Attack of the Seawolf

“You ever miss going to sea, Mikey?”

“No,” Pacino said, his voice flat.

“What’s going on, Admiral … You tell me you came to see me about a problem, you have no time for tours or dress parades, then you ask me whether I miss going to sea. You trying to recruit me back to the service? And if so, why? Hell, the Cold War’s over. The Navy’s got more hotshot young officers than it has submarines to command, and I’d never even consider coming back to the fleet without a sub of my own. And after I lost Devilfish no squadron commander would ever give me my own submarine again.”

“Okay, Mikey, enough fencing. I did come here to offer you command of a fast-attack sub, the hottest one we’ve got. The Seawolf. If you’re not interested, okay. You’ve got your family. You’ve got midshipmen to teach, research to do, toys to play with …”

“Admiral, why would you want me to take over the Seawolf’! Henry Duckett’s in command of her.”

“He is, but I’ve got other plans for Hank. We have an urgent SPEC-OP for the Seawolf and I need the best skipper for the job. You happen to be the only sub driver in recent history who knows how to handle himself in combat. So, you lost that rust bucket Devilfish? Don’t forget that I ordered you on that mission, and I bear more guilt for it than you do. The point of all this is that you are the best there is for what I need. The commander of this OP will report directly to me, I’ll report directly to the President. That’s all I can tell you unless you take the mission.”

The two were silent for a moment; finally Pacino spoke up.

“Let me understand this. Admiral. You’re willing to give command of the Seawolf to an old Piranhaclass sailor who’s been out of the fleet for two years, who knows nothing about the Seawolf class. To a man whose last submarine sank, never mind who was most at fault. The mission is so sensitive that you and the President are running it yourselves, and you can’t tell me what it’s about.”

Donchez said nothing.

“This wouldn’t have to do with the Chinese Civil War, would it? Except what would the Navy be doing with … unless you sent a sub into the waters close to Beijing … what’s the name of that bay … the Gulf of China?”

“Chihii, Gulf of Chihii. The Chinese call it the Go Hai Bay—” “And something went wrong with the boat you sent in?”

“Bingo.”

Pacino shook his head.

“This must be a rescue mission.”

“You’re close enough, Mikey. I need to know if you’ll change your mind? This is no academic discussion.”

Pacino let the dig at his current academic career go by.

“I’ve been away from the submarine navy too long, Admiral. There are a dozen skippers out there who could handle this mission. Sean Murphy, for one. His Tampa is one of the newest boats in the fleet and Murphy’s damned good. I ought to know, I roomed with that guy for four years here and almost five years after graduation. I’d say Tampa could do this better than the untested Seawolf. Sean’s boat is trained and ready.”

“Only one problem, Mikey. Sean Murphy and the Tampa are the ones being held captive.” Donchez decided he had to gamble in spite of his own rules of security. The risk had obviously been worth it, judging by Pacino’s shocked expression.

“The Chinese have had Tampa tied up at the Xingang piers outside of Tianjin for about sixteen hours. Intel indicates that the crew are being held onboard. The Seawolf made port in Yokosuka last night. Her captain and XO are on the way to D.C. now. I told them they’d be briefing Congress. I have a fast transport jet standing by at Andrews. I figure if you can get packed in an hour we can get Seawolf underway within twelve. What do you say, Mikey?”