“I mean,” Brodie confided to Graves, “does any of this make sense?” He paused and then said, “The North Koreans have been rattling the saber for decades, but they’re smart enough to know that if they go nuclear we’ll turn them into a cinder.”
“True enough,” Graves agreed. “But how do you intend to prove it? If we’re ordered to launch and you don’t, there’ll be a board of inquiry. If you can’t show cause to abort, they’ll have your nuts.”
“I’d rather explain myself to a bunch of Brass Hats than accidentally kill thousands of people that never did anything wrong other than having the bad manners to be born on the wrong side of the 38th parallel.”
“I’m with you on that,” Graves agreed, relieved Brodie was finally explaining himself.
“Just get back to the forward escape hatch. I’ll keep an eye on the store up here,” Brodie ordered.
“Aye, sir.” Graves headed aft.
Brodie turned his attention back to the image from the periscope. The SDV had just appeared in the murky water moving slowly toward the Seawolf. But as he watched, he could see it was moving awkwardly. The driver and the navigator had their “doors” slid back, and their heads were sticking up out of the mini sub, piloting it by eyesight and not by the GPS. One of the stabilization fins was flapping along the side and there appeared to be more damage to the SDV’s hull. Finally, an ominous stream of air bubbles were rising up from the craft. These air bubbles would act like a clear visual signal for anyone on the surface searching for the SDV. Plus the clanking of the stabilization fin could be picked up by passive sonar easily.
“Con, sonar,” Chief Miller reported. “I have an active sonar search bearing zero-nine-five, range less than three thousand yards. It sounds like a dipping sonar from a helicopter.”
“Roger Chief, where’s the Tral?” Brodie asked as he looked at a stopwatch he wore around his neck.
“Eighteen hundred yards, bearing constant, sir,” Miller replied, which meant the Tral was coming directly at them. No one in the control room had to be reminded that it was virtually impossible for the Tral to just happen to be on an intercept course with the Seawolf.
But before Brodie could answer, he heard Miller’s frantic call, “Transients! Torpedo in the water, bearing zero-nine-five! The helicopter dropped a torpedo. It went active as soon as it hit the water and is searching.”
“Very well.” Brodie started the stopwatch and then spoke with a calmness belying the growing peril of the moment to the officer of the deck. “Mister Massanelli, please bring the hands to general quarters.”
There was a moment of stunned silence as the dozens of men trying to watch what was happening in the control room heard his calm, almost conversational tone, order them to battle stations. Then, as the alarm claxon blared overhead, there was instant pandemonium as men ran for whichever exit from the control room would get them to their battle station the quickest.
Brodie, mindful of the danger his boat and crew were now in, knew they had run out of time and options. They had to move and move fast if they were going to escape yet again. He called Graves now positioned at the forward escape trunk where the SEALs would soon be reentering the sub.
“XO?”
“Jason,” he heard Brodie’s steady voice over the phone. “We’re about to have the Tral breathing down our necks. Do you have communications with the divers working in the DDS?”
“Aye, Skipper,” Jason answered. “How much time do we have?”
“We’re out of time,” Brodie admitted, hoping to keep his own concern out of his tone. His young crew had been through a lot in the last seventy-two hours, and the last thing they needed to see was a frantic commanding officer. “Have them get our people out and set the self-destruct charges in the SDV. We need to button up and get underway.”
“Aye, sir.”
Brodie hung up the ship’s phone and returned his attention to the tactical display. The torpedo was still searching for a target, but its search pattern was bringing it closer to the Seawolf. He listened impassively as Andrew Stahl reported six tubes ready for firing. COB was watching him nervously. Their orders prevented him firing on the Koreans in their territorial waters. Yet Brodie had loaded four torpedoes which could only be used against the Tral. In addition, Brodie had also ordered two Aselsan decoys loaded.
“Set Aselsan in tube seven for course bearing zero-nine-zero, have it run for five hundred yards and then turn onto a new course due north.”
“Aye-aye, sir,” Stahl replied. Brodie could hear the confusion in Stahl’s voice. Brodie was ordering the decoy to enter the minefield.
COB turned to Brodie. “Condition Zebra set throughout the ship. All departments report general quarters manned and ready, Captain.”
Brodie looked at the television screen showing what was happening on the aft deck of the Seawolf. The launching cradle for the SDV was being retracted while the SDV itself was swarming with support divers helping get the passengers out and back into the DDS. Another group of divers were standing by the large hatch used to seal the DDS once everyone was inside.
Then Brodie saw a group of divers swimming back toward the open hatch of the DDS. With these support divers, Brodie saw what had to be the slightly built Korean. But there were also two men in camouflage drysuits indicating they were SEALs who’d gone ashore. At least one of the SEALs needed assistance and both men had what appeared to be battle dressing on them. He then saw two divers swimming with someone in baggy camouflage and long flowing blond hair.
Brodie felt his jaw tense. It could only be her. She wasn’t wearing a LAR-7 rebreather like everyone else, and she wasn’t moving. He could see no clear injury to her or any of the others in the grainy image, but there could be no doubt things had gone terribly wrong. He’d sent five people ashore to snatch the doctor. There should be a total of six of them returning, but all he counted was four. He knew the SEALs orders only too well. Two missing men, meant two dead. There would be no prisoners.
Another memory to live with.
“Sir, tube seven ready in all respects,” Stahl reported anxiously, his finger on the launch button.
Brodie look down from the image on the screen, not even hearing Stahl.
“Captain?” Stahl asked.
“Fire seven,” Brodie ordered, feeling a terrible sinking sensation deep in the pit of his stomach.
“Fire seven, aye, sir,” Stahl replied and launched the Aselsan submarine decoy.
“Sir?” COB asked softly with a hint of concern in his voice. He’d stepped close to Brodie and lowered his voice so no one else could hear. Brodie knew COB thought he was crazy, but didn’t have time to explain his reasoning. The Aselsan would enter the minefield almost immediately. As soon as it did, the minefield would come alive with activity as bottom moored homing torpedoes went after the decoy. Brodie’s hope was that the noise created would mask any sound the Seawolf would soon make as he maneuvered to avoid the inbound torpedo.