The Admiral's Choice by Terry A Hurlbut

Author:Terry A Hurlbut [Culbertson, Jeannie]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Conservative News and Views

Chapter 11

“Here we are, gentlemen,” said Jacques-Yves as he led the way into what was now definitely flag quarters. “Commander Thakur and Lieutenants Bronskaya and Boddicker are already familiar with these quarters, of course. Do either of you have any questions?”

“I see that this ship’s crew celebrates Christovym, just as we do,” said Kiril Yevgenov.

“If I comprehend that word correctly, yes, they do.”

“You do not observe it?”

“In my society, that tradition is long since forgotten.”

Kiril smiled. “But not entirely, no? You at least remember what it is.”

“Well, to be more accurate,” said Jacques-Yves, “we’ve begun to educate ourselves. Which reminds me: your calendar must be sixteen days behind that which this crew uses, no?”

“We adopted the Gregorian calendar when we formed the Federation. That is yet another idea we took from our American friends. In that year, we simply began our Fast of the Nativity thirteen days earlier than planned and thus, could synchronize exactly with the American Christmas and New Year. Actually, that was my ancestor’s idea. He learned much from the women who took part in the Great Run to the Sea. Especially,” he added, smiling slightly more broadly, “from one woman in particular who became my ancestress.”

Jacques-Yves had to smile in his turn. “Yes,” he said, “I can well imagine. But now, duty calls. If you’ll all gather around this drafting table, we can begin.”

Young Dobrynin’s eyes bulged. “Is that a real drafting table that I see?” he asked.

“Yes, it is. This ship’s Captain rather thoughtfully provided it. If I didn’t know any better, I’d have guessed he knew he would have a guest on board with a fondness for antique maps and the like. He finally told me I share that fondness with his own commanding officer—or rather, his predecessor in command.”

“Then Captain Second Rank Arthur is not the duly assigned commanding officer?”

“Ah, you caught that, did you? We must all adapt to circumstances that include lack of a channel of instant communication with our command authority, must we not?”

Both the Russian men nodded knowingly.

“Now then,” said Jacques-Yves. “You see before you the chart of our current ‘area of patrol,’ for lack of a better term, in the Atlantic Ocean. Somewhere within—or more likely outside—this area is at least one enemy submarine. We do not know how capable she is, other than assuming that she has the same capabilities of the former USS Jimmy Carter SSN-23.”

“Which would be formidable enough,” said Kiril. “She was one of the original Seawolves, so she could dive to sixteen hundred feet. That might still be her limit—for if the United Nations really did preserve that vessel, they would not have had time to improve her. Of course, if they hadn’t scrapped all their member Navies, they could have made improvements to the type, same as we made improvements to the original Akula class. But we can make no assumptions as to the industrial capacity of the United Nations, can we?”

“Actually, we can. I don’t know how much your original intelligence service told you shortly before your people had to take flight.

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