Fatal Thunder

17 CONFESSION

Aleks Petrov had never had sloppy joes and sweet-potato fries before, but it turned out to be very good. He was pleasantly surprised at the Americans’ culinary creativity, and it was a welcome break from the spicy Indian food he’d had to subsist on for months. For the first time in quite a while, Petrov felt safe and at ease — but there was an edginess that still nagged at him. Sure, he was on a submerged nuclear submarine, bound for a desperate battle with a dangerous opponent, but that was still a day away, at least, and he could use the time — in fact, he needed the time — to rest and heal. And think.

He’d remained quiet during the meal, seated with Samant at the head of the table on Jerry’s left, while the officers treated them as honored guests. A lively conversation had sprung up during lunch as they reconstructed Chakra’s encounters with North Dakota during the Littoral Alliance war. Although the conversation had begun as a continuation of the morning’s planning session, the discussion of an Akula-class’s strengths and weaknesses in a sub-on-sub battle had turned into an animated exchange of war stories.

Petrov’s left side still ached, from fatigue if nothing else. Although they’d gotten some sleep during the twelve-hour flight from India to Guam, he and Samant had also talked extensively, trying to understand their place in a massive conspiracy. And Petrov’s first night on board had been a restless one, with dreams of compartments flooding and men drowning. He’d awakened in a sweat, shaking as he tried to remember who the men were — he didn’t recall them being members of his crew on Severodvinsk. But they seemed somehow familiar. Exhausted, he managed to make it through the morning’s work with the help of lots of coffee.

Petrov had been unaware of the extent of Russia’s role in this mess until he’d listened to the Americans warn the Indian leadership. He was especially ashamed that Orlav and Kirichenko, former Russian naval officers, were the main culprits behind this scheme. Petrov doubted very much that Dhankhar had gone looking for Russian nuclear weapons on his own — Kirichenko would have initiated the first contact.

He felt he’d atoned somewhat by sharing information on Chakra’s recent modifications with the Americans. Normally such sensitive data would be considered classified by both the Russian and Indian navies, but if they were successful, it would be a moot point. And if they failed, they would have larger problems than a simple breach of security.

Petrov had said little at lunch, and then only in response to direct questions. More than once he caught Jerry giving him sidelong looks now and then. Petrov was also watching Mitchell as well, seated at the head of the table on his boat. The Russian fondly recalled his own short time as a submarine captain, and he envied Jerry. Petrov had always been honest with himself about the loss of Severodvinsk. He still missed being her captain, and he missed the men he’d lost, but there was no helping that now.

Petrov hated his dark mood. Surrounded by friends and allies, in a place he understood, he couldn’t shake the questions that plagued him. He really didn’t want to pursue the answers, and that dread of what the answers might be also added to his ill humor.

When the meal finally ended, Petrov excused himself and headed to the XO’s stateroom, which he and Samant had taken over while Thigpen moved in with Lieutenant Commander Sobecki and Lieutenant Iverson. His intention was to lie down and think, and hopefully lose himself in sleep, but Jerry followed him up the passageway, heading for his own quarters. The captain’s stateroom was next to the XO’s, of course, and on sudden impulse, Petrov approached him and asked, “Can I speak with you for a moment?”

Surprised, Jerry answered, “Of course,” and gestured toward the door he’d just opened.

Marginally larger than a walk-in closet, Jerry’s stateroom had the luxury of only one fold-down desk instead of two, and the extra floor space allowed room for a second chair. Petrov sat down, while Jerry dropped into the chair in front of the desk. It was similar enough to the captain’s stateroom on a Russian boat to trigger another wave of memories, but Petrov refused to give in to nostalgia.

“I have some serious questions to ask you,” Petrov announced.

Jerry Mitchell shrugged. “I’ll tell you whatever I can, Alex. After all this, there aren’t many secrets between us.”

The Russian sighed. “I hope that is true. Jerry, I learned some disturbing things listening to your president and Dr. Patterson speaking with the Indians. She described how a large number of missile warheads had been diverted and hidden in a barge off the coast of Novaya Zemlya, and that she had been part of the mission that discovered those warheads. Is this correct?”

“Accidentally discovered,” Jerry added, “as part of an environmental survey.”

“A strange place to count whales,” Petrov remarked. “But more importantly, she mentioned that she was aboard the submarine Memphis when they made the discovery.”

“Yes, that’s true.” Jerry looked a little puzzled.

“And you were aboard that submarine as well, as a junior officer.”

“Yes,” Jerry admitted.

“I began fitting the pieces together aboard the plane. The Northern Fleet commander, Admiral Yuri Kirichenko, was court-martialed for an incident off the coast of Novaya Zemlya, which turns out to be where he’d actually hidden dozens of smuggled nuclear weapons.”

Petrov drew a breath. “Kirichenko was dismissed from the service not because he sent the Northern Fleet on what turned out to be a wild-goose chase, but because our newest and best submarine, Gepard, with seventy-three men aboard, was lost in that operation. Her loss was a wound felt by every member of the navy, especially the submariners.

“I was a midgrade officer, a battle department commander on Tigr; Gepard was a squadron mate. I had competed with many others to be selected for her first crew. I knew most of her officers, some by reputation, and some very well, a few were close friends. I could have been aboard her when she was sunk.”

Jerry was listening carefully, and Petrov could see that he knew more. The American had been surprised by the topic, but had listened like someone who knew what the speaker would say.

“Tell me how Gepard was lost,” Petrov demanded. “You know, don’t you?” There might have been more intensity in his words than he planned, but he didn’t regret them.

Jerry took a deep breath. “Your navy found Gepard. The investigation determined that she had been sunk by one of her own torpedoes.”

“Yes, but what was she firing torpedoes at?” pressed the Russian. “Was Kirichenko chasing your sub when he sent all those ships and planes out?”

Petrov was watching Jerry’s face. He’d always believed Mitchell was honest and fair-minded, but the American seemed to be struggling.

Jerry sat for a moment, then another. He turned toward the desk, as if looking for something; then he faced Petrov again. “It probably doesn’t matter now, since the barge’s location was revealed to your government. Senator Hardy, my former skipper aboard Memphis, told me he briefed the Russian ambassador about our mission, but it was while my government was investigating the Kashmir explosion. Nothing has been made public.”

“There are many families that need to know how their loved ones died.” Petrov stated it flatly, and he could see it hit home with Mitchell. “My government will never tell them, not when it involves a breach of Russian nuclear safeguards.”

“You’re right,” Jerry admitted. After taking a deep breath, he started. “Dr. Patterson, and Emily, came aboard to oversee a secret mission that involved conducting a survey of radioactive waste disposal sites on the east side of Novaya Zemlya…”

It took the American almost ten minutes to describe Memphis’s mission into the waters near the Russian coast, their inspection of several dump sites, and their discovery of something far more dangerous. They were pursued and fired on by Russian naval forces. Damaged, they made good their escape, and had thought themselves safe when Gepard suddenly appeared and almost sank them. If not for Jerry’s Manta UUV, confusing and distracting the Russian sub, Memphis would have been sunk. “But we never fired a weapon, Alex, we physically couldn’t,” Jerry insisted.

Petrov had remained silent, asking only an occasional question about positions and ranges, as one submarine captain explained the engagement in terms the other understood completely. There was no uncertainty in the American’s narration. No fuzzy memories or gaps in the timeline.

“For what it’s worth, Alex, I’m very sorry about Gepard, and she’s never been far from my memories. We did our level best to just get away, and it was really just luck that saved us.”

Petrov scowled. “Did you intend to lure that last torpedo back toward Gepard with the Manta?”

Mitchell shook his head sharply. “No, absolutely not! I was trying to force Gepard to break off by running the Manta right at her. But she was violently maneuvering at the same time. She simply zigged when I had the Manta zag… both in the wrong direction. Before we knew it, one of the torpedoes had locked on to the Manta, and followed it in. The torpedo hit Gepard before I even had a chance to send a course-change order.”

Petrov felt a weight lift off his chest. He’d feared Mitchell’s answers, but they weren’t what he’d expected, and his faith in his friend had been confirmed. But now his mind was whirling with the new facts, comparing and fitting together pieces that spanned more than ten years, perhaps much more than ten. How long ago had Kirichenko hidden those warheads?

“Another seventy-three lives to lay at Kirichenko’s feet,” Petrov finally observed.

“On his headstone would be better,” Jerry added. “We can only hope, but first someone has to find him. Gepard, all the dead in Kashmir, and how many more could there be in China?” Jerry shuddered. “I’ll do anything I can to stop Chakra, even if it means sinking her. This must be tearing Girish Samant apart.”

The American paused for a moment, then added, “And now I’ll ask you for a favor. If you’re satisfied with my answers, please don’t tell anyone, for just a little while longer. Please,” he entreated.

“The families…” Petrov began, but trailed off.

“This won’t be secret for much longer. Four governments are involved as major actors: the U.S., Russia, India, and China. Now the Littoral Alliance is joining in the hunt. If it doesn’t leak out soon, the whole story will be revealed once Chakra is stopped. My country has no interest in keeping this secret once it’s over. If you’d like, we can speak to Joanna about the best way to get the information out.”

Petrov thought about it. Realistically, he couldn’t tell anyone until North Dakota returned to port. After that, how would the Russian government react to him spreading this information? And concealing his source would be nearly impossible, which might cost Jerry his career. But Joanna Patterson was in a position of power to force the issue, backed by the U.S. president; perhaps she could finally get the truth out. “All right, you have my word,” Petrov agreed.

In fact, how would the Russian government react when the entire episode became public? He asked Jerry that question, and the American just scratched his head. “The world’s been going nuts over the Kashmir explosion and the idea that there really could be loose nukes. Now add a whole barge full of them, hidden in violation of an arms treaty, being used by an Indian conspiracy to severely cripple China. And we’ve got hard evidence to back up the story. Can you imagine the media feeding frenzy?”

In spite of himself, Petrov laughed. “It will be interesting watching the news shows for several weeks.”

“And the best place for us may be on this submarine, at sea, and at depth,” Jerry added, smiling, “at least until the smoke clears.” He sat up straighter. “Migawd. I’ll have to warn Emily, and my sister Clarice in Minnesota. Emily can stay on the base and away from the media, but Clarice may have to move into a convent to get any peace.”

Petrov laughed again, remembering his own close family members. He told a story about his older brother Yevgeny’s experiment with propane in the family’s tractor. Then Jerry told one involving the use of high-pressure air in cleaning a bilge, and Alex told one about how the Russian Navy had once tried to clear the snow in Murmansk — with a turboprop. They talked for hours, and only stopped when it was time for Jerry to make his next set of rounds.

Petrov napped that afternoon, and woke refreshed.

To Samant, it was more like a movie set than a submarine control room. He and North Dakota’s executive officer, Lieutenant Commander Bernie Thigpen, had decided after dinner to continue work on the search plan. Samant was tired, and a full stomach had him yawning, but his mind was still alive with questions about the search: How would the new towed sonar affect Chakra’s ability to detect other ships and subs? But towed arrays didn’t work well in shallow water. Would Jain adjust his route to stay in deep water, even if it took longer?

As they worked, part of his mind cataloged the many differences between American and Indian submarines. The American sub’s control room was more spacious than he was used to, which was surprising because North Dakota was three-quarters the size of Chakra. The layout was different, of course, but he understood what everything did. And it amazed and frightened him. The American sub had better sensors, including the UUVs, and a far superior combat system to use the data those sensors provided. To top it off, her enlisted men were better trained. American senior petty officers were doing the same jobs as lieutenants on his submarine.

Not his sub, Samant corrected himself. Not anymore. Not even part of the Indian Navy anymore. He’d spent all afternoon telling Jerry Mitchell and the other Americans secrets that under normal circumstances would have gotten him thrown in jail. Instead, he hoped it was enough to save his country and end this nightmare.

Samant had hardened his heart to the thought of what they were doing, turning the anger he felt toward Dhankhar and Kirichenko. Even if Chakra was… stopped, it would still be a tragedy — just not a catastrophe. It also helped if he didn’t think about it too deeply, instead focusing on the here and now.

Using a spare display console, Thigpen had set up a series of encounters between Chakra and North Dakota, using different approach angles, depths, and acoustic conditions. According to the sonar simulation, the American boat still held an edge in good water. She was quieter, and her sensors were a little better. Another advantage that the computer couldn’t model was that North Dakota’s crew was familiar with her systems, while Jain and his men would still be trying to understand their new sonar’s capabilities.

Samant chided himself for thinking about Chakra’s new captain. He’d always been hard on his former first officer, but that was just his way of preparing the man for command — but not like this. He simply couldn’t understand why Jain had been so easily duped by Dhankhar’s plan. Samant took some small pleasure in knowing that the admiral had removed him from command because Dhankhar knew he couldn’t count on Samant to be part of the plot.

Thigpen was looking for the best place to position North Dakota and her reconnaissance UUVs, asking Samant questions about Chakra’s standard operating procedures. What speed and depth would she transit at, depending on the water conditions? Samant, at the direction of the Indian government, answered all the questions as best he could. The information would be used to a good end.

Afterward, of course, the American navy would collect whatever he told them and share it with the rest of their fleet. Chakra was Russian-built, and there were other Improved Akula I — class submarines in the Russian fleet. He didn’t feel any regrets about his information being used for that purpose. It was the price the Russians paid for hiding the bootleg warheads in the first place.

The hardest part of their job was to estimate the likely route that Chakra would take. If she hugged the Chinese coast as she moved north and east, she could hide in the noise generated by the hundreds of ships in the area, as well as the sounds made by the many life-forms that lived in coastal waters, and even the sound of waves on shore. But that made for a much longer trip and Chakra’s own sonar search capability would also be affected. Submariners didn’t like shallow water. It limited their options.

Besides, Chakra had that new towed sonar, and she couldn’t use it at all in shallow water. Samant tapped the chart near Hong Kong. It was not only the southernmost target on that list, but one of the biggest. Everyone had agreed with the U.S. intelligence community’s assessment that it was likely Chakra’s first destination. “He will stay in deep water as long as possible, and approach directly. It’s ten hours at fifteen knots from the deep water here until the water starts to shoal badly near the Wanshan Archipelago.” Samant shifted his finger to the southwest and tapped the wide-open entrance to the Lema Channel; the water was just a little over thirty meters deep.

“Or less than eight hours if he pushes it to twenty knots,” suggested Thigpen. “That reduces his time in shallow water leading up to the channel.”

“If he doesn’t think anyone’s watching for him,” replied Samant. “But I don’t believe Jain would be so reckless. His predisposition is to follow established procedures whenever possible. That’s just the way he is, and I reinforced this tendency through rigorous training. Jain will be cautious in his approach.”

The American XO nodded agreement. “Well, it’s the same waypoint regardless of his speed, or which of the two channels he takes. It’s a place to start.”

Having a location that Chakra was likely to pass through, Thigpen made some adjustments to the computer simulation to figure out what was the best search speed so their sonar would be able to detect the other sub but still cover the largest possible area. The trick was to find Chakra before she got to “Point X-ray.”

Samant studied the two submarines at their respective locations, in deep water off the Chinese coast. “As an experiment,” he asked, “can you change Chakra to her original configuration, before her towed array was upgraded?”

“Sure, no problem,” Thigpen answered. He clicked on a side menu, lowered the array’s performance, reset the simulation, and then ran the encounter again. This time, North Dakota detected the Indian submarine a full ten minutes earlier, with an increase in detection range of nearly four nautical miles.

Samant slowly dropped back into his chair; he’d expected an improvement, but the magnitude of the shift left him shocked. No, horrified. He asked Thigpen, “Is… is this what you remember? Was this what it was like when our submarines met before?”

Thigpen nodded soberly, but remained silent.

“I understood that the Virginia class were technically superior to the Akula I subs, but that much! No wonder your captain was able to beat us. With that much of an advantage, a monkey could have won.”

The American XO was silent for a moment, but then spoke carefully. “Captain Mitchell is the smartest and most imaginative officer I’ve ever served under. You should be grateful that he never intended to sink your boat…”

“I quite agree,” Samant interrupted. “It would have been a trivial exercise with this kind of superiority.”

“You’re selling my captain a little short, aren’t you sir?” Thigpen said harshly.

“No, no,” soothed Samant. “He’s a good man, and I trust him, but with this starship” — he swept his arm, encompassing the control room — “against my old boat, he’d have been a fool to lose.”

Thigpen’s expression went through several changes, and Samant realized that North Dakota’s first officer was torn between defending his captain and disagreeing with a senior officer, even if he was from a different navy. Samant said, “Please, speak freely, Commander.”

Permission to speak his mind seemed to calm the American naval officer slightly. Samant could have just as easily left him frustrated and silent. “Thank, you, sir.” Thigpen drew a short breath, and explained, “Our orders were to interfere with your attacks, which was much more difficult than just firing a torpedo to sink you. Captain Mitchell’s motives were always to prevent loss of life, and he was innovative and resourceful. Who do you think devised the operation that ended the war?”

“The nuclear blue-out was his idea?” Samant was surprised, but then vaguely recalled that Petrov had said something similar. In an attempt to stop the fighting, the Americans had taken drastic action, detonating eight nuclear weapons underwater in a pattern that had flooded the South and East China Seas with noise. The phenomenon, called “blue-out,” had lasted for days. Ship and submarine sonars were blinded, and the combatants had retreated to port. Without causing any injuries, America had imposed a cease-fire.

Samant, commanding Chakra, had encountered North Dakota as the American sub was preparing to fire two of the nuclear-tipped torpedoes that were part of the plan. Without knowing the American’s mission, Samant had done his level best to first drive off the U.S. sub, then to actually sink it. Mitchell’s sub had not only avoided his weapons, but launched the torpedoes as planned and escaped. Samant had avoided damage from the blasts only by following the American sub’s lead.

Jerry Mitchell had maneuvered his sub in a close-quarters melee that had almost resulted in a collision. Especially with what he’d learned since coming aboard North Dakota, he’d had to acknowledge that Mitchell had “won” that encounter.

Finally, Samant nodded and replied, “Your point is well taken. I may have given the technology too much credit.” For Samant, it was an abject apology. He wasn’t used to giving one, but he couldn’t stand against Thigpen’s loyalty to his captain. He wondered if Jain would have done the same thing under similar circumstances, and as soon as he thought of the question, he knew the answer was that Jain would not.

He’d never demanded or expected loyalty from Jain or any of his men, just immediate obedience, to the best of their ability. Samant knew that being a captain could not be a popularity contest, and he had always lumped loyalty into the same category.

Girish Samant would never command Chakra again, and would probably not command another submarine, but the president and defense minister had promised him a place in India’s navy. He resolved to study Jerry Mitchell’s methods. There was always something new to learn.

Samant spotted him at the same time as Lieutenant Iverson, the OOD, coming into control from forward. Iverson called, “Captain is in Control,” but softly, per Jerry’s standing orders. Anyone working wasn’t supposed to come to attention, but Thigpen stood anyway, and reflexively Samant did as well. It was Jerry’s boat, after all.

Thigpen briefed Jerry on the results of their planning. “Jain has two options in approaching the Hong Kong area, the larger Lema Channel to the southwest, or the much smaller Taitami Channel between the Dangan and Jiapeng island chains. Both are really shallow, barely one hundred feet deep, and both are busy shipping lanes. Taitami is more like a freeway in terms of shipping density, but it is the shortest route in.”

Samant pointed to the narrow Taitami Channel on the chart. “The traffic separation scheme is very compressed here, the channel is only four nautical miles at its narrowest point. It would be a much more difficult path to navigate than the Lema Channel where Jain has adequate room to maneuver and there is a greater separation between the shipping lanes.”

“But he spends more time in the really shallow water taking that route,” Jerry protested.

“That’s true, Captain, but any route Jain takes will require him to spend a lot of time in dangerously shallow water. The main advantage here is that there is a lot less traffic. You see, he has to fire from the center of Lema Channel, this is the best place given the fifty-kilometer range of the torpedo and the channel structure in the Wanshan Archipelago. By entering via the Lema Channel, Jain has to parallel this shipping lane for five miles, and only has to cross the two busiest. With Taitami, he has to run with the dense traffic for over twenty miles,” argued Samant.

Jerry winced at the thought of having to play dodgeball with a bunch of very large merchant ships for twenty miles and then squeezing through a very narrow passage. “Okay, so the Lema Channel is our best bet. What’s your recommendation for a search plan?”

Thigpen nodded and moved his finger to a dot on the chart labeled “X-ray.” “Regardless of which channel Jain actually decides to use, Point X-ray is where he will likely begin his approach to Hong Kong. This is the closest point that deep water gets to the Chinese coast. If we park ourselves about ten miles out from this spot, we can look out into deeper water, while Jain has to look into shallower water. At twenty knots, we’re quieter than Chakra, but we recommend we slow to fifteen knots — our optimum search speed. That maximizes our detection range and coverage.”

Thigpen gestured to the south through southeast, showing the different routes they’d marked as possible routes for Chakra. “The greatest unknown is of course her current position. Captain Samant and I think these are the most likely avenues of approach, based on her standard transit rates, but which route she’s using, and her progress, are just guesses. That’s a lot to bet the farm on.”

Samant watched Jerry listen to the briefing, then consider for a moment before asking, “What’s the earliest time she could be at Point X-ray?”

The XO sighed. “If she takes the shortest route, and runs at the highest possible speed, which by the way makes her towed array useless, we still beat her to Point X-ray by almost a full day. Neither Captain Samant nor I think that’s likely, because it makes them too detectable, and gives up their most valuable sensor. On the other hand, if she takes her time and tries to stay really covert, we get there about a week before Chakra does. Squadron Fifteen is going with a middle-of-the-road approach, but even so, she doesn’t reach Hong Kong until fourteen or fifteen April.”

“Why would Jain worry about being too detectable?” Jerry asked. “As far as he knows, this is a surprise attack. He’s not expecting someone to be looking for him.”

“We can’t assume that, Captain,” countered Samant. “Dhankhar was warned we were on to him before Chakra set sail, it’s likely he gave Jain instructions to be careful without telling him explicitly what was going on. Besides, Jain would inherently become more cautious the closer he got to China.”

“True, but if Jain thinks there’s a chance he could be pursued, he could push at a higher speed to try and get to the targets as quickly as possible.” Jerry straightened and turned to Samant. “Captain, how mission-oriented is Jain — compared to your average mission-oriented submariner, that is.”

Samant answered, “That may be the wrong question, Jerry. I believe Jain will do everything in his power to accomplish his mission, but only if he believes it is a legal order. Jain is extremely respectful of authority. I’m afraid he may be too willing to obey orders, without examining them critically,” the Indian admitted.

He continued, “If Jain were to hear a recall order, I believe — I want to believe — that he would obey it and return to Vizag. That’s a happy ending for all of us. I also believe Dhankhar anticipated a recall. That’s why he left our VLF station down for repairs. He’s also probably told Jain to maintain radio silence, even turn his radio receivers off, until after he’s accomplished his mission. So it’s quite probable that he doesn’t know he’s been discovered, and will proceed at a higher transit speed. But I’m also convinced he’ll slow as he approaches Hong Kong. He can’t assume the Chinese will just sit in port.”

Jerry frowned but nodded. “Thanks, Captain. That increases the chance he could get past us, which is not good.” He paused, and his expression told Samant he was making a hard decision. He’d felt the same way himself.

“We’re going to conduct our search closer to the Chinese coast,” Jerry announced. “If we put ourselves right off the entrance to the Lema Channel, we cut our search area by more than half. We know where he’s going, so let’s take advantage of it. This also allows us to keep an eye on Taitami Channel, just in case our assumption is wrong.”

“What?” Samant was incredulous. The shallower water and close proximity to numerous civilian merchant ships would negatively affect their detection range. Giving up the deeper water meant abandoning their greatest advantage over Chakra. Truth be told, he knew his old boat was tougher than North Dakota. Russian boats were designed to take a torpedo and survive. There was no question that one hit on the American submarine would be the end of them all. “You can’t afford a close-quarters engagement,” he protested.

“Bernie, what’s the first thing you’d do before you went into really shallow water?” Jerry asked.

“Slow down, and reel in the towed array,” the XO answered.

“And that’s what we need, badly,” Jerry explained. “If Jain slows down, that gives us more time to hear him as he gets closer. Yes, he’ll be quieter, and the environment isn’t as benign, but we still have an advantage, and this becomes even greater once he stows his towed array.”

Thigpen started running the numbers. “With us sitting on the fifty-meter curve, against a slow Akula, we’d have an estimated detection range of ten, maybe twelve thousand yards depending on the local shipping noise.”

“What about Napoleon and Bismarck?” asked Jerry.

“Hmph, I doubted they’d be even half that good. Give me a minute to check, sir,” Thigpen grunted.

“Napoleon? Bismarck?” echoed Samant in confusion.

“Our UUVs. We named them after cities in the state of North Dakota,” Jerry replied without taking his eyes off the display.

“You name them like pets?” demanded the Indian. These Americans are a weird lot, he thought.

“Sure, why not?” rebutted Thigpen. “We’re actually quite attached to them. By the way, Captain, there are still some members of the crew that haven’t forgiven you for running Minot over.”

“I destroyed a city in North Dakota? Fortunes of war, Commander,” Samant responded firmly, now convinced that the Americans were indeed crazy.

“Ah, here you go, Skipper,” announced the XO. “Ooh, the UUVs’ detection range is even shorter than I thought, about three thousand yards.”

“Okay, Bernie, put the boat on a racetrack pattern roughly parallel to the Jiapeng Islands and the entrance to Lema Channel, speed fifteen knots. Then put Napoleon and Bismarck to the west and southwest, eight miles away from own ship. Use just barely overlapping five-mile racetracks for both, speed five knots. How does that look?”

“Wait one, Skipper,” Thigpen mumbled as his fingers rapped on the keyboard. It took a couple of minutes before he was ready to run the simulation. The results surprised him.

“Well, I’ll be dipped in goo,” he remarked. “The overall probability of detection actually is better, noticeably better. Nice call, Skipper.”

“Thanks, XO. And I’m sure you and Captain Samant can refine the basic search pattern and eke out another percentage point or two.” Jerry saw Samant lean forward, studying the simulation display. His head nodding slightly, a smile crept onto his face.

Although it went against his instincts, Samant was now convinced. He didn’t know if he would make the same decision in Jerry’s place, even if he’d thought of it. Mitchell was right, though. The approach Samant and Thigpen had originally planned had a lower calculated chance of finding Chakra.

Before departing, Jerry turned toward Samant and said, “Oh, Captain, I’ve got something else for you to do as well, if you’re willing.”

“Whatever I can do to help, of course.”

“I’d like you to prerecord a message that we can play over the underwater telephone, just in case we can get close enough, without being shot at, of course. Even if they have shut down their communications, they can’t ignore the sonar. If Jain and his crew hear the recall order from you, there’s a chance they’ll stop, and nobody has to die.”

Samant felt a flash of hope, and he felt grateful to Jerry. The American was still doing his best to think of ways to end this peacefully. The underwater telephone had a range of only a few kilometers, and the chance of his crew actually recognizing his warbled voice was low, but he could certainly record a short message that would sound like it was coming from their old captain, and tell them to turn around.

They had to play every angle, and just hope for the best.