Arabian Storm (The Hunter Killer Series Book 5) by George Wallace (different ereaders .txt) 📕

the binding. Those C-student engineers back in Philly didn’t design it right. Bottom line!”

The repair officer closed his eyes as he listened, grimaced, then nodded.

“Look, you get no argument from me. I agree. But what the hell can we do? I don’t have any approved plans for this.”

“Plans be damned!” the Eng snapped, frustration heavy in his voice. “All the damn thing needs is a web welded right here to stiffen it enough so it doesn’t flex. You got welders on that oversized yacht of yours, don’t you?”

“Not that simple,” the repair officer shot back. “The linkage is made out of some exotic unobtanium they came up with for corrosion control. It’s a really complex alloy of titanium, copper, and beryllium, with a very involved heat-treating process. It’s not something we can handle. And especially if we have to weld something to it.”

“What’s the alternative?” Glass asked, interrupting as he joined the two men. “We have orders for a high-priority, classified mission with an underway within forty-eight hours. We can’t get underway if I can’t back down. And I have a boss who has no interest in excuses, legit or not.”

The repair officer lifted his ball cap and wiped his sweating brow with a well-used bandanna.

“Captain, it’s not an excuse. There is nothing I can do with this piece. We got some really skilled guys, but there is no way even they can weld-repair it. And no way to get a new one from CONUS for probably a month or more. You don’t order these things off eBay. We aim to please our customers but I’m at a dead end here.”

Glass stared out across the water for a moment, lost in thought, then glanced up toward the tender looming over them. He looked sideways at Smith.

“Eng, didn’t you say that you had a complete set of drawings for the pump drive system?”

The engineer nodded. “Yes, sir, Skipper. I talked the shipyard out of updated prints for all critical systems right before we left. Just a habit of mine.”

Glass gazed up at the tender once more.

“And RO, I assume you got a fancy new 3-D printer up there on the Simon Lake, don’t you? I know it can’t shit out any of this fancy alloy, but it can sure do something simple like Monel, right?”

The RO looked questioningly at Glass. Monel was a nickel-copper recipe, useful for its high tensile strength and resistance to corrosion.

“Monel? Yeah, we had to do a replacement on the…well, you don’t necessarily need to…but so what? I still can’t approve substituting without NAVSEA approval. And you got to know that’ll take even longer than getting the new linkage.”

It was Glass’s turn to shake his head.

“I’m not asking for a substitute. The way I see it, we need a prototype piece to prove it fits and doesn’t flex, a fit and function test. Then, and only then, we ask NAVSEA for an approved new part.”

The RO nodded that he understood the submarine captain’s logic. And admired his ingenious fix. And practical subterfuge.

“Okay, I can see that. Saves NAVSEA a lot of time testing.”

“Good. Now, how fast can you print our prototype? We ain’t got a lot of time to get in front of this one,” Glass pushed.

“If we give it the highest priority and work all night,” the repair officer answered, “I figure we can have it for you in the morning. In the meantime, I’ll call NAVSEA to find out what testing they need to verify the prototype.”

Glass nodded as the RO turned and hurried up the brow, disappearing into the cave-like hole in the side of the tender.

Smith grunted as he watched the man leave.

“By-the-book pain in the ass is what he is. They don’t seem to understand we have to improvise sometimes. Guys like that could cost us this mission. Or a war someday.” The engineer stopped and thought for a second. “Skipper, how’s this prototype plan going to help anything? Still going to need NAVSEA approval before we get a replacement part, and that is going to take forever.”

“Eng, we just gave your RO friend deniability. He builds what we want so we can test it. No mention of how we plan to test. I’m thinking a nice long underway will really wring out that prototype.” Glass grinned. “Two birds with one stone. Prove a better design. Get this mission accomplished. Just be ready to get underway the instant you have that new linkage installed.”

Ψ

Two tugs puffed clouds of black diesel exhaust smoke and strained hard to push the Boz-Manand in line with the floating drydock at the south end of the bustling, sprawling shipyard. The spanking-new submarine swam very low in the water, the only indication that the ship was now far from seaworthy. It was so low that an errant wave washed a couple of sailors who were working topside overboard. Other workers rushed to throw them lines and haul them back aboard.

The vessel’s black sail was even darker than usual, stained by smoke from the inboard electrical fires. Thick canvas hoses snaked up through open hatches and then over the side. Torrents of dirty brown water gushed from the hoses as temporary pumps attempted to rid the boat of the floodwaters that had so recently violated the majestic submarine’s pristine interior.

A small launch motored from the drydock out to the damaged ship, trailing a thick hawser behind it. As the launch came alongside the Boz-Manand, the crew passed the heavy line up to men standing topside on the submarine. They, in turn, connected the line to a clevis attached to other ropes tied to cleats on the submarine’s deck.

As the launch backed out of the way, a huge capstan at the head of the drydock slowly began to turn. The thick hawser came taut. Water sizzled as it was squeezed out of the fibers by the increased tension. Slowly, the Boz-Manand began to move forward. The two tugs nudged the sub gently to