Shattered Trident

13. REVELATION

5 September 2016

0830 Local Time

Tokyo University, Waseda Campus

Hongo, Bunkyo Ward, Tokyo

Komamura stared at his computer screen with a mixture of apprehension and dismay; his right hand shook as he reached for his cup of tea. The professor had once again locked his office door before calling up the CNN news feed, a precaution that was becoming all too common these days. He didn’t want someone barging in on him while he watched the press conference. He had little confidence he would be able to hide his emotions. The Littoral Alliance was going public.

The debate the night before had been long, intense, and at times, heated. Komamura had argued vociferously that anonymity was still a useful weapon in the alliance’s arsenal. As long as the Chinese were uncertain as to whom they faced, their actions were constrained. Once the veil of doubt was removed, the Chinese leadership would be free to escalate the conflict—undoubtedly resulting in more casualties among the civilian populations. Many of the military participants argued that revealing the alliance’s members, as well as the current war, would allow them to invoke civil defense measures that would preclude another disaster such as the Sanyo Shinkansen train wreck.

The elderly academic had shivered when General Ijuin, the chief of staff of Japan’s Self-Defense Forces, mentioned the multiple train crash just outside of Shin-Osaka Station. At the height of the evening commute, the two sixteen-car trains and the one eight-car train carried over 3,200 people. The death toll was now just over 2,700, and expected to rise, as the vast majority of the survivors were in critical condition. Only a fortunate few had limped away from the scene.

Having ridden Japan’s bullet train system often, Komamura had trouble banishing images of the carnage that would be created when one train traveling at three hundred kilometers per hour slammed into another. The preliminary accident report showed no indication of a mechanical failure. The black boxes had been recovered quickly and the data showed all three trains were functioning normally, with the exception of the automatic train control system input. The Nozomi train recorded a track-obstruction warning signal that caused it to come to a stop; the other two trains not only didn’t show the same warning signal, they weren’t alerted that they were getting perilously close to another train.

The only possible conclusion for this highly improbable failure was deliberate sabotage. This meant someone had to hack their way into the Shinkansen’s control network and alter the signals sent to the three trains. That the incident occurred almost simultaneously with the PRC’s press release alleging Japan’s involvement with the tanker war all but proved Chinese culpability for the cyber attack. Indian cyber warfare specialists agreed.

As costly as the Shinkansen cyber attack was, Komamura had stressed that once the alliance membership was announced to the world, the cork in the nuclear genie’s bottle would be removed. Identifying India as an alliance member could potentially have the same negative effect that inviting the Americans would have. India was a nuclear power, and a desperate China could send a “message” to the alliance by using a single nuclear weapon on one of the nonnuclear members. Given the lingering psychological scar from World War II, that made Japan the most likely target. Komamura understood this scarring all too well. His mother had died of radiation-induced cancer two decades after the Nagasaki bombing.

“Dr. Komamura,” replied Vu Kim Binh, Vietnam’s minister of foreign affairs, politely, “while I appreciate your concerns, I believe you are being overly cautious. All three superpowers have lost wars without resorting to nuclear weapons to ensure victory: the U.S. and China with my country, and the Soviet Union with Afghanistan.”

“Yes, Minister, you are correct, sir. But this conflict is fundamentally different from the ones you just mentioned,” countered Komamura. “In those conflicts, the superpowers were never threatened at a national level. Their pride was damaged, but not their homeland. We have intentionally targeted China’s economy. We want to cause national harm, to rein in their aggressive behavior. The current conflict is on a far greater scale, which comes with far greater risk.”

“Which is why we must conclude this campaign as soon as possible, Professor. And to do that, we must increase our pressure on the Chinese. This alone requires that the war, and the reason behind it, be made known to our countrymen,” interjected Japan’s foreign minister, Tadashi Hata.

“I agree with you, Minister Tadashi,” echoed India’s foreign secretary, Kanwal Nehru, over the VTC speakers. “And in that regard, the Republic of India is prepared to enforce a total blockade of the Strait of Malacca and Lombok Strait. This will shut the PRC off from its primary oil suppliers in the Middle East and Africa. It will also extend the blockade to their bulk cargo carriers, denying them the raw materials for their factories.”

“Gentlemen, I am encouraged by your devotion to our common cause,” Vu said with noticeable emotion. “My country has borne the brunt of the PRC’s aggression and we have suffered considerable losses. Our sympathy goes out to our Japanese ally, but such losses will only continue to rise if we do not take bold steps to increase China’s pain.”

“Minister Vu,” interrupted General Ijuin, “have you been able to confirm the rumors that the Chinese have implemented their original invasion plan in the Spratly Islands?”

“Yes, General. Even though we ordered our spy to make good his escape, he bravely sent us another report before doing so. He provided a copy of the revised timeline as well as the order for the PLA Navy to begin the amphibious invasions of numerous islands across the entire breadth of the Spratly archipelago. Not surprisingly, their initial targets were those islands with airfields.

“Based on sparse reports, both Thitu and Itu Aba Islands fell almost immediately. The Vietnamese garrison at Dao Truong Sa, excuse me, Spratly Island, is giving the Chinese a good fight, but I regret to report they too will soon fall.”

“Can anything be done to lend them assistance?” asked the Japanese general. Concern filled his voice.

Vu’s expression was resigned as he shrugged. “We’ve sent a naval squadron to engage the Chinese invaders, but even if they are successful in stopping their amphibious operations, I fear our navy will be horribly mauled in the process.”

An ominous silence fell upon the group. The arguments had been made; there was nothing further to say. Several sharp wooden raps shattered the silence. Tadashi lowered the gavel onto the sound block. “If there is nothing more to discuss, I recommend that we put the motion of declaring the Littoral Alliance’s existence to a vote.”

Komamura watched in silence as the vote was three to one in favor of revealing the alliance to the world. Only South Korea voted against, concerned that the PRC would turn the North’s army, effectively a mercenary force, south. Foreign Minister Tadashi assigned one of his adjutants to arrange the press conference for the next morning.

It was early in the morning when Komamura finally returned to his Tokyo apartment. He collapsed into the recliner, loosened his tie, and took a long drink of sake, emptying the cup. He refilled it, and without thinking picked up the TV remote. The flat screen flashed to life and immediately showed news coverage of the train wreck. Komamura gasped as the screen was filled with dozens of first responders carrying body bags toward a line of waiting military trucks. The camera zoomed in on one of the trucks, showing the thick black bags stacked up inside the bed like cordwood. Shaking, the elderly professor quickly turned the TV off, and drank in the dark.

“Good morning. The purpose of this press conference is to inform the world about the secret war our four nations have been fighting with the People’s Republic of China, and alert them to the threat our enemy poses to all of us.” Foreign Minister Tadashi’s introduction wrenched Komamura from his drowsiness. Sitting up straight in his chair, he leaned forward as Japan’s leading diplomat continued with his formal announcement.

“I know many are asking, ‘Why would they do such a thing?’ The short answer is that we had exhausted all other options, other than surrender. China has grown more assertive over the preceding two decades, as their economy and technology base expanded at a fantastic rate, but within the last few years that assertiveness has taken a militaristic path.

“The People’s Republic of China has demanded we cede to them some of our territory, they’ve interfered with the exploitation of the natural resources in those territories, arrested our fishermen for fishing in our waters, and threatened our nations with dire consequences if we did not comply. They’ve used extortion on one of our members; pay or we’ll no longer be able to hold our allies to the north in check. They’ve provided weapons to terrorist groups around the world, furthering the pain and anguish of the indigenous population for political and/or economic gain. Our countries have made diplomatic attempts to try and resolve the issues peacefully. But the answer was always the same, accept their demands and then there would be peace. The world has heard this story before.”

Tadashi paused as he let his carefully tuned emotional appeal sink in. He had to reach the people of the Littoral Alliance countries, and, hopefully, the world.

“Recently, we discovered the Chinese planned to resolve the issue of sovereignty of disputed territories in the South China Sea through military conquest. What were we to do? Acquiesce and reward the Communist bully? Encourage him to become even bolder? This aggressive move is but the beginning of a carefully crafted campaign designed to also seize even more territory in the East China Sea and the Yellow Sea.

“Should we cower in fear and let China take what is not theirs to secure a short-lived peace? Or do we stand up for our democratic principles, our heritage, and our people? Given the choice, we collectively chose to stand against the bully, to defend our countries, to defend our people.”

Komamura was impressed with Tadashi’s oratory. He was pushing all the right ethnic, cultural, and political buttons designed to raise the righteous indignation of the Japanese people. His words would probably have a similar effect on the other alliance populations, and perhaps Western Europe. And while Tadashi’s message would resonate with some in the United States and Russia, it wouldn’t be sufficient for their governments to be convinced they needed to become directly involved.

Japan’s foreign minister then expounded on the alliance’s knowledge of the Chinese threat, explaining the chain of events in vague terms and linking them to the current amphibious operations in the South China Sea. This was in deference to Vietnam’s request to not provide too much information that could jeopardize their spy’s safety. Still, it was enough to show that the People’s Republic of China had been planning a major military operation in September to seize control of most of the Spratly Islands. Tadashi wrapped up his portion of the press conference by reiterating that their only choices were a preemptive attack or surrender—and the alliance had chosen the former.

The Vietnamese and South Korean foreign ministers both spoke briefly, essentially adding their country’s stamp of approval to Tadashi’s statement. But it was the Indian ambassador, standing in for the foreign secretary, who dropped the final bombshell.

“Since the Littoral Alliance is at war with the People’s Republic of China, we must, regretfully, declare that all shipping lanes in the South China Sea, the East China Sea, and the Yellow Sea are war zones. Any merchant ship sailing through those waters will be at risk. Any ship heading to a Chinese port will be attacked and sunk without warning. We will no longer confine our attacks only to tankers.

“Lastly, the Indian Navy will begin a total blockade of the Strait of Malacca and Lombok Strait effective immediately. Any ship attempting to pass through either strait will be boarded, their registry and cargo manifest examined. Any cargo bound for the People’s Republic of China will be confiscated; vessels bound for other Far East destinations will have to take the long way around. If a ship refuses to heave to and be boarded, they will receive but one warning before shells are fired at the bridge.”

4 September 2016

1950 Eastern Daylight Time

CNN Headline News

The transition from the press conference in Japan back to the New York studio took the anchorwoman by surprise. She hesitated for a moment, as she struggled to comprehend what the entire world had just heard, but recovered quickly as her producer waved feverishly behind the camera.

“That… that was astounding! We are witnessing history in the making! That was the representatives from the new Littoral Alliance formally declaring that a state of war exists between them and the People’s Republic of China. This brings out into the open the hidden conflict that has been raging under the sea for nearly a week. And yet, our own Christine Laird has been able to keep on top of developments through the use of an unusual blog site. She joins us now to talk about this interesting Web site. Good evening, Christine.”

“Good evening, Jackie.”

“Christine, tell our viewers about this phenomenal Web site you’ve been using.”

“Certainly, Jackie. The blog has undergone a number of name changes over the last two weeks and it is currently listed as ‘The Great Pacific War of 2016.’ I first came upon it when the blog’s administrator, Mr. Hector McMurtrie, a noted expert in maritime affairs, wrote an interesting entry on the loss of the Vietnamese merchant ship Vinaship Sea. In hindsight, this ship was probably the first casualty of the war. I contacted Mr. McMurtrie shortly thereafter, and he has provided a steady stream of incredibly accurate information and insight, long before our usual sources. I’ve asked Mr. McMurtrie to join us on Skype to talk about the situation in the South China Sea. Good evening, Hector, thank you for joining us.”

“Good evening, Christine,” Mac replied. He looked up at the TV behind his desk and he saw his face. This was all very strange. His initial thought was the tie he was wearing was the wrong color; it made his face look pink. But he didn’t have a whole lot of choices. Mac hadn’t worn a tie in years, and the popular colors back then tended toward the louder hues.

“Hector, the Indian ambassador to Japan just announced the blockade of the Strait of Malacca and Lombok Strait. What is the significance of these two waterways?”

“They are two of China’s main lifelines. The Strait of Malacca is one of the busiest ocean highways in the world, with twenty-five to thirty percent of all oceangoing traffic passing through it each year. A lot of China’s inbound and outbound trade uses this strait. But as important as Malacca is, it’s rather shallow, only about twenty-five meters deep, which prevents the passage of oil tankers. They use the much deeper Lombok Strait.”

“So if India can block both straits, China is largely cut off from Middle East oil?”

“It’s much worse, Christine. This cuts China’s access to oil and other natural resources from both the Middle East and Africa. Ships carrying these vital raw materials will have to sail around the Philippines and approach Mainland China via the East China Sea—an approach that is effectively under Japanese military surveillance.”

“Hector, if the Littoral Alliance is successful in bottling up China’s merchant fleet, what are the implications for the rest of the world’s economies?”

“At the very least, raw materials and imported goods will cost considerably more, which will be an unpleasant shock to everyone. Rising insurance rates and fuel costs are already having a significant impact, and it will only get worse the longer this war goes on. People need to realize, Christine, that nearly ninety percent of the world’s trade is moved by ship.

“And it only gets worse. China is the world’s largest exporter of finished goods and the second largest importer of crude oil. Her merchant fleet carries the lifeblood of her industrial engine. If the Littoral Alliance successfully strangles China’s trade, her economy could implode. The shock waves from such an event would ripple across the globe with frightening speed and effects. A worldwide depression is not out of the question.”

“That’s not an encouraging picture you’re painting, Hector. What do you think that China could—”

“Excuse me, Christine,” interrupted the anchorwoman. “We’ve just been told that President Myles will be addressing the nation at 9:00 P.M. eastern daylight time, undoubtedly to inform the American people on the actions his administration is taking. If you don’t mind, Christine, I’d like to ask Mr. McMurtrie a question.”

“Not at all, Jackie.”

“Mr. McMurtrie, given the negative economic implications you’ve described, what impact do you think this will have on President Myles’s reelection bid?”

Hector chuckled; the question was a minefield that he had no intention of entering.

“Jackie, I’m Canadian, and my personal opinions on the elections of my neighboring country are irrelevant, as I don’t have a say in the matter. What I think is about as useful as a used lottery ticket.”

Laird grinned at Mac’s response; it was a good answer to a difficult question. Behind the camera she could see her producer making a slashing motion with his hand across his throat. She needed to wrap the interview up.

“Well, that’s all the time we have for tonight. Thank you, again, Mr. Hector McMurtrie, for sharing your insights with us.”

“You’re welcome.”

“And now back to you, Jackie.”

Mac saw his face vanish from the TV screen and immediately he yanked off the wretched tie. He took a deep breath, relieved that the interview was over. He hadn’t felt such pressure in a long time, and he wasn’t certain he wanted to again. Suddenly, Christine Laird’s face popped onto his computer screen. “That was awesome, Mac! My producer is thrilled!”

Mac jumped in his seat. The abrupt appearance of the CNN reporter startled him. Wiping the sweat from his brow, he wagged a finger at her and scolded, “Christine, I’m not a particularly young man and jolts like that have been known to cause heart attacks. So, if you want me to be alive for the next interview, please, don’t do that again.” He smiled at the end, to let her know he wasn’t angry.

Laird looked appalled. The thought of her killing off her star “talking head” was horrifying. “I’m sorry, Mac! I was just so excited by how well the interview went, that’s all.”

“So I see,” he replied wryly. He was about to suggest that she might want to consider drinking decaffeinated coffee when she hit him with another shock.

“My producer wants to do more focused interviews. How soon can you get to New York?”

“What?” asked Mac, dumbfounded.

“He wants us to put together a number of features on the Chinese merchant fleet, the tankers that have been sunk, and the strategy of the Littoral Alliance. And we want you close by in case there are other fast-moving stories. The best way to do that is for you to come to New York.”

“Absolutely not!” answered Mac sternly.

Now it was Laird’s turn to be surprised. “Why not, Mac? We’ll put you up in one of the finest hotels in Manhattan, close to our studios in the Time Warner Center.”

“Christine, I don’t like going into downtown Halifax, let alone a city with a population over ten times that of my entire province! I’m not a fan of concrete!”

“I promise, you won’t have to worry about a thing. I’ll make sure you’re taken care of,” Laird protested.

“And who will keep my blogs updated?”

“You can do that here just as well as from your home. We’ll give you an office with all the IT support you could possibly need,” argued Laird.

Mac took off his glasses and rubbed his eyes. He was very tired, and could feel himself getting curmudgeonly. “Young lady, not all of my references are electronic. In fact, I often use hard-copy articles, and these quaint oddities that are called ‘books.’” He emphasized his point by lifting a large volume of Jane’s Merchant Ships.

“We’ll move whatever you need.” Laird was now pleading.

“Hardly,” Mac snickered.

“Mac, please—”

McMurtrie quickly raised his hand, stopping her in mid-sentence.

“Ms. Laird, I’m going to stay here and keep my group’s blogs up to date. It’s what I like to do, and it’s my responsibility. I’m afraid you and your producer will just have to learn to deal with that.”

4 September 2016

2015 Local Time

Oval Office, the White House

Washington, D.C.

Milt Alvarez knocked on the door before opening it. Inside the Oval Office, President Myles and Secretary of State Lloyd were sitting in the easy chairs going over their strategy to confront the Chinese.

“Mr. President, the Chinese ambassador is here.”

“Ah, excellent, Milt. Please show him in,” responded Myles as he stood up.

“Took him long enough,” grumbled Lloyd.

“Be polite, Andy,” whispered Myles, smiling.

The chief of staff returned, opening the door wide, and ushered in the People’s Republic of China’s representative to the United States. Yang Jinping was a short, slightly portly man with a full face that always seemed to have an infectious smile. He was a seasoned diplomat, having served as China’s representative to the United Kingdom and the UN.

“Welcome, Mr. Ambassador. Welcome to the Oval Office,” greeted Myles in Mandarin Chinese.

Yang’s smile grew larger. He stopped, bowed, and said, “It is an honor to be received in my native tongue, Mr. President. I must say your pronunciation is quite good.”

Myles laughed, while shaking his head woefully. “You are being very diplomatic, Mr. Ambassador. But I fear my Mandarin instructor would not share your views. He always complained that my nasal tones sounded like I was about to throw up.”

Yang erupted into a full-blown belly laugh. The ambassador’s laugh sounded genuine; that was what Myles wanted to hear. The conversation he was about to have with Yang was going to get tense enough as it was; the president didn’t want it starting out that way. Coming forward, Yang shook Myles’s and Lloyd’s hands. Gesturing to the chairs, and switching over to English, Myles said, “Please, have a seat. Would you care for some coffee? Or perhaps tea?”

“No, thank you, Mr. President,” Yang said solemnly. “We both know we have a difficult discussion ahead of us, and I’d prefer that we just get to it.”

Myles saw the smile fade from the elderly statesman’s face. He really didn’t want to have this meeting. Perhaps he was uncomfortable with what he had been instructed to say. “I appreciate your candor, Mr. Ambassador. But I prefer to discuss our mutual problem, even if strong words are used.”

Yang’s smile returned briefly. Straightening his coat, he sat upright as he spoke. “I must first apologize for being unavailable, until now. But it was felt necessary by my government that we both have the same information. I trust you watched the announcement by the Littoral Alliance representatives?”

“Yes. Secretary Lloyd and I watched the news conference together.”

“Your impressions?”

“We have a very bad situation on our hands, one that is likely to get much worse if measures aren’t taken to stop the bloodshed.”

Yang’s eyes narrowed, carefully scanning the American president. “If I may, Mr. President, just who are you referring to when you say ‘we’?”

“The world, Mr. Ambassador,” Myles answered bluntly.

“That is very noble of you, Mr. President. But need I remind you we were attacked first,” countered Yang.

“If you mean that the Littoral Alliance fired the first shot, then you are technically correct. However, the Vietnamese would never have mined the Liaoning if you hadn’t already put into motion your plan to seize most of the islands and reefs in the Spratly Islands by force. The plan you are currently executing.”

Yang’s face showed no response. The man was indeed a professional, but he hesitated slightly and Myles pressed on with his prepared plan of attack.

“Yes, Mr. Ambassador, we know quite a bit about Operation Trident. Catchy name, I must admit, three prongs on a trident, and three attack vectors into the Spratlys, one to the north, one in the middle, and one to the south. We didn’t figure it all out at first, but after one of your Type 093 submarines torpedoed Vinaship Sea—”

“Really, Mr. President! I must protest!” interjected Yang indignantly.

“My dear Ambassador,” Myles responded lightheartedly. “One of my nuclear-powered submarines witnessed the whole attack. They’d been trailing your submarine since it left port the day before. We know the Type 093 fired two Yu-6 torpedoes, and we know about the large secondary explosion that followed. I’m willing to provide a copy of the recorded sonar files and fire control plots if you’d like.

“No, Mr. Ambassador, the People’s Republic of China is not an ‘innocent victim’ in this case. The Littoral Alliance may have fired first, but that’s only because they found out about your plan and beat you to the punch.”

“We have suffered terrible losses, Mr. President, far more than the Littoral Alliance. This is unacceptable.”

“That is not true, Mr. Ambassador, and you know it.” Myles heard the ambassador inhale deeply through his nose. He was insulted by Myles’s accusation that he was lying—good. Whether or not the ambassador knew what his countrymen had done was immaterial; the president now had the opportunity he’d been looking for.

“Oh yes, we also know the Fourth Technical Reconnaissance Bureau is responsible for causing the Sanyo Shinkansen tragedy. They hacked into the bullet train’s control circuit and caused the deaths of nearly 2,750 civilians. Your cyber intrusion specialists in the 61419 Unit are very good, so I’m told, but they left behind some electronic fingerprints.”

Yang remained silent at first, and swallowed hard. The American president seemed very well informed, far better than expected. There was no point in trying to fence with Myles given his disadvantaged position.

“What would you like us to do? Surrender?” he sneered.

“No, Mr. Ambassador. But your country is the key to ending this conflict. Withdraw your troops from the islands you invaded, and request a cease-fire. I will fully support it and will put considerable pressure on our allies to accept it. Once the fighting has been stopped, I will propose a mediation plan to resolve the dispute.”

“So you expect us to just absorb the losses inflicted by your allies, and then throw ourselves at your mercy. I seriously doubt my government will see any advantage in that.”

“I concede that it’s not the most palatable solution, but the alternative is far, far worse,” pushed Myles. “We have not supplied any of this information to any of our allies. Not even the British know what we know. I’m offering the People’s Republic of China the ‘right of first refusal.’

“I also don’t appreciate the position you’ve put me in by invading territories belonging to nonbelligerent nations that have security agreements with the United States; in particular, the Republic of the Philippines, which has absolutely no ability to threaten your country. If China continues down the current path, I sincerely doubt I’ll be able to keep my country neutral. And if that happens, then the information I’ve shared with you will be used against China. This will undoubtedly tip Western Europe over into the Littoral Alliance’s camp. You’ve seen the news reports as well as I; there are many who are already advocating such an action.”

“Are you now threatening us, President Myles?” Yang shouted angrily.

“No, Ambassador, I’m just trying to minimize the possibility of a misunderstanding. Your job is to faithfully inform your leaders where the United States stands on this matter. I need to be clear if you are to perform your duty properly.

“But consider this. With the rest of Asia’s trade already lost to you, if Western Europe and the United States join them, China’s economy will implode. This will plunge your country into chaos, along with the rest of the world. We don’t want to see that happen any more than you do. The economic and political repercussions would be severe, affecting virtually every nation on the globe, including my own country. And I doubt Russia would come to your aid. They would welcome seeing both our nations knocked down a notch.”

Myles noted that Yang was visibly shaking. The ambassador was incensed with the president’s message. But after an awkward moment, the elderly diplomat nodded his understanding, rose, and said, “I will convey your message to the Central Committee.”

“Thank you, Mr. Ambassador,” replied Myles as he stood. “I abhor being so blunt. It’s not my normal modus operandi to deal with a foreign government’s representative in such an unpleasant manner, but the current situation demands that I do nothing less.”

Yang nodded, looking depressed and suddenly much older. He extended his hand. Myles grasped it firmly and said, “Good evening, Mr. Ambassador.”

As Yang was escorted out of the Oval Office, Lloyd leaned over and whispered, “You were awfully generous with our information, Mr. President. Was it really necessary?”

Myles sighed. “I know, Andy. And that decision may come back to bite us in the future, but I had to convince Yang that we had detailed knowledge on everything China was up to. That information is one of the few weapons I can use. I can only hope he’s running a little scared right now.”

“Well, if it’s any consolation, he looked pretty miserable to me,” observed Lloyd.

Myles smiled and patted his friend on the shoulder. “Yes, I’m afraid our friend Yang looked none too happy. And his night will undoubtedly get worse.”

5 September 2016

1100 Local Time

INS Chakra

South China Sea

Captain Girish Samant surveyed his central post: the control room on a Russian-designed submarine. Everything was as it should be. The men were alert and attending to their duties as expected, despite the fact they’d been at action stations for several hours now. The war with China was only six days old and Chakra had already bagged four tankers, including one VLCC. Samant judged their performance thus far as adequate, but tankers are easy prey. Now they were hunting bigger game, a more elusive adversary, one that could fight back. Looking to his left at the Omnibus fire control consoles, he could see his first officer huddled with the two operators. The three men were having an animated discussion, their voices raised and excited. One of the operators pointed toward his circular display and commented on the target’s lack of proficiency. Samant frowned at such undisciplined behavior.

“Status, Number One,” he demanded sternly.

“Yes, sir. Contact four seven is heading westerly at four knots. Range estimate is ten thousand four hundred meters and opening. Recommend changing course to three one zero to intercept.”

“Very well, Number One. Helmsman, starboard fifteen, steer three one zero.”

The Indian captain was certain the fire control solution was inaccurate; he seriously doubted they could detect a new Type 041 Yuan-class submarine on the battery at ten kilometers. Still, the recommended turn was in the correct direction, and while Chakra swung to her new heading, he mentally ran through the math.

Girish Samant’s reputation as the finest submariner in the Indian Navy was not without justification. Not only did he finish at the top of his class in every course of instruction, he consistently had the highest ratings on the submarines he served on. But far and away his greatest accomplishment was that he was the first Indian naval officer to successfully complete the Royal Navy’s Submarine Command Course, or “Perisher.” Initially one of five officers in his class, and the lone foreign officer, he was one of only three who successfully made it through the demanding six-month course. The other two failed, or “perished.” Upon graduation, Samant was cited for possessing an exceptionally ordered mind and coolness under duress.

When he had been selected as Chakra’s second commanding officer a little over a year earlier, Samant considered it to be the pinnacle of his career. But then India joined the Littoral Alliance and he suddenly found his submarine thrust into war. With this change in perspective, his peacetime accomplishments abruptly seemed unimportant, trivial. Being the best submariner in the Indian Navy was no longer good enough. Now he was determined to become India’s most successful captain ever. So driven, he set out to sink as many ships as fast as he possibly could. And while tankers ran up the tonnage, sinking combatants, particularly submarines, brought more glory. This Chinese boat would not escape him.

As he studied the fire control solution at his command desk, a nagging feeling began poking at him. The bearing rate seemed a little too high, and this reinforced his earlier thoughts; the contact was closer to him. “Number One, reduce the contact’s range to seven thousand meters and recompute target course and speed,” he ordered.

“Aye, aye, sir,” replied Lieutenant Commander Maahir Jain. Within moments he reported back to Samant. “Captain, sir, revised target course is two eight zero, speed three knots. The starboard flank array has also picked up the contact, revised range estimate is seven thousand eight hundred meters.”

Samant’s expression remained an impassionate mask. Even though his range estimate was vindicated as accurate, the flank array’s information merely confirmed a fact. There would be no premature congratulations; it would have to wait until the target was sunk. “Very well, Number One, stand by for target setup. Helmsman, right fifteen, steer three four zero. Deck officer, set combat quiet condition.”

USS North Dakota

“Confirm target zig, Sierra two-nine has changed course to the right,” reported Thigpen.

Jerry looked up at the port large-screen display. It didn’t take a lot of imagination to guess where the Indian was going. “Well, that cinches it. He’s heading straight for the Yuan.”

“Yes, sir. But it also means he’s turned toward us,” Thigpen replied with emphasis.

“Yeah, that too,” Jerry conceded. The geometry of the encounter was terrible. Turning to parallel the Akula made the most sense, except that it drove them toward the Yuan. Trailing six thousand yards off the Indian’s starboard quarter meant they risked getting closer, sooner to the Chinese boat. Worse yet, being loosely between the two hostile submarines increased their risk of getting caught in a cross fire.

“OOD, bring us parallel with the Akula, but slow us down to five knots. I need to consult with the XO.”

“Aye, Captain, come right and parallel the Akula, slow to five knots,” acknowledged Iwahashi. Jerry nodded his approval and stepped out of the way. As the junior officer started the course change, Jerry saw Thigpen turn and approach the command workstation.

“Our position stinketh, Skipper,” he lamented.

“It most certainly does, XO, and I don’t think we can get to a better spot before the Akula reaches his firing position. Do you concur?”

“Absolutely. Either we pound his ass now, or we break off and go with Plan B.”

“I’m leaning toward the latter, Bernie. We need to separate ourselves from these two before they start shooting at each other.”

“We could just slow down more and let the Akula pull farther ahead,” Thigpen observed. He placed his finger by the icon representing their boat on the geographic plot display and pulled it back to demonstrate a growing distance.

Jerry considered his XO’s suggestion; it solved the problem with the Akula, but not the other boat. It would take too long to get the desired angular separation. The Chinese captain would likely launch at least one weapon when the Indian reacted to Jerry’s interference. North Dakota could still get caught within the acquisition cone of one of the torpedoes.

“That doesn’t get us far enough away from the Akula, XO,” Jerry said. “Let’s come more to the right. If we steer forty-five degrees off the Indian’s course, we’ll pull away from his position faster, but still keep both targets out of the end fire beams of the towed arrays.”

“Works for me, Skipper,” nodded Thigpen. “Then we can bring Minot in and hit the Akula with her bow mine-hunting sonar. That should scare him off.”

Turning back to the geographic plot display, Jerry noted that Minot was five thousand yards off the Akula’s port quarter and a tad shallower. He’d have to get the UUV to move up along the Akula’s flank if both of the submarines were going to detect the high-frequency pulses.

“All right, XO. Let’s increase Minot’s speed to nine knots and position her off the Akula’s beam. Then turn her to…” Jerry adjusted the position of Minot’s icon with the trackball until it was aligned with the Indian Akula and the Yuan. “… zero two one and have her go active on the bow mine-hunting array. And use the lowest power setting on the acoustic modem. We don’t want to draw attention to ourselves.”

“Increase Minot’s speed to nine knots. When abeam of the Akula, come right to zero two one and have her say, ‘Tag, you’re it,’ aye, sir.”

INS Chakra

“Captain, contact four seven is steady on course two eight zero, speed three knots. Range estimate is six thousand eight hundred meters and closing. We have a good solution,” reported Jain.

“Very well, Number One.” Samant looked at the clock on the bulkhead. It had taken his fire control watch about eight minutes to obtain a firing solution. That was acceptable.

“Bring tubes one, two, seven, and eight to action state,” he ordered. The first two tubes held UGST torpedoes, the second two, MG-84 mobile decoys. Samant was taking no chances. He completely expected the Chinese commander to counterfire once he detected Chakra’s torpedoes.

“New contact, bearing two three zero, off our port side,” announced the sonar operator over the intercom.

Samant reached for his microphone, while simultaneously spitting out an order to his fire control team. “Begin tracking contact four eight. Be smart about it, Number One.”

Keying the mike, he said, “Sonar, identify new contact.”

“Captain, contact four eight is weak. No discernable bearing drift or tones. Possible submerged contact,” responded the sonar operator.

Another submerged contact, thought Samant. The possibility of an ambush crossed his mind, but that would require a detection and coordination capability well beyond what the Chinese were known to possess. But even if it were just a coincidence, the second contact had shown up at a most inconvenient moment and he had to deal with it.

“Bring tubes three and four to action state. Stand by for deliberate fire, contact four seven. Firing sequence tubes seven, one, and two.”

USS North Dakota

“Captain, Sierra two-nine is flooding tubes and opening outer doors,” said the sonar supervisor.

“Very well, Sonar,” responded Jerry. “XO, command Minot to go active.”

“Aye, sir. Command sent.”

INS Chakra

The acoustic intercept receiver suddenly began wailing its torpedo warning, followed immediately by a panicky voice over the speaker. “Active torpedo, bearing two three zero! Torpedo is close!”

Samant didn’t have time to evaluate the situation; he had to react. Wasting no time, he responded with a fusillade of commands. “Fire tubes seven, one, and two. Rapid fire, contact four eight, tube three. Helmsman, ahead flank, right twenty-five, steer one six zero.”

USS North Dakota

“Torpedoes in the water!” cried the sonar supervisor. “Four weapons were launched!”

“Pilot, ahead standard,” Jerry ordered. “Sonar, where are the torpedoes heading?”

“None are closing, Captain. Two were fired at Sierra three-zero, the Yuan. Another was fired toward Minot. The fourth is heading directly away along Sierra two-nine’s course, possibly a decoy.”

“Very well. Keep a sharp eye on those weapons,” Jerry demanded.

“My God, that boat just barfed out a ton of torpedoes!” exclaimed an impressed Thigpen.

“It helps when you have eight tubes and a rapid-firing system,” Jerry replied dryly.

“Captain, Sierra three-zero has launched an acoustic countermeasure. Sierra two-nine is rapidly changing course to the right. He’s starting to cavitate!”

“Pilot, ahead full!” shouted Jerry.

The fire control party watched the large-screen displays as the tangled weave of sonar contacts quickly began to sort themselves out. The Indian Akula had spun about and headed southward at high speed. The Yuan turned toward the north and retreated as fast as she could, popping more countermeasures in her wake. The Indian torpedoes, jammed by the countermeasures, passed by where the Yuan was and were now spinning about in reattack circles, searching in vain for their target. The one fired at Minot never found its diminutive prey.

Out of the cacophony of noise emerged a lone Chinese Yu-6 torpedo that ran after the Indian’s decoy. Frustrated by the lack of a hull to hit, the Chinese weapon kept making pass after pass as the decoy ran to the northwest.

With all the torpedoes running about to the north, Jerry altered course to follow the Akula, which was still fleeing the scene at thirty-plus knots. Four torpedoes fired, with no hits. Jerry was understandably pleased with his crew’s performance.

“Well done, everyone!” Jerry announced, beaming with pride. “You too, XO,” he added with a wink.

“Gee, thanks, Skipper,” Thigpen responded indignantly. Both men broke out laughing.

“No, Bernie, seriously, your team did really well. That stunt worked better than I had hoped.”

Thigpen slowly shook his head. “You pulled another rabbit out of the hat, Skipper. I was pretty well convinced that Yuan was toast.”

“I had my doubts too, XO. But everything worked out well in the end—at least from our perspective.”

“That Akula skipper is probably one honked-off son-of-a-bitch right now,” Thigpen remarked ruefully.

“Yes, I suspect he’s quite peeved,” agreed Jerry with a smile on his face. “He’ll just have to get over it.”