“I have Admiral Woods here,” he said. “Maybe he ought to listen in.”
“Okay. Sure. Good idea,” said Jed. While he authorized the feed from his end, Dog took off his headset and called Woods over.
The admiral too had calmed somewhat. He came over without saying anything, frowned, then looked at what was now a blank screen.
“You’ll have to give your name and rank to the computer,” Dog told him. “Just do it once, and do it in as natural a voice as you can. If the voice pattern is not already in the system, you’ll be asked for a retina scan and a fingerprint. You put your hand there.”
Dog pointed toward a small glass panel at the side of the auxiliary keyboard to the com set. Woods nodded.
“Authorize additional com link,” began Dog, starting off the procedure. He nodded at Woods, who spoke so slowly the computer asked him to repeat in a natural voice.
Dog suppressed a grin as Woods repeated his name, this time somewhat sternly. When he finished, the admiral started to laugh.
“Jesus,” said Woods. “It’s come to this.”
“Please maintain level composure,” snapped the computer.
“What the hell does that mean?”
“It needs to look at your eyes. Poor choice of words,” said Dog.
Woods began to laugh. “What does it know? It’s a computer.”
Dog started to laugh too, though not quite for the same reason. The words had been chosen by Ray Rubeo, who was twice as arbitrary as any computer in existence.
Jed Barclay’s face came back on the screen.
“So here’s the thing,” said Barclay, launching back into the point he’d been making earlier. “The Indians use new technology, the Chinese feel they have to retaliate. Up the ante. They’re in big trouble domestically, and if they can’t go to war against us, and quite another for the Indians to do it. They have a second carrier en route; we suspect two more subs—nukes this time.”
“Two? The Xias?” asked the admiral, referring to the most advanced submarine the Chinese were known to have.
“Actually, Admiral, we think they’re Trafalgar clones. We’re still trying to develop information on them. that’s uh, what we want from Whiplash. I mean, from the Dreamland contingent.”
“Where would the Chinese have gotten British attack submarines?” asked Woods.
“Well, these aren’t Trafalgars per se,” said Jed. “Thougj we think they do have the pump-jet propulsion system. We’re pretty sure about that. The question is whether they’re some kind of Chinese take on the Akula or a totally different design. We’re really interested in the diving capability and we don’t have a sound signature, for obvious reasons.”
“You guys are losing me,” said Dog. “Give me a little background, okay?”
Woods explained the Akula was a very good Russian nuclear attack boat, capable of high speeds and deep depths. The British submarines were also among the best all-around attack subs in the world, though the Trafalgar class represented a slightly different philosophy, one that emphasized silence over sheer performance. Its pump-jet propulsion system was notably quieter than a traditional propeller-driver boat. With their hulls covered in a special rubber material and a range of other improvements, the submarines were about as quiet as anything in the ocean, including diesels using batteries.
“They can dive to about the same depth as the Akula,” said Woods, “though the Brits tend to be more conservative than the Russians. Pick your poison really—they’re both excellent subs. If the Chinese have anything similar to either, they’re pretty potent weapons.”
He turned back to the screen. “But nowhere in any briefing that I’ve seen has anyone said the Chinese have such advanced submarines. We haven’t seen them at sea, certainly. They had plans to purchase two Akula from the Ruskies, supposedly, but that hadn’t gone through. This is out of left field.”
“Which is my point,” said Jed. “The two boats left Behai eighteen hours ago. We have a good read on their initial direction, but beyond that we’re empty.”
“Behai? On the Gulf of Tonkin? There’s no facility there.”
“Yes, Admiral, exactly. The thinking is a shallow-water facility in some sheds about fifty yards from the waterline. They’re doing a history run on satellite photos. It’s at least technically feasible. Otherwise the subs just appeared from nowhere. Pacific Fleet has the northern coastline bottled up,” Jed added. “So we don’t think they could have snuck down past.”
Woods furled his brow.
“What’s most important,” Dog asked. “Kali or the subs?”
“The six-million-dollar question,” said Jed. “NSC is split. CIA wants both.”
“That’s not very helpful, Jed,” said Dog.
“Tactical situation to dictate,” said Jed. “Uh, the exact assignment would be Admiral Allen’s call. He’s already been informed.”
“Okay,” said Dog.
“That’s all I have,” said Jed.
“Thanks.” Dog cut the connection by pushing a button on the console. “My plan was to use Piranha to track the Indian sub,” Colonel Bastian told the admiral. “We can do the same for the Chinese. We have two units available; they can operate for roughly eighteen hours. We’re bringing in additional control units so we can run the Megafortresses in shifts gathering the data. We hope to have other probes out here shortly.”
“Right now, our orders are to keep the sea lanes open. That’s our top priority,” said Woods. “But I would say the more information about the Chinese submarines the better. From what Barclay just said, they’d probably be hunting for the Indian sub anyway. We might be able to catch them all together.”