Seawolf Class

23

"Bridge, Sonar."

"Sonar, Bridge." What other good news was there? Garrett wondered. "Go ahead."

"Two more torpedoes in the water. Set-53. Bearing zero-five-zero, range ten thousand! Intercept course at forty-five knots!"

"Acknowledged."

"It's Master Four-two, sir! Looks like he made it through the channel and is swinging around from the northeast!"

Two enemy subs and two sets of torpedoes, inbound toward the Seawolf. And a destroyer halfway between the two, inbound and loaded for bear.

It was really time to go. "Deck there! How much longer?"

"Another couple of minutes! We're bringing the last casualty across now!"

They'd rigged lines between the two vessels and were swaying a Stokes across the gap between them. Several SEALs and Chinese commandos were dragging two still shapes in dark green body bags across the trawler's aft deck as well.

"We don't have two minutes, COB! Speed it up!

Clear the deck!"

"Aye aye, sir!"

Garrett turned to Caswell, the young rating who'd accompanied him to the bridge as lookout. "Clear the bridge, son. Get below."

"Aye aye, sir!"

"Bridge, Radar!"

"Go ahead."

"Master four-six has increased to thirty knots. And… we have multiple air targets, now. Bearing two-zero-zero, incoming at three hundred knots."

Those last might be fast ASW helos or slow-moving jets — fighter bombers. This was getting damned bad, damned fast.

"Conn, Bridge! This is the captain."

"Bridge, Conn, aye." It was Tollini's voice.

"Stand by to pull the plug. When I give the word, go deep enough to polish her belly. Flank speed, dead ahead."

"Aye aye, sir!"

"Weapons Systems!"

"Weapons Systems, aye," Ward replied. "Match radar bearings and shoot, Tube Six, Master Four-six."

Tube Six's warshot was a harpoon missile, Garrett's best option right now for a surface target. It was a lot faster than a torpedo, which would give the oncoming Luda less time to try to evade it or shoot it down.

"Match radar bearings and shoot, Tube Six, Master Four-six, aye aye, sir." There was a pause. "Tube Six fired electrically, sir."

"Very well. Match sonar bearings and shoot, Tube Three, snapshot on Master Four-two!" The Kilo was much closer than the Akula, only five nautical miles off; the torpedoes she'd just loosed had a running time of just over six minutes.

That was a bit too close for comfort.

"Match sonar bearings and shoot, Tube Three, snapshot on Master Four-two, aye aye. Tube Three fired electrically. Sonar reports torpedo running straight, hot, and normal, sir."

Well off Seawolf's port bow, the water foamed and boiled suddenly. The harpoon canister, floating to the surface at a forty-five-degree angle, carried the missile out of the water, then jettisoned its nose cap and aft section. The harpoon's booster engine ignited, and the missile streaked from the water, angling toward the east.

Flight time to the destroyer was only two minutes. Following its track as it skimmed low across the waves, Garrett watched it near its target, watched fountains of water kicked high all around it as the destroyer opened up with every 25- and 57mm AA weapon that could bear.

Apparently, though, the Luda had nothing like the American CIWS, and the missile kept going. At the last moment it angled up, rising sharply, a pop-up maneuver to bring it down on the target's lightly armored upper deck from above.

The quarter-ton high explosive warhead detonated with a towering pillar of white smoke, stopping the Luda dead in her wake. Seconds later another explosion went off… and then a third.

"Bridge, Sonar! Explosion and secondaries, Master Four-six! We're getting breakup noises. Master Four-six is a dead-un, Skipper!"

"Got it, Sonar." Garrett could see the destroyer beginning to develop a heavy list and going down by the bow. Fires raged on the deck around the ship's forward twin 130mm gun mount and just below the bridge.

Things were happening rapidly now. One of the air contacts resolved itself into a Jian 7, the Chinese naval version of the venerable MiG 21, thundering in low from the northwest. Yolander triggered his Stinger, sending a missile streaking up toward the interceptor, which banked sharply, scattering flares.

This time the decoy worked and the Stinger missed, but the MiG circled well clear toward the north, cautious now.

More minutes passed, as the last of the wounded commandos, strapped tightly into his Stokes, was lowered feet first through the narrow aft hatch. The last couple of SEALs leaped the gap between the trawler and the Seawolf, landing on the broad, sloping deck and scrambling up with the help of outstretched hands from the waiting Seawolf sailors.

"Cast off the line!" COB shouted. "Cast off! Clear away!"

The Seawolf's end of the line was tossed overboard; there was no time to secure it. Dougherty and Yolander tossed their empty Stinger launchers over the side rather than try to manhandle them down the narrow hatch. Dougherty waved the last of the SEALs and the deck party below. "Come on!" he shouted. "Come on! What do you guys want, a guided tour of Beijing? Move it!"

The last of the sailors vanished down the hatch. Dougherty waved at Garrett. "Deck clear, deck party secured and below!"

"Maneuvering, Bridge. Flank speed, full ahead!"

"Bridge, Maneuvering. Flank ahead, aye!"

"Dive! Dive! Take us down!"

Garrett was already dropping down into the conning tower hatch and slamming the hatch tight above him. Dogging the hatch, he hurried down the rest of the ladder, dropping into the control room.

He checked the clock. "Sonar! Range to nearest torpedoes."

"Two torpedoes closing from zero-five-zero, range two thousand. They have acquired. The Kilo cut them loose a moment ago."

He'd cut it a bit closer than he'd hoped.

"Conn, Sonar. Unit Three, our snapshot, has acquired the target."

"Captain," Ward said. "The snapshot might have scared them off, made them change course."

"Maybe," he said, nodding. It didn't matter now. Seawolf had her own problems. "Helm, come left forty degrees."

"Come left, forty degrees, aye, sir."

That would put the incoming torpedoes squarely astern. Seawolf had a top speed nearly equal to that of the Set-53 torpedoes. If she could stay ahead of them for thirty miles or so, they would run out of fuel before they could close the gap.

But Seawolf had to reach her top speed first, and you didn't accelerate a ten-thousand-ton submarine from zero to forty-five in less than several minutes.

"Helm. What's our speed?"

"Passing ten knots, sir."

"Sonar! Range to nearest torpedoes?"

"Range fourteen hundred and closing."

"Sonar. Give me a count on the range."

"Aye aye, sir. Torpedoes now at twelve hundred yards, closing. Eleven hundred yards… one thousand yards… "

"Speed twenty knots, Captain."

"Very well."

"Range to torpedoes nine hundred yards. Eight hundred… " There was a much longer pause. "Seven hundred." Then, "Six hundred fifty."

"Speed thirty knots."

Seawolf was moving faster now, racing through the ocean depths, open sea ahead.

"Conn, Sonar! I have an explosion on a bearing matching Master Four-two! We hit him, sir!"

This time there was a cheer from the men in the control room.

"As you were, people." It wasn't time for celebrations yet.

"I'm getting breakup noises from Master Four-two. He's on the bottom. Master Four-six is sinking as well."

"Range to nearest torpedoes."

"Five hundred fifty yards."

"What about Master Four-five?"

"The Akula is still closing at forty knots, sir. Range twenty-five thousand yards. His fish are at fifteen thousand yards, closing slowly."

A pair of black-clad, dripping forms entered the control room from the aft doorway. "Permission to come aboard, Captain."

Garrett looked at the SEAL with surprise. His face was black with grease paint, but he recognized the voice. "You! Commander…Morton, isn't it?"

"Son of a bitch! Captain Garrett!" He looked at his companion. "Jammer, that's the second time this guy has pulled me out of the drink!"

"Permission to come aboard granted." Garrett grinned. "But let's not make a habit of this, okay?"

"I'd rather not, Captain, if it's all the same to you."

"Range to nearest torpedoes."

"Conn, Sonar. Range now four hundred yards."

"Helm? Speed?"

"Speed now forty knots."

The torpedoes were closing now at a rate of five knots. They would close the gap in another three minutes.

He kept watching the clock. The two SEAL officers stood death-silent, aware now of the danger stalking them all, yard by yard, from astern.

"Two hundred yards."

And then, "One hundred yards."

"Weapons systems! Release countermeasures!"

"Countermeasures away!"

"Helm, come right one hundred degrees!"

"Helm right one hundred degrees, aye!"

At this speed, the deck tilted sharply as the Seawolf leaned into the turn. At forty knots, they were effectively dogfighting with those torps.

"Torpedoes bearing straight!" Toynbee's voice called. "We suckered 'em!"

"They still might reacquire." The torpedoes had picked up the sound makers released by the Seawolf and failed to match her hard-right turn. Once they'd punched past the decoys, however, they would begin circling, following an automatic program to search for another target.

And Seawolf was the only target within range.

More minutes dragged past, as Seawolf raced toward the northwest. After putting a fair distance between her screw and the torpedoes she changed course again, heading south once more.

Sonar reported that both torpedoes were pinging, searching with their active sonar, but the signals were weak, too weak, perhaps, to pick up the Seawolf. After five minutes one torpedo reacquired the American submarine, but by then the Seawolf had opened up the range again, and the torpedo fell far astern.

The warshots from the Akula had long since been lost.

And the Seawolf reached the open sea.

"Captain! An urgent message, in from Fleet Headquarters."

Shangxiao Hsing accepted the message flimsy and read it, scowling. He was being ordered to break off the attack. There was a more important target approaching.

Perhaps it was just as well. The American Seawolf had eluded his carefully prepared box trap and managed to sink two Kilos and a destroyer directly, as well as being responsible for severe damage to a third Kilo. He had one Kilo left in his small wolf pack, the Heilong — the Black Dragon. With the American out of the box, the odds were not as good as Sinbad would have liked.

And the battle elsewhere was not going well. Minutes ago an American Los Angeles-class submarine had sunk the Kilo-class Nan Yu north of Taiwan. Two more, the Kilo-class Jade Dragon — the Yulong — and a PLA Romeo submarine, had been spotted by Taiwanese antisubmarine forces west of Taiwan and sunk from the air. And one, the Tai Feng, had been damaged in her encounter with the Seawolf in Hong Kong harbor and returned to port at Guangzhou.

Of the original ten Kilos purchased from the Russians, only three were left, and they all were scattered to the south. Four attack submarines — even if one was a nuclear-powered Akula — would not be sufficient to close the Strait of Formosa.

And yet, the day might yet be won, despite the black defeat of China's new submarine arm.

An American carrier! The message reported that an American carrier battle group, built around the supercarrier Stennis, was now approaching the southern tip of Taiwan. Hsing knew if he moved quickly, he could be in position to hit the carrier from ambush.

And there would be another encounter with the Sea-wolf. He was certain of that.

"Raise the captain of the Heilong on the radio," he said. "We have new orders."

"So, Skipper… why are we back here?" Ward asked.

"I think he just likes the deep water," Dougherty suggested.

Garrett smiled as he took a sip of coffee from his mug… the big, white one with the word captain above the name USS SEAWOLF across one side. "It is kind of nicer to have some water beneath our keel," he admitted. "But we're hunting for that Akula."

"The Akula?" Simms said, puzzled. "What makes you think he's on this side of the strait?"

"Because the Stennis battle group is coming through here pretty quick now. If you were skipper of an Akula, and you had a choice between an American sub and an aircraft carrier, which would you take?"

"Tough to say, really," Dougherty replied. "I mean, both a Seawolf and a supercarrier are pretty high-value targets."

"True. But the Akula skipper was running a wolf pack of at least four Kilos. He lost all four going after us. He might decide that a carrier is an easier target. And… it's a target with a much higher profile. Beijing is bound to figure that a CBG can do them more damage than one submarine, and pictures of the Stennis burning on CNN would be such a powerful moral boost to them, and such a blow to U.S. prestige. I know which one I'd choose."

"Conn, Sonar! Multiple targets, bearing one-zero-zero. I've got them in a convection zone… range about fifty miles."

"That, gentlemen, is our cue. If we can hear the Stennis, so can the enemy. Battle stations torpedo."

"Multiple targets, Captain," the chief sonar officer reported. "We have identified two frigates…an oiler…and… "

"Yes?"

"An aircraft carrier, sir! We have them!"

Hsing nodded. "There will be at least one, perhaps two Los Angeles-class submarines in advance of the squadron. We will let them pass, then move in concealed by their wakes. Our target is the carrier."

"A missile attack?" the weapons officer wanted to know.

"No. The American carrier possesses high-speed cannon as a defense against sea-skimming missiles. We will take her with torpedoes."

"Yes, sir."

"Do you wish to pass orders to the Heilong, Captain?"

He considered this. "No. We will do nothing to give away our presence. The Heilong will choose her own attack plan. Executive officer! You may sound battle stations."

Silently, the Great Wall crept into position.

"Conn, Sonar. I have an explosion, bearing two-seven-three, extreme range. Sounds like a torpedo detonation, sir."

"The carrier?"

"Negative, sir., I have the Stennis at twenty thousand yards, dead ahead. This is out in front of the CBG someplace."

Garrett nodded. "The battle group's sub escort," he said. "They've run into something."

"Maybe we won't get to play, you think, Skipper?" Dougherty said.

"Somehow, I don't think that Akula skipper is the type to charge a CBG head-on. My guess is that he's lying back in deep water, just like us, hoping to sneak in on the carrier's wake. If we—"

"Conn! Sonar!"

"Talk to me."

"I have torpedo tube doors opening, sir! Bearing two-five-nine. Range uncertain, but he's damned close!"

"Weapons! Give me a TMA on that target!"

"I need time for the TMA, sir. We don't have the range yet…."

"This is no time to polish the cannonball, dammit!" The expression was an old submariner's term, meaning to so work and rework a Time Motion Analysis that the shot was ruined. "Sonar! Go active! Nail that bastard!"

It was more important now that Seawolf know exactly where her adversary was than that she stay invisible. Seawolf's bow sonar, the most powerful in the world, sent out a high-pitched, ringing ping.

"Conn, Sonar! Range to Master Four-five is twenty-three hundred yards! Sir! He's fired! One torpedo in the water!"

"Weapons Systems! Match sonar bearings and shoot, Tubes One and Two, Master Four-five!"

"Firing Tubes One and Two," Ward said calmly. "Match sonar bearings and shoot, target Master Four-five, aye aye."

"A second torpedo in the water! Make that three… four… "

"Tubes One and Two fired electrically," Ward announced.

"What is the enemy's range to the Stennis?"

"Thirty thousand yards, sir. Running time eighteen minutes."

"Okay. We have time. Weapons, match sonar bearings and shoot, Tubes Three and Four, Master Four-five."

"Match sonar bearings and shoot, Tubes Three and Four, Master Four-five, aye. Tubes Three and Four fired electrically."

"Offset unit three thirty degrees left. Offset unit four thirty degrees right." He wanted a spread that would come down on the enemy boat like a charging stampede.

"Units one and two have acquired the target, Captain," Sonar reported. "Units three and four have acquired."

"Cut the wires and close the outer doors. Reload Tubes One, Two, Three, and Four. Helm! Come left ninety degrees. Maneuvering, make turns for forty knots!"

For a long thirty seconds nothing happened. Running time from Seawolf to the Akula was a minute and a half. It would be close….

The sound of the enemy's active sonar pulse had rung through the Great Wall's hull like the clanging of a gong. "Enemy submarine!" the sonar officer cried. "Close to starboard! Range twenty-two hundred meters!"

Hsing Ma caught his lower lip between his teeth, his fast-dwindling store of options an agony of failing hope. He had four torpedoes running, targeting the American carrier, but it would be long minutes yet before they could acquire the target for themselves. If he changed course to avoid or attack the American, he would break the wires directing them.

"Four enemy torpedoes in the water to starboard!" the sonar officer called. "They are going active. They have a target lock… on us!"

There was no way around it. If the Great Wall was to have even the faintest hope of surviving this, Hsing had to jettison his own torpedoes.

"Cut the wires on all torpedoes!" he snapped. "Helm, come hard right, ninety degrees! Torpedo Room! Close outer doors on One through Four. Open outer doors on Tubes Five and Six and make ready to fire!"

Seconds counted now. If he could turn into the enemy's oncoming spread of torpedoes, perhaps he could get inside their arming radius… or sucker them with decoys. Perhaps… perhaps… perhaps…

The deck tilted sharply, and Hsing grabbed hold of the railing encircling the periscope station to remain upright. "Enemy torpedoes… range four hundred and closing!"

"Release countermeasures!"

"Countermeasures released."

"Enemy torpedoes closing, range six hundred… five hundred… "

Hsing thought of Ma Sanbao, the original Sinbad the Sailor. What had ever happened to him? The dynastic histories had no record of him after 1433 and the sudden, inward turning of the Ming Empire. Presumably he'd died or been murdered by his enemies, and yet there were persistent, half-mythical rumors that he'd made an eighth voyage, a voyage toward the east and the rising sun, to unknown lands beyond the Great Sea.

The destiny of nations, of whole peoples and civilizations, turned at times on such tiny details. The ancient Sanbao had come so close to reversing the tides of history; the China of the Mings might have discovered Europe and constructed a bridge to a future where the Middle Kingdom dominated its enemies and ruled in peace and harmony.

And the fortunes of the People's Republic might well ride upon the fate of a single submarine and the skill of her captain.

"Range two hundred… one hundred… "

And her captain's luck. Hsing Ma closed his eyes and prayed….

"Master Four-five has cut his wires!" Toynbee yelled. "His torpedoes are running free!"

Garrett closed his eyes. He was not a particularly religious man, and he doubted that God chose favorites in the squabbles among the tribes of humankind, but sometimes things came down to the point where prayer was the only available option. By forcing the enemy to cut his torpedo wires, Seawolf had just saved the Stennis, at least for the moment. If the Akula could avoid Seawolf's attack, however, the outcome of the ensuing, deadly duel would be anyone's guess. Seawolf had been created to counter Akula and her kind and had the tactical advantage, but the two were the most silent, most deadly hunter-killers of the world ocean. The ultrasilent Akula, the so-called Walker-class boat, could so easily vanish into silence and in her turn close on Sea-wolf for a final kill.

"Conn! Sonar! Change in target aspect! He's turning… releasing countermeasures…."

Garrett nodded. The enemy skipper was doing what he would have done… dogfighting his boat, trying to outmaneuver the torpedoes. He might be turning away, hoping to mask his retreat behind his decoy array… or he might be turning toward Seawolf's torpedoes in an attempt to get inside their arming range.

By offsetting the attack angles on two of his fish, Garrett had countered both possible maneuvers as best as he could, giving them the optimum chance of acquiring their target, no matter which way it turned.

A dull rumble sounded through the Seawolf.

"Conn! Sonar! We have an underwater explosion! Unit one hit Master Four-five!"

A second later another explosion sounded, followed moments later by a third.

Even without the help of sonar, the rumbling detonations were clearly audible in the control room. Moments later they could hear a deep, groaning, creaking noise… the mournful cry of a vessel's spine snapping, the death song of the other boat.

"Conn, Sonar! We got him!"

"What about his torpedoes?"

"None have acquired their target, sir. They're starting to circle."

But Seawolf was already sprinting away, moving at twenty knots… at thirty… at forty… and the fast-moving enemy torpedoes would have to circle far around before they had a chance of acquiring the American submarine.

Ahead, the Stennis battle group sailed on into the night, most of the six thousand men and women aboard her completely unaware of the drama that had unfolded astern.

And in Seawolf's control room, Commander Tom Garrett joined his crew in a wild and lusty cheer.

Inwardly, though, the sudden release of the building stress had left him feeling weak… almost depressed. He wondered about the enemy submarine's commander, about who he was, about what he'd been thinking. He'd come so close to scoring a kill on the Stennis. But for Seawolf's intervention…

Still, for all the complex technology of modern weapons, weapons platforms, sensors, and computers, combat was yet decided by luck and by the people who manned them. Battles — and the subsequent fates of nations and rival peoples — were not determined by robots. Not yet.

Garrett was fiercely proud of the Seawolves, the men under his command.