“The entire world wants him to fail. He’s corrupt. His entire cabinet is corrupt. That’s why our economy is in shambles.”
“Then why are we carrying out his orders?”
“Because they make sense,” Floros said. “We need to protect this oil rig’s deployment. We need the oil to give our economy a chance to grow, whether he remains in power or not.”
The commanding officer, a man in his early thirties with a youthful exuberance, appeared satiated with the simple explanation, but Floros knew Greece faced a long road to political stability and economic prosperity.
He lifted night vision glasses to his face and looked through the bridge window at the floating edifice on the horizon. Working since dusk, crews had towed the semi-submersible oil rig into place, and divers raced to moor it to the floor of the Aegean Sea before dawn.
“Since the Air Force has abandoned us, should I have the task force take control of the sky, sir?”
“Wait until sunrise,” Floros said. “Right now, we’re just blips on radar that look like merchant vessels. No need to give the Turks advanced warning of our presence.”
“Maybe the Turks won’t come at all, sir. Technically, we’re just announcing our adherence to accepted international standards.”
“Technically, yes. But we’re also grabbing an oil field in formerly international waters while claiming the twelve-mile extension from our islands’ coastlines. This will be noticed.”
“Noticed, yes. Protested, likely. But challenged? The Turks don’t want a war any more than we do.”
“Maintaining peace through deterrence is our mission,” Floros said. “If this becomes a hostile encounter, we will have failed.”
As dawn’s early redness crested the horizon, the phone beside him squawked. Seated in the captain’s chair, he reached over its arm and lifted the receiver to his ear.
“Task force commander,” Floros said.
“This is Vice Admiral Agathocleous. The twelve-mile national boundary has been officially declared.”
“I understand, sir.”
“Be on your guard, captain. None of us know how the Turks will react, but do everything in your power to avoid escalation.”
“Of course, sir. I will.”
“Good. That’s all.”
Fifteen minutes passed as Floros watched the cresting red turn yellow across the horizon. After the Hydra’s commanding officer ordered the frigate to cut back towards the island of Lesbos, the deck tilted, and the sun rolled across the bridge windows.
As the warship’s bow pointed at the oil rig, an animated voice issued from a loudspeaker and filled the frigate’s bridge.
“Bridge, operations center. I have a Thales AMASCOS maritime radar, bearing zero-four-eight. The other ships in the task force report that they also detect the radar on their electronic sensory measures systems. Given the triangulated location, I’m assuming that’s a Turkish fixed-wing maritime patrol craft from the Cengiz Topel Naval Air Station.”
The Hydra’s commander acknowledged the report and turned to Floros.
“Sir, there’s a Turkish Airborne Maritime Situation and Control System radar painting the entire task force. I request permission to energize the task force’s radar systems.”
“Denied, commander,” Floros said. “Be patient. Keep the adversary uncertain of which ships among the fishermen and merchants are our combatants as long as you can.”
“I understand, sir. However, would you allow my helicopter to transmit active radar?”
Floros grabbed a tablet and lifted it to his lap. The icon of the Hydra’s SH-60 Sea Hawk helicopter hovered northwest of Lesbos, forty miles from the nearest task force combatant.
“Very well, transmit active from the helicopter.”
A dozen icons representing aircraft appeared over western Turkey. With all traffic moving at subsonic speeds, any military aircraft keeping its radar systems off blended in with commercial flights.
Then two more radar systems sprang to life in the northeast.
“There’s a total of three Turkish maritime patrol craft fanning out to explore the Aegean Sea, sir,” the Hydra’s commander said. “They’re reacting to our proclamation. With the sun risen, it’s only a matter of time until they see what we’re doing.”
“Let them figure it out,” Floros said. “No need to help them. Keep your radars dark. We have many islands, and they have a lot of water to search.”
“They’ll see the oil rig within minutes, sir. It’s only fifty nautical miles off their coast.”
“It’s not a matter of when, but of how, they discover us,” Floros said. “More important, is how we react.”
The Hydra’s commander glared at a tactical display.
“We’ll find out soon. A maritime aircraft is in visual range of the Ritsos. The Ritsos is requesting permission to energize its search and fire control radar systems.”
“Denied,” Floros said.
“These maritime aircraft carry anti-ship missiles, sir.”
“They won’t launch them.”
Reports of sightings of the Turkish aircraft came from the lookout sailors posted on the bridge wings.
“I hope you’re right, sir.”
“I am right. Keep all ships’ radars dark.”
He reached for his secure phone and rang the naval air boss, who controlled the scant air resources at Floros’ disposal from an island naval air base one hundred nautical miles away.
“Get the anti-submarine warfare helicopters on station patrolling around the oil rig. Turkey has two Type-209 submarines on patrol at the moment. They could be anywhere.”
The air boss acknowledged. As he hung up the phone, Floros craned his neck to look through a window. The Turkish patrol craft passed over the task force that surrounded the oil rig, and it continued into the sea.
“No reaction, sir,” the Hydra’s commander said. “They didn’t even dive for a closer look.”
“But I’m sure they saw us, and they reported our situation. The information is filtering through military channels and will culminate in a diplomatic message. There will be a warning before there would be hostility.”
“Agreed, sir.”
“There’s still more I must do,” Floros said.
He reached for an internal phone and rang the anti-submarine warfare boss, a former commanding officer of a Type-209 submarine, in the Hydra’s operations center.
“Commander, take control of all anti-submarine assets. You have helicopters one through four, the sonar systems of the Hydra, and the oil rig. You have permission to transmit active on all sonar systems of the task force and the oil rig.”
As the anti-submarine boss obeyed, Floros suspected he was the first naval officer in history to order an oil rig to energize its military sonar apparatus. The rig had been built with a low-frequency system to deter would-be diver-saboteurs with bone-crushing acoustic energy and to rid the seas of Turkish submarines with the threat of sonic reflections bouncing off their hulls.
“That’s it,” he said. “We’ve done all we can do.”
“Is there a chance of getting our own submarines to assist us?” the Hydra’s commander asked. “With the Air Force abandoning us, the added support would allow me to dedicate the Hydra to the air defense instead of multi-tasking.”
“Negative, commander. We have the undersea defenses optimized, and we can hold the air.”
“I understand, sir.”
Tapping his finger on a console, the ship’s commanding officer seemed nervous. Floros leaned over his chair’s arm and lowered his voice.
“Are you okay?”