Chapter 1
A/N: I realized partway through writing this that there was no way this entire episode goes down on the date it aired- 9-22-2015. Gibbs was messed up pretty bad at the start of the episode, fights for his life for much of it, and shows up, recovered enough that he's on his feet again, right towards the end. No way could even Gibbs have managed that in 24 hours. But I didn't want to get into some complicated mess of trying to figure out when the hell Gibbs would have gotten out of the hospital, so instead, I just focused exclusively on the big showdown I imagine happened at sea and just left it at that.
On a side note before we begin, in the U.S. Navy, "Fleet Admiral" is a five-star rank that was used only in World War II. In the Korean People's Navy, the navy of North Korea, "Fleet Admiral" is a four-star rank, and I depict it that way in this story. And you will notice how the protagonist does not refer to or think of himself as North Korean; he regards himself as Korean. Both Koreas claim sovereignty over the entire Korean peninsula and each insists it is the only legitimate representative of the Korean nation and people. Thus the CO of a NK submarine would definitely not call himself a "North" Korean, nor would he regard South Korea as a legitimately-governed nation. This is the kind of story I'll get inspiration for from an NCIS episode every so often. At the mention of this Sinpo-class submarine, and a situation transpiring where the DPRK- for once- was falsely accused of saber-rattling, I started wondering what it must have been like for the crew of that boat. I started writing and that's how we got The Standoff.
The KPS (Korean People's Ship) Sinpo was a magnificent vessel. Built in the Sinpo South Shipyard and launched on July 22nd, 2015, the boat had a displacement of 2,300 tons and was fitted with the most advanced diesel-electric propulsion systems designed in the Democratic People's Republic of Korea to date. She could do 18 knots on the surface or 12 submerged, had four torpedo tubes in the bow and two in the stern, and could carry a loadout of twenty torpedoes in total. Capable of traveling 1,600 miles with what her diesel tanks could hold, the Sinpo carried a complement of 50 officers and men. And while she could run quieter and dive deeper than any other boat yet commissioned by the Korean People's Navy, the Sinpo was a point of pride for her nation for one very specific reason, one that outweighed all the others. Inside the sail (mistakenly called the conning tower by some) was room for two submarine-launched ballistic missiles. And though the Sinpo herself was not nuclear-powered, the SLBMs were each armed with nuclear warheads. The ability to put nuclear missiles on a submarine was something the KPN had lacked until now. It was something that other nations- the Russians, the Chinese, the Americans, British and French- had kept to themselves for too long.
Now, though, the DPRK could deal death to entire cities from beneath the waves.
Sinpo was the first of her class, number one in a planned series of six submarines. The East Sea Fleet had gotten the first one, and it went without saying that the senior officers of that fleet were immensely proud of it. Due to the imperialist aggressors having secured dominance over half of Korea for some sixty years now, the East Sea Fleet and West Sea Fleet operated separately and ships and boats from one fleet had never visited the other. Sinpo would likely not be seeing Korea's western coast anytime soon. One day- one glorious day- the Korean People's Navy would guard the shores and territorial waters of all Korea. But that would be later; not now.
For now, having built their first boat capable of carrying submarine-launched ballistic missiles, the DPRK could rest on its laurels for a time. The senior officers of the Navy knew that the West was spying on them, had been watching from satellites as the Sinpo was launched this summer. "Let them watch," some said. "Let them know the fatherland has this weapon now." The Glorious Leader didn't disagree. The fear that this new weapon struck into the hearts of the Japanese, the Koreans to the south who had been brainwashed for generations into alliance with the Americans, and the Americans themselves- that was worth having the existence of this new boat known. And besides, merely knowing of the boat's existence only did the enemy so much good. They did not know what Sinpo could really do, what she was capable of in a fight. They could guess all they liked, but it wouldn't help. The Korean People's Navy was not in the business of guessing; they knew, and if there was anything they didn't know, they found out. Simple as that.
The Sinpo was notable not just for the capabilities of the boat herself, impressive as they were, but for the skill, determination, and loyalty of the men selected to crew her. They were all veterans of the submarine service, the best that the Korean People's Navy had to offer. They were men whose skill was unequaled, whose determination to do fulfill their duty had no limit, men whose loyalty to the nation had never been questioned. The officers and enlisted alike were the best that could be found in the Navy in every way. Best of all of them was her captain.
XX
Chungjwa Dae Kim, or "Commander" Dae Kim as an American would have called him, stood in the center of the control room of the Sinpo, standing perfectly straight at his full height of five feet, nine inches. Two stars boarded by gold stripes at his collar showed his rank, sewn onto the blue-gray coveralls he wore aboard the submarine. He was silent, but his eyes moved around the small, tightly-packed room constantly.
A group of officers and enlisted men worked at various stations, observing monitors and making observations or issuing commands every so often. Dae Kim stayed out of it; he let the officers beneath him do their work, managing specific aspects of running the boat. He would step in if something more serious occurred, but for now, the Sinpo was running on the surface with nothing threatening her and no enemies to engage. She was on a cruise of the Eastern Sea, running on the surface at the edge of the Democratic People's Republic of Korea's maritime border, with three Koni-class frigates accompanying her. The submarine could have run silent and undetected beneath the waves, but this was partly a propaganda tour; video camera and photography crews were aboard each of the frigates, and were part of an effort to make a production boasting to the Korean people of the fatherland's newest and most glorious naval asset.
Kim was grateful he had the frigates escorting his ship; though there was some rivalry between the surface and submarine fleets, ultimately, they were on the same side, shielding the one true Korea against American aggression, as well as that of their lackeys in Seoul and Tokyo. He had orders to remain on the surface throughout this sea tour, four days into a total of fourteen. The Sinpo had completed her initial sea trials but was still very much a new boat, and perhaps the higher-ups wanted more evidence that she was everything she was supposed to be. Maybe they were also testing the admiral's son some more.
Dae Kim was a fit, lean, and exceptionally bright young officer; he was the youngest captain of a submarine in Korean People's Navy history, having achieved both the rank of full Commander and command of his first boat at only twenty-six years old. He looked half a decade younger, however, and had been mistaken for a secondary school or post-secondary student while out of uniform on shore leave. Passionate about physical and mental fitness, Kim read philosophy and history often, sometimes getting through a detailed read of a whole book in one day, while also finding the time to keep himself able to run a six-minute mile and do one hundred pushups at the drop of a hat. He was ambitious, masterful of mathematics and naval tactics and strategy almost to the point of genius- and others had said that, not him. Kim was also the son of the distinguished four-star Commander-in-Chief of the Navy, Taejang (Fleet Admiral) Dae Yong-ju, and everybody knew it. He had lived in his father's shadow his whole career.
XX
It had not been easy for his father to rise to four-star rank and command of the whole Navy. Kim was deeply ashamed that his mother had left for China ten years ago, an unexplainable act that was even more incomprehensible when rumors arose she had been seen beneath the Demilitarized Zone in the American-occupied Republic of Korea. Such an act by a close relative was not just scandalous; it was considered treason. An officer less brilliant and dedicated than Dae Yong-ju would have lost his life in addition to his career. Kim could not quite explain how his father, the son of a coal miner, had managed to get admitted to the prestigious Kim Il-Sung Military University, graduating at the top of his class, and salvage and continue his career even after his wife abandoned her country and her family. He had no idea how his father had recovered from the shame and humiliation enough to even fight for his job and status at all, let alone save it and keep his remaining family from any harm.
All Kim could think of was that his father's total dedication to the Navy, to the country, and to the Glorious Leader must have been known and understood by someone. A person or persons of great importance must have realized what a priceless asset the brilliant and heroic Dae Yong-ju was, and what a mistake it would be to cast him aside because of the treasonous actions of his wife- which were as much as surprise and embarrassment to him as they were to anyone.
For as long as he could remember, Dae Kim had labored under the weight of his father's name and his mother's shame. He was the son of a legendary yet controversial admiral, one whose name was known and revered all over the Navy despite the scandal that had almost cost him everything. When you were the son of such a famed career naval officer and you chose to follow him into his profession… then what did you do? It was not easy being the son of such a man. Kim might have grown up under privileged circumstances- Dae Yong-ju wanted his only child having only the best of chances waiting for him in life- but he had also grown up feeling the weight of his father's rank and achievements on his shoulders. Kim had known for as long as he could recall that he wanted to be a tough but caring, brilliant and heroic naval officer just like his father. But looking up at the tower of achievement and military genius that his father had built, a tower that rose in Kim's mind until you could no longer see it in the clouds… it was easy to despair, and say, "I could never do that."
Kim had pushed himself relentlessly for practically all his life, determined to make his father and country proud. He would bury the shame of his mother's treason so deep that no one would dare bring her up again to question his father's patriotism, or his own. Kim felt greatly indebted to his father, who had shown him only the greatest of love and compassion whenever he was home from the sea. Dae Yong-ju was a tough naval officer who did not tolerate excuses or weakness, but he cared. He cared too much, if anything, because the few times Kim had been injured or seriously ill growing up, Dae Yong-ju was practically beside himself with worry. He always obtained proper leave before seeing to his son- duty to the nation came first- but as soon as he was permitted, Dae Yong-ju had been at his son's side every time he was needed as Kim grew up.
There was a close, strong bond between the two men, and knowing how much he meant to his father, always had and always would, drove Kim even harder to be the best he could possibly be.
Kim had shown it when he secured permission- despite his mother's actions- to study abroad. Upon graduating from secondary school a year early in 2006, Kim attended the Fishburne Military School in Waynesboro, Virginia under an assumed name. By then he could already read, write, and speak English adequately, but after a year at the private military boarding school, posing impeccably as a South Korean "military brat", Kim's English was excellent. He had set himself to the task of learning the language with the same tireless dedication that he went about doing anything else, and had been the highest-ranked of the postgraduate cadets academically and militarily. In the fall of 2007, Kim had arrived at the Virginia Military Institute in Lexington, Virginia, not more than an hour's drive from Waynesboro. It was a hard college to spend four years at as an undergraduate, but it was also very famous, seen as one of the all-out best military colleges in the world. Students had come to this school from China, Iran, Germany, France- VMI was very much respected for its achievements. Even if the United States were still the enemy beyond a shadow of a doubt, VMI was respectable. Nowhere else, in Kim's mind, was better to learn the disciplinary system, history, ethics and philosophy of the enemy.
In that little mountain town, Kim had studied, exercised, drilled and drilled, and performed brilliantly in the U.S. Navy's Reserve Officer Training Corps. It never ceased to amuse Kim during that time how completely his classmates and instructors, as they had at Fishburne, believed he really was South Korean. He even had the other South Korean cadets fooled; they thought Kim was merely the son of a career petty officer, hence the reason why none of them had heard of him or his father. Kim had a perfectly-researched, appropriately vague South Korean dossier that was backed up by what his country's government had graciously put in the file sent with him to America.
The disguised son of a heroic Korean naval officer shamed his peers time and again, American and non-American alike. The instructors praised Kim's polite, respectful manner and his brilliance in the classroom. Cadets sought his advice. In the greatest of all ironies, many of those cadets were Americans. And for what it was worth, Kim never turned anyone away. He didn't tell all of this to his father or to the government, but he never rejected someone coming to him for help or advice, or an instructor requesting him to do a small lecture in one of their classes to a group of younger cadets. Kim even made friends with some of the Americans he attended the Institute with, even as he secretly enjoyed beating them all at their own game, in their own college, in their own country. Dae Kim was renowned for how little he boasted- it annoyed him how often Americans did it. They seemed to think that if you weren't thumping your chest and yelling about it, people would never know.
Kim believed differently. He merely gave everything his all, getting up every day and living as if he would not see tomorrow. He treated every minute, every hour, as a precious resource, and never wasted anything. Kim became well-known at VMI for how much he achieved yet how little he said about it. He was modest, they said. Too modest, if anything. They were idiots. Bragging was for 'morons', to use an interesting American word.
His teammates on the VMI soccer team had loved Kim for his quiet, unassuming, yet fiercely dedicated playing style; he showed up early for every practice and played every game like it was a life-or-death battle. Rising to the supreme rank in the Corps of Cadets his first classman (senior) year, Dae Kim was appointed First Captain and Regimental Commander, and after a glorious final year of absolutely tireless work and shining achievement, he graduated valedictorian in the Virginia Military Institute Class of 2011. To the shock and disappointment of classmates and instructors alike, Dae Kim did not take an officer's commission in the United States Navy or the Republic of Korea Navy, though both beckoned, asking him to do so. Though it astounded all who knew him at the Institute and left them crestfallen, Kim thanked his friends and teachers, made a superb speech at commencement, took his diploma and many honors… and simply disappeared. He took the enormous gold ring the Institute gave him off as he left VMI in a car sent through a series of contacts by his father, and was never heard from again.
Not by the Americans, anyway- or any of their stooges or cronies.
The Democratic People's Republic of Korea, on the other hand, had heard from Dae Kim. He reported in at the Kim Il-Sung Military University two years later with a graduate degree in military history, once again as the top of his graduating class. During that time he had served in the Navy reserves, and while attached to a surface patrol boat unit had managed to get admitted to and graduate from the basic officer's submarine school. Though some of it was surely owed to his father's influence and connections, Dae Kim had been promoted quickly through the ranks and risen to his first command after a remarkably short time- the youngest commander of a submarine in Navy history.
It was all supposed to have been impossible. All of it. None of Dae Kim's career should have even existed. It was too hard, too unlikely; the odds were all against it. Yet he'd done it anyway. Dae Kim had barely known a spare minute since he had begun secondary school- even leisure time and recreation had to be planned- but it was all worth it. The fact that he was the commander of the Sinpo was proof.
XX
Kim reached up and ran a hand through his stubby, brush-cut black hair; he kept it shorter than was even required by military regulations since he had turned thirteen years old. Some people- very stupid American people- would have said, between his total dedication to military service and his fierce belief of death-before-dishonor, was like a modern samurai. Fucking Japanese scum. Kim was no pig from the overrated, has-been nation that was Japan. He was Korean, and proud of that name. How the Americans, with their vast and stupefying ignorance, had managed to create a military that stood astride the world like a colossus, Dae Kim had no idea. VMI, and the intelligence and professionalism Kim had seen there among cadets and staff alike, was one of the only signs Kim had seen that there was intelligence and discipline among them. It made no sense, though; American military personnel, and cadets training to be such, had discipline. They were smart and dedicated- though fools, idiots, and braggarts certainly existed among them. But overall, they were indeed worthy foes.
But the American civilians? From what Kim had seen, in stark and shocking contrast to the cadets and staff he had known at VMI, the average American civilian was useless. An overprivileged whiner, a loser, a maker of excuses. An addict to electronic toys and gadgets, totally lacking in real intelligence or dedication to anything meaningful. Far too many Americans questioned the wisdom of their country's leadership, showed no interest in living, serving and dying for their country, and seemed content to be lazy, ill-mannered, and foul in language and in spirit. They held bigoted views without reason and thought selfishly without hesitation.
Kim may have made friends with some of them, may have even come to respect a few of them, and the respect he had earned from so many of his fellow cadets and his instructors was certainly returned in most cases. But Kim left Fishburne, and left the Institute, with his overall view of Americans unchanged. They were the enemy, they were too often fools and idiots, and for all their might as a nation, with such sloppiness and weakness as Kim saw time and again openly allowed and tolerated, they were living on borrowed time.
XX
The commander of the Sinpo was interrupted and kept from further musings about his career thus far and his opinion of Americans when the officer of the deck spoke to him. His executive officer, Sojwa (Lieutenant Commander) Li Choi, was actually in command of the boat at the moment as he was actively in charge of the control room. Though the commanding officer was present, he was not holding the deck- he was merely there, rather than truly in charge. But he was most responsible for the decisions made on the Sinpo, and thus Li reported to Kim now.
"Sir, we are getting a surface contact. The surface ships are getting it too; they believe it is a heavy cruiser."
"American?"
"Yes, sir. She's accompanied by multiple surface contacts, likely destroyers. We should have visual contact any time."
Up on the submarine's sail- what was incorrectly called the conning tower by some- lookouts watched with binoculars at any time the sub was on the surface. They called below if they saw anything, and those calls were related to the control room. But neither Li Choi nor Dae Kim needed to leave the control room to see what was on the surface. Neither did they lower a telescopic eyepiece, flip a handle out to either side, and stare through the eyepiece- the submarine's scopes didn't penetrate the inner hull. But the Americans, with their movies- they had other ideas. Kim suppressed a smile; logic and actual facts had nothing on Hollywood.
"Sir," a sailor called from down a narrow passageway, "lookouts report an American warship, Ticonderoga-class cruiser! She's headed our way!"
That changed the mood in the control room abruptly. Discipline ruled supreme on every Korean boat and ship, but the slight change in the atmosphere, the way every man stiffened and straightened where he stood or sat, showed that things had gotten more serious.
"Call the crew to general quarters, Commander," Kim said calmly. The order was repeated by Li Choi, and hooting alarms and bellowing petty officers sent every one of Sinpo's sailors racing to their stations. Some stood by to act as damage controlmen; every man on the boat was trained in the art of fighting fires, plugging leaks, and solving even the worst electrical problems, but when the crew was prepared for battle, some had that as their primary job.
Kim's was to make sure those men had as little to do as possible. Without a word being said, the deck passed to him, and the young captain assumed direct control of his boat. His executive officer stood close by, prepared to do whatever he could.
A set of computer monitors were at the stations ringing the control room. Cameras in the boat's attack and search scopes showed the sights available from the surface on two different monitors, while sonar scans were shown on two more. The boat's weapons officer oversaw crewmen at another two stations, and directly took charge of the loading and firing of the Sinpo's torpedoes. Only Kim, however, with authorization from the highest of powers, had the right to order either of the two SLBMs armed and fired.
The boat's captain and executive officer both eyed the monitors relaying the images from the periscopes with great interest; it was a sunny day, clear skies, perfect tourist weather. And sure enough, an American guided missile cruiser was making pretty good speed as it headed their way. Kim knew the long, knife-like bow, knew the distinctive "blocky" look to the foremost and aft-most features of her superstructure. The cameras were even able to show the white two-digit number painted on either side of her hull close to the bow: 74. She was the USS Cortland, CG-74, a Ticonderoga-class cruiser. With her were several other warships, Arleigh-Burke-class destroyers. All of them had been near the horizon some time ago when they were first noticed as surface contacts, but since then they had come about and were indeed headed towards the border of the DPRK's territorial waters.
"Lieutenant," Kim said in that same calm voice he'd used before, "load torpedo tubes One through Six. Flood the tubes and open the caps."
The command was echoed by Lieutenant Senior Grade Chin Kang, the Sinpo's weapons officer, and even though he could not see or hear it, Dae Kim knew that in the cramped, incredibly tight confines of Sinpo's bow and stern torpedo rooms, orders were being repeated and the long, heavy, deadly "fish" were being lifted from their storage racks and loaded into the tubes. The weapons officer ordered the weapons control crewmen to signal the torpedo tubes to flood and their caps to open; in only seconds the Sinpo had readied herself to fire.
What hadn't happened was the Sinpo actually coming about and aiming her bow tubes at the enemy. There wasn't any real point, not yet, with the enemy still out of torpedo range and no guidance lock obtained for the homing systems in the torpedoes. But officially, this was still a routine cruise, and Kim had strict orders to keep the boat on the surface unless absolutely necessary.
Just as he was thinking he should call and ask for permission to dive, Kim heard a signal on what the Americans called a "gertrude", an underwater telephone that allowed a submarine to communicate long-range with other ships or specific individuals on the surface.
Kim went to answer it himself; he had a feeling, somehow, that these this was related to what was going on. He had heard of the recent sabotage at Pyongyang International Airport, and had been told to keep his crew at a high state of readiness, in the last call from his superiors. He picked up the device and spoke into it, identifying himself as the Sinpo's commanding officer.
"Commander Dae Kim," a stern, deep, familiar voice said, "this is Fleet Admiral Dae Yong-ju. You and your men are at the forefront of the current tensions now. I am instructed to inform you that the Americans believe your boat has armed the warheads in its missiles. They are moving a group of warships they have in the Eastern Sea to close range and be ready to engage you. So I must ask you once: Have you ordered the warheads on your boat armed?"
"No, sir," Kim answered at once, speaking to his father as if completely unrelated to him at all. "I have issued no such order to my crew." It went without saying that he would not have done so- would not have dared- without direct order from higher command.
"I know that, and so does the Glorious Leader," the admiral answered. "But the Americans do not. The fatherland's diplomats are attempting to explain the facts to them. The Americans hear, but they do not listen. They believe we are preparing for a nuclear attack against them or their lackeys."
"Upon being ordered, I will gladly do so for my leader and fatherland," Kim replied. His contempt for Americans increased; the warmongers were actually accusing not just his nation and his Navy, but him personally, of preparing a nuclear strike? "If they attack unprovoked my boat and our surface escort will defend ourselves with conventional weapons, unless a nuclear launch is authorized."
"Do not arm your missiles. Do not ready them for launch." The fleet admiral spoke in flat, simple declarations, leaving no doubt as to what was desired. These were as clear as orders could be. "Do not fire torpedoes unless the Americans engage first, or if they cross beyond any doubt into Korean waters. Remain on the surface unless attacked. These orders come directly from the Glorious Leader, and they are being passed to the frigates accompanying you."
At the mention of the nation's leader, and the fact that these orders came from him personally, Kim's sense of commitment increased a thousand fold. He was honored beyond words to speak to his father in the line of duty, but to be carrying out orders from the Leader himself…
"Live or die, the will of the Glorious Leader be done," Kim said.
Fleet Admiral Dae Yong-ju echoed the sentiment, and then hung up the phone. His tone had hinted at times in the brief conversation that he longed to say something more, to set aside his duty and say some personal encouragement to his son. But duty ruled his life as sternly as it did Kim's, and there was no opportunity for such a thing. Even when Kim had taken the Sinpo out for this sea tour and his father had appeared in full dress uniform for the ceremony, he spoke professionally, and when shaking hands with his son, simply barked, "Good hunting, Commander Dae Kim. Make us proud."
It was in the older man's eyes, in his voice, how emotional and proud he was underneath the surface. Kim could tell this time, too, that his father was deeply concerned. The tensions had him proud that his son was at the frontlines of a dangerous situation, but also worried. If a war started here in the Eastern Sea, the Korean People's Army would thunder across the Demilitarized Zone and the Korean People's Air Force would rain death on the imperialist aggressors from the skies, while the Korean People's Navy would sweep in like a mighty wave from the seas, obliterating all in their path along the shores and ports of occupied Korea.
But before any of that could happen, the battle that would be fought here in the Eastern Sea would be won or lost first. If Sinpo was sunk in the fighting, unlikely as that was… Dae Yong-ju would have first ordered his son into harm's way and then ordered him to stay there even in the face of approaching death. Dae Kim's life was meaningless when set against duty, fatherland, and honor, but that wouldn't mean that Dae Yong-ju might never forgive himself if his son died in battle. He would be proud, but deeply grieved.
Kim did not mean to give any fathers reason to grieve except American ones. If they fired on his vessel, or on any of the ships alongside his, Kim would bring the Sinpo about and fight to the bitter end. They would not take him without a fight.
Turning to his control room crew, Kim repeated the orders he'd been given, then stressed, "We will not engage first. No move will be made to arm our missiles or warheads unless we receive an order to do so. But if they attack us, we destroy them."
After that, the submarine was silent except for the occasional giving or acknowledgement of orders, or the relaying of status reports about the situation. Kim stayed quiet himself, eying the monitors that showed the images from his scopes. The American warships had turned to show their port sides to the Korean vessels, and stayed two miles off. They were within torpedo range, but just barely. The two groups of ships sailed in the same northeasterly course, gun turrets and missile launchers aimed at each other, but for now, not a single shot was being fired.
The young naval officer's heart raced; adrenaline coursed through him as his body readied itself for battle. He had never imagined command of his first vessel would involve an international incident like this. But you never expected these things. They merely happened. How you handled them when you did was what separated the men from the little boys, the strong from the weak, and the duty-minded from those who had neither honor nor purpose. Kim knew which side of those things he stood on.
XX
Another signal on the underwater telephone came after ten minutes, just as the lookouts reported Morse code signals being flashed at Sinpo from USS Cortland, clearly the ship in charge of the group that Sinpo and her three escort frigates were facing.
Once again, Kim had a hunch what it would be, and once again, he was right. He was being hailed by the Americans themselves, and somehow, they had sent a signal to the underwater telephone aboard Kim's boat.
Even so, Kim knew he could be wrong. He answered in Korean, stating that he was commanding officer of the Sinpo, as he'd said before.
"Commanding officer of North Korean submarine Sinpo," a gruff, stern voice said in American-accented Korean, "this is commanding officer, USS Cortland-"
"You can speak English, Commander," Kim said, allowing a trace of smug amusement into his voice. "I understand." He spoke in perfect English, not a trace of accent present at all.
"Good," the man answered, also in English, sounding almost relieved not to have to speak Korean anymore. "Arming your boat's nuclear warheads is not a good idea, Commander. You should reconsider. Neither of us would want your nation's newest vessel destroyed in a retaliatory attack."
"No warheads have been armed, Commander," Kim returned flatly.
"Our monitoring systems say otherwise. This is not a game, Commander. Our systems say you have armed your boat's missile warheads."
"Then the fault must lie with your American-made computers," Kim replied, "for I have armed no warheads. Keep your distance and stay outside waters belonging to the Democratic People's Republic of Korea, or you will invite a response of deadly force."
"You are badly outnumbered, Sinpo. If there's a fight here, you will not win it."
"If there is a fight here," Kim said, "it will be because you started it. The Korean People's Navy will defend our nation against American aggression if you attempt it. Americans champion themselves as the defenders of the world's free peoples. Surely you wouldn't want such a stain as attacking here today would put on your precious American honor."
With that, Dae Kim hung up the Gertrude, cutting off any reply the American officer might have had planned. And he would have made one; there was no doubt about that. Americans loved to talk, and worthy a foe as the imperialists' military was, they were the worst of all in that regard, with a great deal of ridiculous chest-pounding and carrying on if they had so much as five minutes of free time.
The young captain was not the only man aboard Sinpo able to speak English; several others were present, some known to Kim and some unknown, all able to hear Kim's end of conversations on the underwater telephone. If he betrayed Kim country in any way while speaking over the boat's phone system, it would be the last act of his career. But since he had merely responded to being hailed and told the American what was what, his standing with the Navy was unchanged. If anything, his English-speaking listeners had probably silently cheered him on.
It was hard not to smile; Kim had just mouthed off to a man he had known once, who he had at one time always addressed as "Sir". Had he talked like he had just now a few years ago, he'd have been restricted to the Post for a month.
Lieutenant Fred Lewis, now probably Lieutenant Commander or Commander Fred Lewis, had been a member of Naval ROTC staff at VMI during the time when the young, handsome, fearless star of the Class of 2011, Dae Kim, had attended that famed military college. The two men had talked often, as Kim's high intelligence and promise as a naval officer- in particular, Kim's grasp of mathematics was outstanding- became apparent. Kim had excelled in Lewis' classes, and had jousted verbally with the experienced Surface Warfare Officer many times. The younger man said little about his personal life or family, in keeping with his image of a rather private young man, and he said nothing about his intention of becoming a submarine officer in any navy at all. For all Lewis or anyone else knew, Kim was thinking of becoming anything from a surface warfare officer to a supply officer overseeing a naval base's postal exchange.
It had actually been kind of fun interacting with Lieutenant Lewis, and Kim had understood and sympathized with his teacher's expressed desire to complete his assignment ashore at VMI with the job done as well as possible, and then get back out to sea. It had been four years ago since they had last seen each other, or heard one another's voices. The American officer had been one of the most baffled when the Class of 2011's valedictorian took no officer's commission and simply left upon graduation, saying next to nothing about what he intended to do next or where he meant to go. Kim, personally, thought it was kind of funny. He'd beaten the American cadets at their own game in every way possible, and then simply left. It had confused the hell out of them.
Lewis had probably not recognized his former star pupil's voice, likely did not recall the voice of the young man who had learned so well the lessons Lewis taught on the history of naval warfare, command of a ship, and modern naval tactics. He probably had no idea just how well his former student had remembered all the wisdom he'd tried to impart.
Fred Lewis was far from flawless, though; though a total professional and deeply dedicated to serving his country, Fred Lewis tended to talk too much, and spent too much time swaggering and puffing his chest out, usually metaphorically but sometimes literally. Lewis had a classic American ego and apparently thought he was some kind of seagoing cowboy. Like their old and mostly-forgotten hero John Wayne, Fred Lewis liked to give you an unbroken tough-guy stare and put that stern, no-nonsense voice on until he sounded so much like The Duke it was hilarious. A highly competent naval officer, yes. Hard-headed and stubborn, yes. But stupid? Before, Kim would have said no to that confidently. Right now, heart pounding in his chest and his gut urging him to come about, fire his torpedoes, and dive as deep as he could go before coming back up to strike again, Kim was not so sure.
Was this what it had come to? Master and apprentice, teacher and student, each addressed now as Commander and each in charge of his own vessel, maneuvering in parallel with each other on the open sea? Weapons ready, men ready to deal death and destruction at their command? This sounded like some kind of bad American war movie. Or some TV show. This was not the Americans' famed Star Wars. But the resemblance to some dramatic plot was so uncanny Kim wanted to laugh. He had been to America; he had studied in the enemy's midst for a total of five years, and he knew how they did things. How their minds typically worked. Dramatic showdowns like this were what scriptwriters over there lived for, and not a few viewers.
These warships would cause sinkings on both sides if firing started. Kim aimed to send USS Cortland under the waves. He respected, even somewhat admired, his former teacher. But there was no personal attachment there at all. Kim was set on destroying Fred Lewis' warship and, hopefully, sending him under the waves with it, if any fighting began. He had every reason to do so. Cortland was the command vessel for this American battle group, and the largest and most powerful ship the enemy had in this standoff. And since Kim was almost completely certain that had been Fred Lewis on the underwater telephone- he just knew it- he knew that Cortland's commander was a smart man beneath all that bluff and bluster, and his death along with the sinking of such a powerful warship would be a tremendous victory for Dae Kim's country and just as serious a defeat for the Americans. Intelligent and capable officers were best killed quickly, to better disorganize and demoralize the enemy's forces. It was important to remember, however, Lewis was no Horatio Nelson; losing him would not defeat the U.S. Navy.
But it sure wouldn't do them any good, either.
A/N: This chapter was uploaded on 2-19-2017. Chapter 2 will be up in 7 days at most. That will be the final chapter of this story.