“Conn, Sonar. Detecting mechanical transients on a bearing to Masters one and two. Sounds similar to torpedo outer doors opening.”
Wilson considered whether the sounds were the precursor to a torpedo launch. Given that the submarine had slowed to five knots, it was unlikely it was preparing to fire; submarine crews typically prosecuted contacts at medium speed, maneuvering quickly to help their tracking algorithms develop a target solution and to enable rapid acceleration to ahead flank if the target counterfired.
There was no indication that either contact had detected them, and given that their tracks overlaid upon each other, Wilson drew the most logical conclusion. Master two was a mother ship retrieving the UUV, opening doors in its hull to do so.
However, Secretary Verbeck hadn’t mentioned anything about a mother ship. The UUV was supposedly completely independent, recharging itself via solar panels while languishing near the surface. Now that Wilson thought about it, something had to launch the UUV and retrieve it for periodic maintenance. Perhaps Verbeck had simply failed to mention those additional details. But if a mother ship could retrieve the defective UUV, why not just order it to do so and keep the UUV aboard, solving the renegade UUV problem?
Other things weren’t adding up either. If Master two was a mother ship, why did it have Seawolf tonals? As far as he knew, Seawolf submarines didn’t have the necessary modifications to launch and retrieve UUVs of this size.
These were critical questions that needed answers. A discussion with Secretary Verbeck and her aide would be required.
“Attention in Control,” he announced. When everyone focused on him, he continued. “Master two has been classified as a Seawolf. We’re supposed to be the only U.S. submarine in this waterspace, but this wouldn’t be the first time two submarines have been routed through the same water. Master two also appears to be a mother ship for the UUV, which doesn’t correlate to known Seawolf capabilities. Whatever Master two is, we’re not authorized to sink it, since our mission is to destroy the UUV only. We’re going to break off from this engagement and figure out what’s going on.
“Secure from Battle Stations Torpedo.”
After the announcement went out, Wilson ordered Lieutenant Resor to station the Section Tracking Party, keeping tabs on the UUV and its mother ship.
As the crew transitioned to its normal watch stations, Wilson directed his Communicator, “Prepare for a secure VTC with the secretary of the Navy. I’ll take it in my stateroom.”
After the Communicator acknowledged, Wilson turned to the Officer of the Deck.
“Make preparations to come to periscope depth.”
21
ARLINGTON, VIRGINIA
In a secure conference room in the Pentagon basement, Brenda Verbeck paced back and forth before the front row of chairs. In a few minutes, their videoconference with Captain Wilson would begin. The only other person in the room was her senior military aide, Captain Andy Hoskins, seated in one of the chairs facing the display screen and camera.
“I was afraid this would happen,” Verbeck said as she kept pacing, casting a sideways glance at her aide.
During their trip to Bahrain, Hoskins had already voiced his opinion: if it comes to that, we’ll have to come clean. That, however, wasn’t something Verbeck was willing to do. Moments earlier, while they waited for the videoconference to commence, their conversation had become heated, until Hoskins had finally agreed.
At the appointed time, the display energized, revealing a video of Captain Wilson seated at his stateroom desk. It appeared that no one else was present, per Verbeck’s direction when she had replied to Michigan’s communication request. Verbeck took her seat beside Hoskins.
“Good afternoon, Secretary Verbeck,” Wilson began. “How do you copy?”
Verbeck turned to Hoskins, not understanding the question.
Hoskins replied, “Hold you Lima-Charlie.” He leaned toward Verbeck and translated. “Loud and Clear.”
It was odd, using radio lingo for a videoconference, but old habits were hard to break.
“Same here,” Wilson replied. “Thank you for the short-notice communication request, but we’ve run into a complication. It appears the UUV we’ve been directed to sink has mated with a mother ship of some sort, which raises a number of questions. I’m hoping you can shed light on the matter and provide updated orders.”
“Of course,” Verbeck replied. “There is indeed a UUV mother ship. That’s something we didn’t discuss because we were hopeful you’d locate and sink the UUV before its retrieval. The reason we didn’t mention the mother ship is because its existence is even more sensitive than the weaponized UUVs. It’s a full-size, automated submarine, built primarily with components already fabricated when the Seawolf submarine program was unexpectedly canceled after the Cold War ended. Three more Seawolf submarines had been under construction in various stages, including their reactor plants, and the parts were put into storage for use as spares for the three operational Seawolfs.
“When the idea for a fully automated mother ship was devised, an economical solution was to build one with already-paid-for and fabricated components. For the most part, the mother ship resembles a Seawolf submarine.”
“That explains its sonar signature,” Wilson replied.
Verbeck continued, “The mother ship extracts the data collected from each UUV after mating, as a backup to what they’ve transmitted while operating on their own. It also recharges the UUVs; they don’t have built-in solar panels. You were misled on that aspect because we didn’t want to divulge the existence of the mother ship unless it was absolutely necessary.
“As you can imagine, a fully automated mother ship containing a nuclear reactor is a sensitive subject we’d rather not reveal to the public. Safeguards have been put in place, of course, keeping the submarine away from land in case of a severe casualty. But that’s the least of our worries now that the UUV has mated with it.”
“Why is that?” Wilson asked.
“We suspect the UUV has been infected with a virus, corrupting its artificial intelligence. Now that it has mated with the mother ship, it too is likely infected, and it will now transmit the virus to every UUV it mates with. The situation is now far more severe. Instead of sinking a single UUV, your task has become more involved and more urgent. You’ll also need to sink the mother ship before it infects more UUVs.”
“I understand,” Wilson replied. “How long before the mother ship retrieves the next vehicle?”
“Seven days,” Verbeck replied. “Are you still tracking the UUV and mother ship?”
“We aren’t,” Wilson replied. “There’s a sharp thermocline here in the Gulf, and we lost both contacts coming up to periscope depth.”
Wilson went on to explain what a thermocline was — a thin layer of water where the temperature transitioned rapidly between the warm surface heated by the sun and the cold water beneath. Submarines used thermoclines to their advantage because the rapid temperature change bent sound waves as they traveled through the layer, reflecting the sound back toward its source like light reflecting off a window. Depending on the frequency and angle of the sound wave, some tonals didn’t make it through.
“Will it be difficult to regain contact?”
“That depends on if they’ve altered their course or speed while we’re at periscope depth, and whether they’ve separated. Do you know how long it takes before the UUV de-mates from the mother ship?”