Phoenix Sub Zero

“The solution Captain al-Kunis and I propose is to blow the water out of the forward ballast tank and weapon area free-flood, and cut open the tube caps on three Hiroshima missile tubes. We’ll set up a rig to maneuver the missiles out, where we’ll open them up and install the new warheads, then reinstall them in the tubes and weld the end caps back on.” “Sounds easy enough,” said.

“Think again,” Sharef said. “Working in a ballast tank is no holiday, particularly when the ship is at-depth. The tank is open to the sea at the bottom of the ship. Anything could send the water rushing in, a small leak in a vent gasket, a sudden maneuver. The ship will be at maximum speed to keep sufficient water flow over the bowplanes to keep the ship submerged in spite of the buoyancy of the ballast tank, so any slight turns could bring water in. There are no work platforms, no lights, no ventilation. It will be dangerous. And in the end it might not work—the tube may fail at launch from being inexpertly welded. General, this is a gamble.”

“Yes, Commodore, all important things in war are. Any thing else?”

“Yes sir. Problem five. Even if we conquer all the other obstacles to this point, there will be the American fleet awaiting us on the far side of the Atlantic.”

“But how will they know we are there? Can’t we stay in visible?” Abu said.

“Abu, we surfaced to pick up the general. They saw us then. They know we are somewhere in the Mediterranean, and they probably suspect the general and Colonel Ahmed are with us now. The subs attached to the carrier battle group will be coming after us, and if we survive the inevitable encounter with them, they will still know we are no longer in the Mediterranean, if only because we will not be surfacing there in the next one or two weeks. That leaves the Americans wondering, and soon they will put up a fenceline of ASW ships and subs and airplanes to catch us coming in.

If they sink us, not only do they stop the launch of the Scorpions, they score a hit on General Sihoud …”

“Commodore, there must be something you can do to lessen this risk,” Sihoud said.

“There is. I propose we avoid the east coast of America. Mr. First, the North Atlantic chart, please.” Al-Kunis pulled out the chart of the North Atlantic, the projection showing the arctic circle and the lower rim of the Arctic Ocean.

“The range of the Hiroshima missile will allow us to shoot well before we reach the coast. If we have the weapons ready we could launch in mid-Atlantic. Since I expect that preparing the missiles will take longer even than our pessimistic projections, I suggest we follow the great circle route to the southern tip of Greenland in the Labrador Sea. Captain al-Kunis has marked our proposed track in black tape. As you can see, we come in missile range of Washington here well south of Greenland, and if we follow the track shown up the Labrador Sea to Baffin Bay, we stay in range until we reach Godhavn, Greenland. That leaves us the excellent escape route north into the Arctic Ocean, back around Greenland, and south to Gibraltar. At this time of year the polar icecap extends south all the way to Baffin Island, with drift ice down into the Labrador Sea. No surface fleet will be able to pursue us there. By the time we emerge east of Greenland, they will have called off the search, Washington will be a radioactive nightmare, the Western Coalition will be in retreat, and we will return having accomplished the mission. Of course the possibility is high that attack submarines will be sent after us, most likely post launch. But I am confident we can defeat their ships if we encounter them singly, and if we detect them before they detect us.”

“Then we are decided,” Sihoud said, rising. “If there is nothing else I will retire for the evening.”

“Good night, sir. And, General, I wonder if I and my first officer might have a word with Colonel Ahmed.”

Sihoud waved and left the room. Ahmed turned to Sharef.

“Colonel, I have other concerns that I wanted to address with you.” “Go ahead. Commodore,” Ahmed said.

“I wanted to see you first on this, but if your response isn’t what I’m looking for, I’ll take it to the general,” Sharef said slowly.

Ahmed frowned. “I’m sure we can work out whatever’s on your mind.”

“I’ll be direct with you, then, Colonel. You and General Sihoud have unlimited access aboard the ship. You can go where you please, talk to the men, even be in the ballast tank while the Scorpion insertion is done if you want. You can look at the navigation plots, hear the radio messages, ask any questions you please. The mission is yours to command, and this ship is completely at your disposal.”

“Thank you. Commodore.”