by Stephen Makk
Orlov had heard of them, apparently, they were very quiet.
“Good sonar, you may be right. Can you track it?”
“I don’t know sir, it’s hard to hear it.”
“Sir. We haven’t seen one before,” said the Executive Officer, Senior Lieutenant Radyuhin.
“We have a fantastic opportunity to gather information on one.”
“I agree Radyuhin, but there’s an engagement going on.”
Radyuhin pressed him. “But Sir, we can be the first to evaluate one up close. The Naval command will think highly of our work. If the enemy is pushing north into the Black Sea, then it’ll still be here when we’re done with the enemy’s new toy. We’ll be highly thought of if Leopard is the one that’s the first to track this new drive of his.”
Orlov knew the XO was right. The intelligence would be useful, and to be the first to get it; well, there would be status in that. But the enemy was here, in their sea.
“It’s here, Sir. Now, it’s out there, it’s our chance,” said Radyuhin.
Orlov knew there was status in what he said. It would also be useful to see just how good the new upgraded Mk 540 sonar was.
It was a tough choice.
“Sir, if we can track him, we must.” Orlov relented.
The chance of tracking one was too good to turn down. He nodded to Senior Lieutenant Radyuhin. The Executive Officer smiled.
“Come about, to the northeast. When you’re on track, switch off the drive and coast the boat,” said Orlov. “We’ll see if we can track it.”
If it was a pump jet, what the hell was a Virginia class doing up here? Orlov frowned and gripped the periscope handles. An American boat up here, when the Fleet action was to the south? The boat came about and slowed to a coast. It took him a couple of minutes or so.
“I think I have it. It’s like a hose watering a garden, but very quiet, very difficult to track. I can only hear him here and there sir.”
“Try your best, well done. Ask me for a coast if you want one. Forward three knots.” Nuclear heat powered the steam turbine and the gearbox drove a drive shaft. The multi bladed prop spun up. It more resembled nine or twelve Arab swords than a traditional propeller.
The Akula did what she did best: she hunted.
“KEEP EAST NOSEY, BUT try not to hit the bottom again please, this boat did cost a few dollars.”
“Sir, I’ll try not to, but this place has shifting sandbanks. He listened to the sea, the currents, it was like flying blind. Part information, knowledge of the sea and part guess, part instinct.
“Planes, come port two degrees.”
“Two aye, Nosey.” The boat moved away from the bar slightly.
“One starboard.”
“One, aye Nosey.”
Franks listened to the two men flying blind, he knew it was difficult. But they had to get north away from the Akula into the open sea.
“Sir, I think we have a tail,” said Nosey. “Lost it sir. I may have mistaken it. Come one degree starboard.”
“One starboard aye,” said the Planesman. USS NYC crept quietly forward.
“Request coast sir,” said Nosey.
“All stop,” said Franks.
Nosey listened. “Sir, I have a prop. Slow, slow. He’s in our baffles.”
Franks knew it was a gamble. Keep going and they’d soon be in the open sea. Stay and they were quiet, but the Akula would be on him. If that was what it was. Franks had to assume they were being tracked.
“Weaps, get a firing solution on him.”
“Sir, I have a solution. Tube one Mk 48. Designate target Tango one. Ready to flood tube, sir.”
“Hold for now, I don’t want the noise yet. If he cocks, I lock and load. Forward four knots.”
“Four knots, aye sir.”
Was that an enemy out there? He couldn’t risk flooding a tube. In there it was too noisy.
Shit, we’re half blind, facing a half-blind man, and both of us daren’t cock our weapons.
“One degree to port.”
“One port aye.”
Franks looked to Cortez and pursed his lips. This was blind man’s bluff, but this game was played with something a little more serious than a pistol. It was two of the world’s most lethal torpedoes: the Lockheed Martin Mk 48 CBASS vs the Ostekhbureau Type 53, which possessed a phased array active sonar for terminal guidance. Both were deadly, both quick.
If one struck its target, there was no coming back.
The USS NYC crept forward, every yard taking her closer to the open sea.
“SIR, I’M GETTING A better trace now. I’ve got a better pattern of his harmonics, the deep ones give the best trace. They’re just hard to get.”
“Keep on him, Sonar.” Orlov hadn’t really wanted to follow this Ghost of the Seas, but now he knew he had to.
“Sir, we’ve just picked up a scrape. Not much of one, but it was there.”
Leopard moved forward, her prop near silent. Did the Americans know they were being tracked?
Probably not.
Orlov knew that soon they’d be off the small town of Ll’ich at the head of the bar, after that it would be open sea. Orlov wondered what would he do if he was the American? Without knowing what they were up to, it was hard to know. But soon it would be the open sea. It seemed sensible that the Virginia class would come to port and get out into the Sea of Azov. He knew he could then be involved in a duel with this dangerous opponent.
It would be a gamble; the noise may give them away, but Orlov wasn’t going to give them a chance. Leopard had to be ready.
“Weapons Officer. Compute Type 53 firing solution on our contact.”
It took longer than normal.
“Sir, I have a calculation on him, it’s difficult due to his new drive. But we have a solution. Tube two is ready with Type 53.”
“Flood tube two.”
“Tube two flooding Sir.” A Type 53 with USS NYC’s name on it was ready. Six hundred and seventy eight pounds of high explosive was waiting, ready to pounce.
Chapter 5
NOSEY LOOKED UP.
“I have a new contact sir. Heading our way.”
Franks looked at him with a questioning stare.
“It’s loud and heading our way, surface contact, 16 knots.”
A warship? It was possible, and if there was a frigate up here it would no doubt be heading down to the conflict zone.
“Running it through the library, sir,” said Nathan.
The crew worked on the new contact. What about the Akula? What was it up to?
“Report Nosey.”
“Sir, surface contac.... sir. Wait one.” Nosey listened to the sea’s sounds.
“Tango one’s flooding tubes. She’s flooding a tube.”
“Weaps. Flood tube one. Open outer doors.” Franks knew there’d be little time.
“Surface contact still bearing down. I have...I have... sir, confirm surface contact. Library has her. She’s a goddamn civilian. It’s the Morskoy to Kerch ferry. Bearing three five five degrees.”
Damn, thought Franks, just what we need.
“Tube one flooded, outer doors open, fish ready in all respects,” said Nathan.
“Tango one’s opening her outer doors. She’s ready to fire. Ferry still bearing down on us.”
Franks knew it was time for a risk.
“Flood forward one and two. Open and trim all vents fore and aft. Make for depth. Planesman. Eight degrees to port all ahead full. Down bubble 15, make your depth 150 feet.” He was hoping that the confusion and noise of the ferry would throw off the Akula. USS NYC powered away at speed. She was heading under the ferry.
“Come on girl,” said Franks, “dive, dive and swim. You can do it.”
“SIR, THE VIRGINIA HAS gone port at speed. She’s heading under the ferry.”
“Chertovski ublydudok.” Fucking bastard.
“We’re losing lock with the Type 53. It’s the noise from the ferry, sir.”
Orlov knew if
they launched, the fish might choose the wrong target in the confusion. They couldn’t risk hitting the ferry.
“Can you track this American bastard?”
“Sir, it was difficult before. Now there’s little chance.”
Orlov had just lost the quarry. He turned to Radyuhin. “That’s it, we’ve got some data on him. It’s time to go south and join the Fleet.”
“Sir, we might still stay with him.”
“No, XO, we had our chance. Come to 200 degrees and head for the strait.”
Orlov hadn’t wanted to track this Sea Ghost anyway. It was now time to get at the foe. They’d got some information though. If they met again, Leopard would be ready.
IT WAS A FEW HOURS later. He’d got some sleep. Franks walked aft down the companionway, called at the galley and returned forward. He turned right into the room she’d been allocated. She slept on a lower port bunk; other than her, the room was empty. He shook her.
She awoke with a look of surprise but quickly realised where she was. He handed her the coffee.
“Good morning.”
She sipped the coffee. “Thanks.”
“We’re in the Sea of Azov now.”
Her eyes widened. “Are we underwater yet?”
“We have been for the last seven hours.” She seemed uncomfortable. “This is a submarine, it’s what we do, we sail underwater.”
“I know, I’ve not been on one before.” She looked at him wide eyed. “Did anything happen last night?”
“Not really. Nothing unusual. Just normal submarine stuff,” Franks lied.
“Yana. All I know about this mission is that you are to be put ashore in Eastern Ukraine. Some of that is obvious, but I’d like to know in more detail why? Why you?”
She sipped her coffee again and gathered her thoughts. “It’s necessary to contact the Ukrainian loyalists in the east. To contact their leadership. I’m trusted. They know me. The American broadcasts I’m in are smuggled into Eastern Ukraine. They know my position is very much pro-Ukrainian unity. They see me as a focus for resistance against the Russian encroachment. I didn’t seek this role, but it’s now mine. I’ll carry it out. To them I’m a symbol of free Ukraine.”
Franks knew she’d an old head on young shoulders. “Where do you want to go ashore? Apart from the coast.”
“I need to be close to Novoazovs’k, about ten kilometres west of the Russian border. I can get a lift up the road towards Donetsk.”
“Do you need to go ashore after dark?”
“Yes.”
“Then we’ll need to wait, we’ll be there by 13.00 hours. Get yourself up and wander where you wish. You’ve twelve hours before you go ashore.” He stood.
“Captain?”
“Yes.”
“There is something I’d like.” He waited.
“I was in a rush, there wasn’t much time. I know this will be a big favour, but the CIA approved it. It’s down to your judgement, Captain.” She looked him in the eyes with a fixed stare. “If I could, I’d like to borrow one of your crew. It would be a big help. I think I’ll be back in eighteen hours or so.”
“I wasn’t told this.”
“There was no time.”
“None of my crew speak Ukrainian. They have no papers or passes.”
She leaned out of her bunk and reached into her bag. Her tee-shirt only just covered her ample chest, Franks couldn’t help but notice.
“I brought this. It’s a camera and mini printer. I’ve a spare Ukraine passport.”
“To say you’d no time, you’re well equipped.”
“They were close at hand,” she lied.
“Will he need any special skills?”
“No. He’ll need to be calm, cool, quick thinking and good physically if the need arises.”
“You mean in a fight?”
“Yes, I don’t think that’ll happen but...”
“And you’ll need him for eighteen hours?”
She nodded.
Franks thought about it. It’d need to be an Officer. One who’d fit her description, about her age, who might pass as a boyfriend. The right temperament. Quick thinking, one who he could spare while they were lurking around waiting. Franks came to his decision.
“Ok, wait here. I’ll be back.” A few minutes later he returned to her room. She was in her underwear, pulling on her jeans. She was trim, yet curvy.
“Yana, this is Nathan, my Weapons Officer. He’ll go ashore with you. Make sure you bring him back. I’ll leave you to let him know what you’ll need him to do.”
“Thank you, Captain.”
He left.
Yana looked at him approvingly, he was young and strong looking. That he was good looking wasn’t needed, but she wasn’t complaining.
“Nathan. I’m Yana. Let me take your picture.” She took the picture and applied it to the passport with a sticky back revealed as she peeled the photo’s back away.
“We’ll need a name for you.” She stared into the distance. “Oleksiy Shwetz. Remember that. It’s an easy one.” She applied the name to the passport as best she could. “It’s not perfect but will do.” She handed it to him.
“What are we going to do? Who are we?” Nathan gave her a sly look over, she was young fair haired and had the attractive high cheekbones many Eastern European women did.
“You are an American of Ukraine descent, but don’t speak the language. I’ve lived in the USA and met you. You’re my boyfriend. It’s easier to travel here with a man. I’m here to meet some resistance people. There’ll be pro-Russian Ukrainians and we may come across some Russians also. If I need your help, I think you’ll know. We need to speak, I need to explain things.”
“Then let’s go to the galley Yana, get some food and talk. Come on,” he indicated the companionway, “go left.” He followed her.
This was a new one. He never imagined he’d be ashore in the Ukraine with an enigmatic girl like Yana, it would help that few men would kick her out of bed. This may not be a bad run ashore.
IT WAS A DARK, STARRY night. A large unusual visitor floating black on the gentle swell of the sea. A few scudding clouds crossed the crescent moon. Nathan and two seamen launched the inflatable boat. The engine started and it headed for shore. The boat pulled up against a pebbled beach.
“Here sir, hide the torch. Zero one hundred hours tonight, and every hour of darkness after that. We’ll be with you.”
“Thanks, Tamingly.”
The boat made its way back to the NYC.
“This is your patch Yana, you lead on.”
They walked into Novoazovs’k; there was no one about, just a few lights and windows with lights behind curtains. She turned into an alleyway just after a car dealership and Nathan hid the torch behind several paint cans. On the street behind was a dark coloured windowless van. When the driver called them, they trotted across, she spoke to the driver and they climbed in. The van pulled away and left town.
Nathan looked out at a few houses and small industrial sheds. The roadside became mainly forest. After three miles or so, they were waved down by a torch. The three men occupied what looked like a roadblock. One of them asked something, or so it seemed to Nathan, in Ukrainian or Russian. He couldn’t speak either. Yana answered, and they left the van. To the right was a rough forest road.
She spoke with the men in what sounded like Russian, for several minutes. One of them, who was wearing a wool hat, started pushing her companion the driver and aggressively shouted something, which the driver responded to. Two men pulled Yana off down the forest road. “Let her go!” Nathan shouted.
The driver shouted back in Russian and set off after her. One of the men pulled a pistol and shot him twice in the chest and the driver fell, rolled and became still. The man with the gun aimed it at Nathan. Yana pushed him as he fired, and his aim was wide. Nathan ran off into the forest, his breathing ragged, adrenaline pumping. He’d never been shot at before. Finally, he turned and saw Yana being dragged down the rough road. Shi
t, what a goddamn balls up. It must be the Russians; they must have been suspicious. She’d be interrogated or worse. He made his way after her down the rough road, and within a mile there it was; a large cabin, two really, connected together. There were lights on. That was it, that’s where she’d be.
Damn it. He’d been sent here to escort and help her, and she’d been captured after a few miles. He didn’t know how, but he’d have to try to get her out.
“Nathan, you’re one mother of an idiot.”
“YOU’RE LUCKY GOREVOY is nearby, he’s on his way, Ukrainian bitch. Then we’ll find out what you’re up to.”
She was tied to a chair. He slapped her again.
“Gryaznaya Ukranovskaya suka.” Dirty Ukrainian bitch.
She was slapped and questioned repeatedly. Fifteen minutes later, there came the sound of a car drawing up outside. A man walked into the cabin; he stood flanked by two men. His expression was stern.
“What are you here for, suka?”
“I’m here to speak to a man of importance.”
“And who might that be?”
“Ustyugov.”
The man laughed. “He doesn’t talk to shit like you. What are you here for?”
“To talk to Usty....” Gorevoy slapped her again. It went on for ten minutes.
“Tell me what you’re here for, suka.”
“To talk to Usty...” He slapped her, then pulled up her shirt and ripped off her bra.
“Tell me or I let them play with you.”
She sat there sullen and ignored him.
“I’ve seen you on American TV. You’re a fucking traitor. You hate us. You hate Mother Russia.” Gorevoy looked to the two men. “Play with them.”
The two men rubbed her boobs and then sucked them. She pulled a sour face.
“That’s enough now.”
They stood away from her.
“Tell me or next time I’ll let them play with that thing.” He pointed between her legs.
“I want to speak with Ust...”
The man sighed. “Pull her jeans off.” They undid the button and started to pull them down. They were soon off, and her panties were next, they were tossed onto her jeans.
