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Chapters (50)
  1. DEBT OF HONOR
  2. Acknowledgments
  3. Prologue
  4. 1—Alumni
  5. 2—Fraternity
  6. 3—Collegium
  7. 4—Activity
  8. 5—Complexity Theory
  9. 6—Looking In, Looking Out
  10. 7—Catalyst
  11. 8—Fast-Forwarding
  12. 9—Power Plays
  13. 10—Seduction
  14. 11—Sea Change
  15. 12—Formalities
  16. 13—Winds and Tides
  17. 14—Reflections
  18. 15—A Damned, Foolish Thing
  19. 16—Payloads
  20. 17—Strike One
  21. 18—Easter Egg
  22. 19—Strike Two
  23. 20—Strike Three
  24. 21—Navy Blue
  25. 22—The Global Dimension
  26. 23—Catching Up
  27. 24—Running in Place
  28. 25—All the King's Horses
  29. 26—Catch-up
  30. 27—Piling On
  31. 28—Transmissions
  32. 29—Written Records
  33. 30—Why Not?
  34. 31—The How and the What
  35. 32—Special Report
  36. 33—Reversal Points
  37. 34—All Aboard
  38. 35—Consequences
  39. 36—Consideration
  40. 37—Going Deep
  41. 38—The River Rubicon
  42. 39—Eyes First
  43. 40—Foxes and Hounds
  44. 41—CTF-77
  45. 42—Lightning Strikes
  46. 43—Dancing to the Tune
  47. 44—…from one who knows the score…
  48. 45—Line of Battle
  49. 46—Detachment
  50. 47—Brooms

ComSubPac read the dispatch. "Oh, that's just great." Then his phone rang; it was the secure line that came directly from PacFltOps. "This is Admiral Mancuso."

"Sir, this is Lieutenant Copps at Fleet Communications. I have a submarine emergency beacon, located approximately 31-North, 175-East. We're refining that position now. Code number is for Asheville, sir. There is no voice transmission, just the beacon. I am initiating a SuBMiss/SusSuNK. The nearest naval aircraft are on the two carriers—"

"Dear God." Not since Scorpion had the U.S. Navy lost a sub, and he'd been in high school then. Mancuso shook his head clear. There was work to be done. "Those two carriers are probably out of business, mister."

"Oh?" Oddly enough, Lieutenant Copps hadn't heard that yet.

"Call the P-3s. I have work to do."

"Aye aye, sir."

Mancuso didn't have to look at anything. The water in that part of the Pacific Ocean was three miles deep, and no fleet submarine ever made could survive at a third of that depth. If there were an emergency, and if there were any survivors, any rescue would have to happen within hours, else the cold surface water would kill them.

"Ron, we just got a signal. Asheville might be down."

"Down?" That word was not one any submariner wanted to hear, even if it was a gentler expression than sunk. "Frenchy's kid…"

"And a hundred twenty others."

"What can I do, Skipper?"

"Head over to SOSUS and look at the data."

"Aye aye, sir." Jones hustled out the door while SubPac lifted his phone and started punching buttons. He already knew that it was an exercise in futility. All PacFlt submarines now carried the AN/BST-3 emergency transmitters aboard, set to detach from their ships if they passed through crush depth or if the quartermaster of the watch neglected to wind the unit's clockwork mechanism. The latter possibility, however, was unlikely. Before the explosive bolts went, the BST made the most godawful noise to chide the neglectful enlisted man…Asheville was almost certainly dead, and yet he had to follow through in the hope of a miracle. Maybe a few crewmen had gotten off.