She knew Jeff and the Seawolf were well trained and prepared, but she still felt apprehensive when she looked at what was going on in the waters around them. The world didn’t feel peaceful tonight, even though no one was shooting.
Gina looked at the large blue box farther out in the Pacific, which she suspected defined the area her husband had drawn for this strategic patrol. The Nevada was on her own in deep waters, for now safe—if anything that carried 24 Trident missiles and a nuclear reactor aboard could be considered safe. She wanted the men in her life back onshore without incident. A photo would help that at the margins. “I’m going to go get set up for processing that photo.”
“Like some help?”
“I’d rather you keep an eye on the board and come find me if anything major changes.”
Daniel nodded. “I can do that.”
Bishop scanned the latest news bulletin. “XO, make our depth 250 feet. I want to hear commercial radio out of Japan.”
“Make our depth 250 feet, aye, Captain.”
Their patrol box was designed to keep the Nevada a safe distance from any adversary while also allowing minimum flight time for the missiles to reach the most likely targets. This patrol, their area was splitting the difference between defending Japan and South Korea. The tone of the news bulletins had changed over the last five days, and things were growing more tense topside.
Bishop could feel the sweat sliding down his back, even though the boat was kept at a cool 68 degrees. He stopped by the navigation table to check their position before moving forward to the sonar room. “Where’s the Seawolf?”
“Here, sir.” The contact was faint, visible only because they were at the southwest tip of their patrol sweep. Tactical Command was keeping a fast-attack between the two sides. It was a gutsy move if it worked, and horrifying to consider if it didn’t.
“He’s stationary?”
“The most I’m hearing is an occasional turn. He’s holding station.”
Bishop stepped back to command-and-control. “Conn, bring us to bearing 020.”
“Bearing 020, aye, Captain.”
They would lose the Seawolf as they headed to the other end of their patrol box, but it couldn’t be helped. They normally ran solo while on a strategic deterrent patrol. But on this deployment he hoped to see one of the missile submarines converted to carry Tomahawks—either the USS Ohio or the USS Michigan—patrolling the Pacific nearby so he could link up and use cross-sonar to gain a deeper look at the waters around the Nevada. Tense times in the news meant militaries got more aggressive. He wouldn’t put it past China to have a number of subs out searching for a U.S. boomer on Pacific patrol just for a show of presence, to remind them that China considered this half of the ocean theirs. Bishop wished he had one of Gina’s photos on the screen in front of him right now so he could see everything going on.
They were due to move up to hard-alert status in 48 hours, taking over from the USS Henry M. Jackson as the lead boomer for the northern watch. He looked at his watch, walked over to the drill instructor. “Show me the last missile test times,” he said. The boat felt ready, drills had been running smoothly, but he’d run another one if they could still improve execution times.
Gina counted 38 submarines in the waters stretching from South Korea down to Taiwan. Rear Admiral Hardman stood beside her, watching the photo develop. “An incredible sight, Gina, and very useful.”
“Thank you, sir. Another four hours, I may have enough resolution to tell you sub type, and from that, nation of origin. It was a weak flare, and it’s taking some time to get enough reflections.” She’d been baby-sitting the data streams since the day before, watching the reflections slowly accumulate.
“China, Japan, South Korea—you don’t want them playing in the same sandbox when one of them is mad. Find me when you have the detailed data. It’s the South Korean subs that have me most concerned. They’re farther south than they normally travel.”
“I will, sir.”
“Captain Strong, has the Michigan reached the patrol box yet?” Hardman asked.
“Twenty minutes, sir.”
“Send an informational EAM to the Nevada and let her know that Michigan’s coming. I want them to link up and start a cross-sonar quiet search focused on the waters south of Japan just as soon as it’s feasible. Find me that South Korea sub that should be docked in Japan and isn’t.”
“Yes, sir.”
“Control, sonar. New contact bearing 078. It’s the USS Michigan, sir.”
“Very well,” Bishop replied. He moved to scan the navigation table. “Conn, come to heading 090, make our depth 400 feet.”
The order was repeated and executed. They had the towed array deployed. They could run a parallel track about 15 miles apart, cross-link sonar, and get their first good look at what was out there to their west. If they were fortunate, the range would give them visibility as far as the Seawolf.
“Sonar, control. Cross-link sonar with the Michigan as soon as we are in range, then run a cross-sonar ping focused on the last known position of the Seawolf.”
“Control, sonar. Cross-sonar on the first opportunity, then ping, aye, Captain.”
The Michigan was a ballistic missile submarine of the same class as the Nevada, but the Michigan had been converted to carry Tomahawk missiles rather than Trident II D-5s. If a land war broke out, the Michigan would bring conventionally armed missiles to the fight. A submarine could fire the first missiles of an engagement without warning, while an air force bomber could be seen leaving base or be picked up on radar. The early shots tended to go to submarines. The Michigan had been in battle several times over the years. If a skirmish started, they would need to be prepared to disengage and separate quickly since the fired missile would give away the submarine location. But for now, the Michigan was welcome company.
Bishop watched on the navigation table as the distance closed between the two subs.
“Control, sonar. I have a cross-sonar link with the Michigan, sir. Beginning cross-sonar with an active ping now.”
“Very well. Report all new contacts.” Bishop deliberately made himself relax. The sweep would give him a very good sense if the Nevada was still sailing in clear waters or if they had unwelcome company.
“Control, sonar. Clear waters, sir, out 200 miles. We have reacquired the USS Seawolf, same location. Reading six distinct contacts in his vicinity, surface and submerged. Working to identify now, sir.”
“Very well.”
Jeff’s Seawolf had been holding station over the seamounts south of Japan for the last several days. He could hide in and among the seamounts, rise toward the surface and show the boat on radar, be a quietly watchful presence to keep both sides honest. One side couldn’t fire a shot and then claim self-defense with the Seawolf recording what occurred, able to prove who started the fight. It was a kind of brute-force diplomacy, the presence of the U.S. fast-attack keeping the peace. Bishop quietly said a prayer for his friend and new brother-in-law, then turned his attention back to the Michigan.
“Sonar, control. Start a cross-sonar quiet search. I’m curious if we can pick up anything north of Japan. In particular, what’s South Korea doing?”
“Control, sonar. Starting a quiet search, aye, Captain.”
“Torpedo in the water! Distant. Bearing 247 degrees.”
Bishop hurried forward to the sonar room.
“Someone just took a shot at the Seawolf.” Sonar Chief Penn flipped a switch and put the audio on speaker. The sound of small explosions rippled through the sonar room. “Canisters, sir. Trying to confuse the guidance lock.” More pops on the audio. “Emergency blow. He’s heading topside in a hurry . . . he’s clearing it. Sounds are separating.”
“Who fired?”
“Not clear, sir.”
Bishop walked farther forward to the radio shack, where all the printers had come active. “Traffic, sir. Lots of it. Tactical Command is ordering the Seawolf to not fire back.”
Jeff w
as having a rough night. Bishop scanned the messages coming across, then stepped back into the sonar room. “Where is he, Penn?”
His sonar chief had overlaid the navigational topology map and now tapped the screen. “Here, sir. And maneuvering deep at a fast angle.”
A smart tactical move to head down among the seamounts to give himself cover while National Command sorted out what had happened. Smart and would be very dangerous without precise seamount data and detailed navigational maps. Gina’s early work mapping the ocean floor was saving lives tonight. Jeff could afford to wait and not fire back while the situation got sorted out.
“I think it was the Son Won-il that fired.”
“South Korea?”
“Yes, sir.”
“Radio, let me hear a commercial band out of South Korea.”
He didn’t speak the language, but he didn’t need to. The station wasn’t playing music, the words were urgent, stressed, and news was breaking.
The reasons a South Korean submarine captain would fire—would have permission to fire—made a very short list. A missile volley on the DMZ, North Korea launching a long-range missile with a warhead that hit something, a naval skirmish with a sunk vessel. The fact a South Korean captain had mistakenly fired on a U.S. submarine would raise massive consternation across the militaries of both nations. It spoke to the confusion going on at sea, the high tension level.
“Any change to the Michigan—course or speed?”
“No change, sir. She’s starboard side pacing us, distance 14 miles.”
Being able to run cross-sonar was what was giving the Nevada the visibility to see the Seawolf, so he’d prefer to stay paired up for now and have firsthand knowledge of what was happening. But they’d need to separate fast if orders flowed in. “Keep a tight eye on her.”
“Yes, sir.”
Bishop strode back to command-and-control. “XO, make our depth 500 feet.”
There was nothing he could do on the USS Nevada but listen and sort out events as they happened. He couldn’t move to help out the Seawolf, even if he would personally like to, not given this boat and her mission. But he could, and would, keep this boat safe.
He reached for the phone. “Weapons, load torpedoes, tubes one and two,” Bishop directed. “Set range to magnetic search, 10 miles.”
Gina heard the alarm even before the elevator doors opened, found Daniel waiting on the other side. Daniel grabbed her hand and rushed her through the Tactical Command Center doors as red lights began to flash. “What?” Gina asked. “What’s going on?”
“Lockdown. Head to your office so we’re out of the way and don’t get tossed out of here.”
She saw the ocean boards rapidly shifting to zoom in on the Ryukyu Ridge and Okinawa Trough in the East China Sea. “Tell me what’s happened.”
Daniel didn’t stop to look—or let her look—until they were in her office. He turned to stand in the doorway and scan the boards out in the main area. “Someone took a shot at the Seawolf.”
Her response froze in her throat.
Daniel looked back when she made no comment and calmly stepped over to rest a hand on her shoulder. “Jeff’s busy at the moment, but still very much alive.” Daniel turned back to study the boards and added, “He just put the Seawolf 1,300 feet down into a canyon. That would be one intense roller coaster of a ride.”
She couldn’t get the words out to ask who had fired. Please, Jesus, my brother is in danger. You’ve got to help him. Every bit of emotion in her that she couldn’t voice went into that silent request.
“I’m seeing Pentagon flash traffic warnings to South Korea and Japan,” Daniel continued, reading the boards. “And lots of EAM traffic for the Seawolf not to fire back. This may be a friendly-fire incident, Gina.”
She still didn’t feel she could breathe correctly, but she managed to get two words out: “He’s safe?”
Daniel’s hand on her shoulder tightened. “As safe as you can be when your boss tells you not to fire back. He’ll be fine, Gina. He’s in a very defensible position, and it looks like they’re sending the Ohio in as a backstop.”
Rear Admiral Hardman moved across her line of vision, phone to his ear.
“Why lockdown?”
“Protocol, whenever there’s hostile fire.”
“Thanks for getting us inside,” Gina said.
“Sure thing.”
She could have been on the other side of the doors and not learned any of this until the patrol was over, if then. She wondered how many skirmishes like this Jeff had been in and never mentioned to her, how many Bishop had seen. “How long before it’s certain it was friendly fire?” she managed to say to Daniel.
“I’d get comfortable. I think we’re here for the next 12 hours, minimum, before they know enough to take TCC off lockdown.”
“Sir, the Seawolf is staying where it was shot at?” Gina asked Rear Admiral Hardman, determined to keep her voice and questions calm, relieved she was able to ask the question of the man who would know. The world had returned to some semblance of normal in the last four hours, but the TCC was still sucking in massive amounts of intel on what had happened—if someone in South Korea had given the order for the Son Won-il to fire.
“We move the Seawolf out of the way even temporarily, we’re going to have a Chinese sub moving into that square of the ocean,” Hardman told her. “It’s going to be a case of possession is nine-tenths of the law. We won’t be able to move him out again. If China parks a sub there, Japan—or for that matter, South Korea—will try to dislodge him. We can’t afford to let that happen. The Seawolf has to stay put. Right now we’re the ref holding on to the football while the two sides argue with each other over who gets possession.”
“And if it happens again? If someone fires on him again?”
“A mistake is one thing, but firing a second time—National Command doesn’t consider that to be a mistake. Trust your brother, Gina. Commander Gray, the Seawolf and her crew, are very good at their job. We’ll be exerting maximum pressure overnight to get this situation resolved before it escalates further.”
She nodded. “I appreciate you allowing me to stay in the TCC.”
Hardman smiled briefly. “I need you on the inside in the hopes we get another solar flare. I need a photo of which subs just put to sea, who got ordered back toward home waters. A picture would clarify a lot of questions right now. What people are saying is often not the same as what they’re doing.”
“Yes, sir. I hope we do get another solar flare.”
She looked at the ocean map. The prayer came with the same intensity as before. She desperately wanted to help her brother and help keep her husband safe. Please, Jesus, we need a flare. For my sake. For Jeff’s. For Mark’s too. A nice strong solar flare and, preferably, right now. Please, help me. Help us all.
“How many games of tic-tac-toe does this make?”
“Just because you’re losing,” Daniel quipped, drawing another board for a new game, ignoring the question. They were sitting in the back row of the theater seats. The lockdown still hadn’t lifted, but the situation appeared to have stabilized. Gina was beginning to feel hungry and wondered what would be sent in for dinner. They were now monitoring television channels for any word the incident had become public. So far, all was quiet.
Her phone signaled an incoming text. She pulled it out, surprised the message was allowed through. Outgoing calls on cell phones were being blocked. “Good news, it’s JPL. There’s been another solar flare.” She rapidly read through the numbers. “A hot one, Daniel. And looping straight toward the earth.”
“That sounds good.”
She nodded. “Very good. In 60 hours this energy hits the earth’s oceans and we’ll get a very clear look at what’s going on.” At least now she’d be able to do something that might help, rather than just sit here and watch. Thank you, Jesus, for this answer.
Daniel set the alarm on his watch and got to his feet. “I’ll give Admiral Hardman and Captain
Strong a heads up.”
CNN cut into their broadcast with breaking news, and Daniel paused, then sat down again. The picture changed to a live image of a missile streaking away from the North Korea coast. The image jumped around the screen, then steadied as the camera lens focused in.
“Ooh boy, this ain’t good,” Daniel breathed as the missile climbed.
The TCC was tied into the Pentagon video feeds. Displays shifted to show the Pentagon tracking. They watched as software computed the missile trajectory, and moments later two interceptor missiles fired from Guam. One slammed into the tail of the North Korean missile over Japan’s territorial waters, the detonation sending shock waves across the screen.
“That wasn’t just the intercept missile,” Gina whispered, stunned at the force of the blast.
“No, that North Korean missile had a warhead aboard,” Daniel said quietly, watching the video unfold. “That’s the first time North Korea has put an explosives payload on one of those missiles.”
“The second missile on the launcher?”
“I don’t think anyone’s going to let them fire it and find out what it’s carrying.”
Gina watched Rear Admiral Hardman pick up the phone. She didn’t want a front seat to history, but she realized she had one tonight as events unfolded and orders and counterorders flowed out. She rested her chin against her hands on the seat in front of her and hoped her heart rate would slow down.
Jeff had spent a career training to be in the middle of trouble. Mark would enter this fight only if the world spun deep into chaos. And she wouldn’t have been able to pick who she was most worried about at the moment. Her brother and her husband both needed to come home safely. “How many nuclear warheads does North Korea have?” she asked.
“Too many for tonight,” Daniel replied, pushing to his feet. “They supposedly don’t have them miniaturized enough to put on a missile payload, but I don’t know who in Japan will want to trust the accuracy of that intelligence-community guess. I’ll tell Hardman and Strong a hot flare is coming. They’ll want that picture—need that picture, Gina. Subs are often the first movers in a fight. If Japan acts, we’ll see them putting to sea.”