“The Russians are up to something big, and I’m afraid until the capital ships can get back in the fight, we’re the only ones out here who can respond to the threat.” His voice showed no hint of drama or false urgency. “My gut feeling is the Russians, having orchestrated this whole thing, know they have four to six weeks to finish whatever they’re planning before our carriers are back in their normal patrol areas.” He then concluded, “So, the clock is ticking.”
Kristen folded her arms in front of her on the table, thinking about the possibilities when Ryan asked, “Where are we headed, Skipper?”
Brodie pressed a button on the computer and a map appeared of the entire Indian Ocean. “We’ve been ordered to take up a position near the Maldives Island chain south of India. We’re basically in reserve and in a position to move east toward the Strait of Singapore, west toward the Red Sea or, if necessary, up and into the Persian Gulf. If any of the boats patrolling these areas become entangled in something they can’t handle, then we become the cavalry.”
“So, is this why we stayed on the surface for as long as we did, Skipper?” Ryan asked. “To make everyone thinks we were going into the Sea of Japan?”
“Our orders were to make certain we weren’t followed to the Indian Ocean,” he answered. “How we got any stragglers off our tail was up to me.”
Brodie changed the subject, returning to the mission ahead of them. “If the Russians could gain control of any of these strategic choke points and restrict the trade flowing through them for even a short period of time, the effects on the Western World’s economies would be catastrophic. We could be forced to negotiate with them simply out of necessity.” He then redirected their thoughts back to what they knew. “But we can’t afford to waste time speculating about what they might be up to; we have to prepare for the possibility of meeting one, some, or all of these boats in a real shooting war.”
Kristen realized it was an unsatisfactory state of affairs, especially with the US military involved in multiple theaters at once. There were still seventy thousand troops in Afghanistan, and America’s military was simply stretched too thin to properly defend all her vital interests. The result was the nation had asked her small fleet of very capable, but outnumbered, fast-attack boats to do more than they should rightfully be expected to.
Brodie offered a final bit of bad news. “All of this is bad, but the reality is potentially much worse than we realize,” he told them gravely. “The wild card in this entire poker game is for all we know the Russians have sold one, two, or all of these unaccounted for submarines to someone else. We know they’ve been unloading military hardware to anyone with trunk loads of hard currency. This includes the Syrians, the Egyptians, the Iranians, Pakistanis… we might very well run into what we think is a Russian submarine only to learn, as it’s firing a salvo of fish at us, that it’s now flying the flag of the Republic of Who the Hell Knows.”
This possibility hadn’t dawned on Kristen, and it gave all of them one more thing to add to their list of worries. Deep under the surface of the ocean, an undeclared war could be fought with the Seawolf right in the middle of it, and no one might ever know about it.
“Which means we cannot, under any circumstance, be caught with our bloomers showing,” he said flatly. “We have to move and move fast but stay hidden. If the Russians decide to start shooting, I want to make certain they don’t have us as a target until we’re in a position to shoot back.”
Brodie looked at Graves. “Jason, I want a battle and damage control training schedule drawn up so grueling it would make a Marine Drill Instructor think we’re being too hard on our people.”
“Aye, sir,” the XO responded automatically, an ink pen in his hand already scribbling across a paper tablet.
Brodie looked at all of them. “The rest of you get into your spaces and double check everything. Report any trouble you’re still having while we have a chance to address it. I don’t want to come up against an Akula only to find out the hydraulic lines in the torpedo room are down for annual maintenance or our passive arrays are off line because of a faulty ten cent fuse.”
He went around the room once more, making eye contact with each of his officers, pausing on each of them. Kristen’s turn came, and she saw the dreadful seriousness in his eyes. This was no game. It was real. He expected them to be going into harm’s way.
“Any questions?” he finally asked.
Ryan Walcott offered a question, “Sir, what about shifting personnel—”
He was cut off before he finished by the Chief Engineer. “Forget it, Ops,” Ski told Walcott as he pointed an accusing finger at the Operations Officer. “You can’t have her.”
Kristen hadn’t expected this again, and she sat quietly, trying to disappear into the chair as the two men argued over her.
“Dammit, Ski,” Ryan argued calmly, “half the officers on this boat are in engineering, and with two new submarines floating around out there somewhere, neither of which have a signature anyone can recognize, I need the best set of ears on this boat in sonar.” He then pointed abruptly at Kristen. “And that’s her!”
“I have half the officers in engineering because I need half the officers in engineering,” Ski countered. Kristen hadn’t expected to ever have Ski arguing to have her anywhere near him. But she knew this argument was well above her pay grade, so she stayed out of it. “Besides,” Ski concluded, “since when can’t Chief Miller handle sonar?”
Ryan glanced at Kristen, still pointing at her. “Dammit, Ski, Miller’s the one requesting her!”
“No,” Ski responded uncompromisingly.
“All right,” Graves cut them both off, ending the argument and sparing Brodie from having to listen to any more, “that’s enough from both of you. The enemy’s out there,” he reminded them pointing through the bulkhead at the sea beyond, “not in here.”
“Lieutenant?” Brodie asked as he looked back down the table at her. “We can’t split you in half. What do you say in the matter?”
Kristen met his gaze. Unflinching. Confident. She knew he would support her, whichever one she chose. As an officer, her place was not in the sonar room with a pair of headphones on, she should be supervising a division in engineering, which was what she was being paid for. But if she was the best pair of ears on the boat, then even though it would be taking a position beneath her rank, she wouldn’t argue. “Whatever’s best for the boat, Captain.”
Ryan interjected in his usual calm, reasoned tone, “Captain, if I may…” he motioned toward Kristen as he spoke, “Chief Miller told me she is picking shit up in the water no one else is,” he said bluntly. “The Chief isn’t certain if it’s that her ears are better than everyone else’s, or if his men have been too well indoctrinated to trust the equipment to do most of the work for them, or if she can just focus better than anyone else. But whatever it is, she’s got it and I think, considering the situation we find ourselves in, we have to make whatever personnel shifts will best enhance the combat effectiveness of this boat. And if it means I have to start scrubbing shitters, or strapping a pair of headphones on a lieutenant, then I think we have to do it.”
“And who is gonna take over her responsibilities in Engineering?” Ski asked abruptly.
Ryan held his hands open as if to offer any help he might give. “I’ll pull a couple of hours in there each rotation if it’s what you need.” He then added as he motioned around at the other officers gathered at the table. “I bet we all will if that’s what it takes to get the job done.”