Jake digested the answer’s narrowness.
“Then you’re a specialist?”
“Yes.”
“Have you led an attack against surface vessels?”
“I have not led in combat. Those who have such experience are deployed on the Sea Tiger and Sea Dragon or perished on the Hai Lang. I am here to support basic submerged operations with the joint French and Taiwanese team and to handle the drones during combat.”
“Very well,” Jake said. “Let’s head below and brief the crew on the mission.”
Jin disappeared through the hatch, and Jake called to Henri in French to assure secrecy.
“Is he really the best they have?”
“He proved his competence in sea trials with me,” Henri said. “And his reputation precedes him in drone operations.”
“But no combat leadership.”
“The best perished on the Hai Lang. The remaining people with experience were shared on their other two submarines, which are searching for Chinese submarine pens. Jin was the only officer available with combat experience.”
“He looks twelve years old.”
“He was a lieutenant until promoted into this role,” Henri said. “Yes, he is young.”
“What about the rest?”
“Pierre recruited half a dozen young men from the French Navy. They are even better than the prior crop.”
“That’s good, but what about their Taiwanese counterparts?”
“A dozen good men,” Henri said. “Pierre and I observed them in training drills and sea trials. They are disciplined and bright, but they are untested in combat. They will need leadership.”
Jake stared down the hatch into the vessel and prepared to reenter the dangerous submerged universe.
Fate decreed that the Hai Ming was his to command.
CHAPTER 7
Jake beheld the Hai Ming’s operations room. Six dual-stacked French-designed Subtics system tactical monitors spanned the compartment’s left side. Before one panel sat sonar systems expert, Antoine Remy.
Short with a wide head and thick nose, Remy reminded Jake of a toad. He stood, shook his hand, and kissed the air beside his cheeks.
“I am happy that you decided to join us,” Remy said.
Jake considered claiming that Secretary Rickets had forced him, but he banished excuses to the other side of the steel shell encircling him.
“It’s good to see you, my old friend,” Jake said.
As Remy returned to his sonar system diagnostics, Jake noticed young Taiwanese sailors offering hopeful and uncertain stares. Jin made introductions and assurances of the competence of the ship’s native contingent. Jake found their English respectable and saw a healthy mix of bravado and fear in their eyes.
After handshakes, the men returned to their stations.
“They are rehearsing drills,” Jin said. “To assure proper response during important events.”
“Which one are they rehearsing now?”
“Emergency deep procedure.”
“Do you have an abandon ship procedure?”
“No.”
“Make one,” Jake said. “These are shallow waters, and the surface will always be attainable.”
Jin appeared frozen in indecision. Jake realized the young Taiwanese officer was processing his first command.
“Yes, Mister Slate,” Jin said.
“Call me ‘Jake’. It’s quicker communication.”
“Yes, Jake.”
“I will introduce myself to the rest of the crew while I tour the ship with Henri. Have an abandon ship procedure outlined when I get back. Include life rafts, provisions, communications equipment, and fire arms.”
“Yes, Jake.”
Jake nodded, turned, and ducked through the compartment’s aft door. He heard Henri’s rubber soles tap the deck plate behind him.
“It’s like déjà vu,” Jake said. “This ship feels like it rolled right off DCN’s construction dock.”
“It may as well have,” Henri said, “given the droves of French workers Pierre recruited to Keelung for its construction.”
Jake passed through the after battery compartment and after auxiliary machinery room, reaching the hull section that contained the air-independent ethanol and liquid oxygen MESMA plant. He looked upward at a high-pressure tank of compressed explosive gas. His fingers tapped cool, dormant piping as he moved by.
He ducked through another watertight door and underneath the wide air ducts leading to the quad diesels. He saw the main motor further aft, hidden intermittently by a man pointing to gauges on a control panel. Four sailors — two wearing Taiwanese uniforms, two Frenchmen in dungarees — stood behind their teacher, who smiled, embraced Jake, and kissed the air beside his cheeks.
Jake welcomed the presence of Claude LaFontaine, former engineer officer on the French nuclear-powered Rubis submarine and proven expert on diesel operations aboard Agosta and Scorpène-class boats.
“Bonjour! Welcome, Jake.”
“Claude LaFontaine,” Jake said. “You haven’t changed a bit. Still wiry and fidgety.”
“Can’t eat enough to gain weight, even at my age. Let me introduce you to some of the engineering team.”
Jake shook hands with Taiwanese mechanics and young electricians pilfered from the French navy. One had a thick accent, but Jake judged the English skills sufficient.
“How is the propulsion system?” Jake asked.
“Just like you would expect from a European shipyard,” LaFontaine said. “Predictable. Reliable. Not a peep or hint of protest at depth, speed, or maneuvers.”
“The MESMA system?”
“Fine,” LaFontaine said. “I ran it hard during shakedown, but I didn’t push its endurance. I wanted to conserve fuel. We can’t refuel oxygen here. Only diesel.”
“You made a good choice, my old friend,” Jake said. “Have you exercised the battery through full cycling?”
“Of course. All within specifications.”
Held by Henri’s hands, an electronic tablet appeared, showing a summary page of systems tested during sea trials.
Jake waved his hand.
“Okay,” he said. “I studied the reports on the flight to Taiwan. If you guys tell me the ship is ready for sea, then it’s ready.”
“It’s ready, Jake,” LaFontaine said.
Jake watched Henri nod his agreement as he questioned if a submarine of French comrades in a strange land was supplanting a Michigan suburb as home.
Two hours later, French and Taiwanese sailors crammed around the control room’s central chart table. Jake slid a stylus across a chart.
“When the last patrol craft evades the minefield to the east, we turn north and clear the area.”
The faces surrounding him appeared to understand. Jake took comfort that his team learned fast, but he disliked their lack of experience. Nobody had the knowledge to second guess him. Henri knew nothing of combat tactics, and the art of dueling with another submarine remained unknown to Lieutenant Commander Jin.
“Take a fifteen-minute break,” Jake said. “Return here for a review of drills.”
“We have only two more hours of darkness,” Henri said. “It takes well over an hour to egress from this berthing.”
“We’re not leaving this morning,” Jake said. “We’ll wait until tonight. We have plenty of time.”
“I was allowing for contingencies.”
“Good thinking,” Jake said. “But I’m training for contingencies of a different sort.”
Three hours later, Jake’s adrenaline ebbed, and fatigue clouded his thoughts as he stifled a yawn.