“The Russian military exercises in Europe have been harshly criticized by the Hardy administration as ‘designed to intimidate Europe’ and as ‘a rehearsal for a full-scale invasion.’ President Fedorin personally responded to the administration’s comments in a speech before a pro-Russian rally in Moscow today, saying that the ‘West can draw whatever conclusion it likes. Russia’s armed forces are ready to carry out the will of its people.’
“Historically, America’s response to an adversary’s military exercises is limited to rhetoric, plus careful observation to learn what they can of a potential opponent’s capabilities. This time, though, there are indications that President Hardy and the Joint Chiefs of Staff may be considering more direct action.
“There have been rumors that the Pentagon is planning its own ‘snap drills,’ mobilizing and moving several rapid-reaction forces to Europe. In addition to increased activity at several military bases, most notably naval installations, the president and many national security officials have suddenly canceled, or rescheduled, long-standing appointments over the last few days.
“The famous ‘Pizza Index,’ using the amount of take-out pizza ordered by Pentagon offices as a sign of long hours, and thus of impending action, has become less reliable in recent years. A survey today of Arlington pizzerias showed only a small increase of ten to twenty percent over usual, compared to the doubling of orders before both Gulf wars and the Sino-Littoral Alliance War. A Pentagon source said that standing orders now forbid ordering take-out from nearby pizza places, and that to accurately measure late-night hours in Washington, one would have to poll every type of take-out cuisine…”
The message came while President Hardy was already receiving a briefing by Director of National Intelligence Peakes about non-military Russian activities. The large-scale military exercises were worrisome enough, but covert actions worldwide were on the rise. Peakes had started with news of another assassination, this time of a German counterterrorism official. Several different extremist organizations were claiming credit, but it didn’t really fit any of their normal operating patterns.
Cyber attacks had increased as well, often demanding ransom for padlocked data, but they included an alarming number of infrastructure organizations: electric and transport utilities especially. A smaller number of sabotage incidents added to the overall pattern.
“Ray, will these really disrupt a country’s infrastructure or economy that much?” asked Hardy.
“No, Mr. President,” Peakes answered, “not at their current level, but look at how they’re spread all over Europe. The cyber warfare people at both NSA and CIA believe that the Russians are demonstrating their capability, or European vulnerability, to these attacks. These incidents could easily be used as a coercive bargaining chip if the Russians make demands.”
“You mean a threat,” Hardy replied, “which is what we believe the Russians will do, once the balloon goes up.”
“They may not have to even go that far,” General Schiller remarked. The Chairman of the Joint Chiefs had already briefed the president on the status of the American exercise, Operation Fortify. “I’m very concerned about the Polish defense minster’s remarks this morning. If they aren’t prepared to—”
Secretary of State Lloyd cut in. “He only said that full mobilization depended on NATO showing a united front. And he’s right. Germany and France are the big players. The smaller countries have said quite clearly that they’re waiting to see how Berlin and Paris respond. And those two countries are looking to us. The U.S. has always been the de facto leader of NATO. The sooner we announce Fortify, the better.”
“I agree it will encourage our allies, but I’m concerned that it will also increase international tensions.” Bill Hyland looked genuinely worried. “I’ve looked at our post — World War II history, and this situation is every bit as unstable as the Berlin Blockade or the Cuban Missile Crisis.”
“You’re afraid we’ll end up unintentionally in a shooting war,” Hardy concluded.
“Of course,” Hyland responded. “Fedorin doesn’t want war any more than we do. But he’s seeing how close to the edge he can go. In fact, he’ll hang out over the edge and wave at us. He’s willing to take risks because he believes that’s where the big payoffs are. We can’t know how far he’s willing to go, and he obviously doesn’t know everything we’re doing.”
Hardy was listening, but frowning. “Come to the point,” he demanded.
“The world had come through East-West confrontations before, but later scholarship has shown us that we were always closer to disaster than was known by either side at the time. The danger is not from our or Fedorin’s intentions, but rather unforeseen interactions or mishaps. And the more pieces both sides have in play, the greater the chance of an accident or incident. At best, it will cost lives. At worst, it literally means the end of the world.” The national security advisor sat back, looking a little drained.
Hardy looked over at Joanna, sitting a little to one side. Bill Hyland had been on Joanna’s staff while she was national security advisor under President Myles. His specialty was nuclear strategy. He’d written several books on international relations and military force that were brilliant, and when she’d recommended the relatively junior staffer as her replacement, Hardy and his people had thought him an excellent choice. Youth was not necessarily a down check on the list of qualifications. It was an extremely demanding job and younger bodies usually could handle the stress and lack of sleep better. Hyland had been working twenty-hour days.
The president sighed. “Bill, that risk is going to be there, no matter what we do. We all know that we’re using live ammunition, but so are they, and at the moment, Fedorin seems almost eager to shoot.” He paused, then added, “I think the job of every president is to understand the risks each crisis presents as best he can, and do whatever he can to reduce those risks.”
“Mr. President, I believe that sending those troops to Europe will escalate the current crisis. It may be enough to demonstrate that we’re able to send them, or even just announce the conditions…”
“That’s enough, Bill.” Hardy’s tone was firm. “Our allies need to see concrete actions even more than the Russians do.”
Secretary Lloyd agreed. “The situation in Europe right now is extremely unbalanced. Our presence will give the Russians pause. Their chance of success goes down when a determined U.S. presence is factored into their planning.”
White House Chief of Staff Sellers opened the door without knocking. “Mr. President, gentlemen and lady, Admiral Hughes has new information…”
“Please, send him in,” Hardy urged.
Hughes entered, looking rushed. As he sat, he announced quietly, “We’ve received word from Jimmy Carter.”
Everyone sat up and leaned forward, and Hughes passed a copy of the message to each person. It had been sent two hours earlier.
Hardy took the time to read it twice, then announced, “There’s our timeline for announcing Fortify. At the same time that I report the success of Overcharge, we’ll announce the plan for reinforcing Europe.”
“That should settle Senator Emmers’s hash,” muttered Lloyd.
Hardy nodded. “What I want it to do is set President Fedorin back a few steps. Give him pause for second, maybe even third thoughts.”
Hyland looked alarmed, almost panicked. “Mr. President, Overcharge is exactly the kind of incident that could trigger a nuclear catastrophe. That launch site has to be his personal cause. A deliberate attack by us gives him precisely the excuse he needs. But to be honest, I can’t predict how he will react, because a successful attack will come as a shock to the Russian leadership. Even if it fails, it will enrage him.”
“God forbid,” General Schiller added, scowling.
Hyland was insistent. “The more unusual the circumstance, the harder it is to predict how your adversary will respond. Fedorin could easily see it as a personal challenge, and feel compelled to respond or suffer a monumental loss of face.”
“The Russian population doesn’t even know about the facility,” Schiller retorted.
“They will after President Hardy announces it!” Hyland’s voice wasn’t shouting, but it was a level of intensity rarely heard in the Oval Office, and it was clear from his tone that he thought the announcement was a mistake. “And regardless of whether the attack succeeds or not, we will have committed an act of war.”
The chief of naval operations countered, “Placing those mines so they could attack and sink one of our subs in international waters is also an act of war.”
“Fool! You can’t see the difference between Toledo’s loss, which was completely hidden from view, and the public humiliation of the Russian president.” At this point, Hyland was shouting, hands balled into fists.
“Bill, that’s enough,” Hardy ordered sharply in a raised voice. Hyland turned to look at him, and seemed to be composing a response, but the president cut him off. “Mister, you are relieved.”
Chief of Staff Sellers had opened the door to the Oval Office a crack at the sound of raised voices, and Hardy motioned him into the room. “Dwight, Mr. Hyland is no longer the national security advisor. Please have the Secret Service collect all his badges and personal electronics, then escort him to someplace where he can rest under observation. He is to remain incommunicado until I say otherwise.”
Hardy had been speaking to Sellers, but had kept his gaze fixed on the now former national security advisor. Hyland stood up a little straighter, but in the process also seemed to shrink. He nodded his understanding and turned to leave, then dithered for a moment about whether to take his notepad and tablet. He finally left them behind and walked slowly toward the door.
He stopped halfway and turned to face Hardy. “I will pray that I am wrong, Mr. President, and that your plan succeeds. Thank you for allowing me to serve in your administration, if only for a short time.” A moment later, he was gone, and Sellers closed the door.
“Incommunicado?” Lloyd asked.
“He knows about Overcharge,” Hardy answered. “Bill said it himself. We can’t predict someone’s actions when under severe stress. What if he went to the press?”
Lloyd’s eyebrow rose, and he nodded his understanding. Hardy continued, “It won’t be for long. The Secret Service will park him in a safe house where he can catch up on his sleep. If Carter’s message is accurate, Overcharge will be very public very soon.”
Hardy also looked over to the first lady. Her expression was completely neutral, a mask. The others in the room all knew that she had recommended Hyland for the NSA post. But if they assumed it was a silent apology to his wife, they were wrong.
“Joanna, I need your help. Will you please take over as national security advisor?”
“What!?” Lloyd half rose out of his chair. The others, not as senior, stifled their own outbursts, but wore expressions varying from surprised to stunned.
Hardy waved him down. “Interim only, Mr. Secretary. This is not a good time to lose a key member of our national security team. She certainly is qualified for the job.”
Lloyd sat back down, deep in thought. General Schiller and Admiral Hughes conversed in whispers, while DNI Peakes spoke the obvious. “It’s unprecedented, and the potential for conflict of interest…”
“Will no doubt be investigated at great lengths by numerous congressional committees,” Hardy completed. “However, I plead urgent necessity.”
Lloyd nodded, but observed, “You’re already receiving her advice, which has been very good, by the way,” with a nod toward Patterson, “but there’s no need to make it formal.”
DNI Peakes responded. “That’s not true, Mr. Secretary. Unless she’s officially the NSA, she can’t have access to all the intelligence sources that the position of national security advisor allows. The President has been walking a fine line on this, but without a formal NSA, that line becomes blurred. Unless there is someone officially occupying the NSA box in the wiring diagram, information can’t flow, by law.”
“What about Bill’s deputy?” Lloyd asked.
“He’s busy enough already,” Joanna answered, joining the discussion. “My husband is right…”
“I love those words,” Hardy interjected.
Patterson shot Hardy a look. “Sandy Hall’s an excellent deputy, but he will cease to be so if he’s suddenly promoted to the top spot. And we’ll have to find someone to take Sandy’s job. That means we’ll have two critical positions operating at less than full efficiency. If I take the NSA post, he provides continuity.”
Hardy turned to the two military officers. “Do you have any reservations on the appointment, Chairman?”
General Schiller, senior of the two officers, spoke for both of them. “The national security advisor is not in the chain of command. As far as we’re concerned, nothing has changed.”
“True, but is the military willing to work, on an interim basis,” Hardy emphasized, “with an NSA who is also the first lady?”
Schiller nodded sagely. “Absolutely. And woe betide anyone who says otherwise,” he promised.
Hardy smiled. “And by the time we announce Bill’s resignation ‘for health reasons,’ in all likelihood, Overcharge will be public. By the way, when you all write about this in your memoirs, please be kind to Bill. He’s right that this could spiral out of control.”
In response to their surprised looks, Hardy explained. “The Russians are still getting ready. If they’d already started moving, if Fedorin and his generals had committed themselves, I believe the risks of escalation would be much greater. But we have a narrow window that Carter is doing her best to sneak through. Bill couldn’t see the difference between now and what’s to come.”
The president tapped Carter’s report on his desk. “The good news in this message is that the Russians have not finished construction. Sun Tzu said that if you aren’t trying to wipe out an enemy, leave him a line of retreat, and he won’t fight as desperately. Unless they are going to try something in Europe in the next twelve hours, without their nuclear trump card, they’ll be able to pretend it really was an exercise, back out and save face.”
The UCC crew had just started recovering José when Walter reached the part of the mine belt nearest Toledo’s grave. It had taken some careful figuring to find the best combination of depth and distance from the minefield to avoid triggering either the acoustic sensors or the mines. Luckily, the mines were easy to see on Walter’s imaging sonar.
While Jimmy Carter’s crew had mapped much of the minefield during her first visit to the area, they had not plotted the position of every mine. They’d established the extent of the field, its shape, confirmed that it was composed of a single mine type, and then kept as far from the area as circumstance allowed.
Walter actually began its search over a mile short of where they believed there would be a gap. The UUV crept parallel to the barrier at two knots, twenty feet off the seabed, using the long-range mode on its navigation sonar.
José was docked and recharging by the time Walter saw the first mine, but after that it became easier. They had been placed about eleven hundred yards apart. Once the precise location of the first mine was known, Walter’s operators brought him a little farther out, increased the speed, and motored over to where the next one should be. It was exactly where they expected. The next mine was also in its proper place, and the next one. They were now a little over a mile and a half from their starting point, and all they could do was keep looking and hope they didn’t find one.
Carter remained close enough to maintain good communications with Walter, but as far away from the minefield as that allowed. Cavanaugh knew that eventually they’d be getting much closer to the minefield, and hoped he could hide his nervousness.
The fifth mine was in place, but the sixth one was not. After Walter had gone several hundred yards past where the next mine should have been, Ford ordered the operator to circle the remote back and switch to high-res mode.
They were so close that as soon as Walter had finished his turn, they saw it. A long tube lay on the seabed. One end was connected by a cable to a large round disc close by — the anchor. “Tallyho,” Jerry cried. “Finally!”
The empty canister that had held the torpedo had flooded with seawater and was no longer buoyant. In high-res mode, the sonar image was so clear they could see the open end of the cylinder. Jerry knew that everyone in the control room could see the image on their own displays, but he hit the intercom switch and reported, “Control, UCC, we just found the center of our path through the minefield. We will begin looking for the acoustic sensors.”
That took longer. Under Ford’s direction, Petty Officer Frederick had Walter look straight toward the mine barrier at dead slow, with the imaging sonar reset to its longest range. Cavanaugh stared at the screen along with the rest, watching for something that would look like a squat oil drum. Each time Walter approached one hundred yards from the line without seeing anything, Ford backed the UUV out and then moved it along the barrier to a new spot.
It was boring to watch, but nobody complained. Control could see what was being done, and did not hurry them. Cavanaugh knew that Jimmy Carter’s sonar watch was keeping an ear tuned for the sound of a Lamb Tail sonar, or any other kind, for that matter. He tried to calculate if they could avoid being found again, and wondered what Mitchell and Weiss would do if that happened.
It took over an hour of careful probing to find one of the Sever nodes on the seabed. Its location was not helpful. “I should have guessed,” said Ford, frustrated.
“I made the same assumption,” Jerry admitted. “At least we know where the one on this side of gap is located. We’ll just have to look a little longer.”
Forty-five minutes later, they’d found the second acoustic sensor and entered everything on the geoplot. While the UCC team prepared to recover Walter, Jerry, Ford, and Cavanaugh joined Weiss in control and tried to decide what could be done.
It was clearer on the paper plot, and Cavanaugh immediately understood their dilemma. The gap in the minefield was covered not by one acoustic sensor, but two, one to either side.
“It makes sense that the mines and sensors wouldn’t line up,” Weiss remarked. “They have different detection ranges, after all.”
Now we have to muffle two sensors,” Ford muttered. “The Russians are not playing fair.”
“They don’t even know we’re playing,” Jerry reminded him.
They’d added in circles that represented the detection range of the acoustic sensor on the geoplot, along with the diamonds that marked their actual positions on the sea bottom, and the two mines on either side of what everyone now called the “The Toledo gap.” Cavanaugh was visualizing them as goal posts.
The two acoustic detection circles overlapped in the gap, a little to the left of center. Weiss asked, “What if we use the UUVs to mask this one on the right?”
Ford tapped a few keys, and measured the distance. “Four hundred yards,” he reported. “Maybe four twenty-five.”
“Compared to a thousand before,” Jerry observed. “I’m sure we could get through that, carefully, on the way in. It’s the way out I’m worried about. We can’t expect to have the UUVs navigating for us.”
“And we might be in a hurry,” Weiss added, smiling.
Jerry asked, “How long to ‘bomb’ one sensor, come back to the sub, reload ballast, and then do it again?”
“Assuming we can do it at all?” Weiss asked. “Too long. I feel like the clock is ticking.”
Other heads nodded, and Jerry suggested, “Then let’s see first how well the UUVs can imitate a glider.”
With both UUVs back aboard, Carter proceeded five miles northwest for “flight tests.” To Cavanaugh, it seemed they should have moved farther away from Russian territory, but Captain Weiss reassured him. “We can’t hear the Russians this far away, and I guarantee we have a much better sonar suite than they do.”
While Jerry and the UUV team tested Walter, Captain Weiss had the sonar crew keep a close watch. Although she wasn’t particularly vulnerable with a UUV deployed, it would be highly inconvenient if a Russian stumbled across Carter while they were occupied experimenting with the remotes.
They launched José with as much ballast as the UUV could hold, almost a hundred pounds of lead shot. The UUVs normally carried some ballast to maintain neutral buoyancy, but the UCC crew had filled the ballast compartment, so the UUV was “max heavy” when it left the sub.
Lieutenant Ford, worried about the extra weight, watched the battery charge and speed carefully as LTJG Lawson moved the UUV a few hundred yards off Carter’s port beam. While Carter hovered above the bottom, José rose, or more accurately, “clawed for altitude” like a heavily loaded airplane. The UUV needed full power and a nose-up angle to slowly rise. It took longer than normal for the vehicle to reach a depth of twenty-five feet below the ocean surface, but once leveled out, it proved to be only two knots slower than its normal eight-knot maximum speed. It still needed a little up angle, and of course maximum power.
After taking copious notes during the UUV’s ascent, LT Ford reported, “I’ve got the numbers I need, Commodore. Ready for the first test.”
Cavanaugh watched Mitchell glance at the recorded values, and at the display, before reporting on the intercom to control. “Ready for glide test.”
Weiss immediately replied, “Proceed.” The displays in control would let them see everything that they saw in UCC.
Jerry nodded, and told Lawson, “All stop, five degrees down angle.”
The bottom lay some three hundred feet below José. They’d calculated the sink rate using the standard formulas in the UUV manual. That much was easy. What they couldn’t calculate was how far forward José would move as it descended. The UUV had no wings, just small control fins at the back.
Everyone’s attention was focused on the readouts: battery charge, depth, and especially speed. Even though everyone could see the displays, Lawson still read them out loud. “Showing six knots.” Normally, at that speed, the vehicle would coast to a stop within a minute of the motors stopping. It had a smooth exterior, but nobody who saw one would describe it as “streamlined.”
“Still showing six knots,” Lawson reported hopefully. Up in control, they were plotting the UUV’s position, as well as its depth. They needed to know exactly how long the “bomb run” would have to be.
Cavanaugh watched the display along with everyone else. It actually showed the UUV’s speed to a tenth of a knot. When Lawson had nosed over, it read 6.2 knots. Then it went up, to 6.4.
After another moment, the lieutenant announced, “Speed is up to seven knots,” a little surprised.
“Sink rate matches what we expected, more or less,” Ford commented.
Cavanaugh watched the speed go up again, to 7.5 knots. Well, most things go downhill faster than they do over level ground.
“Eight knots!” Ford announced proudly, as if José were in a race. “Sink rate is increasing as well.”
“End the test,” Jerry ordered suddenly. “Engage the propulsion motor and bring it level. Be ready to bring the nose up. Steve, watch the sink rate and depth carefully.”
Puzzled, Ford gazed at the commodore, who looked genuinely concerned. The vehicle had only gone down about a hundred feet, and Cavanaugh knew the plan had been to let the UUV drop until it was much closer to the bottom, and maybe even find a feature on the seabed to practice their aim.
Jerry repeated, “Watch the depth carefully. Be ready to angle up if I say so,” he ordered. Lawson acknowledged the order, but both he and Ford looked confused. Jerry explained to the two lieutenants, while keeping his eyes on the display, “We’ve determined that the UUV will gain sufficient speed as it sinks, in fact, a little better than expected. But it’s translating some of that speed into downward motion. We know it will dive like an airplane. The question is, can it pull out of a dive like one?”
Cavanaugh imagined one of their priceless UUVs plowing into the bottom at ten-plus knots.
“Speed’s not dropping a whole lot. Sink rate is slowing…”
“Raise the nose ten degrees,” Jerry ordered.
Ford, making notes, announced, “That’s the trick! Look at the speed drop. And the descent rate is decreasing.” After a long pause, he reported, “Sink rate is zero.”
“That’s called a ‘flare,’” Mitchell explained. “Pull the nose up just a little, and the bottom of the plane — the vehicle — turns into one giant speed brake. The trick is going to be flaring close enough to the bottom to kill the sink rate, but leaving the UUVs at the right depth to drop the lead shot on the sensor.”
“A steeper up angle — a flare — would do that quicker,” Ford suggested hopefully.
“But we don’t want the UUV to rise,” Mitchell cautioned. “We want to slow the vehicle down just a bit as we’re approaching the sensor node. In aviation, they call that ‘dumping speed.’ But the borderline between losing a little speed and losing a lot is very fine.”
“We need to do some more tests,” Ford realized. “Maybe a lot more.”
Jerry reached for the intercom. “I’ll inform Control. You figure out exactly how much longer this is going to take, and then how to do it faster.”
“Some more time will be required.” Jerry passed on to control what had happened. He could hear the frustration in Weiss’s voice over the intercom. “But I concur. It has to be done. Besides, my sonar gang just came up with a way to solve the problem of the buoys not lining up with the Toledo gap.”
“Oh! Do tell, please,” Jerry asked.
“We mask the left hydrophone set on one module and the right hydrophone set on the other. If we cover the sides facing the gap, we should have about an eight-hundred-yard passage through both the minefield and the sensors.”
In the wardroom, dinner had turned into an extended planning session as they discussed the results of the “glide bombing” trials and worked out a detailed timeline for the complex attack. To Jerry, tracking and engaging a submarine in open water was simple, compared to the precise interlocking steps that would lead to the destruction of the Russian launch facility. Any one of them failing could throw the entire operation off the rails.
Where did Carter have to be when the UUVs started their run? How close should she actually get to the facility? The closer they were, the shorter the time lag between the UCC crew giving a command and the vehicle executing it. What should they do if Belgorod detected them during the approach and reacted aggressively? She had a decent sonar suite, and torpedoes.
One interesting fact came from the sonar officer, LTJG DiMauro. “I’ve had my operators listening to the noise coming from the construction site, to see if they can determine exactly what’s going on. There’s a lot of clanking as metal bangs up against metal, and they are sure they’ve heard pounding, as if a stubborn piece is being shifted into place. That won’t help us, but we’ve found a pattern,” he announced proudly.
By now, most of the sub’s chief petty officers were also present, and the remains of dinner cleared away. He paused dramatically, enjoying the moment, but didn’t push his luck.
“It appears that every eight hours, the transients stop and the broadband noise levels go way down for about fifteen to twenty minutes. It’s been very regular.”
“A shift change for the divers,” Weiss concluded.
Jerry nodded agreement, along with many others.
“It makes sense. They will have as many divers down there as possible to speed the work. At that depth, they have to be in atmospheric diving suits with long air hoses, so they can’t send the next batch down until the other set comes up.”
Weiss smiled. “It’s pitch black down there except for any lights they’ve set up, which will be concentrated wherever they’re working. I’d been wondering about the chance of a diver spotting Walter or José, even if the UUVs are dark-colored. When is the next shift change?”
“There should be one at midnight, 0000 hours, give or take a few minutes,” the sonar officer answered.
“Then that’s where we’ll anchor our timeline. We want the UUVs in position to start surveying a little before then, and as soon as the transients stop, we send them in, followed by torpedoes soon after.”
It had already been a long day. The UUV operators had been constantly busy, and the rest of the crew had been operating at modified general quarters for over twelve hours. Cavanaugh had done nothing more than listen and watch, and he felt worn out.
But he could feel the energy in the room as Weiss gave orders for the final preparations. They’d have to move quickly to take advantage of the window, but there was enough time. And time was against them. Not only did they not know when the Russians would finish their work, but as long as they stayed in Russian waters and close to the island, there was the constant risk of being detected. Better to be done and gone.
USS Jimmy Carter was at general quarters, two nautical miles away from the Toledo gap, pointed south. Six of her tubes were loaded with the modified torpedoes, the other two held standard warshots… just in case. The UCC crew had launched the now fully charged and heavily loaded José and Walter, one right after the other. Both UUVs were now climbing to carefully calculated locations, defined not just in range and bearing, but depth as well. Once they were in position, Carter would slowly accelerate to creep speed, just three knots, and head straight for the center of the passage.
As before, Jerry was in UCC, along with Cavanaugh. If the engineer needed to change the preplanned survey, the commodore wanted the army engineer to be right there.
“In position,” Ford reported to Mitchell. The two UUVs were as stationary as their weight allowed, holding just fifty feet above the bottom and three hundred yards out. Tests had shown that they’d have to start “flaring” at twenty-five feet above the seabed, and would slow to two or three knots as they passed over the hydrophones in a gentle glide. Ford looked over at Jerry, who nodded and gave him thumbs up.
“Commence the UUV run,” Weiss ordered over the circuit.
Lieutenant Ford ordered, “Half speed to the motor.”
“Five knots at level pitch,” Lawson reported a moment later.
The glide bombing approach itself started with a dogleg maneuver. First they had to locate the cable, then start running along it until the imaging sonar saw the hydrophones. Then they’d start the dive. The UUVs detected the cable as expected, and Jerry issued the command to secure the propulsion motors and begin the turn. Watching the nav plot on the display carefully, Jerry waited, counting quietly to himself, then said, “Five degrees down bubble, mark!”
They felt a slight vibration in the deck as Carter’s propulsor pushed her forward.
“José’s at four point five knots,” Lawson reported. Ford followed with Walter’s speed. They were nearing the point where they’d have to pull up into the flare maneuver.
“Conn, Sonar. New contact, Sierra one six, bearing zero one seven, drawing left rapidly!”
What? Jerry pulled up the sonar display, saw a faint, but sharply canted line on the screen, then hit the intercom switch. “Sonar, UCC, what do you hold on Sierra one six?”
“UCC, Sonar. Broadband mostly, very faint narrowband tonals, contact is close aboard!”
Jerry pressed the button for the control room, “Control, UCC, recommend—”
Weiss’s voice cut him off. “UCC, Control, abort, abort! Dump ballast, go to creep speed. Turn both UUVs north, straight away from the barrier!”
The UUV operators got very busy as they abandoned the gliding approach and turned the vehicles sharply northward. They used the built-up speed to get them close to the bottom fast and away from the line of passive acoustic sensors. Cavanaugh saw Jerry’s expression go from alarm to satisfaction. The deck titled slightly as the sub turned to port.
“UCC, Control, changing course to zero eight zero, three knots. Compute UUV course to rendezvous and follow in trail. Setting ultra quiet throughout the boat.”
After that, the intercom was silent, and a hush filled UCC, just a few spoken reports, quietly acknowledged.
After a full minute, everyone seemed to relax, but everyone’s attention remained fixed on the displays.
Jerry had a small, grim smile, and Cavanaugh asked, “That new contact, behind us. Another submarine?”
“Yes,” Jerry nodded, “and it was frickin’ close.”
“How could you tell?”
“Because he popped up suddenly, and the bearing rate — how fast it was changing — was high. A high bearing rate means either the contact’s going fast, or he’s damn close. Since we didn’t hear him a long time ago, that means he’s going slow, ergo very close. And I have a sneaking suspicion I know which boat it is, too.” Jerry then nodded toward the intercom.
“Captain Weiss did exactly the right thing, stopping the approach and heading us away, to the east, since the other sub is probably going west. We’ll get some distance, recover the UUVs, figure out who just crashed our party and plan our next move.”
Cavanaugh felt let down. He’d managed to prepare himself for the attack, and didn’t know what to feel right now. “We aren’t aborting the mission, are we?”
“No, not at all,” Jerry replied confidently, “but things just got more complicated.”