Piranha: Firing Point

“Sir? Um, who is the captain?”

“Don’t know yet. That’s what Admiral Livingston is here for. Now shove off, and I’ll see you at the SSNX.”

“Maybe you should start calling it by its real name. Devilfish.”

“I don’t know if I can. It’s just a little too weird.”

“Sir,” Joanna interrupted.

“I thought you were taking Colleen down to the pier.” “She said she didn’t need my help,” Joanna said, glaring at Pacino. “Anyway, sir, SNN has some good news.”

“The only good news that could come right now is no news,” Pacino grumbled.

But when the widescreen came up, there was John Patton, wearing orange search and rescue coveralls. The voiceover said, “… survivor of the sinking of the submarine USS Annapolis. Captain Patton, who didn’t go down with the ship, was plucked from the sea by a helicopter of the Japanese Kaijo Hoancho, or coast guard.

After arriving at Yokosuka, Captain Patton and an unidentified second survivor had no comment for our news cameras. Meanwhile, Admiral Pacino, the newly announced supreme commander of the Pacific forces, has made no statement and has been unavailable for comment.

Meanwhile, at the Pentagon, inside sources revealed today that—”

Pacino switched it off, feeling an exhilaration he hadn’t since he’d married Eileen. With a stab of guilt he realized that in his moment of happiness, her memory had been swept aside.

“Did you see that. Admiral?” White asked, incredulous.

“Looks like the SSNX has her captain,” Pacino said, unable to suppress his smile. “Joanna, get on the horn to Navforcepac Admin in Yokosuka. Get Patton down here on a supersonic jet — an F-22 maybe, or an F-14, but get him back here fast.”

“You’re putting him in command of the Devilfish?

After he lost Annapolis?”

“Damned right I am. He’s probably pretty angry at the Reds by now. Let’s put him in the saddle. He’ll do fine. Now get me Admiral Livingston. We’ve got to get a crew for the SSNX–I mean Devilfish.” “Yessir,” White said, smiling back.

Suddenly Pacino had a good feeling about the operation.

It wouldn’t be easy, but then, at least if it failed, it would be his fault, not some politicians’ or the news media’s. He smiled at Livingston, ushered him to a seat, and began to speak.

PACIFIC OCEAN

300 NAUTICAL MILES WEST-NORTHWEST OF OAHU

AIRCRAFT CARRIER USS DOUGLAS MACARTHUR, CVN-85

Rear Admiral Gregory Copenflager sat up straight in his seat before the videoconference camera.

“Yes, sir,” he said, receiving an order he would be glad to follow.

“One other thing,” Admiral Pacino said from his Pearl Harbor office, “even before you redeploy into the ASW formation. You may have seen this on the news.

I want all reporters rounded up and transported to Pearl Harbor. I want their gear — suitcases, underwear, cameras, tape recorders, computers, all of it — sent on a separate airplane. And before you bring them up on deck, blindfold them. I know it sounds paranoid, but I don’t want them reporting anything except how poorly they were treated. No ship formations, order of battle information, attitude of the troops, nothing. We’ll see to their reception on this end. And don’t worry about them smearing your career. You just blame the whole thing on me. Is that completely clear?”

“Yes, Admiral. We’ll get on it immediately.”

“And, Greg, you should expect to be at the Point Delta Hold Position for some time. I want you to make the best time you can, with your random zigzag pattern, for Point Delta, but don’t expect to go in as soon as you get there. You’re not crossing the line until you hear from me personally, and that word won’t come until I know the East China Sea is clear.” “Aye-aye, sir,” Copenflager said, his jaw muscles clenching.

“Good luck, Greg. And watch yourself.”

“Same to you. Admiral. Good hunting.”

Copenflager, the admiral-in-command of the backup Rapid Deployment Force Fleet, clicked off and looked over at his staff and the captain of the MacArthur.

“Round up the press, put them in the ready rooms, and confiscate their gear, then blindfold them. Get five Hawkeyes ready to airlift them back to Pearl, and put their gear on the sixth. No more ship announcements until they are all off. Once they’re gone, execute the maximum-dispersion order, cargo vessels no closer than two miles from each other, random distribution, ASW ships in a large-area screen. It’s zero five forty-five now.

In one hour’s time I want the reporters off and the formation redeployed. Questions? Very well, gentlemen.

Execute.”

The staff rose and vanished. Copenflager stood up, relived. Maybe with Pacino in command, things would be different. They’d better be, he thought, looking out the window at the formation, or else for him it would be a very short war.

UNIFIED SUBMARINE COMMAND HEADQUARTERS

WEST PEARL HARBOR, HAWAII

The president was glaring at him. Pacino couldn’t remember her ever looking at him like that, even after he got kicked out of the Oval Office before the Japan blockade.

“I’d still like to know what you’re doing. I’ve heard rumors about the SSNX.”