by Cliff Happy
“I saw you in reactor control,” Terry chimed in. “It looked like the Blade was hitting you pretty hard,” he observed with a friendly smile.
“You aren’t kidding,” she admitted as Gibbs continued to fuss over her. “I thought the reactor was my strength, but I’m not so sure any more.”
“Petty Officer Gibbs,” Martin asked, noticing the attention Gibbs was giving Kristen. “Could I get some more coffee, please?”
Without missing a beat Gibbs replied, “It’s in the pot, Mister Martin.”
Kristen had learned Gibbs had his favorites in the wardroom. Those who were considered one of these elites could do no wrong in Gibbs’ eyes, and he fawned over them, making certain they were cared for like royalty. Thus far she noticed that Brodie, the XO, Andy Stahl the weapons officer, and Ryan Walcott the operations officer had made the cut. Then there was herself. From there, she’d learned he had a pecking order with Terry near the top and Martin at the very bottom. Gibbs was barely polite to the young Ensign.
Kristen thought she knew why. During the Seawolf’s transit to the Pacific, when she’d gone in the water, it had been Martin on the sail with the responsibility of keeping an eye out on the aft deck where she’d been working. Kristen had learned that at the time she was diving in after Hodges, Martin had been huddling for warmth, his parka hood pulled all the way up, and not keeping an eye out. The result had been, by all accounts, a blistering rebuke first by the XO and then a formal reprimand by Brodie. Since then, Martin had been ostracized by his peers. Kristen had done her best to be pleasant to him. She knew what it was like to be despised by her peers, and she took no pleasure in seeing it happen to someone else.
“Are they allowing family grams yet?” Kristen asked Martin, referring to a Navy-operated telegram service for sub crews.
Martin looked up from his letter and shook his head. “Have you heard anything about them starting it up?” he asked hopefully. “Rebecca’s birthday is in January, and I want to let her know I might miss it.”
Kristen almost regretted engaging him in conversation. “I’m sure the squadron’s family readiness officer has briefed the wives,” she offered, trying her best to sound sympathetic. She then motioned toward his unopened qualification manual. She knew the main reason her fellow officers had accepted her so readily was because of her work ethic. But thus far, Martin had done little more than complain and write letters home.
“I’m almost finished,” he replied, referring to his latest letter.
Any more discussion was interrupted as the XO, followed by Ski, entered and took their customary seats.
“Is the skipper not joining us, XO?” Weps asked.
“He’s in the radio shack,” Graves reported. “Another message just came in.”
Since leaving port, Brodie had received at least one or two messages a day that were for his eyes only. The contents of these messages he’d yet to reveal to the officers, but Kristen had seen Lieutenant Charles Horner, the ship’s communications officer, looking pretty worried. It was Horner’s job to receive all messages, decode them, and deliver them to the captain. So, Horner knew what was in them. But he’d remained just as tightlipped as Brodie.
Five minutes later, the captain arrived, a folded message tucked in his left breast pocket. He gave no indication that anything might be amiss by his mannerisms as he began joking with several of his officers. But Kristen saw Horner’s expression as he came in behind Brodie. Horner had beads of sweat on his forehead and looked nearly ashen.
Brodie handed the message to Graves while he continued his light-hearted chitchat with his officers. Kristen said nothing, instead she watched Graves and saw the clear concern on his face as he finished reading, folded the message back up, and returned it to the captain. But no words were exchanged regarding the contents of the message. Instead, Brodie continued the usual banter as the meal was served.
Kristen had hoped he would tell her the results of her examination immediately, but he had a habit of not discussing ship’s business during meals. So she waited, trying to hide her impatience as the conversation continued. But once the meal was complete, Brodie shifted to business.
“I’m afraid we’ve had a slight change of plans,” he told them, fingering the message in his pocket.
The possibility the captain might finally fill them all in regarding the nature of their orders and the purpose for carrying two nuclear weapons on board caused everyone to sit up and give him their undivided attention.
“As you already know, we’re heading across the Pacific for a rendezvous with the Frank Cable. However, I’ve just been informed the Frank Cable has been unavoidably detained. The result is a new rendezvous point in the vicinity of the Bayonnaise Rocks south of Japan.”
“That’ll take us about a week at our current speed, Skipper,” Ryan Walcott offered. As operations officer, he was also the ship’s navigator.
“Not so fast, Ryan,” Brodie explained with a hint of exasperation. “It seems a P-3 Orion out of Japan detected a probable Russian submarine somewhere in the vicinity, which means the Russians might have some knowledge of the initial rendezvous point.”
“Somebody blabbed,” Terry said as he shook his head in disgust.
“Possibly,” Brodie replied. “But, security has been pretty tight on this one, so it may just be an over anxious Orion crew. Regardless, we’re going to slow down a little to let our sonar shack have a good listen to what might be around us.”
“Do you want a direct course for the Rocks, Skipper?” Ryan asked.
“No,” Brodie replied. “I want to enter the Kuril Trench, follow it south to the Japan Trench, staying deep until we reach the Marianas Trench. The Marianas will take us to within a hundred miles of the Bayonnaise.”
Kristen understood what Brodie was hoping to do. The Seawolf was one of the deepest diving submarines in the world, capable of reaching depths that would crush any other US boat. He planned on using the deep ocean trenches to help hide the submarine as they headed south. But there was also a problem associated with using these trenches; the USS Jimmy Carter had been in one when it accidentally ran into an underwater mountain.
“It’s awful narrow down there, Skipper,” the XO commented, offering a warning.
“It wouldn’t be any fun if it were easy,” Brodie replied confidently.
“When do you want to start the run, Skipper?” Ryan asked.
“That all depends, Ryan,” Brodie said to his operations officer. “Has sonar been able to track down that gremlin in the new processor?” The sonar department had received an upgrade to the processing equipment while in Bremerton just prior to departure. They’d tested it off the coast of Washington, and everything had been operating smoothly. But since then, an anomaly had developed, and Kristen knew the sonar technicians on board had, as of yet, been unable to fix it.
“Chief Miller’s been working on it, Skipper” Ryan answered. “We think there’s some integration problem, but he hasn’t been able to run it down just yet.”
Brodie nodded his head thoughtfully, then looked down toward Kristen. “You worked with the new BQQ-10 processor in Hawaii, didn’t you, Lieutenant?”
Kristen had, but her work had been classified, and she wasn’t aware the report she’d prepared following her work had been released yet. “Yes, sir,” she answered, without adding any detail.
He stifled a yawn. “Would you mind delaying your first engineering watch to give the techies a hand in the cabinet room?”
A sly grin had broken out on his face, and she saw his eyes twinkle slightly. She then noticed Graves giving her a pleased smile followed by knowing grins from her fellow officers, all looking at her with similar expressions. It took her a few moments to register what he’d actually meant. “You mean, I passed?” she asked excitedly, having a hard time not breaking out in a grin from ear to ear.
“It would seem the second time is a charm, Lieutenant,” Brodie offered. “Congratulations.”
“Indeed, Lie
utenant,” Graves added and stretched out his hand. Kristen had to lean across the table, but she managed to shake his hand.
Brodie and the XO’s congratulations were quickly followed by everyone else’s. They were all quick to shake her hand and then remind Ski to make certain she was added to the duty rotation in engineering immediately. Martin congratulated her like the others, but she could see the disappointment in his eyes that he hadn’t yet qualified himself.
“Let me know when you’re done in the cabinet room, Lieutenant,” Ski said in congratulations. “That way I can insert you into the rotation.”
Kristen assumed this meant he would plug her into the schedule as soon as he could, but she didn’t care. At the moment, nothing he could say could dampen her spirits.
Chapter Twenty Three
The Supreme People’s Assembly, Pyongyang, Democratic People’s Republic of Korea
General Cheong-In listened to the Supreme Leader as he gave the unexpected speech to the entire Assembly. According to the Constitution, the Supreme Leader answered to the Supreme People’s Assembly, but in practice nothing further from the truth was possible. The Assembly couldn’t even be considered a rubber stamp. The Supreme Leader was just that, the ultimate law in the land. What he decided, the Assembly dutifully agreed to.
Cheong-In had heard similar speeches in the past, but given the current climate of growing tension on the peninsula, he felt the cold sweat in his hands. This wasn’t just any speech. This was a war message.
The reserve army was still mobilizing in secret, but he doubted the Americans were blind to millions of DPRK soldiers heading to the southern border. He’d also heard rumors about special operations forces already moving into the south. War seemed imminent, and the speech he was listening to did nothing to dispel this belief.
As a soldier in the DPRK, he’d benefited greatly from the “Military First” policy that made certain that, although the average citizen in the DPRK suffered from starvation and inadequate housing, the soldiers were taken care of. He had enjoyed the perks, he’d worked within the system, he’d trained hard when necessary, but he’d long ago lost the blind belief in the might of the DPRK that so many of his countrymen lived with. He knew the North was a paper tiger. He’d read classified reports indicating the capability of the American military, and although he might applaud the Leader’s speech, he was uncertain. This didn’t sound like the usual bluster. Cheong-In was well aware that the DPRK’s nuclear tests had been only partially successful. He knew the strategic rocket program was far from impressive. He knew that even a maximum effort by their nation’s military would be a futile gesture if they confronted the might of the American military. A single flight of American B-2 Spirit bombers could sweep over the DPRK and in one pass, destroy the majority of the nation’s significant infrastructure.
But as he listened to the Supreme Leader speak, “the Armistice between the North and South is concluded. The time to unite the Korean peoples is now…” Cheong-In felt the hair on the back of his neck stand up. Fear was something everyone in the DPRK lived with. Fear of starvation. Fear of the secret police. Fear of freezing to death. Since joining the army, Cheong-In had only feared one of these. But now, he feared the seemingly unstoppable rush to destruction.
The DPRK was going to war. There could be no doubt.
Chapter Twenty Four
Sound Room, USS Seawolf
Kristen reported to the sonar shack located just forward of the main control room. There were two spaces used by the sonar personnel. The sound room, or simply the shack, was used by the operators themselves to analyze and identify contacts. The sonar cabinet space was filled with processing equipment supporting the entire sonar suite and was the haven of the sonar technicians.
The shack was a claustrophobic room filled with computers, sonar analyzers, and electronics squeezed into every conceivable space. The only light was cast by a series of displays, called “stacks” on the left side as she entered. There were a total of three “stacks,” each with two displays giving sonar information. In the far corner was also a spectrum analyzer. Four sonarmen were seated in front of this row of computers and monitors. Behind them, was the shift supervisor, Petty Officer Second Class Fabrini. Kristen had met Fabrini a few days earlier when she’d been on a treadmill working out. Fabrini had been accepted to the next year’s Academy class so worked out routinely to get in shape.
Beside Fabrini was the rotund Senior Chief Petty Officer Carl Miller. No one knew just how old the Chief was, but he sported an impressive belly that looked ready at any moment to send the buttons of his coveralls shooting across the small room like bullets.
“There you are,” Miller greeted her wiping sweat off his bald pate and shifting slightly to make room for her in the cramped space. “Welcome to the dark side, Lieutenant.”
“Thank you, Senior Chief,” she replied, nodding politely to Fabrini when he gave her a slight wave of his hand in greeting.
“Things are pretty quiet, right now,” Miller explained. “Not that we’d have been able to hear anything during the last few days racing across the Pacific.” When going as fast as the Seawolf had during her sprint across the Pacific, the submarine’s power plant and propulsor made so much noise the passive sonar arrays became virtually useless.
“I’m just here to lend a hand with the integration problem you’re having, Senior Chief,” she replied. “And maybe start my sonar rotation.”
Kristen would never be a sonarman; officers didn’t need to be. But she needed to become familiar with the sonar spaces as well as all the other departments on board as part of her qualification process. As a Nub, she would spend time in every space on the sub eventually.
“This way,” Miller said and directed her back out into the passageway and into the equally crowded cabinet room. “The boys from Nav Systems insisted on this upgrade when we were in port,” he explained and directed her attention to the new equipment. “Too bad the shitheads didn’t make sure it worked first.”
Kristen nodded, understanding the complexities of combining multiple systems and trying to get them to interface properly. As a systems engineer, it was her business to recognize and fix these problems. “Maybe I can give it a shot.”
Miller blanched at the idea of her poking around in his sonar equipment. “Well, my sonar techs have been beating their brains out for three days, and every time they think they got it licked, something else goes on the fritz. They’re at chow right now, but should be back soon.”
“If you don’t mind,” she replied, “I’ll go ahead and get started.”
Miller clearly wasn’t comfortable with a Nub nosing around in his domain. “I’d prefer if you waited, ma’am,” he said politely.
Kristen walked in behind a bank of consoles, her eyes going over the rear of the various processors, filters, and analyzers. She’d spent nearly a year using nearly identical equipment at Pearl Harbor to figure out how to optimize it for tracking the latest Chinese submarines. Beagler had picked her for the job, thinking it would keep her busy and out of the way, having never expected her to finish. Plus, the fact she’d taken four years of Mandarin Chinese while at the Naval Academy made her a logical choice for the Admiral, since part of her job had been to make sense out of some of the intelligence the Navy had collected regarding Chinese submarine quieting technology.
“You’re having trouble with the Active Transient Cabinets, aren’t you?” she asked as she leaned down and looked at the rear of the cabinets, studying the miles of cables connecting everything together.
“Yeah,” he replied and waddled around the row of cabinets to watch her. “Howdya know?”
“I see a couple of warning lights flashing back here,” she explained as she reached into the rear of a cabinet, gripped a thick cable, and started unscrewing it from the back of a computer.
“Hey, don’t be messing around with that,” he warned. “It took the techs days to get this all wired.”
Kristen looked into the f
irst cable socket after removing it, blew into it to remove any dust, and then reinserted it. “Not to worry, Senior Chief,” she offered as she screwed it back in. “I won’t break anything,” she replied and then reached in and removed another cable.
“Listen, Lieutenant, like I said, when my boys—”
“Here’s the problem,” she answered and twisted the end of the cable to show Miller the very end where it inserted into the rear of a computer. “Whoever put this in wasn’t careful and damaged the connector pins. This connection has to be replaced.”
“Yeah, right,” Miller replied skeptically but leaned down and looked into the socket where the damaged pins were clearly visible. “Hmmm,” he mused thoughtfully as he removed his glasses from his pocket and slipped them on to get a closer look. “And you think this is the problem?”
“It’s certainly one of them,” she confirmed and motioned toward the rest of the equipment. “I should know more in about an hour after I’ve had a chance to go over everything.” Kristen was wise enough to know this one cable wasn’t the entire problem, but it was a good start.
“Where did you learn about sonar systems?”
“The Navy didn’t know what to do with me after I finished the Submarine Basic Course, so I spent some time in Corpus and then another year in Hawaii playing with similar equipment,” she answered vaguely. In fact, while in Hawaii, she’d worked with an almost identical set of equipment. “Where are the schematics for the system?”
Kristen spent the balance of her six-hour training cycle in the cabinet room with a handful of technicians. They were finally able to track down the last problem and run a successful systems check of the entire sonar suite before she was scheduled to begin her next rest period. Miller stuck around, poking his head in periodically and when the final test showed the problems were all gone he gave her an appreciative—and slightly surprised—smile. “I’ll see you tomorrow, Lieutenant,” he said in thanks. “Maybe I’ll have Fabrini let you put the ears on so you can listen to some whales.”