Blackmail

28 USS MICHIGAN

Lieutenant Jayne Stucker turned slowly on the periscope as the guided missile submarine cruised just beneath the surface of the Mediterranean Sea. It was late afternoon and her watch as Officer of the Deck was drawing to a close. Stucker couldn’t have been more thankful, after going round and round on the periscope for almost six hours straight, aside from an occasional break by a fire control technician.

After departing the vicinity of Latakia the previous night, Michigan had taken station in the Eastern Mediterranean in the gap between Syria and Cyprus, awaiting further orders. Those orders arrived this morning, and Michigan had crept closer to Latakia, where they would await the departure of the Russian warships, then shadow them as they rejoined the Russian combatants at sea.

When Stucker shifted to a high-power scan of the quadrant in Latakia’s direction, a new object appeared on the horizon — the distinctive superstructure of a modern warship: gray steel bedecked with a plethora of navigation and tactical radar antennas. The entire ship wasn’t yet visible, as it was still hull-down, the hull of the ship blocked from view due to the curvature of the earth, but there was no doubt as to the contact type.

Stucker called out to the microphone in the overhead as she circled on the periscope. “Sonar, Conn. Hold a new contact, designated Victor five-seven, classified warship, outbound from Latakia on a bearing of zero-four-five. Report any contact on that bearing.”

“Conn, Sonar. Aye, wait,” was the response from the Sonar Supervisor. Not long thereafter, he reported, “Conn, Sonar. Hold a new contact, designated Sierra three-two, bearing zero-four-five, classified warship with twin four-bladed screws.”

“Conn, Sonar. Aye,” Stucker replied. “All stations, Conn. Correlate Victor five-seven and Sierra three-two as Master one. Track Master one.”

With her eye still to the periscope, Stucker pressed the button on the communication panel for the Captain’s stateroom and retrieved the microphone, then informed Michigan’s Commanding Officer of the new contact. Wilson entered the Control Room a moment later, his arrival announced by the Quartermaster: “Captain in Control.”

Wilson stepped onto the Conn. “Let me take a look.”

Stucker swiveled the periscope to a bearing of zero-four-five, then stepped back as Wilson placed his face against the eyepiece. After examining Master one, he handed the periscope back to Stucker, who continued her circular sweeps.

“Take an observation of Master one,” Wilson ordered.

Stucker repeated back the order, then hesitated. Determining a contact’s bearing was easy, but range was another matter. To determine the range, she needed to know the contact’s masthead height. To determine that, she needed to classify the contact. Submarine officers memorized surface ship silhouettes — their superstructure design, antenna placement, and weapon launcher arrangement — but it was sometimes difficult to distinguish between the various classes. Sonar would often help, classifying surface ships based on their screw configuration, but the Russian ubiquitous twin four-bladed screws on this contact provided little insight. Wilson had most likely classified the Russian warship during his brief look, but Stucker wasn’t sure.

Her hesitation conveyed her uncertainty, and Wilson gave her a clue. “If I told you Master one carries eight Sunburn missiles and two Shtil missile systems, what ship class would you be looking at?”

Stucker stopped on the contact during her next revolution, shifted to high power, and activated the doubler. Based on the ship configuration and armed with Wilson’s critical data, she now knew what she was looking at.

“It’s a Sovremenny class destroyer.”

“Correct,” Wilson replied.

Stucker called out, “Prepare for observation, Master one, Number Two scope. Use a masthead height of one-two-zero feet.”

The Fire Control Technician of the Watch (FTOW), seated at one of the combat control consoles, reconfigured his displays, then replied, “Ready.”

Stucker tweaked the periscope to the left, centering the crosshairs on the target, then pressed the red button on the periscope handle, sending the bearing to combat control. “Bearing, mark.”

“Bearing zero-four-five,” the FTOW called out as an image of the contact appeared on his console. Using the dual trackballs, he outlined the length and height of the contact, then reported, “Range, one-two-thousand yards.”

Stucker called out, “Angle on the bow, starboard thirty.”

The FTOW called out, “Matches,” indicating Stucker’s estimate of the contact’s course matched what fire control had calculated. They now knew its range and course, and with another observation in a few minutes, they’d nail down the contact’s speed.

Wilson settled into the Captain’s chair on the Conn, and as Stucker waited a few minutes for another observation of Master one, another gray superstructure appeared on the horizon, and a moment later a third. As Wilson monitored the situation on the Perivis display, it didn’t take long to conclude what was occurring. The Russian warships were sortieing from Latakia. However, they were headed in an unexpected direction.

Captain Wilson had positioned USS Michigan west of Latakia, planning to fall in behind the departing Russian warships as they headed northwest, around Cyprus, rejoining the rest of the Russian Northern Fleet as it headed toward the Black Sea. Instead, they were headed southwest.

Turning to Stucker, Wilson ordered, “Station the Fire Control Tracking Party. Rig ship for Ultra-Quiet.”

Stucker relayed the orders to the Chief of the Watch, and the announcements went over the shipwide 1-MC announcing system. Personnel streamed into the Control Room, and several minutes later, every console was manned and a new Officer of the Deck, Lieutenant Charlie Eaton — the ship’s Navigator and the Battle Stations Torpedo Officer of the Deck — was on the Conn.

“I am ready to relieve you,” Eaton announced.

As the two officers completed their relief, Stucker’s thoughts went to the Russian warships headed southwest. Where the heck are they going?