“Toshumi, the same men who trained you to fight a submarine programmed the Destiny III vessels. It is true that the manned vessels are considered more reliable, which is all the more reason to keep them here, the eventual destination of the deep Pacific aircraft carrier fleets. If the Destiny III flotilla fails, there still remain the manned vessels.”
“Do we have orders to attack?”
“No. Kurita will be kept informed, and he will issue any such order to me directly. I will then relay it to you.”
“Dammit, father, the first thing the West will do is knock out our Galaxy satellites. Then how will you communicate? This is so typical of the thinking of the men who never had to go into combat with—”
“Commander!” He got Toshumi’s attention, but his son’s face was a locked door. “We have contingency plans should that occur. We have a new Galaxy satellite ready for launch in the Guayanas. To back that up we have patrol aircraft with transmission gear loaded aboard. After that we have the third contingency, and that is the commanders of the Destiny II submarines. In the absence of orders, should the blockade be confirmed to stop the Russian traffic, you as senior commander will have the authority to order the other submarines to attack the surface forces.”
“What about the American submarine force? They will come too. It will complicate the operation if we have to deal with threats from the surface and subsurface simultaneously.”
“What do you want?”
“Advance permission to sink any hostile submarine contact.”
“No. Such orders will come from Kurita at the same time he orders commencement of hostilities against the Western surface forces.”
“Typical.”
“Commander, I find your attitude most irritating.”
“And I find your obsequiousness to those in power most irritating.”
“I can have you relieved of command.”
“When you find a better submarine commander to run this ship, you won’t have to relieve me, I’ll leave.”
It was times like these that Akagi missed Orou the most.
“Son, there was something I wanted to tell you, but after our words, it seems silly and sentimental.”
“What is it?”
“It seems that once again, three generations later, we are headed for destruction. Once again, we Japanese have picked the wrong enemy.”
“The Americans?”
“No. Ourselves.”
During the F-14’s refueling with the A-6 tanker it had been up to Pacino to guide Shearson’s probe into the refueling hose receiver. He had called out instructions, as Shearson had taught him, until Shearson, blind, was able to put the probe into the receiver. It was almost comically sexual, but Pacino was too preoccupied to comment on it.
After refueling they flew on into the darkness high above the dense clouds, the cockpit bathed in starlight.
Pacino stared out of the canopy at nature’s beauty.
Closer to the ground, the problems were more real. As if proving Pacino correct, Shearson’s voice clicked into the intercom.
“Admiral, bad news. The tropical storm has turned north. By the time we’re on approach to the Reagan it’ll be only a few hundred miles away. They’re thinking of upgrading it to a typhoon. Fairbanks weather is showing some heavy stuff, they’re recommending we turn back. There’s nowhere to divert to if we go much farther. Admiral?”
“Yes, Lieutenant?”
“Did you copy that?”
“Yeah. Lieutenant, they’re holding dinner for us aboard the Reagan. I think we should show up.”
“Sir, you realize that if we can’t set down on the Reagan, we’re going to have to ditch the plane. We ditch in calm weather, it’s a swim date at Club Med. We ditch in the dark, it’s only fifty-fifty that we’ll get picked up until the next morning. A night in the water means it’s us against Jaws and his brethren. We ditch in a typhoon, you might as well break out your survival pistol and eat a bullet. The chances of survival are zero point zero. You copy that, sir?”
“Yes, Brad. For what it’s worth, I’ve spent more time in a life raft waiting for a chopper than some folks have spent in the Navy.”
“Well, sir, if we lose this airplane you’ll have to stand with me at the board of inquiry. And if we lose ourselves you’ll be standing with me at the pearly gates. If you can handle that, I’ll put us on the deck of the Reagan or as close to it as anyone can get.”
Far below them, lightning flashed in a cloud, momentarily illuminating the world below.
CHAPTER 14
Comdr. Toshumi Tanaka climbed the ladder two rungs at a time to the surface control space. He climbed the final steps to the surface control space, the light from the sun blinding after being below in the belly of the submarine.
The crew in the surface control space greeted him but Tanaka barely heard. He looked out over the lip of the fin and saw that out in the deep channel the manned Destiny II-class submarines Soaring Cyclone, Winter Dragon, Perfect Voice and Godlike Snowfall were already underway, but each of them holding in the waters of the deep channel. On the starboard side of the Soaring Cyclone tugs were maneuvering the Destiny III-class ship Ring of Fire in close in preparation to being lashed to the manned submarine. The Destiny IIs would be tasked with towing out the unmanned submarines into unrestricted waters; the Three class did not have the capability to navigate near the shore. Tanaka shook his head, the flaws of the Three class so obvious yet so apparently hidden from the high command.
Out in the channel Soaring Cyclone and Ring of Fire were now tied together and began to make their way slowly down the channel to the sea. Next the Winter Dragon took on the Circle of Death, the Perfect Voice was tied up with the Sphere of Doom, and Godlike Snowfall was saddled with the Cycle of Fear. Tanaka’s Winged Serpent was next.
He turned to the deck officer. Lieutenant Commander Kami, and snapped his fingers for the electronic chart, a notesheet computer that was a half-meter by thirty centimeters, large enough to display all of Tokyo Bay in large scale. The ship’s position, pulled down from the Galaxy orbiting overhead, was flashing next to the projection of Yokosuka pier 23. Tanaka studied the track out to the channel and from there to the sea. A flash of his fingers on a software button on the display created a window in the chart picture, the window showing wind velocity, tide direction, soundings through the channel, current data and the weather forecast. All but the last were routine. Tanaka stared at the weather prediction, and stroked the key marked more, the subsequent pages of the weather forecast displayed on the screen.
Another key was marked sat. photo. Tanaka selected it, and a photograph from the overhead Galaxy satellite flashed up, the photo showing the earth, the whirling cloud taking up half the area shown, the typhoon developing into a violent storm. Their own mission would be, he decided, unaffected by the approach of the typhoon. It would only move into the vicinity of the Home Islands if it kept moving along its present course, and its speed would not put it near Japan for another three days. Even if it were to continue on its present course at its current speed, Winged Serpent would be long submerged at sea. At 200 meters keel depth, the most violent typhoon would not be felt — the ship would be rock steady, only feeling the waves above when the ship ascended to mast-broach depth. But while the typhoon might not impact their mission physically it might set it back tactically. Communications during the storm would be unreliable — only a dry antenna mast could receive radio communications. The incoming surface group would have free passage, since even Nagasaki torpedoes could not hear through the interference of the high-sea state.