“General,” said the AGO, “we’re ready to transmit.”
Spencer attacked the keyboard. The system’s analyzer automatically formatted his message into code, his efforts given new urgency by the amplified voice of the pilot.
“Tomcats continue to approach. They’ve yet to reply to our comms though we’ve just been painted by their attack radar.”
Spencer cursed his leaden fingers. Sweat began to form on his forehead, and his pulse quickened with the pilot’s next update.
“We’ve just been instructed by the lead Tomcat to halt all VLF transmissions and reel in our wire. General Spencer, how do you want me to reply?”
Spencer ignored this question, trying instead to focus his complete attention on completing the EAM.
“Sir,” cut in his SIOP advisor from the console to Spencer’s right.
“What the hell is going on out there, and why is that F14 ordering us to quit transmitting?”
“Major Childress,” Spencer anxiously replied, “I need just a couple more minutes to complete this EAM; then I promise I’ll explain everything.”
“General Spencer, sir!” exclaimed the pilot’s frantic, amplified voice.
“The Tomcats have threatened to attack unless we reel in our wire at once. Sir, I believe they’re serious.”
“Stall ‘em. Captain!” Spencer ordered into his chin mike.
“Sir,” interrupted his AGO from his console on the opposite side of the passageway.
“For whatever reason, the threat from those Tomcats appears to be real. I recommend immediately ceasing VLF transmission, bringing in the reel, and sorting this thing out before it gets completely out of hand.”
“I concur, sir,” said the SIOP advisor.
Spencer was in the process of detailing the manner in which the Folk’s SEALS could convince the Rhode Island to terminate its launch. He had all but completed inputting this passage, when the intercom filled with the frantic voice of his pilot.
“Incoming rounds!”
This urgent warning was followed by a series of sharp, crackling explosions. The cabin began vibrating so violently that Spencer’s hands slid off the keyboard. There was a sickening feeling in his gut as the aircraft abruptly broke out of its orbit and experienced a sudden loss of altitude. Alarms started going off, and thick, caustic smoke began filling the battle-staff compartment.
Spencer struggled to reach up and put on his oxygen mask, and he had to hold on for dear life as Iron Man One canted over hard on its right side, caught in the grasp of a heart stopping death spiral.
“They’ve shot off our damned wire!” exclaimed the pilot while fighting to keep them in the air.
Chapter 47
Captain Benjamin Kram was informed of the Priority One transmission from TACAMO while in the midst of a routine inspection of the engine room. He quickly left Polk Power and Light behind, and headed forward to the radio room. He was met there by his XO, and together they read and reread General Spencer’s rather complex, strangely compressed EAM. Neither officer had ever received such a peculiar message, which Kram conveyed to his stateroom so that they could discuss it in private.
“What do you think. Skipper?” asked the XO as he sat down on the stateroom’s only chair.
“Do you really think Admiral Warner could be responsible for orchestrating a coup and authorizing the release of nukes against our own citizens? Not to mention assassinating the President and attempting to kill the VP. It sounds to me like General Spencer has gone off the deep end.”
Kram sat down heavily on the edge of his bunk, the dispatch still held tightly in his hands.
“I’ve got to admit that it’s a wild accusation, but General Lowell Spencer is one of the most levelheaded individuals I’ve ever met, and he’s definitely not prone to paranoid delusions or outlandish exaggeration. I served with him for a short time while I was assigned to STRATCOM, and I got a chance to know both the General and his wife. Believe me, Dan, they don’t come much better.”
“Then if he’s telling the truth, do you think that Trent Warner is capable of such heinous behavior? I mean, the Admiral’s a fellow submariner. Skipper, and one of our proudest days was when he was named Chairman.”
“I realize that, Dan. But what do any of us really know about the man?”
“Graduated at the head of his class at Annapolis, one of the few submariners to see combat during Korea and Vietnam, personally selected by Rickover to command one of the first Tridents, a tireless proponent of continued submarine development in the post-Cold War Navy — I believe his resume is pretty much a matter of public record. Skipper.”
“I’m well aware of that, Dan. But beyond his professional accomplishments, what kind of man is Trent Warner. What are his personal beliefs, frustrations, fears? Have you ever worked directly for him?”
The XO shook his head, and Kram added, “Well, neither have I, though I have several colleagues who served with him as recently as last year, during his short stint as CNO. From what I gathered from them, the Admiral was a difficult man to serve under, much like Hyman Rickover. Like Rick, Warner is incredibly intelligent, prone to fits of rage should his subordinates fail to meet his high standards. I also heard him described as hard driving a perfectionist, with an enigmatic dark side to his personality.”
“Did you say dark side. Skipper, as in evil?”
“I wouldn’t go that far, XO. What I’m referring to is a conversation I remember having with a neighbor of mine who served on one of Warner’s submarines as weapons officer. I’ll never forget his detailed descriptions of then Captain Warner’s infamous wardroom chats. It seems Warner liked to use his wardroom as a bully pulpit.
“He demanded that his officers remain at table after dinner in particular, so he could preach to them on his favorite subjects — the dangers of American involvement with organizations such as the United Nations, the World Bank, the IMF, and the G-Seven. He had a particular abhorrence of strategic-arms-control treaties with the Russians, and constantly preached about the dangers of SALT Two.”
“Then I can imagine what the Chairman thought about the President’s support of the Global Zero Nuclear Alert agreement,” the XO interjected.
Kram met his XO’s stare, his eyes wide with sudden enlightenment.
“You could be onto something, Dan. The grapevine had it that the President was on his way to the Crimea, preparing to sign that very same treaty. What an opportune time for a coup formed by opponents of this treaty to remove him from office.”
“But why go and launch an attack using American nuclear warheads against our own people?” the XO countered.
“It’s apparent that there’s somebody at ground zero whom they’ve got to eliminate, and that they’ll go to any extreme to do so,” said Kram, who knew then that it was imperative for him to act on General Spencer’s request with all due haste.
“I see no harm in launching the mini-sub and sending the SEALs over to the Rhode Island. We’re not in a state of war, and with their underwater telephone out of commission because of the collision, sending in Gilbert and his men is the only way we’re going to get to Captain Lockwood and stop those nukes from being launched.”
Kram stood up to implement this order, and his XO also rose, leaving him with one last question.
“Even if we do manage to get over to the Rhode Island, why should he believe the SEALs?
Wouldn’t he consider them a possible enemy diversion, a bunch of spies he should lock up or shoot on sight? What’s to keep Lockwood from meeting our boys with force, following his original EAM, and launching?”