“Let me see, Park. And stay quiet about this.”
Scenarios of betrayal plagued Chan’s imagination as he followed Park to the engineering spaces. No treacherous scenarios materialized during his conjecturing, and Park’s news remained surreal as he reached the laptop, awaited a printout, and then read it.
“See!” Park said.
Chan fought back the rising fear and anger.
“It certainly tells them to sink us,” he said. “This is sent by the East Sea Fleet to Kilo three-six-six?”
“Yes!”
“Could it be someone else simulating the East Sea Fleet?”
“No! I’m cracking these messages because I know the random-number-generating biases on their computers. Remember? This is real!”
“And no sign of a rescue ship?”
“That’s the primary reason you brought me here, and I look at every message to every ship you download, but no rescue ship. Why would they send one if they’re going to kill us?”
“Easy, Park. You’re jumping to a conclusion.”
“What more do you want, sir? We need to run!”
“Let’s dissect the evidence.”
He noted that Park’s terror subsided with the focus on logic. Calmness begat calmness, and Chan found mental clarity that had eluded him since hearing the news.
“We’ve already accepted that the orders to a rescue ship may not come until after the attack. So, let’s remove that from the evidence that the East Sea Fleet wants us dead. They could have just as easily ordered a rescue ship in our direction if they wanted us dead, right?”
“I suppose so, sir.”
“So, the presence or lack of a rescue ship is meaningless with regards to this message. Let’s analyze it on its own merits. Perhaps it’s a ruse.”
“To fool whom, sir? It’s a secret message for one man, encrypted within layers.”
“Perhaps the fleet suspects that the encryption has been compromised and is testing any would-be listeners. For example, these orders would tempt an American submarine to take abnormal interest in the affairs of Kilo three-six-six. Note that it didn’t mention the Reagan or an attack on a carrier specifically. It mentioned taking action after today’s mission was complete, which is generic. Perhaps this is a trap.”
“You mean that the commanding officer of Kilo three-six-six was told that he would receive this order but that he was to ignore it?”
“Quite possible, Park. And why all the trouble with giving us body bags to carry this ship’s proper crew aboard? We are indeed going to finish this mission, lay the bodies where we found them, and burn the inner guts of this submarine to unrecognizable charred remains.”
The scared, scrunched features of Park’s face relaxed.
“I understand, sir. A message itself doesn’t mean anything. It’s the context and larger possibilities.”
“Exactly, Park,” Chan said. “Keep your hopes up.”
Chan patted Park on the shoulder and departed with a confident stride, but his swagger drained from his extremities as he lumbered forward. Doubts ate at him, and he sought his trump card in the control room.
“Gao,” he said.
“Yes, sir?”
“Join me in my stateroom.”
Chan led his executive officer to his room, sat, and gestured for Gao to close the door.
“Sit, Gao.”
Gao unfolded a chair and obeyed.
“You seem concerned, sir.”
Chan withdrew the printout from his pocket and handed it to Gao.
“What sort of reassurance might you give me that this note to the commanding officer of Kilo three-six-six is something more complex than it appears?”
Chan watched Gao’s eyes widen as he read.
“Sir? How did you get this?”
“I’ve had Park decrypting tactical message traffic in his free time while not searching for our rescue ship. Now answer my question.”
“I… I have nothing.”
Chan’s fear gave way to anger.
“What?”
“I have nothing, sir. I mean I could speculate and concoct hopeful scenarios, but it would be a fool’s folly. This is terrible news. The fleet has abandoned us. Worse, they’re hunting us. Why?”
“Damn it, Gao! I expected you as the firstborn son of a ranking party member to tell me why we are safe.”
Gao’s gaze fell to his shoes. A hot spike of fear careened through Chan, piercing his anger like lava as he watched his trump card ooze into gelatin.
“A year ago,” Gao said, “I made a mistake. I became careless and impregnated one of my father’s wait staff. When my son was born in secrecy, my father disowned me. He couldn’t have his inheritance aimed at a bastard commoner firstborn grandson.”
“Go on.”
“My father now considers my younger brother as his firstborn. He kept this news private to avoid embarrassment, but those in my father’s inner circle within the party had to know, to groom my brother for his future responsibilities.”
“You imbecile! You didn’t think to tell me this when I specifically sought you for this mission?”
“You didn’t tell me you were recruiting me as insurance against betrayal! How could I have known you were using me?”
Chan stood and lifted his arm to backhand the wretched mistake, but as he hesitated in doubt of the act’s correctness, his stateroom phone distracted him. He reached for the handset, identified himself, and heard the voice of his youngest officer.
“Sir, the encounter with the Reagan has begun!”
“It’s at least twenty minutes earlier than anticipated,” Chan said. “What evidence do you have?”
“Distant explosion bearing zero-four-three.”
The sickening combination of betrayal’s fear wrapped around hope resonated within Chan.
“Did one of our wolf pack already strike the Reagan?”
“I don’t know, sir. I called you as soon as we heard the explosion.”
“You did the right thing. I’ll be right there.”
Chan moved by Gao and opened the door.
“Can you keep your mouth shut about this message to Kilo three-six-six?”
“Yes, sir.”
“Good. If you can pull yourself together, get your miserable soul involved with the resolution of this mess. You’re not a complete idiot, and I may need you before this is done.”
Chan marched to the control room and ducked through its door. Faces of seated sailors looked to him to validate hopes that one of their countrymen had struck a blow against the Reagan. He forced his features to freeze for fear of fostering false hopes.
“Has anyone bothered to discern if that was a heavyweight Korean warhead or some other sort of weapon?”
After the young officer manning the control room explained that the analysis was taking place, Chan slid by him to a monitor and reviewed the direction to the noise.
“The bearing to this explosion intersects with the loiter area of our western Yuan submarine,” he said.
Gao appeared, his face revealing either confidence or resignation. Chan couldn’t tell, but he didn’t care. He welcomed the company of someone capable of digesting his thoughts.
“I agree, sir,” Gao said.
“Do you understand why I fear this is bad news?”
Gao squinted while ascertaining possibilities.
“I am afraid I do, sir. If a weapon had impacted the Reagan, we would expect to hear it on a different bearing, at least ten degrees more to the east.”
“Exactly,” Chan said. “Unless the Reagan happened to flee to the west after being positioned far to the west to begin with, this looks like an attack upon the Yuan. At best, it’s an attack by the Yuan on a carrier escort, which would cause the Reagan to flee and jeopardize our mission.”