good. Dismissed.”

Jerry left the captain’s cabin confused. Rudel had been more interested in Rountree’s memorial service than the UUV issue, and he hadn’t asked one question about the down equipment, which was his responsibility. And he looked like hell.

Jerry had watched Rudel in control during the encounter. Shoot, everybody had watched the skipper for orders, for guidance. He’d been in control, and he’d asked all the right questions, done all the right things. At least, Jerry thought so. But Seawolf was hurt and someone was dead.

Jerry made his rounds, visiting all his department’s spaces. He always did this before the eight o’clock reports. Chief Hudson was overseeing the work in the electronics equipment space. Electronics modules and test equipment were stacked against the bulkhead, almost blocking movement.

And there was a lot of movement. Jerry saw his ETs and ITs, and one of his off-watch quartermasters, but also sonar techs and even auxiliarymen. “Everybody’s helping,” Hudson explained. “We’ll work through the night, and with this many people, we can take it in shifts.”

Hudson’s cheerful attitude drove out some of Jerry’s gloom. He was able to give Shimko an upbeat report at eight that evening. It looked very good for one HF receiver to be up by early tomorrow morning. They weren’t sure about any of the transmitters yet. They were in worse condition, but Hudson and Morrison hadn’t given up.

The XO wasn’t as cheerful. “So we can get a weather report. Wonderful.” Then he remembered himself and added, “Tell your guys that they’re doing a great job. Keep me apprised. And I need the encounter timeline.”

“Yessir. I’ll start on it tonight.”

“Good, but don’t pull an all-nighter. Nobody’s life is at stake anymore. We’re on our way home. And this needs to be done right.”

“Understood.”

Jerry headed for control. That was where all the data was — logs, navigation and geo plots, fire-control chits, sonar tapes. It took some time just to gather it all. It was the quartermasters’ responsibility to maintain the logs, and Jerry called QM1 Peters to properly label all the documents. At this point, they were legal records. Evidence to be used in an investigation.

By the time he’d assembled everything, it was late, and Jerry decided to make a fresh start in the morning. He made one more visit to the electronics space, then headed for his stateroom. Lieutenant Chandler was working at his desk, but they ignored each other as Jerry set his alarm for five and gratefully hit the rack.