“Alright. What about the submarine? What are our plans for that?”
“Sir, I’ve been in touch with the P-8 squadron in El Salvador. They’ve been brought into the fold on SILVERSMITH. They’ve promised to provide as much ASW coverage as possible over the next few days, until Farragut gets to Panama. There is a problem, however.”
“What’s that?”
“Sir, the P-8 skipper told me that they don’t have any live torpedoes. Their mission in the area was ASW training and counternarcotic surveillance only.”
“So I have fighters with no anti-ship missiles, and ASW aircraft with no torpedoes. Very well. I assume that they’ll be able to work in concert with the Farragut and her helos?”
“Yes, sir. We’ve had intermittent HF communications with Farragut today. We think some of her communications equipment may have been damaged in combat. Once we get the Screwtops up and airborne, we’ll be able to relay all this information and confirm plans. It’s been easier to speak with the land-based assets, sir. But we’re working on it.”
The Screwtops was the call sign of the airborne early-warning E-2 squadron, VAW-123. They had recently transitioned from the E-2C to the newer model, E-2D.
“Alright. Get the aircraft launched as soon as possible.” He turned to scan the eyes of the men and women around the room. “Make sure everyone on board knows that they aren’t to share any of this information with anyone on shore. No unauthorized phone calls, email, or Internet. This place is on information lockdown unless it’s official business. That understood?”
“Yes, sir.”
The admiral stood up and walked out. In silence, everyone in the room stood at attention until he left.
23
Victoria walked into the crowded wardroom. No one called attention on deck, but she could feel that pause — that tension that occurs when the seniormost person enters the room. All eyes were on her, as if asking permission for whatever would come next.
She had called for a department head meeting as soon as OPS had come off duty. They had one of the junior officers standing tactical action officer in CIC.
Chase and the soldier she’d been speaking to in the helicopter — she learned he was actually a Marine captain, and would probably detest the term soldier—ate sandwiches prepared by the wardroom’s CS2. The rest of them sat, waiting for her. A recently retrieved Plug stood in the back of the room.
Juan had picked up a total of thirty-two officers and crew from the various international ships, but they were all recovering in the empty hangar, now converted into an infirmary.
Victoria began, “COMMO, you said you had something to tell me about getting our datalink network up and running.”
“Yes, ma’am,” the ensign said, “we actually just got a good connection a few minutes before I walked in. We’re now linking with an E2-D to the south of us. We still have to set a few things up, but we should be able to have encrypted chat capability with them, and some voice channels, ready within the hour.”
She raised her eyebrow. “Did you say E2-D?” That was the newest carrier-launched radar plane. It provided early-warning and networking capabilities to fleet ships and aircraft. If one of those was flying around in range of them, that meant that a carrier was almost certainly nearby.
“Yes, ma’am.”
“To the south? That doesn’t make a whole lot of sense. Are you sure?”
“Yes, ma’am. We’re trying to get more information, ma’am. We’ll have something for you shortly.”
“Alright. Let me know the minute you get any comms. We need them to relay our ASW help request and send more air assets to check for any more survivors near the attack site.”
“Roger that.”
The chief engineer spoke for a bit about the status of bridge repairs and damage. Then OPS filled everyone in on new staffing, replacing those who were lost in the attack. No one said a word while he spoke. She could see the looks on their faces. People were exhausted from the stress of the last twenty-four hours.
When it grew quiet again, Victoria said, “Listen, I know that everyone is tired and stressed out. Make sure when you aren’t on watch, if you don’t have anything vital to the mission going on, that you’re taking care of yourselves and getting rest. You’ll be no use to me if you’re so tired that you type in the wrong numbers when we find and attack that Chinese sub. And don’t give me any shit about the pilot always being concerned about crew rest.” She smiled.
The group smiled back. That was a good sign. People were nodding their heads.
“Plug.”
“Yes, ma’am.”
“Are you good to fly?”
“Yes, ma’am.”
“I only have one more helicopter, so please try to keep this one dry, okay?”
“I’ll do my best.”
“I need you to make sure that the bird is fully outfitted for ASW.”
“We’re loading MK-54s now, boss. Should be done in another hour.”
“Good.” She turned to the ship’s combat systems officer. “CSO, how is Farragut’s ASW readiness?”
“We’re using our passive systems to see what we can turn up, ma’am. All of our weapons are ready. No issues.”
“Except for the undetected hostile submarine in the area,” replied Victoria. She didn’t mean to sound sarcastic, but it came out that way.
“Yes, ma’am. Except for that.”
“Very well. Keep sharp, everyone. Plug, OPS, please stay. We need to have a conversation with our guests here.” She looked at her brother. Victoria hadn’t bothered to tell anyone on board that Chase and she were related. A few of them had probably seen the hug they’d exchanged in the hangar. But everything else had been strictly professional. She didn’t even have to say anything to Chase. It was just something that they both understood. The environment they were operating in required total focus. Emotion and relationships would have to wait.
When the room emptied, Victoria said, “Chase, what can you tell us?”
He placed the backpack on the table. “We have a very important piece of equipment in here that we need to get to Panama. If you can get me to the international airport there, I can do the rest. But we have a finite amount of time. This thing has an expiration.” He looked at his watch. “We have about seventy-two more hours before it’s no longer useful. I need to get it to members of my team in Panama City with enough time to do something with it. They told me they need about a day. So if you add an hour for me to secure transportation… that gives us a little under forty-eight hours to get me on the ground in Panama City.”
Victoria looked at OPS. “How far away are we from Panama City?”
He said, “I can double-check to give you an exact distance, but roughly eight hundred miles if we go straight there.”
Victoria did the math in her head. “Alright, so we’ll have to steam forty hours at twenty knots. Plug, how far would you be willing to launch at? Three hundred miles away okay? Consider this an emergency.”
“Three hundred should work if the winds aren’t in our face too much.”
She tilted her head. “Okay, let’s call it three hundred miles. That puts us down to a five-hundred-mile trip. Is twenty knots a good assumption?”
A few of the more senior surface officers nodded.
Victoria said, “So we need to head straight toward Panama for twenty-five hours. Then there’ll be flight time. Plug, what’s that?”
“Let’s call it a three-hour flight for simple math.”
“Alright — so you guys would be on deck in Panama City in twenty-eight hours. Will that work?”