The Sum of All Fears.pdf - Delta Force

was close enough for a high-probability solution. I had you cold.'
'The point of the exercise was to show you what happened when you lost your
acoustical advantage.' Mancuso let that sink in before going on. 'Okay, so it
wasn't fair, was it? Who ever said life was fair?'
'Akula's a good boat, but how good is its sonar?'
'We assume it's as good as a second-flight 688.'
No way, Ricks thought to himself. 'What other surprises can 1 expect?'
'Good question. The answer is that we don't know. And if you don't know, you
assume they're as good as you are.'
No way, Ricks told himself.
Maybe even better, Mancuso didn't add.
'Okay,' the Commodore told the assembled attack-center crew. 'Go over your own
data and we do the wash-up in thirty minutes.'
Ricks watched Captain Mancuso exit the room sharing a chuckle with Chambers.
Mancuso was a smart, effective sub-driver, but he was still a damned fast-attack
jockey who didn't belong in command of a boomer squadron, because he simply
didn't think the right way. Calling in his former shipmate from Atlantic Fleet,
another fast-attack jockey – well, yeah, that's how it was done, but damn it!
Ricks was sure he'd done the right thing.
It had been an unrealistic test. Ricks was sure of that. Hadn't Rosselli told
the both of them that Maine was quiet as a black hole? Damn. This was his first
chance to show the commodore what he could do, and he'd been faked out of making
a favorable impression by an artificial and unfair test, and some goofs from his
people – the ones Rosselli had been so damned proud of.
'Mr Shaw, let's see your TMA records.'
'Here, sir.' Ensign Shaw, who'd graduated sub school at Groton less than two
months before, was standing in the corner, the chart and his notes grasped
tightly in his tense hands. Ricks snatched them away and spread them on a work
table. The Captain's eyes scanned the pages.
'Sloppy. You could have done this at least a minute faster.'
'Yes, sir,' Shaw replied. He didn't know how he might have gone faster, but the
Captain said so, and the Captain was always right.
'That could have made the difference,' Ricks told him, a muted but still nasty
edge on his voice.
'Sorry, sir.' That was Ensign Shaw's first real mistake. Ricks straightened, but
still had to look up to meet Shaw's eyes. That didn't help his disposition
either.
' "Sorry" doesn't cut it, Mister. "Sorry" endangers our ship and our mission.
"Sorry" gets people killed. "Sorry" is what an unsatisfactory officer says. Do
you understand me, Mr Shaw?'
'Yes, sir.'
'Fine.' The word came out as a curse. 'Let's make sure this never happens
again.'
The rest of the half hour was spent going over the records of the exercise. The
officers left the room for a larger one, where they would relive the exercise,
learning what the Red Team had seen and done. Lieutenant Commander Claggett
slowed the Captain down.