“From the Twentieth?” asked Fedorin, alarmed.
“No, sir, please excuse me. That is the total from all the branches of the armed forces over the last week. Three from the Army, two from the Navy, and one each from the Air Force and the Strategic Rocket Forces.”
“Make sure word of their fate is well-known, Minister Trusov.” Fedorin paused, then added, “We are too weak to leave any of that rot in place. How many were for drunkenness?”
Trusov sighed. “Three, Comrade President.”
Fedorin glanced over at the side table. A tray held a crystal service with a decanter full of vodka in the center. The president drank little, but many of his visitors showed less restraint. “‘Vodka spoils everything except the glasses,’” he quoted.
Trusov tried to sound positive. “It’s much better than when we started, Comrade President. Discipline is improving. And so far, the only country to react decisively is Estonia. They’ve ordered a full mobilization.”
Fedorin smiled, then actually laughed. “The mighty Estonian army. That’s it?”
Trusov nodded. “Partial mobilizations in the rest of the NATO countries, and they’re still arguing over whether or not units should be deployed to the Baltic States. Everyone’s assuming the United States will step forward and commit the bulk of the forces. There are signs that the United States may be preparing a large ‘no notice’ exercise of its own.”
“This is based on?”
“Signals intercepts and spies, mostly relating to long-term logistics, slightly higher than usual naval deployments. It’s apparently still in the early stages”—Trusov smiled—“and of course, it’s pointless.”
“All the more embarrassing when we force them to cancel it,” Fedorin predicted. Then his smile disappeared. “What of the progress at Bolshevik Island?”
“It’s going well, Comrade President. The Project 09852 submarine Belgorod and Losharik have been assisting with the installation of the Drakon weapons being brought in separately by icebreaker. They are on schedule for completing the loading and testing process by eighteen August. The antisubmarine forces are in place, and aside from a few false alarms, no contacts have been reported.”
“False alarms?” Fedorin asked.
“From the Sever sensor net,” Trusov explained. “One of the acoustic modules will on occasion report a detection.” He saw Fedorin’s face, and the president started to rise from the settee. Trusov held out a hand. “Each detection is thoroughly investigated by helicopters, and so far all have proved to be false.”
“I don’t know if I like a warning system that is prone to false alarms,” Fedorin muttered angrily.
Trusov was unconcerned. He’d studied the matter in depth. “It’s a question of sensitivity, sir. A passive acoustic sensor capable of hearing a modern submarine will sporadically pick up enough random noise to signal a detection. Within reason, the greater the sensitivity of the sensor, the more false alerts, but also the better the chance of detecting a real enemy.”
Fedorin frowned. “That sensor net and the minefield are the only things guarding our greatest asset, and what I hope is still our greatest secret.” Trusov knew Fedorin had been greatly upset by American President Hardy’s public exposure of the Drakon system. It had shaken his faith in their security, and was the only thing that had seriously threatened the upcoming operation.
Hardy’s announcement had caused Fedorin to momentarily question relying on the new torpedo-missile complex and pushing up the timetable for the army. Trusov had spent a long night with the president, reviewing their campaign, trying to imagine what else could go wrong, and what the Americans could do with their knowledge of the weapon. It didn’t take long for Fedorin to regain his confidence in the operation.
“I don’t like it, Defense Minister. We need to do more to make sure those false alarms are just that, and not a Western submarine poking around where it shouldn’t. Our whole plan hinges on that facility, and it is at its most vulnerable point!”
“I understand, Comrade President. A second group of ASW helicopters and support equipment is being organized right now. It should arrive the day after tomorrow.”
“Why is it so hard to get helicopters to Bolshevik Island? The Navy has dozens in the Northern Fleet alone!” Fedorin was clearly irritated.
“Most have been assigned to Northern Fleet warships in preparation for the operation. The ones sent to Bolshevik Island were spare aircraft, or those just coming out of a modernization overhaul…”
“I don’t care if we lose half the fleet to submarine attacks!” Fedorin shouted angrily. “That facility is the key to everything, and its defense must have the highest possible priority.”
“A larger helicopter detachment could draw attention, and will need more flights to supply them. Those may be hard to conceal,” argued Trusov.
“Do it!” Fedorin ordered peremptorily. “What about submarines?”
“Both the attack submarines Vepr and Kazan are on station, watching the western and northern approaches to the island.”
“Move them in closer to the island, as soon as possible. Position one within striking distance of monitoring arrays. Maybe it can catch the next ‘false alarm’ that appears.”
“Yes, Comrade President.”
“And while you’re at it, have naval intelligence do a complete check of all Western submarines. Positively confirm the location of any that are capable of reaching the Arctic.”
16
MAKE A HOLE
They moved well away from the island to the north and west. The water wasn’t that deep, just a little over one hundred fathoms, and Weiss hugged the bottom. Jimmy Carter couldn’t actually sit on the bottom like World War II submarines could. Back then, subs did it to save battery power, as well as hide from active sonar, but nuclear submarines used cold sea water — a lot of it — to condense the steam after it had spun the ship’s turbines. The intakes for the main seawater pumps were near the bottom of the hull, and if Carter got too close to the bottom, she could start vacuuming up silt, clogging the whole system and possibly losing propulsion.
At Weiss’s orders, the sub remained at ultra quiet, creeping at bare steerageway as close as he could to the sea floor. LT Kathy Owens was the officer of the deck, and she ordered random zigzags, on the outside chance anyone had detected the sub and was trying to track it. Unlikely as that was, Carter’s crew was taking absolutely no chances. They might be in international waters, but they were certain the Russians would shoot first and explain later.
Setting ultra quiet was a mixed blessing. It reduced the submarine’s noise signature, but it also adversely affected normal operations. Those not on duty were confined to their bunks, reading or catching up on their sleep. No maintenance or repair work was allowed, and the galley was limited to simple meals that didn’t require cooking. Maintaining the submarine’s trim became difficult, since the pump used to shift water from one variable ballast tank to another had to be used sparingly.
Jerry had come to control to consult with Weiss; a face-to-face discussion was preferable to debating over an IC circuit. Dr. Cavanaugh had followed the commodore and, with the OOD’s permission, remained in control, silent and still. He listened to the sonar reports as they tracked the Russian helicopters’ search. While the Russian Lamb Tail sonar could detect a sub only a few miles away, the pinging could be heard much farther. The control room watch plotted the bearing of each dip, and compared their results with the plot in UCC, watching for changes that showed them getting closer to Carter’s position.