“XO, I just can’t put a non-qual officer in command of the Panther. Maybe I could be convinced to make him assistant officer in charge, the AOIC, but that brings up the question, who should be OIC? Who does Pacino work best with? If Pacino is second-in-command, who can complement his tactical instincts?”
“Maybe we ask Pacino himself.”
“Not a bad plan, XO. You might even call it…adequate.”
Quinnivan smiled and put out his cigar.
“Pilot, all stop,” Lieutenant Commander Rachel Romanov ordered.
“All stop, Pilot aye, and Maneuvering answers, all stop,” Lieutenant junior grade Ganghadharan reported.
“Mark speed four knots,” Romanov said.
Almost immediately, the deck stopped its mad shaking and trembling, the sudden smoothness of the ride seeming strange after being constantly at flank speed for fifteen days.
“Mark four knots, aye.”
The USS Vermont glided slowly to a halt at Point “Golf” at the entrance to the Gulf of Oman.
“Officer of the Deck, speed four knots,” Gangbanger reported.
“Very well, all ahead one third, turns for four.”
The pilot acknowledged. Romanov pulled the 7MC microphone from the crowded overhead. “Maneuvering, Conn, downshift and de-energize main coolant pumps and engage natural circulation.”
The 7MC speaker overhead rasped with Li No’s voice. “Downshift and de-energize reactor coolant pumps and rig for natural circulation, Conn, Maneuvering aye.” A pause. “Conn, Maneuvering, the reactor is in nat-circ.”
“Maneuvering, Conn, aye,” Romanov said into the mike. “Pilot, left fifteen degrees rudder, steady course three-one-five.” She picked the phone at the command console and buzzed the captain.
“Captain,” Seagraves’ baritone came over the phone.
“We’re at Point ‘Golf,’ sir, turning northwest into the Gulf of Oman. You wanted to make a 1MC announcement.”
“Be right there.”
Seagraves appeared in the control room seconds later. “Captain’s in control,” Romanov announced. She handed Seagraves the 1MC microphone. It clicked just before the captain’s voice boomed through the spaces.
“Attention all hands, this is the captain. We’ve completed the flank run to the entrance of the Gulf of Oman and we’re slowing and turning to the northwest for the slow approach to the Strait of Hormuz. We will be setting up a chokepoint barrier search at Point ‘Hotel’ at the exit of the strait in order to detect and trail our target, a modified Iranian Kilo diesel-electric submarine called the Panther. As always, I will rely on the discretion of every member of this crew to keep our secrets. After all, what is the battle cry of the USS Vermont?”
Throughout the ship, the shouting of It never happened — we were never there! rang out.
“That’s right, crew. This, all of this, never happened, and we were never here. We will be rigging the ship for ultra-quiet. The galley will accordingly be shut down — sorry about that — but we will have an abundance of cold cut sandwiches and peanut butter and jelly with cheese and crackers. Wash that down with bug juice, and you’ve got yourself a battlestations feast. Immediately, upon detection of the Panther, we will station battlestations and fall in trail. This may be a long mission, crew, so between now and reaching Point ‘Hotel,’ I urge you all to get whatever sleep you can. There may not be much of that after acquisition. If any of you have questions about the mission, get them to your division chiefs and division officers and, to the extent we’re able to, we’ll put your mind at ease. Let’s all have a safe and successful mission. That is all.” The 1MC clicked off and Seagraves returned the microphone to its cradle.
“Pilot, rig ship for ultra-quiet,” Romanov ordered.
“Ultra-quiet, Pilot, aye.” The 1MC announcing circuit clicked and rasped with the last announcement until ultra-quiet would be secured. “Rig ship…for ultra-quiet.”
“I’ll be in my stateroom with the XO,” Seagraves said to Romanov. “Send Mr. Pacino to see us, please.”
“Right away, sir,” Romanov said.
Pacino walked down the passageway, lit with red lights as a reminder that the ship was rigged for ultra-quiet, then knocked carefully on the door of the captain’s stateroom, bearing in mind what Lomax had said before, that the nine most frightening words in the English language were, The captain wants to see you in his stateroom.
“Come in,” Seagraves called through the door.
Pacino opened it and came to attention. The overhead lights were off, the room lit by three sepia-shaded lamps, making it seem like it was evening, even though it was just after 1500 in the afternoon.
“Have a seat at the table, Mr. Pacino,” Seagraves said, waving to the seat at the door side of the small café style table and seats.
“Yessir.” Pacino put his tablet computer on the table.
“So, lad,” Quinnivan said. “Any idea why we’ve called you here?”
“I suppose it’s about my volunteering to be on the crew of the Panther when we hijack it and take it to AUTEC.”
“‘Hijack’ is such a nasty word,” Quinnivan smirked. “It sounds so unfriendly, like you’re putting a gun to someone’s head.”
Seagraves smiled. “The XO makes a good point. We’re just going to borrow the Panther for a while.”
“A long while, and then we’re going to take her apart all the way down to her fookin nuts and bolts,” Quinnivan added. “But you’re correct, laddie, we wanted to talk to you about this mission.”
Pacino waited, but neither man said anything. Seagraves was manipulating a document on this pad computer and Quinnivan was just looking at him. Finally, Pacino broke the silence.
“So, do I get to board the Panther?”
“Mr. Pacino,” Seagraves said grimly. “You are aware, aren’t you, that according to our war game simulations, this mission has one chance in five of success. Eighty percent chance says we face mission failure. Which is a nice way to say that the Panther goes down.”
Pacino made a dismissive face and waved his hand. “What do those simulations know, Captain? That’s all bull dreamed up by theorists who live their lives in cubicles. Look at the real situation. If we can board this Kilo with an element of surprise, we’ll vanish into the noise of the ocean. We’ll have Onur Saurabh with us, the crypto tech Farsi translator, so we can figure out their systems. And I’ve been thinking, sir, we could find one of the Kilo’s officers who’s willing to cooperate with us and give us some help.”
Seagraves looked at Quinnivan, then nodded. “Mr. Pacino,” he said slowly, “the XO and I have decided to place you aboard the Panther as assistant officer in charge. You’ll be second-in-command.”
Pacino wasn’t prepared for that. He figured the best he would be able to do would be to be the junior officer of those selected. “May I ask, sir, who you’re putting in command? Who will be OIC?”
Seagraves and Quinnivan glanced at each other.
“Laddie, who would you nominate?” Quinnivan asked.
“No question, Lieutenant Dankleff. He’s great with diesel engines and generators, he’s a great leader and he’s a tactical innovator. And he’s good under pressure.”
“He’s also pretty much your best friend aboard,” Seagraves observed. “And your sea daddy when you first reported.”