“Right engine — ahead full!”
With one shaft backing and the other pushing, the cruiser pivoted in the sea like a teen maneuvering a skateboard. The gyro repeater arced to the right, and Isabel assessed the rate of change. Now.
“All ahead flank!” she boomed, and the ship shuddered as both screws bit into the sea and propelled it forward. The compass settled on 265, and Isabel ordered Brister to maintain 280. She hit her wristwatch stop feature, and realized she hadn’t been logging her own orders to the helm. The turbine engine whine permeated the compartment.
Are we heading into passing traffic? Is there a bank or shoal to the west we could run aground on? Isabel did not know and could not know as Chief Tobin tried in vain to get anyone topside to answer on any circuit. She had to get the ship clear, and her best guess was all Cape Esperance had at the moment by way of navigation.
Cape Esperance was now on an even keel and accelerating blind to the west at over 30 knots inside a South China Sea that was always choked with surface traffic. The deck below their feet steadied out to a gentle pitch as the ship bounded through the waves.
Isabel sensed on her the uneasy eyes of the young snipes, no older than she was, as they waited. Theirs was a desperate run to what they hoped was clear air, and they still didn’t know the situation of the crew — their friends — on the decks above them. And she, Isabel Manning, was in charge, less than a year from her commissioning.
She watched the VMS, as they all did, in their high-pitched metallic cocoon, for the moment safe from whatever evil was on the other side of the bulkheads. She knew what she had to do, and turning to Chief Tobin, she lowered her voice.
“Chief, after we finish this run, I’m going topside, and I want one man with me. We’ll go dead in the water and put on the two chem/bio suits. Want a guy, a big guy.”
“I’ll go with you, ma’am.”
“No, Chief, want you here and in charge. We’ll have everyone don a gas mask before we go through the hatch, and you can dog it down after we leave. We’ll either call you when all clear or come back.”
“Won’t you be contaminated?”
Isabel considered his words. He was right. It would be a one-way mission.
“Yeah, well, we’ll go to the bridge and assess, and get a radio call off to…. I don’t know. Who should we call?”
Tobin gave her a hard look. “Ma’am, that topside stuff is all yours, I just keep the engines running.”
Isabel nodded as she realized the truth in his words. While she knew enough to be dangerous, none of the snipes around her had ever spoken on a radio frequency. She had wanted to be back in navigation and operations, and she had gotten her wish. Both were now her show.
“Okay, I’ll figure it out. Williams… he’s a big guy, and I may need some muscle power. I want to take him.”
“You gonna ask him, ma’am?”
“No, you are going to order him,” Isabel answered, her eyes locked on her chief, both knowing what she was asking.
Tobin nodded, turned to the group, and bellowed, “Williams! Break out a chem/bio suit and get in it. You’re going topside with the ensign. Salazar and Bennett, help him.”
As the sailors set about their tasks, with a wary Seaman Williams not sure why he was chosen for this, Isabel noted the time. One minute to go.
They had been steady on their present course and speed for the past two minutes — the equivalent of a mile — and the initial acceleration and deceleration after she had given the order would account for another mile. Close enough, and once on the bridge, she could at least steer Cape Esperance clear of additional dangers. She gave the order.
“All stop.”
Chief Tobin manipulated the throttles a second time. “All stop, aye… Ma’am the engines are at idle, prop pitch neutral.”
“Very well,” Isabel replied as the turbines’ rotation slowed and the cruiser coasted to a stop. She fought to remain calm as she donned the chem/bio suit, wondering what she and Williams would find topside.
CHAPTER 2
Something was out of the ordinary aboard USS Cape Esperance. The Global Command and Control System displays in Yokosuka, Pearl Harbor, and San Diego showed it.
Known to operators as “geeks,” the GCCS display of the satellite tracking information on every ship in the Pacific Fleet showed the cruiser off her scheduled freedom-of-navigation transit track. Watch Officers, in particular those aboard the 7th Fleet flagship Blue Ridge, grew concerned at the abrupt changes in course and speed, and initiated contact with the wayward surface combatant. After repeated unsuccessful attempts to contact the cruiser, a report was made to the Fleet Commander. Once briefed that Cape Esperance was off course and not answering, the commander directed a FLASH OVERRIDE message be sent to Hawaii.
Duty Watch Officers assigned to the U.S. Indo-Pacific Command at Camp Smith and U.S. Pacific Fleet at Pearl Harbor, working in command post operations centers separated by only a short distance, were prompted by the message and heads up phone calls from Japan that something unusual was happening to Cape Esperance. Their admirals needed to know.
At the Hale Koa Hotel terrace overlooking Waikiki Beach, with iconic Diamond Head silhouetted by a gibbous moon climbing the eastern sky, their admirals were making small talk with dozens of island officials at an evening Veterans Day reception. Gentle trade winds buffeted the torch flames and palm fronds as the group of middle-aged guests enjoyed the beautiful evening on the poolside lanai under starry skies. With the men dressed in “Crisp Hawaiian” attire consisting of aloha shirts and slacks and the ladies in colorful cocktail dresses, the two Navy four-stars chatted with the Governor and his wife, the mayor, retired admirals and generals from the local area and various government bureaucrats. Around them were the four-star military component commanders of the other branches of service as they all hobnobbed with one another in familiar fashion. The reception showed signs of winding down, and aides took furtive glances at their watches so they could get their principals — and themselves — home for a short time before their day began anew in nine hours with the first morning calls from Washington.
The simultaneous ringing of Executive Assistant classified cell phones was not unusual, and the Navy captains answered them away from the crowd to take the reports, all the while watching their principals smile and chat with all they met.
Oh-oh, Captain Rich “Richie” Casher thought as he listened to the INDOPACOM Duty Officer. A cruiser off course in the SCS and not answering the SATCOM lines? The Chinese are going to go ape-shit.
Casher’s eyes met those of his PAC FLEET counterpart, Captain Paul Jerome, who was also a career aviator. As Casher walked over to where he listened on his phone, a frown crossed over Jerome’s face.
“Cape Esperance?”
“Yep, did you get a report?” Jerome asked him.
“Yeah, off course, not talking… What the fuck?”
“Don’t know, but I’m going to tell my boss now.”
“Me, too, and please include that I’m informing mine.”
“Rog-o. And to think I was planning to get a few hours sleep tonight. What was I thinking?”
Casher smiled and shrugged in mock apology. “Yeah, ship guys… what are you going to do? Hey, I hope the CO of Cape Esperance has a good story. He’ll need it.”