Debt Of Honor by Clancy, Tom

thirty-seven short of an Ohio’s normal crew size, a figure Dutch Claggett

could accept. He didn’t need the missile technicians, after all.

His crew would be heavy on senior petty officers, another burden he

would bear easily, the CO told himself, standing atop the sail and watching

his men load provisions under the glaring lights. The reactor plant was up

and running. Even now his engineering officer was conducting drills. Just

forward of the sail, a green Mark 48 ADCAP torpedo was sliding backwards

down the weapons-loading hatch under the watchful eyes of a chief torpedo-

man. There were only sixteen of those torpedoes to be had, but he didn’t

expect to need that many for the mission he anticipated. Asheville and Char-

lotte. He’d known men on both, and if Washington got its thumb out, maybe

he’d do something about that.

A car pulled up to the brow, and a petty officer got out, carrying a metal

briefcase. He made his way aboard, dodging around the crewmen tossing

cartons, then down a hatch.

“That’s the software upgrade for the sonar systems,” Claggett’s XO said.

“The one they’ve been tracking whales with.”

“How long to upload it?”

”Supposedly just a few minutes.”

“I want to be out of here before dawn, X.”

“We’ll make it. First stop Pearl?”

Claggett nodded, pointing to the other Ohios, also loading men and chow.

“And I don’t want any of those turkeys beating us there, either.”

It wasn’t a comfortable feeling, but the sight was worth it. Johnnie Reb

rested on rows of wooden blocks, and towered above the floor of the dry

dock like some sort of immense building. Captain Sanchez had decided to

give things a look, and stood alongside the ship’s commanding officer. As

they watched, a traveling crane removed the remains of the number-three

screw. Workers and engineers in their multicolored hard hats made way,

then converged back on the skeg, evaluating the damage. Another crane

moved in to begin the removal of number-four tailshaft. It had to be pulled

straight out, its inboard extremity already disconnected from the rest of the

assembly.

“Bastards,” the skipper breathed.

“We can fix her,” Sanchez noted quietly.

‘ ‘Four months. If we’re lucky,” the Captain added. They just didn’t have

the parts to do it any faster. The key, unsurprisingly, was the reduction gears.

Six complete gear scls would have lo he manufactured, and thai look time.

l-‘.ntrrprisf’x entire drive-train was gone, and I he efforts lo get the ship to

safely as quickly as possible had wrecked the one gear set that might have

been repairable. Six months for her, (/the contractor could get spun up in a

hurry, and work three-shift weeks to get the job done. The rest of the repairs

were straightforward.

“How quick to get number-one shaft back to battery?” Sanchez asked.

The Captain shrugged. “Two-three days, for what that’s worth.”

Sanchez hesitated before asking the next question. He should have known

the answer, and he was afraid it would sound really stupid-oh, what the

hell? He had to go off to Barbers Point anyway. And the only dumb ques-

tions, he’d told people for years, were the ones you didn’t ask.

“Sir, I hate to sound stupid, but how fast will she go on two shafts?”

Kyan found himself wishing that the Flat Earth Society was right. In that

case the world could have been a single time zone. As it was, the Marianas

were fifteen hours ahead, Japan fourteen, Moscow eight. Western Europe’s

principal financial markets were five and six ahead, depending on the coun-

try. Hawaii was five hours behind. He had contacts in all of those places, and

everyone was working on local time, and it was so different in every case

that just keeping track of who was probably awake and who was probably

asleep occupied much of his thoughts. He grunted to himself in bed, remem-

bering with nostalgia the confusion that always came to him on long flights,

liven now people were working in some of those places, none under his con-

trol; and he knew he had to sleep if he were going to be able to deal with any

of them when the sun returned to where he lived and worked. But sleep

wasn’t coming, and all he saw was the pine decking that made up his bed-

room ceiling.

“Any ideas?” Cathy asked.

Jack grunted. “I wish I’d stuck with merchant banking.”

“And then who’d be running things?”

A long breath. “Somebody else.”

“Not as well, Jack,” his wife suggested.

“True,” he admitted to the ceiling.

‘ ‘How do you think people will react to this?”

“I don’t know. I’m not even sure how I’m reacting to it,” Jack admitted.

“It’s not supposed to be like this at all. We’re in a war that doesn’t make any

sense. We just got rid of the last nuclear missiles ten days ago, and now

they’re back, and pointed at us, and we don’t have any to point back m them,

and if we don’t stop this thing fast-I don’t know, Cathy.”

“Not sleeping doesn’t help.”

“Thank God, married to a doctor.” He managed a smile. “Well, honey,

you got us out of one problem anyway.”

“How did I do that?”

“By being smart.” By using youi head all ihe lime, his mind wenl on. His

wife didn’t do anything without thinking il through first. She worked pretty

slowly by the standards of her prolosMon IVrhaps that was normal for some-

one pushing the frontiers buck, always considering and planning and evalu-

ating-like a good intelligence ollicci, in fact and then when everything

was ready and you had il all figured out. //> with her laser. Yeah, that wasn’t

a bad way to operate, was il?

“Well, I think they’ve learned one lesson,” Yamata said. A rescue aircraft

had recovered two bodies and some floating debris from the American

bomber. The bodies would be treated with dignity, it had been decided. The

names had already been lelexed to Washington via the Japanese Embassy,

and in due course Ihe remains would be returned. Showing mercy was the

proper thing lo do, for many reasons. Someday America and Japan would be

friends again, and he didn’t want to poison that possibility. It was also bad

for business.

“The Ambassador reports that they do not offer us anything,” Goto re-

plied after a moment.

“They have not as yet evaluated their position, and ours.”

“Will they repair their financial systems?”

Yamata frowned. “Perhaps. But they still have great difficulties. They

still need lo buy from us, they still need to sell to us-and they cannot strike

us effectively, as four of their airmen, possibly eight, just learned to their

sorrow.” Things had not gone entirely in accord with his plans, but, then,

when had things ever really done that? “What we must do next is to show

them that the people who live on Saipan prefer our rule to theirs. Then world

opinion will work in our favor, and that will defuse the situation greatly.”

And until then, Yamata thought, things were going well. The Americans

would not soon again probe his country’s mainland. They didn’t have the

ability to retake the islands, and by the time they did, well, Japan would have

a new ally, and perhaps even new political leadership, wouldn’t it?

“No, I am not being watched,” Koga assured them.

“As a reporter-no, you know better than that, don’t you?” Clark asked.

“I know you are an intelligence officer. I know Kimura here has been in

contact with you.” They were in a comfortable teahouse close to the Ara

River. Nearby was the boat-racing course built for the 1964 Olympics. It

was also conveniently close to a police station, John reminded himself. Why,

he wondered, had he always feared the attention of police officers? Under

the circumstances, it seemed the proper thing to nod his understanding of the

situation.

“In that case, Koga san. we are at your mercy.”

“I presume your government now knows what is going on. All of il,”

Koga went on distastefully. “I’ve spoken with my own contacts as well.”

“Siberia,” Clark said simply.

“Yes,” Koga responded. “That is part of it. Yamata-san’s hatred for

America is another part, but most of all, it’s pure madness.”

“The Americans’ reaction is not really a matter of my immediate concern,

but 1 can assure you that my country will not meekly submit to an invasion of

our soil,” John said calmly.

“Even if China is involved?” Kimura asked.

“Especially if China is involved,” Chavez said just to let everyone know

he was there. “I presume that you study history, as we do.”

“I fear for my country. The time for such adventures is long past, but the

people who-do you really understand how policy decisions are made here?

The will of the people is an irrelevance. I tried to change that. I tried to bring

an end to the corruption.”