Liam Robert Mullen
Pacific Deeps
CHAPTER 1
The USS Obama slipped her mooring ropes, and made ready for sea.
A Virginia Class Attack boat, also known as an SSN 774 Class, the submarine had been commissioned in 2014, and was named after the President of the United States — the present incumbent. The submarine type was a replacement for the old Los Angeles Attack boat, and carried a crew of 134. It had a displacement of 7,900 metric tons, was 377 foot long with a beam of 34 feet. She could dive to 800 foot plus and had a speed of over 35 knots. As well as being nuclear powered, her armament consisted of twelve Tomahawk missiles that were launched from vertical positions, 4 by 533 mm torpedo tubes, and 27 torpedoes and missiles.
Captain Russell Grant followed the progress of the small pilot boat leading them out from the bay at San Diego Naval base. He stood on the bridge in a heavy seagoing reefer trenchcoat, binoculars around his neck, his cool grey eyes everywhere. He was in his early fifties, and a Cold War veteran in its latter stages including Able Archer '83, who knew his way around submarines. He'd previously commanded both Seawolf and Los Angeles boomers.
His Executive officer, the XO, was standing on the bridge with him, and relaying orders to the junior watch officers around them. Russell allowed him free rein, trusting his judgement.
The pilot steered them to open water, and saluted them as he turned his small craft back towards shore.
"All ahead full," the XO ordered, passing the order down to the engine room. Above them the sun was setting in the sky. It was a warm, balmy August evening.
One of the lookouts cried out: "Dolphins off the port bow."
The sea creatures kept track with them, leaping out of the water, and then putting on bursts of speed. They entertained the sailors privileged to see them for a good ten minutes, before Russell took a deep breath and turned to his XO. "Prepare the boat for diving."
"Prepare for dive. Aye, Sir. Lookouts clear the bridge."
The dolphins would be the last light hearted moment enjoyed by the crew of the USS Obama for quite some time. The XO followed the lookouts, leaving the Captain to secure the bridge hatch. "Switch to battery power," the XO ordered the diving officer. "All ahead two thirds."
"Close main induction," Grant ordered, watching to make sure his instructions were carried out. This was an important procedure as failure to close the induction could flood the engine room. "Close induction," the XO also ordered, keeping an eye on the procedure as well.
"Make your depth 300 feet," Russell ordered.
"Diving officers… make your depth 300 feet," the XO confirmed. Aboard the Virginia class, two station officers manned the roles previously done by the diving officer, the helmsman, the planesman, and the chief of the watch. The two officers monitored everything on computer screens in front of them. They were known as pilots.
The XO, Stephen Pirman, grinned at his captain. "Plenty of room on these new tubs," he said. The words were said half in jest. In reality, things were still quite cramped. Pirman was a tall man, with ocean blue eyes, and a thin, narrow face.
Russell grinned back. "Sure is, Steve," he agreed, looking around. There were major differences to the old style boomers they were both used to. The periscope system was gone, replaced by state of the art photonics masts which took three seconds to break water and give back a 360 degree view of the submarines's surrounds.
Submarines had finally broken into the 21st century, and the command centre was brightly lit. Russell nodded his head at the XO's assessment and added: "And loaded for bear."
The XO nodded soberly. It could be a sobering experience realising what the vessel was capable of.
Russell turned to his navigator, Lieutenant Luke Larsen. "Set a plot, Lieutenant for the South Chinese Sea, twelve nautical miles off the Spratly Archipelago."
The navigator grinned. "The 'nine-dash line'.
Russell returned the grin, although behind the jesting he knew the Chinese could get mighty antsy about their territorial claims on the artificial islands. The USS Lassen had recently tested the Chinese resolve regarding the islands, and although shadowed by Chinese vessels, had passed through without incident. Tensions were still high over the incident.
Although the boat was guided by modern computers, Larsen still had to employ the old methods of navigation. He stood over a map of the Pacific deeps with a slide ruler and a dividers. Underwater navigation could be tricky, as there were many areas that weren't mapped, and it wasn't unknown for subs to hit underwater mountains or other submerged obstacles. Even entering and leaving harbours had its tricky points, and the navigator had to use his charts and visual aids like buoys to keep the vessel on the right track. In the US markers and buoys were colour-coded and positioned to the side of shallow waters and obstructions. The coastguard operated a federal system which meant that markers had red lights on the starboard side when entering harbours, and green lights on the far side. Green coloured cans and red nuns and chart markings helped the seafarers as they approached land. Or left, whatever the case may be.
Underwater, things got a little more complicated. Every man had to be on top of his game. The whole thing was like a well oiled machine; if one part broke, it could affect the whole ship.
Even the chefs aboard had a vital role, because if the crew weren't happy with their diet aboard, there was nothing surer that would allow morale to plummet.
The submarine was optimized to run as silently as possible, and shock absorbers aboard the Obama minimized noise levels. The hull was also coated with a special material. It was driven by a pump action propulsor that helped to reduce cavitation — the bubbles that popped and gave off noise signatures when more conventional propellers were used — a noise that could give away a submarine's position to another submarine, a warship, a helo, or an anti-submarine aircraft. Stealth was key.
The Obama had picked up speed. Russell turned towards the Officer of the Deck — Jonah Moses — a big, black man who almost looked too big for submarine duty. The face of Moses was heavy and craggy, rocklike features that were inscrutable, and muscles bulged in his forearms. Jonah liked to workout. "Mr Moses has the Conn."
"Aye, captain," Jonah announced. "I have the Conn."
There were certain procedures to be followed when handing over the Conn. Jonah turned to Luke Larsen, and spoke to him from the corner of his mouth. "Navigator, show me our position."
Larsen pointed out the position on the charts.
Russell smiled, knowing the boat was in good hands whilst he was off watch. He addressed Moses before leaving the Conn. "Maintain course and speed, lieutenant."
"Aye, aye, sir. Maintaining course and speed. Pilots, you heard the commander. Maintain course and speed. What's our depth?"
"Six zero zero, sir," one of the pilots said, responding to Moses' deep, booming voice.
"Very well," he boomed. "Maintain current depth." Moses had previously served on Los Angeles boomers and knew his job back to front. He nodded his head in acknowledgement towards Russell as the commander left the Conn in his very capable hands.
Moses settled himself into the commander's chair, a happy smile on his face as he called out for some rugrats. He was one of those guys who loved the sea and he was happiest when he was out on patrol. He settled into the start of his long watch.
CHAPTER 2
It was a far cry from December 1941 when Japan had launched an unannounced attack on the American fleet at Pearl Harbour.
Times had changed, priorities and loyalties and alliances. Now Japan was seen as a key ally of the US, hence the appeal for help.
North Korean aggression had been on the up for a number of years now, and coupled with new Chinese antagonism towards Taiwan, the combination was proving dangerous and very troublesome. The Soviets too were hovering in the background, wanting to do business with the warring factions, selling armaments, and generally throwing their weight around just as they'd done in Syria.