“What exactly do you have in mind?”
“We have a covert intrusion into our Pacific waters by a Russian-built submarine. Currently, two of our subs are tasked with locating this intruder and determining its purpose and actions. Those two subs are currently operating too deep to receive general communications. Eventually they will come up for a communications check. Do you want those two subs specifically notified of the stand down order?”
The Secretary of Defense thought for a moment. “The order applies to anything Chinese. At this time I don’t see a problem with continuing the hunt for a Russian sub intruding into our waters. Let the orders for those two subs stand as they are.”
“What about covert operations?” Billingsly asked.
“All covert operations that involve China or anything with a Chinese interest are hereby ordered to stand down. You are to immediately abort any covert action currently under way if it involves anything Chinese.”
Billingsly didn’t like it, but he nodded in recognition of the order. This means China gets a free ride to do whatever it wants. This storm is going to get ugly, and then it’s going to get dangerous. Very dangerous. It was looking less and less like he would actually be able to do anything.
CHAPTER 33
Willa felt compelled to go over the evacuation plan again and again in her mind. The one weak part of the plan had been the seniors of Dolphin Beach. Elderly people would have trouble getting out of their homes in time and they would have a hard time walking up the hill to Highway 101. Not that she was elderly. At 52 she was still hanging on to middle age; but what about those who were 62, or 72, or into their 80’s or 90’s? Dolphin Beach certainly had its share of older people. How would they fare in an emergency?
Willa began spending her time locating the older people of Dolphin Beach and talking to their younger neighbors, encouraging the younger people to look after the safety of their older neighbors. The effect had been to draw people closer together, which Willa saw as an essential function of community leadership. She had talked extensively about the possibility of the earthquake and tsunami with her friends, all of whom recommended she just stop going over it. They had their evacuation plan done. There wasn’t anything else to do. She needed to let it go.
But she couldn’t. Something in her heart kept bringing her back to the evacuation plan. The video of the destruction of Dolphin beach replayed in her mind every day. She even considered another evacuation practice, but she knew that would only hand the election in November to Frank. It wasn’t his election to win because the people of Dolphin Beach liked her and the local economy was thriving. No, Chief Dolan was right: It was her election to lose. One major screw up and she could become the shortest term mayor in the history of Dolphin Beach.
She knocked on one more door and talked to one more family next door to yet another elderly couple. It was a tedious process, but she felt driven to talk to everyone living next to an elderly person. One more week and she would have talked to everyone.
That evening Willa watched the nightly news and the report of the new storm in the Pacific. Storms that moved up the coast usually weakened as they encountered cooler water in the northern latitudes, but this one was still building. It was now Hurricane Loretta with sustained winds of 80 MPH, and threatened to bring clouds and heavy rain to the area, something that would put a damper on the tourist trade for Dolphin Beach. With every room currently booked, cancellations would give Frank another excuse to attack her job as mayor. You couldn’t control the weather, she knew, but that wouldn’t stop Frank from blaming her for the loss to the Dolphin Beach economy.
Still, there was sunshine and warmth and the tourists were happy. She would just have to wait and see how this storm would affect Dolphin Beach.
CHAPTER 34
There was a gentle knock on the Captain’s cabin door.
“Enter.”
“It’s been seven hours and still no contact with the ghost sub, Sir,” Silverton said. Jacobs was just buttoning the cuffs on his shirt and was ready to join his crew in the hunt.
“That means our ghost sub turned north instead of south. Bring us to flank speed. We’ve got a lot of catching up to do,” Jacobs said.
“Aye-aye, Sir. Flank speed it is,” Silverton replied.
Over the centuries nautical tradition had built its own language and way of doing things, where floors were decks, walls were bulkheads, the bow was the front of the ship and the stern was the back. Port was the left side of the ship and starboard was the right side. Speed varied from ship to ship with dead slow being the minimum speed and flank being the fastest the ship could travel. Flank also referred to the side of the ship.
“With our pumpjet propulsor system instead of a prop, we aren’t going to make much noise, and we’re going to be coming up on the ghost sub’s baffles, so tell sonar to be extra alert. I don’t want them to know we’re around,” Jacobs said. Turbulence in the water caused by the propeller, or in this case a pumpjet propulsor, obscured the sounds coming from the back of the submarine referred to as the baffles. The sonar dome was placed at the very front of the sub to isolate it from the propulsion unit noise.
“Absolutely, Sir. I get what you told me on my first day as XO. Submarines are a lot like cats — stealthy, quiet and deadly, but they’re both predator and prey. I won’t lose sight of that.”
“You better not,” Jacobs replied. “The day you think you are only a predator and not prey is the day you die, along with the other 159 other souls on this boat.”
The two entered the control center where Silverton issued the new orders for flank speed. That would bring them up to 38 knots with the hope of catching up with the ghost sub. Submarines on patrol periodically turned to the side and stopped to clear their baffles, allowing the flank, or side-mounted sonar arrays to listen for any sound that would indicate they were being followed. For the time being, the Massachusetts would forego clearing their baffles in an attempt to catch the ghost sub.
“I’ll take it from here,” Jacobs said quietly. “Go get some sleep. You’re going to need it.”
“Aye-aye, Sir,” Silverton replied. “Captain has the con,” he announced as he left the control center and headed for his cabin.
Communications on a Navy vessel follow a particular protocol, since most of the main sections of the vessel share a common communications system. Anyone using the communication system would call out the name of the department or section he or she wanted to contact, first to get their attention, followed by one’s own department, and then the information or order is given. To minimize miscommunications, orders are repeated back to verify what was heard. Con was short for the control center, and the helm controlled the direction, depth and speed of the submarine.
After six hours of running at flank speed Jacobs issued new orders. “Helm, reduce speed to sixteen knots and bring us up to 500 feet.”
“Sixteen knots and 500 feet, aye-aye, Sir,” the helmsman answered. Eight minutes later the helmsman spoke, “At 500 feet, Sir.”
Jacobs put on his headset. “Sonar, con, what have you got?”
“Con, sonar, sounds of heavy weather topside, three commercial freighters, and eighteen fishing boats, no other threats on the screen, Sir.”
“Very well,” Jacobs replied. “Helm take us down to 1500 feet.”
“Fifteen hundred feet, aye-aye, Sir.”