“Just wondered when the Christmas bonus checks will arrive from our favorite uncle.”
“Wrong uncle, swabby. And I still say I caught the most fish that we could eat.”
“Good night, David.”
“Good night, Chet. You’re not old enough to have heard them, Murdock.”
“I’m a student of TV history.”
Murdock hung up the phone. Three acoustic rifles. Better than what they had now. He forgot to ask if anyone else would hear the sound the weapons made. If the target didn’t hear anything, it was reasonable to extrapolate that no one else would hear it either.
Back in the SEALs’ room, Jaybird was still on the computer. He looked up and grinned. “All sorts of weird shit on this thing. One guy keeps yelling that the non-lethal weapons are a sham. The military wants them to knock out the defenses of an enemy, then they roll in unopposed and massacre the stunned or blind defenders. They say that the non-lethal weapons will help kill more people than ever in any war that they are used in.”
“Yeah, he’s probably right. Anything we can use?”
“Nope. Two more kinds of sticky-sticky-goo stuff that is dropped out of airplanes and covers a whole battalion of dug-in troops, freezing them in place so completely that they can’t even move a trigger finger.”
“Jaybird, take the men out of here and get some sleep. Tomorrow we see who can do a thousand push-ups. You’ll all need your rest.”
“A fucking thousand,” Kenneth Ching asked. “You’ve got to be kidding.”
“You’ll find out tomorrow.”
Ed Dewitt fell into step with Murdock as he left the room. Murdock told him about the acoustic rifles.
“Great if they work,” Ed said. “if we have to go in there non-lethal, it’s gonna be a hell of a mess.”
“It already is, Ed. See you in the morning.”
Twenty miles almost due south of the American task force, Russian Captain Barsoloff Natursky brought his killer submarine down under the thermal layer, and cut her speed to five knots. The RNU Shark, SMN-23, had been shadowing the American task force for the past week. It was only an hour ago that his people had the first indications that the Americans had spotted him.
He had become too bold, he realized now. He had crept too close to the screening ships around the huge nuclear carrier, and one of the frigates on the perimeter had heard his nearly silent screws. Some lucky sonobuoys had taken good readings on him before he slipped away through the thermal layer where the hunters would get his signal confused with the surface noise.
Now the Shark was far out of their range. It was a record nonetheless. No other Russian Oscar-class boat had ever done what he had done in the masterful shadowing of an American task force.
Now the confrontation.
An hour ago he had gone nearly to the surface, and extended his communications antenna above the water for the regular signal transmissions. To his surprise he had three messages from the carrier Ataman in the Sea of Japan. Now he knew of the takeover of the small Russian island north of Hokkaido, and what it meant. He had been put on a Level Three Alert — to be combat ready in fifteen minutes, and to stand by for later information. A Level Four meant impending military action was imminent. An Alert Five was the call for an all-out war.
He had fallen too far behind the American task force.
“All ahead two thirds,” he ordered.
“All ahead two thirds, aye,” the watch officer said.
Captain Natursky left the attack command center, and went back to his cabin. The smallness of his quarters satisfied him. He had been on submarines for thirty years. He felt at home here. These quarters were much larger than any he ever had at sea before. It was simply a larger boat, over 13,900 tons standard, and 18,300 tons submerged. He had a crew of 107 men, and could stay at sea for over a year if the food supply held out. He had so much firepower it shocked and amazed him.
But it never awed him. He had at his total and complete individual command 24 tubes to launch the largest rockets ever fired from the sea.
Each with twelve independently targeted nuclear warheads. A total of 268 targets that he could aim at, hit, and totally destroy with nuclear holocausts. He could target cities anywhere in this half of the hemisphere.
Captain Natursky smiled grimly at the idea that he could totally annihilate an enemy. He, Captain Barsloff Natursky. No one else in the whole world had this much firepower. He took a deep breath, then picked up a book of Russian poetry written in the nineteenth century, and was at once lost in the rhyme and meter of the glorious verse.
A knock sounded on his door. He waited. The knock came again.
When it sounded the third time, he bellowed for the person to enter.
A lieutenant walked in, and held out an envelope. It was a sealed, yellow Top Secret envelope. The captain nodded at the officer, who handed him the message and retreated, probably glad not to be verbally thrashed for disturbing the captain.
Natursky opened the envelope, and unfolded the yellow paper, which was always used on the machine that printed out the messages that came in encrypted.
“Captain Natursky. Continue to shadow the American task force.
The carrier is the USS Monroe, CVN-81. She has eighty-five aircraft on board, including high-tech antisubmarine planes, and ASW ships. Be cautious. We are speeding to the Russian island of Kunashir. The invasion by the Japanese rebels still holds. We will talk them off or blast them into eternity so they can visit with their ancestors.
“Stay on Alert Three. There may be no problem, but we prefer to have you ready and waiting in case things get out of hand and we need to destroy the carrier.
“Outstanding work in trailing the task force so long and going undetected. Do they know that you’re there yet? Make any reply, comments, and suggestions during your next regularly scheduled transmission time.”
The message was signed by Admiral Vladimir Rostow.
The captain smiled. He marked his place in the book of poetry and put it down. He was no longer in the mood for it. He left his quarters, and moved to the combat plotting room, where he had laid out a normal pattern of the ships that surround an American nuclear aircraft carrier. He knew precisely what ships were used, where they would usually be stationed in a screening maneuver, and what weapons and ASW devices they carried.
More importantly, he knew the total capability of the carrier’s ASW planes and ships. Understanding them, and how the Americans worked with them, was vital to his own survival.
Now he studied the board, and moved some ship symbols. He knew what he would do in command of such a task force if attacked by a submarine. But what would the Americans do?
He laid out several scenarios, plotting exactly how he on the Shark would respond. He smiled again, the second time that day. Yes, he had worked out two problems, memorizing precisely what action he would take for each one.
Before he realized it, the three hours were gone and the lieutenant from communications was back asking if he had any messages to send during their short communications window. The captain said he did, and went forward to the commo center to write out his messages for the encrypting computer.
16
General Raiden Nishikawa sat in his small office in the headquarters building waiting for some new reply from the messages he had sent out. He had received preliminary responses from two of the recipients. The Russians had been sharp, demanding, insulting, and militant. The Americans had made quite clear that they would do what the Japanese government wanted them to do. He had not heard anything from the Diet.