XO’s stateroom
USS Washington, SSN 787, “The Blackfish”
I knew it was you,” a woman’s voice said.
Katie looked up, then readjusted her gaze down by a foot to meet the eyes of the submarine officer standing in the doorway to the XO’s stateroom. The woman’s hair was pulled back in a stub of a low ponytail and her thin but powerful-looking arms were folded on her chest.
“You’re Juggernaut?” she asked, staring at the familiar face that seemed to have changed not at all from when it had first hovered inches below her own on Farragut Field. Back then, the woman had been a midshipman at the Academy, yelling at Katie during her plebe summer. Well, at least the face wasn’t snarling at her this time—not entirely.
“I am,” Lieutenant Commander Jackie Guevara said, and then raised an eyebrow and shot her a knowing look. “And you—you’re the President’s daughter . . .”
Katie’s face flushed and she clenched her jaw to control her irritation.
“Actually, I’m Lieutenant Commander Select Ryan, a senior analyst from ONI here on orders from—”
“Relax, Ryan. I’m just fucking with you,” Juggernaut said with a genuine laugh, her smile relaxing Katie, as she stepped into the stateroom and took a seat on the XO’s rack, since there was only one chair in the space. “Honestly, Ryan, you were always so easy to spool up back then. During your plebe summer, I worried it might keep you from making it. Glad it didn’t.”
“Well, thanks, I guess. I never thought of myself as particularly sensitive, but you had a gift for finding a way to get under my skin. And tossing the ‘First Kid’ thing around really pissed me off.”
“I remember,” Juggernaut said. “The truth is, I admired the hell out of you—the way you worked so hard to keep your dad out of the narrative. Most people didn’t even know.”
“Until you told them,” Katie said, feeling a tick of anger return.
“Ha,” the weapons officer said. Then she leaned in, a conspiratorial look on her face. “I never actually told anyone, Ryan. In fact, only a few of the uppers knew and we kept it to ourselves. Like I said, lots of plebes might have used that to their advantage. I thought it was cool how hard you worked not to get favor. You wound up screwing yourself at times, you tried so hard.”
Katie softened again and shook her head. Whenever she ran into officers who had been first class midshipmen during her first year at the Academy, they were never the assholes she remembered, almost without exception. They just all graduated and moved on to the fleet before she could ever know them as colleagues, she supposed. By the time she became a first class, she understood the importance of the upper- and lower-class relationship, but it never changed her perception of those officers who’d been above her until they reconnected.
“Well, you certainly did well for yourself it seems,” Katie said. “They talk about you like you’re a legend over here. My boss knew you by name as someone who could help us—or at least by your nickname.”
“Who’s that . . . Captain Ferguson?”
“Yes.”
“Smart dude.”
“I agree.”
“Okay, well, I love our reunion, Ryan—like no bullshit, it’s cool to see you—but I’ve got a lot to do. We’re getting underway in the coming days and my department needs to square up. So, what’s up over at ONI that they send their superstar down here to get her very clean khakis dirty and stinky on a working submarine?”
Katie shook her head. She never knew the “real” Jackie, but this was exactly what she would have guessed her to be like.
She pulled a folder out of her bag with the usual classified markings.
“This stuff is TS/SCI level . . .”
“Yeah, yeah,” Juggernaut said and shut the stateroom door. “Everything in my universe is TS/SCI. What’ve you got?”
Katie opened the folder and spread four high-resolution pictures out on the desk.
“Well, looks like an Oscar II that’s been stretched,” the WEPS said, leaning in for a closer look. “That’s the Belgorod, right? But what’s up with those giant shutter doors?”
“Well, that’s the million-dollar question that got me over to your stinky submarine,” Katie said. “What made you say it was the Belgorod?”
“Lot of rumors swirling around about that boat, but the Russians have been keeping it under wraps—at least, until now.”
“What kind of rumors?”
“It’s supposedly their version of the Carter—a special missions boat with docking for UUVs and some super deep-diving sub code-named the Losharik, or something like that,” Juggernaut said, using the acronym for unmanned undersea vehicles. “Traditionally, when you say UUVs, everyone thinks minisubs, just without the people, but there’s all kinds of R&D going on right now with unusual designs and capabilities. Anyway, when I saw those giant shutter doors on the bow, it instantly made me think the Belgorod.”
“I don’t understand.”
“Well, because they’re not normal-sized torpedo tubes,” she said, then gave a sheepish smile. “Sorry, sometimes I forget not everyone in the world cares about submarines and geeking out about stuff like this. Okay, quick tutorial. Your typical Russian submarine has five-hundred-thirty-three-millimeter-diameter torpedo tubes designed to carry and launch the Type 53, or Fizik-1, heavyweight torpedo. Those are being retired and replaced by the Fizik-2, but the diameter is still the same. Some boats also have six-hundred-fifty-millimeter-diameter tubes, which fire the Type 65 torpedo, designed to target carriers, and so it packs a bigger punch. The six-hundred-fifty-millimeter tubes can also launch missiles horizontally, just like we have a Tomahawk variant we can launch out of our torpedo tubes. Vertical launch is preferred, obviously, but all subs have the capability to launch missiles via torpedo tubes. But those shutter doors are huge. They must be at least two meters, which makes them three to four times the size of the Russian standard.”
“To what end?”
“To accommodate a new weapons system, obviously. The Belgorod is their special project boat, after all.”
“What kind of weapons system?”
Juggernaut laughed. “Ryan, if someone told you I can look at the doors and tell you what Russians are planning to shoot out of them, then I’m sorry to disappoint, because I’m not your girl.” She scratched at her chin. “But the modifications they would have to do to accommodate something of this diameter isn’t trivial. There would be significant structural changes needed to accommodate not only the mass, but also the logistics of loading and handling something that big.”
“Why not just develop the new weapon so that it can be shot through the standard tubes?” Katie asked.
“Well, that’s exactly my point, Ryan,” Juggernaut said, leaning in for a closer look again, her interest apparently growing. “To make such a radical change there would have to be a reason. The weapon we’re talking about must have capabilities that you can’t cram into a six-hundred-fifty-millimeter platform. It isn’t hard to imagine them launching some new armed UUV . . . or maybe a horizonal-launched hypersonic or ICBM out of these tubes. But that’s what we’re doing here, just using our imagination.”
Dread settled in the pit of Katie’s stomach. “Hypersonics have been a hot topic of late. Maybe they have a new carrier killer that’s submarine launched?”
“That’s where you’d be better off talking to an ONI science nerd than a fleet WEPS like me, Ryan. My job here is to be the subject-matter expert on the Blackfish’s weapons systems, not speculate about Russian prototypes. Speculating is supposed to be your intel superpower, right?” She leaned in close to Katie. “When I did my shore tour with three-thirty-three . . .”
“Three-thirty-three?”
“Yeah—you know, the Weapons and Payloads Division over at ONR. I was working at the Undersea Weapons Program. Anyway, we were looking into all sorts of crazy shit, and you can bet that the Russians are doing the same. Hypersonic weapons, supercavitating torpedoes, autonomous hunter-killer UUVs with learning AI—you name it.”
“So . . . Best guess?”
She shrugged.
“Can’t give you one just looking at the doors. It could be swim-out, stealth-torpedo bays, it could be for launching long-range autonomous UUVs, it could be for friggin’ sharks with laser beams on their heads. No way for me to know.” She pursed her lips. “Can’t you spooks do your James Bond shit and get a closer look?”
Katie hesitated a moment, but then said, “Not right now.”
“Why?”
“Because the Belgorod put to sea.”
“Typical,” Juggernaut said and leaned back. “Well, that probably means they’ve put to sea to test it. If there’s not one up in the Barents already, you’d best recommend to your boss we get a boat up there ASAFP.”
“Yeah,” Katie said, nodding at the understatement.
Juggernaut looked at the ceiling, then raised a finger.
“I know someone who might be able to help you do a deep dive on this,” she said. “Pete Miller is a friggin’ genius on all things UUV. He was project lead on one of the crazy things I got to work on at 333. He also works closely with DARPA and—here’s the best part—he’s the subject-matter expert on emerging weapons technology out of both Russia and China. He’s got some friggin’ crystal ball in his head that converts pictures like yours into guesses about new tech that prove right a bunch of the time.” She folded her arms across her chest. “I’d show these to Pete, if I were you.”
“Where is he?”
“Splits his time, but is at the UWP lab at ONR more than half. You can tell him I said to hit him up. If anyone can give you a good guess, it would be Pete. Former submariner himself, did a stint at MIT, did some spooky shit at DARPA while on active duty. Retired as an O-6, but couldn’t find his way to the Florida golf courses, so he works on next-gen undersea-warfare technology as a contractor and consultant. If anyone can help you figure it out, it’s Pete.”
Katie slipped the photos back into the folder and the folder back into the leather case.
“Thanks a ton for having a look,” she said.
“Thanks for showing me. I love this stuff, actually.” She rose and headed for the door, then stopped and turned around, fishing in the breast pocket of her cammie blouse, the black embroidered dolphins on her chest. She pulled out a card and handed it to Katie. “Do me a favor, Ryan,” she said.
“Anything,” Katie said, taking the card.
“If you learn more about the Belgorod, and especially anything about emerging weapon platforms the Russians may have, can you let me know on the high side?” she asked, referring to the secure and encrypted SIPRNeT communications email for classified information. “We’re gonna be out there at the pointy tip. So, if the Russians have something new that tips the balance in their favor, I’d sure like to know . . .”
Katie slipped the card into her pocket. “Will do, Juggernaut.”
“I’ll grab the XO to escort you off the boat,” the WEPS said. “It was great to see you, Ryan. Let’s stay in touch.”
Katie returned the other woman’s parting smile, but beneath the pleasantries, she could not miss the undertone of concern in the weapons officer’s voice.