Jonah batted her hand away.“What’s your name?”
“I am Sun-Hi,” she said, still staring at his short beard, but keeping her hands to herself this time.
“What’s your job?”
“I read radio news in Myongchon, North Hamgyong province.”
“Good. Can you act? Improvise?”
“I play Koppun in stage version of The Flower Girl!” She lifted both fists in the air like a cheerleader as she gave him a wide, unexpected smile, almost dancing in excitement. Jonah had no idea what the tiny woman was talking about, but knew he’d tapped into the right part of her personality. She’d need every bit of that moxie if his plan had any chance of succeeding.
“We have reached depth six-zero and will soon die,” announced Vitaly from the helm, leveling the submarine out. The swishing of the fleet above was louder than ever. Propeller noises seemed to come from all around, echoing throughout every compartment.
“Noted,” said Jonah without looking up. “Sun-Hi, we’re being hunted. Our only chance to escape is to pretend we’re not illegal smugglers. Get on the radio and tell them that we’re a North Korean naval submarine and demand the fleet break off their pursuit.”
“Include many strange threat,” added Vitaly. “More authentic this way.”
Before Jonah could say another word, Sun-Hi grabbed the radio headset from Alexis and started screaming in rapid-fire Korean, turning beet-red as she waved her fists in the air and stomped the deck for good measure. No doubt she’d understood Jonah’s instructions, as he had to physically separate her from the transmitter to end her theatrical ranting. Seconds ticked by as he and Alexis stared at the communications console, waiting for the response. Sun-Hi stood in the center of the tense command compartment, glancing eagerly from one crewman to another as they all waited in silence.
“You think they bought it?” asked Alexis.
The response came without warning — a high-pitched buzzing sounded from outside the Scorpion’s hull, approaching with incredible speed.
“That’s not a ship — brace for impact!” shouted Jonah.
Alexis ripped off her noise-amplifying hydrophones just as the torpedo hit, slamming into the side of the Scorpion with the tooth-rattling concussion of a sledgehammer on a sewer pipe, shaking the submarine to her keel. The overhead lights winked out as emergency illumination bathed the command compartment in crimson red. Sun-Hi and the refugee passengers screamed in fear, adding to the chaos. Dalmar burst back into the command compartment, a snarl on his face as he braced for another torpedo blow.
“Swing us to starboard — initiate emergency dive— damage report!”
“No hull breach!” shouted Vitaly. “Secondary systems rebooting! Emergency dive, aye!”
“Receiving transmission!” Alexis said. The communications console flickered as the new message crawled across the screen, the computer circuits still resetting after the ringing blow.
// N I C E T R Y J O N A H B L A C K W E L L //
“What the hell, Captain?” demanded Alexis. “Do you know these guys?”
“No,” said Jonah, still wincing. “But they sure as shit know me. Vitaly — how the hell are we still alive?”
“Must have been training torpedo, no warhead!” said Vitaly. “It bounce off our hull! I tell you, twenty meters is suicide! We must go deep. Hide.”
Marissa slowly lowered her hands from her ears. “That was a warning shot?”
“Captain, I must have orders!”
Jonah said nothing at first. “Vitaly — Alexis — cut power and level off.”
“What?” demanded Alexis.
“Cease silent running. We’re outgunned, outmaneuvered, and we can’t outrun another torpedo. They won’t give us a second warning.”
Dalmar racked a round into his assault rifle, eyes wide. “We must prepare for a surface battle!”
“Belay that,” ordered Jonah. “We can’t duke it out with a naval fleet. Marissa, take Sun-Hi back to the crew compartment and stow her away with the rest. I need you to keep everybody calm and maintain order while we figure this out. Dalmar, stay up here with me for now.”
“We’re… giving up?” whispered Alexis as an eerie silence fell on the compartment. “Do you have any idea what they’re going to do to us when they board the Scorpion and see what we’re carrying?”
“Broadcast our unconditional surrender in English, all channels,” confirmed Jonah through clenched teeth. “Do it now. We may have a few cards to play yet, but they’re all dependent on getting to the surface in one piece.”
Sun-Hi nodded, shell-shocked as she retreated to the crew compartment on Marissa’s arm, head bowed low, Dalmar watching her retreat. Did the young refugee blame herself? Jonah shook his head in frustration — there wasn’t time to assure her otherwise.
“We approach surface,” said Vitaly, voice low. “If you have plan, now is good time.”
“Good — Vitaly, bring us to a fifteen-degree heel the minute we’re above the waves. Alexis, kick up the diesels as soon as the snorkels are clear, but I need you to run the engines as rich as you can without damaging the cylinders. I want our stacks rolling coal like an Alabama tractor pull.”
“Running rich,” confirmed Alexis as she adjusted the fuel-air mixture, preparing for a diesel engine restart.
“We act like football star Luis Suarez, fake injury?” asked Vitaly.
“Isn’t he the one who bites people?” said Alexis.
“That’s the idea,” said Jonah. “I’m hoping we have some bite left as well.”
“Playing possum,” said Alexis, nodding. “Got it — I’ll make sure we look busted to hell and back.”
“So that we might attack!” insisted Dalmar. “Not without my order. But be prepared for anything,” said Jonah. “We may only get one shot. Maybe none at all. All I can say for now is that I need to buy us time.”
Jonah didn’t mention the second part of his plan. They wouldn’t be playing wounded to plot an escape. He needed the time to cut a deal that didn’t involve the torpedoed wreckage of the Scorpion slamming into the ocean bottom. The one-sided battle had been over before it’d even begun.
The Scorpion rose from the cold ocean, bow wake streaming off her conning tower. Jonah raised the periscope, slowly rotating it 360 degrees to observe the surrounding fleet as Alexis’ diesel engines came online with a familiar throaty hum.
The largest of the fleet was at a standoff distance of less than a mile, an 800 foot, 27,000 ton flat-top naval behemoth. Two helicopters circled overhead, both Sikorsky SH-60’s equipped with anti-submarine listening devices and torpedoes. A formation of about a half-dozen armed helicopter drones dipped from the sky and buzzed the periscope, each equipped with high-tech sensors, guns, and rocket pods. Three smaller amphibious assault ships and a destroyer lurked at the periphery, semi-autonomous, six-barreled Phalanx cannons leveled at the Scorpion, every flat battleship-grey surface painted with a round red sun.
“It’s the Japanese Navy,” announced Jonah to his crew in a low voice. “We’re completely surrounded by what appears to be an entire carrier group.”
“Captain—what is plan?” hissed Vitaly.
“The plan?” said Jonah. “I’m coming out of our conning tower with my hands up. That’s all I have so far.”
“We actually surrender?” said Vitaly with dismay. “What do you say — no cards we play?”