by Cliff Happy
The XO advanced the slide and they saw the same view a few days later, “This image was taken from another KH-12 Ikon surveillance satellite during an over flight less than a month after the previous image.” He directed their attention to a series of piers, previously empty, now filled with submarines. “Notice there was some repositioning here. We initially believed they were recycling some of their boats because these piers have been used to decommission and break up older Soviet Era boats.” Brodie signaled Graves who advanced the image once again.
The next image showed a close up of the pier Brodie had drawn their attention to. He then proceeded to point out various pieces of equipment and vehicles on the pier. “As you can see, these piers are swarming with activity which could be dismissed as the Russians decommissioning or stripping these boats prior to recycling except for two significant facts…” Brodie looked at everyone questioningly.
“Those aren’t old submarines,” Ski offered, his expression turning sour. “Those are Akulas and Typhoons.”
Brodie nodded toward his engineering officer. “Very good, Ski. Why on earth would they break up or decommission the latest technology when they have an entire yard of hulks less than a hundred yards away they need to dispose of before the reactor cores fall through the bottom of their rust-ridden hulls?”
Kristen adjusted her glasses slightly, feeling a sudden sinking feeling. Nothing Brodie said sounded very good, and she could see nothing to indicate this would get any better. “They were refitting them and getting them ready for sea,” she whispered thoughtfully, not even aware she’d spoken.
Brodie nodded in agreement. “That’s the conclusion the CIA and Naval Intelligence came to as well, Lieutenant. Except it took them about three months longer than you,” he replied grimly. “Similar activity has been observed in other yards including Vladivostok over the last twelve months. It indicates a resurrection of the Russian submarine forces with regard to readiness and activity.”
“What about their surface navy, sir?” Walcott asked. “Have they been refitting as well?”
Brodie shook his head. “Nope, their surface ships have been sitting pier side collecting dust and seagull crap just as they have for the last fifteen years with no sign of any change in status.” Brodie looked around the room and then added, “Also, there’s no indication the Russian Army has increased their activity either. Just their submarines.”
Kristen took a sip of her tea, watching him closely. She knew she would learn far more by how he reacted to the news, the inflection in his words, and the look on his face than by anything she might be shown from KH-12 spy satellite photograph. She’d come to trust him unconditionally with her deepest and most exclusive secrets and realized the gravity of the situation would be revealed more by his interpretation of the facts than by any black and white photographs.
Brodie nodded to Graves and another image appeared. This one was not quite as clear as the previous ones. Although taken by a satellite, the image was taken at an angle and showed what looked like a long building on the edge of the water.
“This is the Number Seven building at Polyarny,” Brodie told them and tapped the image, directing their attention to something ominous barely visible through the open doors of the building. “This is believed to be the Borei,” he told them. “Formerly known as Project 955. It’s the lead boat of a new class of boomers meant to replace their Typhoons.”
Andy Stahl interrupted, “Excuse me, sir. But I thought they cancelled the 955 program about ten years ago?”
“So did the NSA, the CIA, British Intelligence, and every other intelligence agency I can think of,” Brodie answered bluntly. “Apparently the Russians weren’t reading the same intelligence estimates we were,” he offered with sarcasm in his voice.
Again the image advanced to show the same building from a slightly different angle, except now the ominous looking bow section of the submarine was no longer visible.
“The 688 boat,” he explained referring to a Los Angeles class fast-attack submarine, “we had monitoring Polyarny reported the Borei launched nine months ago and moved to a covered fitting out wharf.”
Brodie signaled Graves who advanced the image again, and they saw a completely different image. It’d clearly been taken from a submarine periscope during a storm showing a hazy image riding low in the water, partially obscured by waves.
“The USS Albany took this photograph through its Type-18 periscope of the Borei coming out of Polyarny.” He turned his attention away from the image and looked at them ominously. “The Albany heard her coming out because of the ice breaker leading her and the usual noise associated with a boat riding on the surface. But once the Russian submerged the Albany lost her.” This was extremely unusual since the Los Angeles class submarines, although dated, were still considered finer than anything any other navy in the world possessed. “This image was taken seven weeks ago and the Borei has not been seen—or more importantly—heard from since.”
Kristen could feel the men in the room squirming uncomfortably in their seats. The Seawolf was a superior submarine to a Los Angeles class, but the differences was more in her armament, her size, diving depth, and other physical characteristics, not so much in her sonar systems. In this respect, the Seawolf was almost identical to a Los Angeles class boat.
“Since this photograph was taken, the NSA, Naval Intelligence, and every analyst we can find have studied the Albany’s digital recordings from the Borei’s sortie. No one has been able to pick up anything other than pack ice in the distance, the ice breaker moving away, and standard biologicals. No plant or pump noise, no blade sounds, no transients at all.” The uneasiness was increasing in the wardroom, infecting everyone.
Kristen nervously readjusted her eyeglasses. She didn’t like where this was leading.
Brodie allowed them to ponder the significance of a Russian boat simply disappearing right in front of an American sub. “For some time the Russian Federation has been selling off virtually anything on a cash and carry basis to just about anyone. They sold off their only aircraft carrier to China and were recently building Akula IIs for the Indian Navy. We don’t know if the Borei was part of this rummage sale and is now in someone else’s navy, or if it is quietly sitting under the Polar Ice cap. We aren’t even certain she has anything to do with whatever it is they are up to…”
“It doesn’t sound like we know a whole hell of a lot, Skipper,” Ryan Walcott pointed out.
Brodie nodded in agreement. “You’re exactly right, and I’m afraid the missing Borei is only part of the mystery.”
He again motioned to Graves, who advanced to the next image showing a different submarine yard and a boat tied up at a pier with several cranes alongside plus vans and workers moving back and forth. “This is Sevmash Predpriyatie boat yard at Severodvinsk in Archangel. It’s the old Soviet Union’s premier yard where all their Akulas were built.” He then pointed to the submarine in the photograph. “Photo intelligence analysts have been unable to determine what she is.”
The image changed to show a close up of the submarine, and Brodie proceeded to point out what could be gleaned about her hull from the image. “As you can see, this new design is somewhat longer than the Akulas by about thirty-five feet and is slightly more cylindrical.” He directed their attention to the bow where there were several open doors on top of the submarine. “We believe this is a vertical launch system for cruise missiles like on our Improved Los Angeles class, but other than this we have nothing on her.”
Kristen removed her glasses and wiped some nervous perspiration from around her eyes and brow. Others in the room were equally uncomfortable at the prospect of facing off against two entirely new classes of Russian submarines no one seemed to know anything about.
“Sir, what do we know about this boat, other than what she looks like?” Terry asked.
“We believe the Russians are calling her the Severodvinsk Class after the city where she was built, but her name is the Yuri Gagarin,” Bro
die stated flatly. “That, plus the knowledge she’s been out of port twice for some short shakedown sorties into the Barents Sea and possibly work ups.”
The room was quiet, everyone thinking over all he’d said and wondering what the series of new Russian submarine developments meant. Graves brought up the next image. It showed the entire Polyarny yard once more. “This image was taken seven weeks ago.” It didn’t look any different to anyone, except for what appeared to be more activity on the docks. Brodie gave a brief nod to Graves and the image advanced.
“This picture was taken twenty-four hours later.”
Everyone leaned forward, and Kristen looked closely, squinting. “They’re all gone,” she offered.
Brodie didn’t reply, instead he motioned to Graves who advanced to the next image showing another Russian naval base. “Vladivostok,” Brodie said simply and then the image changed again. “Sevastopol.”
There was a long pause in the wardroom, and Kristen was fairly certain she could hear the heartbeats of several of her fellow officers. Everyone realized what they were seeing, but it was Ski who pointed it out. “All of their Akulas and Typhoons are at sea.”
Brodie nodded in agreement. “We’ve confirmed at least fifteen Akulas now at sea, plus six Typhoons. Not to mention the Borei and the Gagarin have both disappeared.”
“But surely our own boats have a handle on where some of these are?” Ski asked with concern.
Brodie took a seat as he replied, “We have 688 boats trailing all but one of the Typhoons, but we believe her to be under the Arctic ice pack. Of the fifteen Akulas, five have been tracked shadowing the Typhoons, three have been picked up in the Sea of Japan, and a British Trafalgar picked up two Akulas operating together in the Mediterranean.”
“That leaves five Akulas unaccounted for plus the two new boats,” Andy Stahl said thoughtfully. “It’s an awful big ocean, Captain. How’re we gonna find them?”
“Initially, it was believed this deployment was just the Russians increasing their own strategic readiness posture to match ours as we ramped up to face what we believed was a genuine North Korean threat. So we ignored them, assuming that once the Russians realized we were hunting North Koreans and not Bear they would return to port. But…”
It was now clear to everyone, that the Russians were up to something.
“Working off the premise that this whole Korean business is indeed a ruse, the National Command Authority is in the process of redeploying submerged and surface assets back to their normal patrol areas. But, with just about every battle group having burned out their shaft seals to get here in anticipation of a blow up on the Korean Peninsula, this redeployment is going to take longer than we would like. The Nimitz and her battle group will be out of action undergoing repairs for the next two weeks at least, and even then she’ll need several weeks to get back to the Persian Gulf.” He then added, “The George Washington is in Sasebo with a reactor issue they have to get straightened out before she can put to sea, and she might be down even longer than the Nimitz.”
He looked around the room, his eyes glimmering slightly, and it occurred to Kristen there might be a small part of him looking forward to the challenge ahead of them. “On both the Atlantic and Pacific coasts, there is a rush to get two more carrier battle groups up and out to sea, but this will take time and they still have to cross the ocean. So, until the surface heavies can be brought back into position, the Joint Chiefs are counting on our fast-attack boats to hold the line at several key choke points where we feel it’s most likely the Russians may pass through on their way to whatever mischief they’re looking to cause.” Brodie directed their attention to the screen and a satellite image of the Strait of Gibraltar appeared.
“Our British cousins are deploying two of their newest Astute class boats and an older Trafalgar class to patrol the critical Strait of Gibraltar covering the passage between the Atlantic and the Mediterranean.” Brodie paused as the image changed to show Southeast Asia.
“We have two 688s heading for the Singapore Straits hoping to pick up one or more of these rogue Russian subs passing through this narrow choke point between the Pacific and the Indian Ocean.”
The image changed to show the familiar shape of the Persian Gulf.
“The USS Virginia is currently sprinting across the Indian Ocean to the Persian Gulf and not far behind her are our British friends from the HMS Audacious. They’ll be keeping an eye on the Gulf and the Strait of Hormuz, monitoring the region for any threat to the oil tankers moving in and out of the Gulf.”
The slide changed to show the Red Sea.
“Another of our 688s is heading up from the southern tip of Africa to begin patrolling in and around the Red Sea. Again, to provide some cover for oil tankers transiting in and out of the Suez Canal.”
He took a seat and once everyone had digested what he’d said thus far, he proceeded, “It’s important to remember that all of this could just be precautionary, and we may end up splitting atoms and racing across the ocean for nothing. The JCS, the NCA, and the CIA don’t know anything concrete, so your guess is as good as any. But…” he offered and the word hung in the air over the table for a moment. The group of officers around the table had come to trust Brodie’s instincts, and his opinion mattered.
“But,” he repeated shaking his head, “the Russians are cash strapped. The only things they have left to sell are oil, natural gas, and a dwindling inventory of military equipment. For them to launch this kind of operation is unprecedented even by Cold War standards.” He hammered the table top with a finger, driving his point home. “There is no way this is some exercise, because they simply cannot sustain this type of operational tempo indefinitely.” He paused, going around the room, his eyes making contact with all of them. Kristen felt his gaze come to her but no longer felt uncomfortable with his eyes on her.
“The Russians are up to something big, and I’m afraid until the capital ships can get back in the fight, we’re the only ones out here who can respond to the threat.” His voice showed no hint of drama or false urgency. “My gut feeling is the Russians, having orchestrated this whole thing, know they have four to six weeks to finish whatever they’re planning before our carriers are back in their normal patrol areas.” He then concluded, “So, the clock is ticking.”
Kristen folded her arms in front of her on the table, thinking about the possibilities when Ryan asked, “Where are we headed, Skipper?”
Brodie pressed a button on the computer and a map appeared of the entire Indian Ocean. “We’ve been ordered to take up a position near the Maldives Island chain south of India. We’re basically in reserve and in a position to move east toward the Strait of Singapore, west toward the Red Sea or, if necessary, up and into the Persian Gulf. If any of the boats patrolling these areas become entangled in something they can’t handle, then we become the cavalry.”
“So, is this why we stayed on the surface for as long as we did, Skipper?” Ryan asked. “To make everyone thinks we were going into the Sea of Japan?”
“Our orders were to make certain we weren’t followed to the Indian Ocean,” he answered. “How we got any stragglers off our tail was up to me.”
Brodie changed the subject, returning to the mission ahead of them. “If the Russians could gain control of any of these strategic choke points and restrict the trade flowing through them for even a short period of time, the effects on the Western World’s economies would be catastrophic. We could be forced to negotiate with them simply out of necessity.” He then redirected their thoughts back to what they knew. “But we can’t afford to waste time speculating about what they might be up to; we have to prepare for the possibility of meeting one, some, or all of these boats in a real shooting war.”
Kristen realized it was an unsatisfactory state of affairs, especially with the US military involved in multiple theaters at once. There were still seventy thousand troops in Afghanistan, and America’s military was simply stretched too thin to properly defend all
her vital interests. The result was the nation had asked her small fleet of very capable, but outnumbered, fast-attack boats to do more than they should rightfully be expected to.
Brodie offered a final bit of bad news. “All of this is bad, but the reality is potentially much worse than we realize,” he told them gravely. “The wild card in this entire poker game is for all we know the Russians have sold one, two, or all of these unaccounted for submarines to someone else. We know they’ve been unloading military hardware to anyone with trunk loads of hard currency. This includes the Syrians, the Egyptians, the Iranians, Pakistanis… we might very well run into what we think is a Russian submarine only to learn, as it’s firing a salvo of fish at us, that it’s now flying the flag of the Republic of Who the Hell Knows.”
This possibility hadn’t dawned on Kristen, and it gave all of them one more thing to add to their list of worries. Deep under the surface of the ocean, an undeclared war could be fought with the Seawolf right in the middle of it, and no one might ever know about it.
“Which means we cannot, under any circumstance, be caught with our bloomers showing,” he said flatly. “We have to move and move fast but stay hidden. If the Russians decide to start shooting, I want to make certain they don’t have us as a target until we’re in a position to shoot back.”
Brodie looked at Graves. “Jason, I want a battle and damage control training schedule drawn up so grueling it would make a Marine Drill Instructor think we’re being too hard on our people.”
“Aye, sir,” the XO responded automatically, an ink pen in his hand already scribbling across a paper tablet.
Brodie looked at all of them. “The rest of you get into your spaces and double check everything. Report any trouble you’re still having while we have a chance to address it. I don’t want to come up against an Akula only to find out the hydraulic lines in the torpedo room are down for annual maintenance or our passive arrays are off line because of a faulty ten cent fuse.”