Seawolf End Game (26 page)

The Kremlin

T
he Russian president sat thoughtfully smoking a cigarette as he considered the latest news from the Persian Gulf. The Iranians were reporting they’d sunk an American submarine, although his own forces in the region reported the American had struck a mine.

Regardless, American blood had been shed. As long as the fighting had stayed between Arabs and Persians, the president had been confident he could control the escalation of force as he had in North Korea. But now, he was forced to consider a possible change of plan. He’d hoped to avoid a fight with the American Navy. Although he had forces in the region and he’d formally recognized Iran’s claim to the Musandam Peninsula and the entire Strait of Hormuz, such recognition meant nothing if Russia wasn’t willing to defend those claims.

But could he risk open warfare with the Americans? So far, he’d lost none of his own men or vessels, and no one could prove Russia had anything to do with the loss. With him were his most trusted advisors from the Security Council, and so far the rest of his government didn’t know what had transpired. His Defense Minister, Sergei Sokolov, mused thoughtfully, “You know, Vladimir,” he said, “if you ordered our submarines to defend the Strait of Hormuz, it would be keeping with international law.”

The president knew it wasn’t that simple. Iran had seized sovereign territory by force, and although he could prevent the United Nations from acting, he couldn’t control world opinion which was decidedly against the Republic’s naked aggression.

“And if one of our submarines is lost?” Veronika Puchkov, his foreign minister asked, “Would you then recommend declaring war on the United States?”

Such a thought was out of the question, but she made her point.

Sergei countered, “Of course not, but it is clear the Americans and Brits are probing the Iranian defenses and testing our resolve. If we don’t answer forcefully, we risk them choosing a military option instead of a diplomatic one.”

None of them wanted a real war. Instead, they hoped to make the situation in the Gulf palatable enough to preclude the Americans forcing the issue. But the loss of the American submarine had raised the stakes markedly. The president turned his eyes to Vitaliy Shuvalov, his spy master. “Vitaliy?”

The youth hadn’t offered any comments yet. He was normally tightlipped, but the president valued his counsel. “The Americans have an expression,” he said softly, “the carrot and the stick.”

“What do you mean?”

“We must push the diplomatic solution,” he offered. “This is the carrot. The Americans will hesitate to use force if they think they can resolve the conflict peacefully.”

“They just lost a nuclear-powered attack submarine!” the Defense Minister countered. “What makes you think they won’t demand retribution?”

“We can use this loss to help jump start new negotiations,” Vitaliy explained. “We can say that this tragedy should illustrate the explosive nature of the crisis and call upon all parties to take a step back and reconsider a peaceful settlement. Meanwhile, we use the stick…”

“The stick?” the president asked.

“We tell the world that until there is a peaceful solution to the crisis, our forces will defend Iranian sovereignty in this matter,” the youth concluded.

“While at the same time stressing the diplomatic option,” the president concluded.

Veronika interjected, “World opinion might be swayed in our favor by such an overture since everyone appreciated our intervention to resolve the Korean fiasco, but I don’t think we can count on the Americans sitting still for this.”

The Defense Minister nodded in agreement. “Then we must convince the Americans we’re serious about helping the Persians, or else the blockade across the Strait of Hormuz is meaningless. They’ll run over the handful of Iranian vessels currently patrolling the Strait and the game is over.”

Veronika offered another thought, “And if we don’t announce our determination to defend our ally’s waterways, then the Iranians might wilt before the growing American forces arrayed against them. For all their faith in the hereafter, none of our Persian friends are in a hurry to go there.”

The president knew his next decision would be the most critical. Anything short of ordering his forces to defend the Strait would amount to surrender on his part. However, Sergei had a final thought, “Plus, for the moment, the only Western forces in the region are submarines. If we opened fire on one of their boats, they couldn’t prove we did it.”

The president had already decided what he had to do, but it was nice to hear his most trusted advisors agree with him. “Very well, Veronika,” he began, “make overtures to the Americans and her allies. Tell them we are deeply saddened by this tragedy and explain we want an immediate cease fire by both parties. Tell them we are willing to act as intermediaries between the Iranians and the rest of the world to bring a peaceful end to the crisis. Offer assurances that we will make sure the sea lane in and out of the Gulf stays open to civilian traffic. However, make it clear that to guarantee the cease fire, our forces in the region will fire on any vessel making an offensive move.”

“And our forces in the region?” Sergei asked. “If we leave them there, we must give them the ability to protect themselves. Plus, if the Americans don’t believe we intend to back up our words, then this entire conversation is moot.”

It was a dangerous game, and the president knew it. If he withdrew his forces, then the Iranians—despite their bluster—wouldn’t stand a chance of defending the Strait. If he left his forces in the region but didn’t allow them the freedom to defend themselves, then he was risking them needlessly. If they stayed, which they had to if his plan was going to work, then he had to give them the ability to not only defend themselves, but aggressively defend the Strait itself.

“Give the order,” he decided. “Our forces will defend Iranian territorial waters, including the Strait of Hormuz against any aggressive action.”

The decision made, the president lit another cigarette. He was risking it all, and he knew it. If the Americans didn’t back down, there would be an undeclared war fought underneath the waves, and if his forces in the region lost, then his grand scheme would collapse. But… if successful…if the Americans backed down or were defeated in any attempt to force a passage through the Strait, then the new world order he sought would be achieved. It was a huge gamble, but the reward was equally as large.

Wardroom, USS Seawolf

T
he apprehension in the wardroom hung like a dark cloud over everyone seated around the table. Those present ate sparingly, barely doing more than picking at their food as each dealt with his own secret fears regarding the situation at hand. No one felt comfortable talking about what happened to the
Virginia
or what was awaiting the
Seawolf
as she continued her headlong rush toward the Persian Gulf, hell bent on challenging any and all comers.

Kristen took a few tentative spoonfuls from a bowl of instant oatmeal, a cup of lukewarm tea at hand, her head slightly bowed and her headphones on, listening to the ocean sounds, trying to discern something within the computer-generated noise pattern. She’d managed a solid nine hours of uninterrupted sleep, but the nine hours hadn’t passed uneventfully.

Upon arrival in the wardroom, she leafed through the classified message board and saw, during her rest period, the world above had been raging. Iran had announced the sinking of a foreign submarine in her “territorial waters.” As punishment for this trespass, Iran was temporarily restricting passage through the Strait of Hormuz as a sign of its resolve and unwillingness to be “bullied” by the “agents of Zionism.”

An immediate result of the Iranian announcement was a skyrocketing of oil prices on global markets. Plus, there was a flurry of diplomatic activity at the United Nations which issued a scathing rebuke to Iran. But the UN’s admonition was a toothless warning as Russia and eight other countries walked out of the General Assembly meeting in support of the Islamic Republic. Because of the crisis, international shipping traffic was fleeing the region following a speech by the President of the United States wherein he announced America’s unwavering resolve in the matter. Kristen assumed this meant war if the Iranians didn’t back down.

The loss of the
Virginia
loomed large among the officers and crew. It was difficult to find anyone on the
Seawolf
who didn’t have at least a passing acquaintance on the
Virginia.
Kristen knew one man who’d been on the downed submarine. He’d been with her at Annapolis, and even though she hadn’t known him well, the fact he was gone brought into close perspective her own mortality. Ski, who’d known the captain of the
Virginia
well, looked moodier and angrier than usual, and his dark mood made everyone else a bit jumpy.

The captain—normally a calming influence—had momentarily made an appearance in the wardroom but had then been called away to the message center to receive what she assumed would be more in a seemingly unbroken string of bad news. As she stared at Brodie’s empty chair, her thoughts again turned to what Patricia had told her about being afraid to live in the present. Kristen knew Patricia was right. She’d squandered so many chances for happiness, and now, as she stared at Brodie’s empty chair, she wondered if her choices had destined her to a life alone.

For most of her youth, Kristen foolishly thought she was the master of her own destiny. But during the last three months, she’d learned a hard lesson regarding just how little control she had over her future. In fact, she no longer felt she had control over anything, including her emotions. She’d fallen in love with a man she could never hope to have and now found herself thrust into a situation which she felt—despite her years of hard work and sacrifice—she would be able to influence only slightly. The world itself seemed to be coming apart and there was nothing she could do about it.

Her eyes lingered on the empty chair at the head of the table, wishing for a moment—just one moment—in which the mask of command could fall away and the concerns of protocol and duty might fade so she could tell him how she felt. After years of living for tomorrow, the cold reality had struck her hard with a simple truth: her tomorrows were—unquestionably—few in number. All she had left to cling to was the moment.

The door opened and Brodie walked in followed by Graves, both apparently undaunted by current events. All eyes expectantly fell on the captain, some seeming to beg for even faint hope of a peaceful resolution. Others—most notably Ski’s—hoped the Joint Chiefs would take them off the leash and let the
Seawolf
loose to seek vengeance for the lost
Virginia.

Brodie sat down, showing no sign he noticed everyone’s eyes upon him as he resumed eating his cold breakfast. Beside him, Graves sat quietly sipping his coffee.

“What’s happened now?” Ski nearly growled.

Brodie didn’t look up; instead, he looked to almost force the food into himself as if knowing he would need the energy for the coming struggle. But after a long few moments of silence, he glanced at his executive officer and gave a brief nod indicating Graves should explain what they’d just learned.

Graves cleared his throat before speaking. “The Islamic Republic announced this morning they are now a nuclear power. Further, they have targeted several densely populated cities in Europe for destruction if any nation tries to force a passage through the Strait of Hormuz.” It was not completely unexpected, but hardly welcome news.

The mood in the wardroom grew a little bleaker as the Iranians raised the stakes once more. Any more thought of food was forgotten as each officer displayed visible signs of growing concern. All except Brodie, who continued to eat as if they weren’t on the precipice of open war. He looked almost nonchalant about the information as Graves, still grieving over the loss of the
Virginia
and his own close friends, continued, “As you know, the United States and our allies have been redeploying tactical air assets, antisubmarine patrol craft, and mine warfare resources into the region in preparation for a coordinated assault to overwhelm the Iranians’ landward defenses under construction in and around the Strait. But, given this new potential threat, it has been decided we can’t risk any overt attempt to force our way through the Straits until the National Command Authority can determine the credibility of the Iranian nuclear threat.” Graves was clearly struggling to keep his obvious anger and remorse in check as he paused, swallowing hard.

“Our own Air Force, in conjunction with the British RAF and other allies, is currently developing an extensive strike package for a massive, all-out assault on suspected Iranian nuclear sites and rocket facilities in hopes of overwhelming their ability to react and destroying any land-based strategic threat they may possess.”

Kristen wiped her face in exasperation, shaking her head. Even if they could take out the land-based threat in such an attack—which was in no way certain—there was still a significant and credible threat posed by the
Borei
, hiding somewhere inside the Persian Gulf. The possibility the
Borei
might be armed with missiles was not easily dismissed.