by Jeff Edwards
The admiral pressed another button, and the remote in his hand projected a laser pointer, which he directed toward the screen.
“The submarine rounded the southern tip of the Kamchatka peninsula, and transited through the Kuril island chain into the Sea of Okhotsk, the large body of water shown on this map. The Sea of Okhotsk is to the immediate south of Siberia, and it shares the extreme cold of the Siberian winter.”
The CNO clicked the remote again, and the map on the screen was replaced by an aerial photograph of a rugged icescape. “At this time of year, the northern eighty percent of the Sea of Okhotsk is completely iced over, and the ice pack is heavy. It’s possible that Governor Zhukov timed his coup with this in mind. The Sea of Okhotsk is to the immediate west of the Kamchatkan peninsula, allowing Zhukov to hide his missile submarine under the Siberian ice pack, and still effectively keep it in his backyard.”
The admiral looked at the faces around the table. “The Delta III class submarine carries sixteen nuclear missiles, each of which is armed with three 200 kiloton warheads. That’s about three times the firepower needed to destroy every city in the western United States. So the deployment of submarine K-506 constitutes an imminent threat to our national security, as the events of the last few hours have proven.”
The CNO returned to his chair and nodded toward the national security advisor. “Before I continue, I’d like to ask Mr. Brenthoven to give us a short synopsis of the diplomatic situation.”
Brenthoven stood up. “Thank you, Admiral.” He straightened his tie. “I met with Ambassador Kolesnik shortly after the missile submarine put out to sea. On the instructions of President Chandler, I proposed that the United States and the Russian Federation share diplomatic and military resources in dealing with the problem. But our overtures toward a joint solution were rejected.”
Brenthoven glanced down at his notes. “The government of the Russian Federation insisted that the coup in Kamchatka and the deployment of the K-506 were internal Russian matters. Speaking through his ambassador, President Turgenev declined all offers of diplomatic assistance, and he specifically refused to allow American military participation.”
“I pointed out that the striking range and firepower of the R-29R missiles put the entire western United States in danger of nuclear attack. Ambassador Kolesnik assured me that there was no danger to the U.S. He reminded me that Delta III class submarines, which they refer to as the Kal’mar class, do not have ice penetration capability. They weren’t built with the proper hull configuration, or the right kind of structural reinforcements needed to punch through ice. He assured me that if that submarine tried to break through the ice, its hull would be sliced open and it would sink like the Titanic. He promised me that the Russian Navy would keep the K-506 trapped under the ice pack, where it could not fire its missiles, and they would destroy the sub long before it posed a threat.”
Brenthoven nodded toward the admiral and sat down. “As we all know, that’s not exactly how things worked out.”
Admiral Casey stood up again and pressed a button on his remote. The photo of the ice pack was replaced by the map. A red circle appeared, near the northeast corner of the Sea of Okhotsk. A label next to it displayed the latitude and longitude: 58.29N / 155.20E.
“Three and a half hours ago,” the admiral said, “the submarine in question launched an R-29R series nuclear missile from this approximate position. The launch was detected by a U.S. Air Force Eagle Eye surveillance satellite. The launch and missile trajectory were confirmed by PAVE PAWS radar installations at Beale Air Force Base, California, and Clear Air Force Station, Alaska.”
“The R-29R missile is a MIRV, which is to say that it carries multiple warheads that can be directed at geographically-separated targets. The missile variant we’re up against carries three nuclear warheads, and four decoy warheads that simulate the radar, infrared, and flight characteristics of the real warheads in every respect. It’s impossible to tell the real warheads from the decoys until they hit their targets, so we had to attempt intercepts on all seven warheads.”
He clicked the remote, and a map of the Pacific ocean appeared, with Siberia and Kamchatka near the left edge, and the western United States near the right edge. A curved red line stretched from the left side of the map to the right, climbing from its start point west of Kamchatka to an apex near the top of the map, and then curving back down to a point in the ocean, just west of the California coast line. At irregular intervals along the curve, thinner red lines arched out, each at a different angle, but all pointed in the general direction of the American coast. Clusters of blue lines sprouted from locations in Alaska and California. At various places on the map, each blue line intersected with a red line. In some cases, the red and blue lines terminated at the point of intersection. In other places, the colored arcs simply crossed, each continuing on its way, past the spot where intersection should have occurred.
“Seven ground-based interceptor missiles were launched from the western U.S.,” the admiral said. “Three from Vandenberg Air Force, and four from the Army missile complex at Fort Greely. Between them, the ground-based interceptors knocked out three of the inbound warheads.”
Four gray lines appeared on the screen, sprouting from what appeared to be the open water of the eastern Pacific. Three of these new lines converged with red lines and terminated them. The fourth gray line ended abruptly, well short of intersection with the remaining red line. The last red arc continued uninterrupted to a spot in the ocean near the California coast.
“The cruiser, USS Shiloh, launched two pairs of sea-based interceptor missiles against the remaining warheads, destroying three out of four. The fourth warhead, as you know, impacted in the ocean and detonated about a hundred miles west of San Diego. Based on satellite imagery and seismic readings, we estimate the yield at approximately 200 kilotons. Just about exactly what we would expect to see out of an R-29R warhead.”
He keyed the remote again. On the screen, six dashed red lines appeared, each attached to one of the interrupted arcs that represented an intercepted missile. All six of the dashed lines curved down to points in the ocean, at varying distances from the California coast.
“This is a projection of the unfinished trajectories of the six warheads that were intercepted. Based on their position and movement vectors at the moment of intercept, these are the calculated impact points for each warhead if we had not managed to knock them down. You’ll note that all seven warheads, including the six we intercepted and the one we missed, would have fallen in the ocean. In other words, we don’t think that any of the warheads were aimed at targets on U.S. soil.”
He paused a second, to let the impact of that statement to sink in. “The analysts at the Office of Naval Intelligence offered three possible interpretations of this information. I present them in no particular order. First, the missile might have suffered a mechanical failure that threw the warheads far enough off course to miss their respective targets. Second, the crew of K-506 may lack the expertise to successfully program the R-29R missile guidance package. And third, it’s possible that Governor Zhukov, despite his heavy-handed threats, lacks the will to attack American targets with nuclear weapons. Each of these three theories had supporters at ONI and in the Pentagon. Many of the people looking at this problem felt that one of the three was likely to be the answer. That is, until we discovered this …”
Once again, the admiral keyed the remote. Three red circles appeared on the screen. Two of them were centered on projected impact zones for warheads that had been shot down. The third was centered on the impact zone for the warhead that had slipped by the interceptors to detonate west of San Diego. The three circles formed a nearly perfect diagonal line, with two of the circles grouped close to each other at the southeast end, and the third by itself at the northwest end.
“These impact points were from warheads 1, 5 and 6, numbered for the order in which they were deployed by the missile. As you can tell, #6 got past our interceptors. Nu
mbers 1 and 5 were shot down.”
The admiral laid his remote on the table. “The impact points for the remaining warheads were randomly distributed. But 1, 5, and 6 formed a pattern. We now believe that 1, 5, and 6 were the live nuclear warheads, and the randomly distributed impacts—2, 3, 4, and 7—were the decoys.”
Secretary of State Whelkin rubbed her left earlobe. “I assume there’s a significance to this pattern, Admiral?”
Admiral Casey returned to his seat. “Yes, Madam Secretary. We believe there is. One of the analysts at ONI did a bit of measuring. It turns out that the first warhead was targeted exactly 300 miles west of San Francisco. The second was aimed exactly 200 miles west of Los Angeles. And the third—the one that got past us—detonated exactly 100 miles west of San Diego. Three hundred miles, two hundred miles, and one hundred miles. In that order.”
“It’s a countdown,” General Gilmore said. “Three—two—one. After that, comes zero.”
Admiral Casey nodded. “Or ground zero, which is the traditional name for the center point of a nuclear attack.”
The president frowned. “You think Zhukov was sending us a message? With nuclear weapons?”
“That’s a distinct possibility, Mr. President,” the admiral said. “Governor Zhukov may have been communicating with us in a way that transcends all threats and saber-rattling. We think he was telling us that this was our freebie. This was our one and only warning shot. Three-two-one-zero. Every impact point calibrated to the position of a major city. The next time he shoots, it won’t be offset into the water. It will be right on top of the targets. Ground zero. And he’s going after major centers of population.”
The White House chief of staff pulled out her palmtop computer and started punching buttons. After a few seconds, she looked up. “Six and a half million people,” she said.
The president raised an eyebrow. “What’s that?”
“I just pulled the census projections for San Francisco, Los Angeles, and San Diego,” Doyle said. “Sir, if those three warheads had hit their targets, they would have killed about six and a half million people.”
“I see,” said the president. He looked at the Chief of Naval Operations. “I think you’re right, Admiral. Mr. Zhukov is sending us a message. He’s telling us that the gloves are off, and next time, he kills millions.”
Becka Solomon sat back in her chair. “Mr. President, if we’re reading this correctly, we’re going to have to evacuate the entire western United States.”
“I’m not even sure that’s possible,” the vice president said. “We couldn’t get a million people 200 miles up the road from New Orleans before Hurricane Katrina hit. How are we going to move seventy million people across half the country?”
“I don’t know,” Solomon said. “But Zhukov has got forty-five nuclear warheads left, and he’s communicated quite clearly that he’s not afraid to use them. We’ve got way too many population centers within reach of those missiles. Los Angeles, San Diego, Portland, Cheyenne, Seattle, Las Vegas, Denver, Phoenix, Albuquerque, Sacramento, Salt Lake City, Reno, Great Falls, Spokane … Zhukov could wipe out every city and major town west of the Texas panhandle, and still have a few warheads left over for a rainy day.”
“We cannot evacuate the western United States,” the president said. “It would take us years to prepare for a move that big, and I’m not sure this country would survive the effort. The economy would be devastated—maybe completely destroyed. There are no resources to transport that many refugees, much less house them or feed them. And how would we provide medical care and emergency services for eighty million displaced people?”
He shook his head. “A lot of frightened people are trying to run east, and we can’t do anything about that. I’m not going to call out the troops and try to force people to stay in the target zone. If they want to run, we have to let them run. That by itself is going to damage this country in ways I don’t want to think about. But we cannot undertake the job of moving eighty million people. We’re not even going to try.”
He looked at the CNO. “The only way to stop this, is to kill that submarine. How do we do that, Admiral?”
“Mr. President,” the admiral said. “We’re obviously going to have to project military force into the Sea of Okhotsk. We’ll have to go in there after the submarine. And that’s going to be a bit of a problem.”
“Why is that?”
“Geography, sir. The Sea of Okhotsk is landlocked on three sides by Russian territory. Siberia is to the north; Russia is to the west; and Kamchatka is to the east. Governor Zhukov may claim otherwise, but Kamchatka still happens to be Russian territory. The only entrances to the Sea of Okhotsk are to the south, through the Kuril island chain, which—as you may have guessed—is Russian territory as well. Which means that all of the land surrounding the Sea of Okhotsk is owned by the Russian Federation. To their way of thinking, that makes the whole sea their national property. The United States and the international community don’t happen to agree, but that’s how the Russians see it. As far as they’re concerned, that’s their back yard. They’re not going to want us in there.”
“I don’t understand,” the Vice President said. “If we can’t go into the Sea of Okhotsk, how are we going to get the sub?”
The Secretary of Defense smiled. “The admiral didn’t say we can’t go in there, Mr. Vice President. He said the Russians aren’t going to like it. And he’s right. They won’t like it. But they can’t stop it. According to international law, the Russian Federation doesn’t own that water. They like to think they do, but the law, the United Nations, and the international community say otherwise. We do not acknowledge the Russian claim of ownership.”
Vice President Wainright scratched the lobe of his right ear. “Why is that? If the Russians own all the land surrounding the water, doesn’t that mean they own the water too?”
The CNO shook his head. “No, sir. International law says that a country’s national waters extend twelve nautical miles from the coastline. You’ve heard of the twelve mile limit? That’s what the term refers to. If you go thirteen miles off shore, you’re in international waters. Luckily, there are several passages through the Kuril islands that are more than twenty-four nautical miles wide. Our units can transit through the straits without passing within the twelve-mile limit of any of the islands. We can get into and out of the Sea of Okhotsk without crossing into lawfully-recognized Russian waters.”
Secretary of State Whelkin held up her hand. “I understand that international law backs our right to enter this body of water, Admiral. But are the Russians going to sit still if we send a military force into what they clearly regard as their private sea?”
“They’re definitely not going to be happy about it, Madam Secretary,” the admiral said. “But we send Navy ships and aircraft into the Sea of Okhotsk periodically, despite the protests of the Russian government. They’re called freedom of navigation exercises, and the U.S. has been doing it since the beginning of the Cold War, when the Soviet Union tried to claim ownership of the Sea of Okhotsk. We do it to demonstrate our right of free passage and to remind the Russian government that the United States does not acknowledge their claim of ownership. So we know the Russians aren’t going to like it, but they’re somewhat accustomed to seeing our warships and aircraft in there.”
“Isn’t this a bad time to be provoking the Russians?” the White House chief of staff asked. “We know from the intelligence assessments that the Russian government is already about to blow its top. And they’re cranked up to maximum nuclear readiness levels, just like we are. Is it smart to poke a stick into the hornet’s nest?”
“One of their political leaders has just launched three of their nuclear missiles toward our coast line,” Secretary of Defense Kilpatrick said. Her voice was low, but as hard as steel. “As far as I’m concerned, they should be worried about provoking us.”
“Unless we’re prepared to stay at DEFCON 1 until the spring thaw, we don’t really have a c
hoice,” Gregory Brenthoven said. “That’s a nuclear-powered submarine. A Delta III can remain submerged for months at a time, and the ice pack in the Sea of Okhotsk gives it excellent concealment and protection. The commander of the K-506 has maneuvered his boat into a superb tactical position. He’d have to be stupid to come out of there, and he is not stupid. If we want to kill that submarine, we’re going to have to go in there after it.
“How do we do that?” the president asked. “What are our options?”
“We can’t send ships in there at this time of year,” Admiral Casey said. “The ice will cut them to ribbons.”
The admiral’s eyes went back to the large display screen. “Where the hell is global warming when we need it?”
No one laughed.
“What about aircraft?” the Vice President asked.
“We can over-fly with aircraft,” the admiral said. “But they can’t really do much. Airborne sensors can’t see through the ice pack, and air-launched torpedoes and depth charges will just hit the ice face and break up. They’re not designed to punch through ice.”
“That submarine has figured out how to shoot through the ice,” General Gilmore said. “How are they doing it?”
“That’s the big question, General,” the CNO said. “Our engineers are certain that the Delta III does not have ice penetration capability. The differences in design and construction are so major that it would take a couple of years in a shipyard dry dock to modify a Delta III for ice penetration. We track the maintenance and deployment of foreign missile submarines very carefully. If K-506 had been in the yards for a major hull rebuild, we’d know about it.”
“Could the missiles just punch through?” the Secretary of Homeland Security asked. “Like a bullet?”
The Secretary of Defense shook her head. “I don’t think so. Those missiles are fast, but they’re also delicate machines. It would be like a Lear jet slamming into a brick wall at several hundred miles an hour. It would knock a hole in the wall, but the Lear would be hamburger afterward.” She shook her head again. “Any missile that hits the ice is not going to fly afterwards.”
