Scimitar SL-2 by Patrick Robinson

with a downward line of three silver stars. In this Navy you needed to make Commodore to get four stars.
    “Good morning, Captain Cho,” he said. “I’m glad to see you. We’ve been driving all night.”
    “Yes, I was told. You may sleep most of the day if you wish. By the time you awaken we’ll be loaded. That crane over there will be ready for us in about three hours. It will take some time. You have a rather delicate cargo.”
    “Very delicate,” replied Ravi. “And expensive.”
     
    1900, Thursday, May 28 (Same Day)
    27.00N 124.20E, Depth 400, Speed 25.
     
    Barracuda II moved swiftly north, through 460 fathoms of ocean, 80 miles northwest of Okinawa, and now clear of the long chain of the Ryukyu Islands, where the ancient territories of imperial Japan had finally come to an end.
    They were running up towards the line of the Japan current, which effectively provides China with a frontier for the Pacific end of the East Sea. The newly promoted Rear Adm. Ben Badr intended to stay out in the deeper water on the Japan side of the current as long as he could. Like most Middle Eastern and Eastern submariners, he preferred to run deep whenever he could, away from the prying eyes of the American satellites.
    It was of course unusual for a Rear Admiral to serve as Commanding Officer, but Ben would have a full-fledged Captain on board for their next mission, and his own authority in this ship was tantamount. Anyway, the Hamas were not hidebound by the traditions of other people’s navies. They were in the process of establishing their own.
    The Barracuda had cleared Zhanjiang, headquarters of China’s Southern Fleet, on Tuesday evening, on the surface, in full view of anyone who was interested. They went deep just before the Luzon Strait, which separates Taiwan and the Philippines, and were now around halfway through their 2,400-mile journey to the North.
    This was the second of the two Barracuda s, which the Hamas organization had purchased from Russia in utmost secrecy. And while the Americans may have harbored serious suspicions about who actually owned it, they only knew three things: for one, Russia did not admit to selling this particular Barracuda to anyone; two, China did not admit to owning it; and three, neither did anyone else.
    The fate of the first Barracuda, destroyed in Panama, was known to the Americans, but it was a highly classified subject,and Washington was as close-mouthed as Beijing and Moscow.
    Adm. Ben Badr knew that the sight of Barracuda II , steaming cheerfully out of Zhanjiang, bound for God knows where, would most certainly have attracted the attention of U.S. Naval Intelligence. And in Fort Meade, the same old question was doubtlessly about to rear its irritating head again: Who the hell owns this goddamned thing?
    The Barracuda , an 8,000-ton, 350-foot-long Russian-built hunter-killer, was on its way to its first mission. Its initial destination was the ultrasecret Chinese Navy Base of Huludao, way up in the Yellow Sea, the cul-de-sac ocean where China prepared and conducted the trials of its biggest Inter-Continental Ballistic Missile submarines.
    “Come right 10 degrees ,” called the CO. “ Steer course three-zero. Make your speed 25, depth 200.”
    The Yellow Sea was notoriously shallow, and the last part of the journey, through China’s most forbidden waters, would have to be completed on the surface right below the American satellites.
    Admiral Badr wished to conduct the voyage with as little observation as possible, nonetheless, but, in the end, so what? A Russian-built submarine headed for a Chinese base, mostly through international waters—no one was obliged to tell Washington anything. The Pentagon did not, after all, own the oceans of the world. China and Russia were perfectly entitled to move their underwater boats around, visiting each other’s ports.
    Admiral Badr smiled grimly… Just as long as they don’t find out where we’re going in the end , he