“Next time?” Kalinin asked.
Andropov’s eyes narrowed. “America humiliated us. The images of our warships adrift and on fire have been shown repeatedly on the news, and public support for your administration is at an all-time low. If you want to be reelected next year, you’ll have to make a bold move.”
Kalinin replied, “It was the bold move you and Defense Minister Chernov recommended that created this situation. The plan failed, and I shouldn’t have to remind you that Minister Chernov was assassinated by the Americans.” He eyed his new defense minister, who shifted uncomfortably in his seat.
“It was a flawed plan,” Andropov insisted. “We were supposed to blackmail the United States, keeping them from entering the conflict, but they blackmailed us instead. If we correct this flaw, we will prevail next time. The Zolotov option is finally ready to implement, and if the updates to the Alexander submarine class are adequate, America won’t dare risk intervening.”
Turning back to his new defense minister, Kalinin asked, “What is the status of the Zolotov option and the Alexander class?”
Nechayev responded, “As General Andropov mentioned, the Zolotov option can now be fully implemented. But, as you know, it is a high-risk, high-reward plan. Regarding the Alexander class, the equipment aboard Alexander has been upgraded and is scheduled for another test this afternoon. If it performs as intended, I’d have to agree with General Andropov. The American fleet would be at our mercy. Even if they chose to intercede in Europe, they couldn’t risk transporting their troops or equipment by sea. Any effort to oppose us would be seriously hampered.”
“Alexander’s test is this afternoon?”
Nechayev nodded. “Yes, sir.”
“We will meet again tomorrow,” Kalinin said, “and then I will decide.”
2
K-561 KAZAN
Standing in the Central Command Post of his Yasen class attack submarine, Captain Second Rank Anatoly Mikhailov surveyed his crew. They were at Combat Stations, tracking Hydroacoustic two-one, a submerged contact lurking off Kazan’s starboard beam in the Barents Sea. It was quiet in the command post as Mikhailov stood near one of the two lowered periscopes, occasionally glancing at the admiral beside him. Admiral Leonid Shimko, commander of Russia’s Northern Fleet, displayed no hint of what he was thinking as he watched Kazan’s crew prepare to attack.
Captain Third Rank Erik Fedorov, Kazan’s First Officer, stood behind two fire control consoles, peering over the shoulders of the two operators, each wearing the rank of michman on their uniform. He tapped one michman on the shoulder. “Set as Primary.” The michman complied and Fedorov announced, “Captain, I have a firing solution.”
Mikhailov examined the target parameters. The enemy submarine was six kilometers off Kazan’s starboard beam, headed west at ten knots. It was mirroring Kazan.
“Prepare to fire,” Mikhailov announced, “Hydroacoustic two-one, tube One.”
“Solution updated,” Fedorov called out.
“Torpedo ready,” the Weapons Officer reported.
“Countermeasures armed,” the Watch Officer announced.
Mikhailov examined the target solution again. Satisfied it was accurate and all torpedo search settings were optimal, he gave the order.
“Fire tube One.”
The torpedo was impulsed from the tube, and Mikhailov’s ears popped when the impulse tanks were vented, refilling them to supply water for another shot. He moved behind his Weapons Officer, monitoring the status of their outgoing torpedo as it descended to the estimated target depth of 150 meters. The torpedo closed on its target, and at the predetermined range, went active.
“Torpedo One has enabled,” the Weapons Officer announced,
The torpedo began pinging, and not long thereafter the Weapons Officer reported, “Detect!”
The next report arrived seconds later, once the torpedo verified the detected contact was indeed a submarine.
“Homing!”
On the Weapon Launch Console, the parameters updated as the torpedo increased speed.
Mikhailov’s eyes shifted to the nearest fire control console, looking for indication their target had begun maneuvering. The contact remained steady on course and speed. This, of course, was expected. The contact they had fired at was Kazan’s sister ship Alexander, a modified Yasen class, built and launched in secrecy from the Sevmash shipyard in the White Sea.
The torpedo Kazan had fired was an exercise version, its warhead explosive replaced with inert material. This was the fourth time Kazan had tested its torpedoes against Alexander, and Mikhailov wondered whether leadership suspected there was a problem with their torpedo inventory. After launch, the torpedo’s artificial intelligence controlled every aspect of target prosecution. It wouldn’t be the first time a software bug had rendered their torpedoes ineffective in some way. Thus far, however, Kazan’s torpedoes had performed as designed. This one appeared to be functioning properly as well.
“Exploder armed,” the Weapons Officer announced.
The exploder had rotated into the firing position, preparing to detonate the warhead. This torpedo wouldn’t explode, however, since the explosive had been removed.
Mikhailov watched the torpedo close the remaining distance to Alexander, then the Weapons Officer made the expected report. “Exploder has fired!”
There was no explosion, though. Instead, Hydroacoustic reported, “Weapon impact.”
Normal exercise torpedoes had a turn-away feature or depth interlocks so the torpedo didn’t impact the submarine and break into pieces, or even worse, damage the submarine’s propulsor or screw during a shot from astern. However, the torpedo Mikhailov had fired against Alexander ran to termination, smashing into the submarine’s hull.
The result was anticlimactic. The torpedo had operated perfectly. When Mikhailov turned to Admiral Shimko, he was surprised to see a frown on the admiral’s face.
“Return to port immediately,” Shimko ordered.
3
CAMBRIDGE, MASSACHUSETTS
Seated in his cubicle on the fourth floor of the Clark Curtain Laboratory building, Steve Kaufmann stared at his computer display, doing his best to stay focused. It was almost quitting time, in more ways than one. After replying to the latest email, he heard his division director’s voice, calling for everyone’s attention. Kaufmann looked over his cubicle, joined by several dozen other heads popping above the matrix walls. Jacinta Mascarenhas was exiting the elevator. Her executive assistant, Rich Underwood, followed behind, pushing a cart filled with champagne bottles and glasses.
Mascarenhas headed to an open area in the center of the cube farm, stopping beside a conference table where Underwood hastily unloaded additional glasses from beneath the cart.
“Gather round, everyone,” Mascarenhas said. “We have some celebrating to do.”
Kaufmann joined his colleagues, forming a semicircle around Mascarenhas. Kaufmann, tall and gangly, towering above most of his coworkers, watched from the last row of the crowd.
“Today marks the final shipment,” Mascarenhas began, “the last set of spares for a decade-long project. Many of you have been here since the beginning, and Clark Curtain Laboratory thanks you for your dedication and hard work.” She lifted a champagne bottle, peeling the foil and wire muselet from the cork. “I want to congratulate you on a job well done, completed on-schedule and on-budget, a rare accomplishment in the defense industry.”