Chapter VIII

“The Third World will never be happy or free so long as there is a First World stuck in the mire of consumerism, alienation, indifference.”

Clodovis Boff, Roman Catholic theologian, philosopher and professor

Two years later – Pacific Ocean, Coast of Mexico

Capitan Francisco Hidalgo leaned forward studying the display on a small screen to one side of his command chair.  The display was zoomed out to show the battle group’s circle of outer picket ships at twenty-five nautical miles and an inner circle at only eight nautical miles out from the main group. 

Unlike most of Mexico’s aged fleet, including a couple of WW-II battleships and destroyers purchased from the United States, this modern, trimaran Littoral Combat Ship (LCS) of the Armada República Mexicana, was built by Austal USA and recently purchased, used, from Israel.  It has a ‘listed’ top speed of 40 knots.  That was prior to Mexico hiring Austal for an engine upgrade. 

Because of her state of the art defensive and offensive systems she would be playing the ‘high value asset’ bait for the purposes of today’s anti-submarine warfare (ASW) exercise.  There would be no fixed wing ASW support.  Several ships in the battle group, including the LCS, sported helicopter pads and those helicopters would be put to use in their ASW roles.  There was no determined threat axis to focus on so the helos would be covering a very large expanse of ocean trying to detect the seemingly undetectable, at least from the air.

The ship’s navigator, Teniente (Lieutenant) Indira Toyo called out from her station, “Thirty seconds, Capitan.”

Hildago stood at parade rest, clasping his hands behind his back with feet slightly apart.  He calmly ordered, “Contact the fleet.  Prepare for ‘all stop’.”  Another of the crew spoke into a headset and nodded affirmation to the captain as Toyo called out.

“On station, Capitan.”

Hidalgo responded, “Full reverse.  All stop.”

The order was repeated as confirmation, “Full reverse.  All stop.”

The almost imperceptible sound of the huge engines became louder as they strained into reverse trying to slow the large destroyer.  Within seconds the noise slowly dropped to nothing again. 

Toyo turned to the captain, mirroring his stance of a relaxed parade rest.  “Station keeping at zero, mi Capitan.”

“Very well, Teniente.”  Hidalgo turned to the man standing silently behind him and came to attention as he reported, “Almirante, we are holding at station.”

The admiral zipped his windbreaker to three quarters mast and his gave his closely cropped beard scratch as he stepped up behind the Captain’s chair.  He was trying not to smile at the tedious, albeit necessary, CYA (Covering Your Ass) of repeating back orders and confirmations onboard naval vessels. It would save seconds if the senior officers could just relay their orders to the appropriate personnel and have that person push a button, or just push the damned button themselves.  With so much computerization aboard there was really no reason for fifty crewmembers when all they need are a couple of fresh-faced, eighteen year old, computer geek at a couple of consoles.  With today’s technology, wasting those few precious seconds could mean the difference between life and death, or loss of the ship.

He put these thoughts aside and placed both hands lightly atop the chair back after he quickly checked his watch.  “Muy bien, Capitan.  I show,” glancing down at his watch. “Thirty seconds, si?”

Hidalgo looked over his shoulder toward Toyo.  “Teniente?”

“Mas a menos, Capitan.”

He turned back to the Admiral.  “More or less, Almirante.”

Now he did smile as he stated, “We go with less, I think.”

Toyo called out, “Fifteen seconds.”

The captain smiled back, “Si, less.”

Lookouts brought binoculars to their eyes and began scanning the ocean.  A speaker on the control console by Toyo crackled static before a voice announced, “Bridge, Weaps.  Possible target on sonar.”

The crewman manning the radio swiveled to face the captain.  “Confirmed, Capitan!  Both starboard outer pickets report solid sonar target approaching the line at… 300 knots?”  The crewman face screwed up as he stated the speed. 

The Admiral’s smile didn’t waiver.  Toyo gave the crewman a look devoid of humor and told him, “Impossible!  Confirm that…” the crewman cut her off.

“Si, Teniente, speed confirmed at 300 knots and...” the radio operator pressed the earpiece, “and accelerating!”   

Toyo already had her headset back in place when Hidlago yelled the order, “Lock target and fire!”

Toyo yelled back in frustration, “Firing!  Plotting targeting solution enroute.”  The captain turned on her and she hestily explained, “We’ll transfer solution to the weapons in route, if there is time.”  While she spoke, two classified ASROC homing torpedoes, two classified ASM missles, and one classified torpedo countermeasure, codenamed Sucat 3, were heard, and felt, leaving their respective launch systems.

She confirmed in a calmer tone, “Weapons away, Capitan!”

Hidalgo grabbed the arm of his chair as the admiral dug his fingers into the back as he clenched his jaw at trying to stay out of the command chain and let this crew, and capable captain, do their job.

Hidalgo called out, “Time to impact?”

The speakers announced, “Thirty sec…Mierda!  Missiles passed over the target as it raced in the opposite direction at…500 knots!  ASROC torpedoes deployed in front of the oncoming system and never locked on.  Missiles are coming about and one has locked.  Target passed by the Sucat at speed and the weapon never registered it.  One of the torpedoes has acquired an inner picket and locked on!”

The captain called out, “Destroy the torpedo!”  Then he said, to no one in particular, “The missiles will never catch the target, at that speed, before they use up their fuel and fall from the sky.”

Toyo looked to be almost in tears as she stared at her captain and declared, “It has passed under us, Capitan.”

The two lookouts and the captain moved rapidly to the port side windows.  One of the lookouts pointed to starboard.  “A estribor! Visual del objetivo!” 

There was an obvious wake from something moving very rapidly just beneath the water, then, not a thousand meters from the ship, a circular craft broke the surface with enough speed to physically leave the water and become airborne for only seconds before slipping back under.  This had been designated by the project team as the Dolphin Maneuver, for obvious reasons. 

The sea became still, as in Melville’s story of the great white whale, Moby Dick; the whale sounding, diving deep, while the whalers waited for it to breach and loose upon them certain death if their harpoons did not strike true first.  Here, however, there would be no noisy, circling, seabirds to herald the target’s return, and only the bridge crew awaited the coming vengeance.

The lookout pointed in the same direction again.  “Por ahí!  Que es eso?  What is that?”

Captain Hidalgo brought his own binoculars up and could see a short, rolling wave, curved as if being pushed from behind.  “Si, what is that?”

The question didn’t finish before the disc leapt out of the roll it had created, airborne again for mere seconds.  The seconds were enough time to make out two pilots sitting abreast in the low, clear, canopy, and a long, narrow panel that popped up between the canopy and the rapidly spinning outer ring.  In a fraction of a second the mechanism inside this panel levered up the ten needle nosed tungsten rods that were already spinning at velocity on their rail launchers. 

There were ten bright flashes of light from a strobe unit above each rod just before the panel snapped closed and the craft slipped back under the surface and slowed its intercept course for the ship.  It submerged only enough to cover the distance rapidly, slowing as it approached.  It came to full stop upon reaching the hull and a short appendage reached out from another panel underneath the craft, magnetically anchoring it to the steel plating before the craft powered down completely.  The exercise had taken but a few minutes.

The bridge crew, including the captain, was straining to look over the railing as if they could actually see the craft from their position. The admiral kept one hand on the back of the captain’s chair and put the other in the pocket of his slacks as he rocked on his heels, back and forth, smiling. Toyo brought everyone to attention as she yelled out in fear, “The target has become us, Capitan!”

Captain Hidalgo spun on a heel, “What?”  The exercise was over so what was she on about?  Then, then realization of what Toyo was saying finally sank in.  The disc merging with the ship and powering down had tricked the still active weapons into acquiring a new, hotter, noisier, and much larger, target.

Toyo took her short career and hung it out there.  She didn’t wait for verbal confirmation, or of what weapons were still active, she only acted by the look on her captain’s face giving the only, obvious, order, “Weapons abort!  All weapons abort!  Abort! Abort!  Abort!”

Less than a kilometer from the ship, after making the wide arc to reverse direction, the engine on the second self-homing torpedo shut down.  A split second later, and almost on top of the ship, the last missile shut down and fell from the sky, mimicking the first which, only seconds before, ran out of fuel.  Onboard homing beacons would allow for later recovery of all the classified experimental weapons.

The Admiral unzipped his windbreaker as he stepped from behind the Captain’s chair.  He retrieved a couple of Cuban cigars from the breast pocket of his navy blazer and held one out to the captain.  “It is a good thing we used practice weapons, eh Capitan?”

“Si.”  The captain was thinking of the classified countermeasure they also had to find floating around underwater somewhere.  The Admiral was reading his thoughts.

“Damned waste of an expensive countermeasure though, if we aren’t able to find it.  Herrera will not be pleased.”

The captain pulled a handkerchief from his back pocket and wiped his brow with one hand while accepting the proffered smoke with the other.  He gave it a quick run under his nose, appreciating the aroma, and nodded in concurrence.  “Si, Almirante.  He will not be happy.  However, I think you can report your final test a success and this may temper his disappointment.”

“I will have the families of the crew notified that no hands were lost at sea and all will be home for a late evening comida.”

The captain struck a wooden match and lit the admiral’s cigar.  “Gracias, Almirante.”  He lit his then blew out the match with the rich smoke. 

The admiral took a short draw, exhaling the smoke toward the ceiling.  “Saying ‘it is nothing’ would seem inappropriate after so many have given so much of their lives, so to speak, in so short a period to bring us to this point.”

The captain nodded agreement.  “What you say is very true Almirante.  In just two years you have brought a small cadre of patriots together and accomplished… well, no less than a miracle, senor.  You deserve to feel proud.”

The Almirante shook his head and exhaled another draw of smoke. 

“My pride is tempered by the honor I feel to have been in the company of those patriots, and those of your fine crew.” several, including Teniente Toyo, turned and came to attention at the accolade as he continued, “Many have shown a professionalism Mexico can be proud of.”  He straightened his blazer and faced the attentive bridge crew.  “Please do me the true honor of passing along my heartfelt thanks to the rest of the crew.  If I were younger, I would welcome any of you to serve alongside me.  As it is,” he turned to Hidalgo and grasped his hand, “you seem to already have a fine captain to serve with, though not for long I think.”  He faced Toyo and whispered, “On your toes Teniente Toyo.  He may need a replacement soon.”  Toyo blushed, but her chin rose a tad higher at the praise.

The admiral returned his attention to the captain as he pulled a silver flask from his jacket pocket and looked at the captain.

“Let us walk.”

The captain grinned widely, bowed his head, and motion toward the door.  “After you, senor.”