Lt. Commander Mollie Sanders

by Miller, Mitchell R.

  The Russian commander exchanged looks with the other two men, then said in Russian, “I can’t allow that. He is too injured to move again. It could kill him.”

  Mollie nodded. “We accept that responsibility. We’re taking him.”

  One of the men said, “No, you’re not. We need to discuss something with him.”

  He sure did Mollie thought. “Give him a call later,” Mollie said. “We’re taking him back with us.”

  The three Russians moved to block the door to the inner room.

  Mollie pulled her gun and, in one smooth movement, racked the slide. She casually swung her point of aim between the two men and the Russian commander.

  Then she spoke to Brombard: “Get the captain on the litter NOW!”

  One of the Russians reached toward his pocket. Mollie calmly pointed her gun at his knee and fired.

  The man crumpled to the ground, screaming in pain.

  Mollie moved her weapon back to cover the other two Russians.

  In Russian she said to them: “Who’s next?”

  Then she switched to English: “Now, go get the captain.”

  Brombard and Perez strode into the next room.

  “Your action is against the accord between our two countries,” the Russian commander said. “Shooting a Russian civilian is a belligerent act.”

  “So is holding a U.S. naval officer prisoner.”

  She stepped over to the moaning man, reached into his pocket, and pulled out a Russian automatic. “It was self-defense,” she said. “So who’s belligerent?”

  Brombard and Perez came back into the room with Degama on the litter, an IV hooked into his arm. One quick look at the captain told Mollie he was still unconscious.

  In English Mollie said: “Let’s go.”

  The XO and Mollie covered the men out the door, then followed, their guns still pointed at the three Russians.

  Outside the ice station the waiting crewmen formed a perimeter around the litter. Then they took off, the XO in front, Mollie protecting the rear.

  Gunshots exploded from the ice station.

  “Get the captain to the boat,” the XO ordered Brombard and Perez. “The rest of us will cover you.”

  The XO indicated a fan shape for the men. “Fall back and keep returning fire!” he ordered.

  As they approached Neptune, Mollie spotted more armed men appearing, climbing over the side, taking off to come help them.

  The rescue team continued firing as the other men reached them. The men worked their way backwards, firing, lengthening the distance between them and the Russians firing from the ice station.

  When they reached the Neptune, the litter had already been lifted up. More men helped the rescue party onboard.

  Mollie followed the XO directly to the control room, both still wearing their parkas. She clicked the safety back on her gun and put it in a pocket.

  “Dive the boat!” the XO said. “Let’s get the hell out of here.”

  Mollie pushed Johnson out of the way and jumped into the seat at her console.

  “Flood negative!” the XO said.

  “As soon as we’re clear of the ice, give me five degrees down bubble. All ahead 1/3. I want us two fathoms from the bottom NOW! Make your course 1-7-0.”

  The XO turned to Mollie. “Commander Sanders, if you please!”

  She followed him into the officers’ wardroom. And although the boat was at a steep angle and she still wore her parka, she walked over to the coffee urn and poured herself a cup.

  “What the hell was that all about – pulling a gun on the Russians?” the XO said. “You think starting World War III will help your career?”

  Mollie smiled. “He had a gun. It was us or them.”

  “So you say. You fired first.”

  Now Mollie glared at him. “You ordered me to go on the mission. You ordered everyone to be armed. I did what I thought was necessary.”

  The XO glared back. “Next time I’ll reconsider taking you with me. You’re dangerous.”

  Mollie stirred her unspilled coffee. “The Russian civilians at the ice station were angry at Degama. They must have discovered the circuit board didn’t work.”

  The XO flung out his arms. “The trade that only exists in your mind?”

  Mollie stood her ground. “The only logical explanation for their anger is that Degama gave them nonfunctioning equipment – equipment that didn’t function because I disabled the circuit board.”

  “What if that were an officially sanctioned exchange?” the XO said. “You could have cost the captain his life – and the lives of the rescue party!”

  She stared at the XO but said nothing.

  “If you’re right, the captain is a traitor,” he said. “If you’re wrong, you’ll be court-martialed for interfering with a mission.”

  “If it was officially sanctioned, I’ll go fix the equipment.”

  The XO got himself a cup of coffee, then turned back to Mollie. “And what do you suppose the captain would get out of giving the Russians this equipment?”

  Really, what did the XO think? “Money. In a Swiss bank account.”

  The XO shook his head, gulped his coffee.

  The squawkbox came to life: “XO to the control room.”

  The XO slammed down his coffee cup, took off his parka and left it in the room. Mollie took off her own parka and left it there too.

  She entered the control room behind the XO, to whom a crewman was indicating something on a screen. Mollie took back her seat at her console.

  “Something is moving in the water, Commander,” the crewman said. “Looks like an Akula-class. Target designated Sierra-12.”

  “Have they detected us?” the XO asked.

  The man shrugged. “Hard to say, sir. They just appeared out of nowhere. I’d guess they were surfaced on the ice, like us. They’re not exactly following us. But then again, they’re not going away from us either.”

  Those two Russians had to get to the ice station somehow Mollie thought. The sub was probably their ride.

  The XO turned to Kapstrom. “Where’s the layer?”

  “About 390 feet, sir.”

  Mollie’s fingers flew over the keyboard. A graphic appeared, showing the Neptune, the icepack above it, the ocean floor close beneath, with a red line across the screen above the sub, and a flashing dotted outline of another sub far behind.

  “Good,” the XO said. “If he does detect us, I don’t want him to know our capabilities. Keep us low and slow. When do we get some deep water?”

  The quartermaster said: “There’re some depths in the Beaufort Sea about 3800 meters, sir. From there we could try breaking out to the Aleutian Trench, 7200 meters. But we have to go through the Bering Strait to get there, and that’s only 34 meters deep in places.”

  “Another alternative?” the XO asked.

  “We could try the pole,” the quartermaster said. “And from there we could go back down through Hudson’s Bay.”

  The XO hesitated, then spoke. “I’d say the Beaufort Sea. Sanders?”

  “Concur, XO.”

  “Set a course for the deepest point in the Beaufort,” he said. “Keep us within three fathoms of the sea floor. Make your speed 15 knots.”

  “Aye, aye, sir!” the quartermaster said. “Course 1-5-0; make your speed 15 knots.”

  “Course 1-5-0; 15 knots, aye, sir,” the helmsman said.

  The XO spoke to the sonarman. “What is he now?”

  “48,000 meters, bearing 141, sir. He’s paralleling us.”

  The XO turned to the quartermaster. “How long before we reach a 2500-meter-depth ocean floor?”

  The quartermaster considered. “At this speed, another eight hours, sir.”

  “Ideas, Sanders?”

  Mollie had already been running possible scenarios in her head. She was prepared with an answer.

  “We could use one of our UUVs as a decoy. Configure it with our sonar cross-section and send it off on a course a little variant from ou
rs.”

  Martinez said, “And what do we do? Play hide and seek?”

  The XO grinned. “That’s right. We’ve got enough control and power to just hover. We’ll ascend to the layer and deploy the UUV at exactly our speed and course. Then we’ll stop, right in the layer, and hover. The UUV will go on, and so will he.”

  The XO looked around, got a nod from the other officers.

  “Set it up, Sanders,” he said.

  Mollie’s fingers again flew over her keyboard. Graphs and sine-waves appeared on her screen. A window appeared showing the UUV ready to launch.

  “UUV good to go, Commander.”

  The XO walked over to her console. “Lift it off, very slow. Keep it right over the deck, same course, same speed. Don’t activate the sonar reflectors until I give you the word.”

  She worked her fingers over the controls. “Aye, aye, sir!”

  Mollie mentally pictured a teardrop shape dropping out of the Neptune’s manta wing, a stream of bubbles rushing from its stern. The Unmanned Underwater Vehicle.

  She stabilized it a few feet behind the sub, keeping it in the same spot relative to the sub.

  “Now into the layer,” the XO said. “Sanders, keep that UUV right there.”

  “We’re in, XO!” Martinez said.

  “Rig for silent running.”

  Minutes later the XO said, “Sanders, maintain course and speed, up one-half degree bubble. Activate your sonar signature. Mr. Martinez, stop the boat. Activate the thrusters. Hover.”

  Martinez said, “Hover, aye, sir! Slow to maneuver speed, bow thrusters on!”

  A screen showed the Neptune stopping, just pushing against the thrusts. The UUV lifted away from the deck.

  The CIC watched the sonar plot. Very slowly, the Russian sub pulled away, following the UUV.

  The CIC cheered silently just as Brombard entered to speak to the XO.

  “The captain has regained consciousness,” Brombard whispered.

  Mollie watched the XO quickly exit the control room. Damn! Why couldn’t she be there for this interview?

  **

  Richard gave his report to the captain, who was no longer attached to an IV. Brombard had remained outside the cabin.

  Then Degama asked his first question: “Why were they following us?”

  “No way of knowing, sir. Should we notify SUBCOM?”

  Degama hesitated. “Where are we now?”

  “On our way to the South China Sea. But we’ll divert if you need medical attention.”

  Degama shook his head and his eyes shifted to a map on his desk.

  “It’s not needed. I was just out of it for awhile.” He gestured toward the map. “Bring me the map, will you?”

  Richard brought the map over to the captain, who pointed to a spot. “We’re going here,” he said.

  **

  Workout Compartment Aboard Neptune

  October 2

  0600 hours

  Mollie executed a series of t’ai chi moves in the small space. She moved gracefully, as if at peace.

  The past days since leaving the Arctic had been uneventful. She’d been left alone. Just the way she liked it.

  At the end of an exercise she looked up to see the XO watching her from the hatchway.

  “Pretty amazing you can do all those moves in such a confined space,” he said.

  “T’ai chi teaches inner control – to find your center. You don’t need much space for that.

  The XO nodded. “How long have you been studying?”

  “Since starting the Academy. I found it a … relief to focus only on being in the moment.”

  The XO smiled. “We’re on course for the Spratly Islands. When you’re done, come to the CIC. I want to show you where the captain has asked that we surface and layover.”

  The XO walked away from the hatchway. The Spratly Islands? Now what was going on?

  Minutes later Mollie entered the CIC and joined the XO at the chart table, where he checked the sub’s coordinates.

  He spoke softly so only she could hear. “The captain has asked that we surface and layover here.” He pointed to a spot.

  “In the Paracel Islands!” Mollie said, keeping her voice as low as his. “Did he give a reason?”

  “He’s the captain,” the XO said.

  “He probably wants to connect with his contact,” Mollie said.

  The XO glared at her. “Sanders, if the captain orders us to surface, he has a good reason.”

  “Aye, ay, sir. What are we doing when we surface?”

  The XO nodded. “Anchor off the shore; let the men stretch their legs. The Chinese are building a tourist resort here and the Vietnamese are threatening the Chinese over it.”

  Mollie grinned. “Business as usual in this part of the world.”

  “According to what the captain told me,” the XO said, “the Chinese already have a ground satellite station and telephone service and are hard at work on other construction. We’re checking it out.”

  “How convenient for the captain.”

  “Sanders, I’m warning you!”

  The XO whirled to face the other men. “Prepare to surface.”

  CHAPTER XVI – PARACEL ISLANDS

  Paracel Islands

  October 2

  0700 hours

  Mollie lined up to board one of the Zodiac inflatable boats that would take the crew of the Neptune to shore on one of these islands in the South China Sea. All but a skeleton crew had been given shore leave. And Mollie was curious what the island could hold that would attract Degama.

  When it was her turn to board, the XO offered his hand to steady her. She refused. But as she climbed into the Zodiac inflatable a wave lifted it, and Brombard reached out and steadied her. She gave him a smile.

  Then as the inflatable took off towards shore, Mollie sat hunched over, trying to figure out why she would refuse the XO’s offer but appreciate the help of Brombard. Was it an officer/enlisted man thing? Or was it something else?

  On shore she climbed on the beach, where she noted construction shacks jumbled almost to the water’s edge. Beyond that a shack clearly functioning as a bar.

  Mollie headed there with the other men from the sub. While only 0700 hours here, time on a sub was murky at best. Maybe here there would actually be something decent to drink.

  Inside the shack she ordered a scotch, then sat at a table by herself while the other officers sat at one table and the enlisted men at separate tables.

  Mollie noticed that Brombard was knocking down boilermakers. He was drinking them way too fast. She got up to leave and paused by his table.

  “Are you okay?” she asked him.

  He mumbled that he was fine.

  “Bullshit. What’s the matter, Brombard?” she said.

  He insisted it was nothing.

  “You don’t knock back three boilermakers in 15 minutes and then say nothing’s going on.”

  Brombard didn’t look at her. She thought about how she had no one at home to worry about. But the sub had been running with no contact to the outside world. What if she were a family man and had been out of touch with that family?

  “How’s your family?” she asked him.

  “My family?” he said. “How would I know?”

  Yes, that was the problem.

  Mollie motioned for him to follow her. “Come with me.”

  She turned to walk out but he didn’t get up. She turned back. “That’s an order.”

  Brombard stood. “Aye, aye, sir!”

  As she led Brombard out, she noted the XO watching her.

  Mollie led Brombard away from the bar and towards a shack with what appeared to be telephone wires extending from the roof.

  “Know your wife’s cell phone number?”

  Brombard stumbled in his surprise. “Yes, but …”

  Mollie led him into a small room with a Chinese clerk behind a counter. She figured since the Chinese were busily engaged in world expansion that this clerk would have t
o know some English.

  “I need to call the United States,” she said.

  The clerk looked at the panel indicated, spotted the needle in the red, then hurriedly threw a few switches. When he turned back to Mollie he gave her a slight bow.

  Mollie shot the clerk one of her “don’t bullshit me” looks. “Route it through ENSTAR on 2232 megahertz, or through one of your satellites.”

  “We don’t have to do what you Americans say!” the clerk said.

  Mollie’s hand swung towards the cargo pocket holding her pistol – the pistol the XO hadn’t said anything about confiscating. She thought better of it and smiled.

  “Do you know your transmitter is going to fail in about five minutes?” she said.

  The clerk looked at the panel indicated, spotted the needed in the red, then hurriedly threw a few switches. When he turned back to Mollie he gave her a slight bow.

  “What is the number you wish?” he said.

  She turned to Brombard, who was making an obvious effort to get himself in control and focused. He pulled a notebook and pen out of one pocket, wrote the number down on a page, then tore the page out and handed it to the clerk.

  Mollie smiled again as the clerk picked up his headset, said a few words in Chinese, and nodded when the call connected. He motioned for Brombard to pick up the phone on the counter.

  Mollie moved a few feet away, wishing to give Brombard a semblance of privacy. While she couldn’t hear all his words, she could hear the relief in his voice.

  After a couple of minutes the clerk signaled the call to end, and Brombard hung up.

  “$25,” the clerk said to Brombard.

  “Twenty-five bucks! That was two friggin’ minutes.”

  Mollie nodded at Brombard. “Expedited service! You have to pay.”

  She watched Brombard put the money on the counter. Then she slapped her hand on the money before the clerk could pick it up. She slid the money into her pocket.

  With the other hand she gestured at the transmitter. “My fee for saving your transmitter.”

  And she motioned Brombard it was time to leave.

  Outside the shack she handed Brombard the $25. He high-fived her.

  **