Jain’s eyes flicked with excitement, and when he finally spoke, his voice was calm. “I will do my best to remain covert, of course, but what if the Chinese do detect my presence, and evasion does not work?”
Dhankhar rejoiced inside. Jain had accepted the mission, and the story. “Engage only as an absolute last resort, but your survival, and your mission, are paramount. Recent experience has showed us just how bad Chinese antisubmarine warfare capabilities are. You should be able to press on, even if they have learned of our plan. Also, there are alternate targets in the package, if for any reason, you cannot attack one of the primaries.”
Jain nodded his understanding, and the admiral added, “And if you encounter Chinese-flagged vessels, naval or civilian, after the bombs have exploded, attack them at your discretion. The gloves are off, Captain. We’ll finish our fight with China, as well as Pakistan.”
The submariner grinned wolfishly. “Good. I had friends aboard Arihant.”
“That’s all, then. I’ll be down there presently to watch you get under way.”
As Jain stood, Dhankhar offered his hand. “Good luck, Captain. Our country’s future is going with you.”
Jain took the admiral’s hand, and as they shook, Dhankhar could see a shadow pass across the captain’s face. As Jain turned to leave, Dhankhar added, “It would be only natural to think about the many Chinese casualties your attack will cause. Wiser men have already discussed and argued over this. China is the largest country in the world. Only a massive blow, something that inflicts true injury, will knock her out of the war. She’s been using the Paks as proxies for years to kill our people. This will bring the war home to her, as well as ending it for us. No second thoughts. You have your orders.”
Coming to attention, Jain put on his uniform cap and saluted crisply. “I won’t disappoint you, sir.”
The secure phone had a distinctive ring. It wasn’t loud, but its unique sound alerted Captain Simonis and brought him upright out of the couch, his book fell to the ground as he rushed over and grabbed the phone. “Simonis.”
“Sir, this is Lieutenant Keyes, the squadron watch officer.” He recognized her voice. “We’ve received an operational-precedence message from CNO via SUBPAC. They want us to make all boats ready for sea.”
Simonis knew the status of each of his boats intimately, of course. So many men away on leave, machinery needing repairs, weapons aboard, and a dozen other things that had to be dealt with before a nuclear submarine could go to sea. “Do they expect a reply?”
“Yes sir. They want to know the earliest time each boat could sail.”
Simonis was already heading to the bedroom to change. He looked over at his wife, Louise, as she worked on a scrapbook in the dining room; she glanced up, curious but not terribly concerned. Calls in the late evening were common, and she knew her husband would stay safely ashore.
“All right, have Captain Jacobs, Commander Walker, and the three submarine COs report to squadron headquarters ASAP. Is there any hint of what this is all about?”
“No, sir, just orders to get ready.”
“Very well. Have a car pick me up in fifteen minutes.”
“Aye, aye, Commodore.”
Simonis already had his uniform for tomorrow laid out, so he quickly changed out of his civilian clothes. He always made it his business to be able to get out the door quickly, with a minimum of fuss. Even as he dressed, he was drafting his reply to SUBPAC. Texas was already out, returning from an exercise with the Philippine Navy. She had food and stores for several more weeks at sea. Question: Should he hold her on station in the area? Coming back to Guam could waste valuable time, depending on where the maddeningly unnamed crisis was happening.
It would take days to get Oklahoma City ready to sail. One of her condensers was in pieces while they traced a stubborn seawater leak. She’d been operating with the problem for a couple of weeks, and he’d finally allowed the boat’s crew to try and find and fix it here in Guam. If they didn’t, it might mean repairs back at Pearl, and he didn’t want to lose a boat for an extended period.
He needed her skipper’s best guess on how close they were to fixing it. Should they press on, or just slap it back together so they could get under way quickly? It would be nice to know just how urgent the crisis was, not that they’d told him.
North Dakota and North Carolina were in the best shape, although both had people off the boat for leave and training. He could send those two out by tomorrow, if the need was pressing.
The car was waiting for him in the cool darkness. In spite of the hour, it was still a little muggy. Early spring in Guam meant afternoon temperatures in the eighties.
The drive to squadron headquarters gave him time to ask himself the real question. What was the crisis? Where were his boats needed? What was the timeline?
Operations had returned to almost peacetime levels following the Littoral Alliance war. To his knowledge, the region was quiet. Were the Chinese out for revenge? A land attack mission might require his subs to carry Tomahawk missiles. Those had to be prepped and loaded in port. The CNO knew that, of course, and would give him as much warning as security allowed.
Simonis and the Navy lived and breathed security and classification. The fleet had secrets that had to be protected. He understood that. But at times like this, an unspecified contingency limited his boats’ ability to prepare for what could be a life-or-death situation.
He remembered Commander Mitchell, and the man’s personal connection to the national security advisor. If Simonis asked him to, Mitchell could send a query to Washington. It was all back-channel stuff, and frankly distasteful, but the squadron commander balanced his need for information against the gravity of the offense: bypassing the chain of command.
By the time the car had arrived at squadron headquarters, he’d decided against using Mitchell to send a message — for the moment.
“I have just a few more questions about your timeline, Mr. Petrov.”
“That’s Captain Petrov, and you said we were finished working on that.”
Agent Sushma Goyal was apologetic, but insistent. “I thought so, too, until I sent it to our headquarters in New Delhi. Special Director Thapar wanted to know more about your visit to the torpedo shop, and about the other Russian nationals you interviewed while you were attempting to gather more information on Mr. Orlav. He’s especially interested in a Mr. Anton Kulik. Do you have any more information on him, and his interest in Indian nuclear weapons?”
While Petrov argued with Goyal, Samant stood and paced around the conference room, trying to walk off the frustration he felt. He’d watched the leaders of the Indian government receive the news that a conspiracy within the government and the navy was about to launch an attack on China that would likely trigger a nuclear war. They had photographic evidence of bootleg nuclear weapons present at the Vizag naval base, about to be loaded on a nuclear submarine. At the end of the teleconference, they’d heard President Handa assure President Myles and Ambassador Eldridge that CBI would take swift action to arrest the conspirators and confirm their control of Chakra.