by Larry Bond
“I don’t think that’s going to work,” Hardy countered. “They’re relying on active sonar, and sounding like a 688 won’t really distract them until you’re very close, possibly too close to evade if your battery’s that low.”
Two spikes on the Manta’s passive sonar display meant “All clear” from Reynolds. Jerry looked at the video display to see the two divers wrestling the crated warhead into a cavity in the hangar. They looked to be clear of the Manta by several feet, and he carefully applied just enough speed to get the vehicle moving.
At a walk, he saw the Manta slide across the video screen and away from Memphis’ hull and the two men working on it. Once he was clear, he headed south-southeast, directly toward the two Russian patrol ships.
“Conn, U-bay. Divers have unloaded the last warhead crate, and I’m free to maneuver. Coming to course two three zero.”
As he maneuvered the Manta, he continued his discussion with Hardy. “Sir, what if I drop a decoy in their path? It will get their attention and draw them away from us.”
The Manta carried three ADC Mark 3 torpedo countermeasures and three larger ADC Mark 4s. The Mark 4 was designed to jam both active and passive sonars by generating a lot of noise and by providing a hard echo for a searcher’s ping. They weren’t the most sophisticated devices. For instance, they didn’t move, and they didn’t sound like a submarine, but it would take the searching ships a little time to figure that out.
Hardy paused only a moment before answering. “All right, but not directly in front. I’ll steer you to a spot along their path—and within their sonar range—but I want you to pull them closer inshore. We’ll head away to the east and then north. You can break to the north at quiet speed and rendezvous with us on the other side of the Grishas.”
“Aye, aye, sir.”
“Steer two five zero at ten knots. How long can you maintain that speed?”
“Steer two five zero at ten knots, aye sir. I can keep this speed for four hours.”
“Good. Keep your active sonar off. We’ll use Manta’s passive set with our sonar bearings to cross-fix their location.”
“Understood,” Jerry replied and sent the course and speed commands to the Manta.
While Jerry planned how to use the Manta with the Captain, he continued to watch the divers finish their task. They had to not only stow the warheads, they had to make sure that they wouldn’t rattle around or come loose. Reynolds and Harris had only the tools they carried, limited space, poor light, and their time was almost gone. Davis had brought Huey in closer, so that the divers could almost touch the vehicle, but it was impossible to see exactly what they were doing, or how much longer it would take.
When they finally straightened and swam toward the forward escape trunk, it caught Davis by surprise. She quickly panned the camera right, then gave the ROV just enough speed to follow the divers toward the escape trunk.
They both fit in the escape trunk this time, or rather, they made themselves fit. Everyone in control and the torpedo room watched Reynolds and Harris close the hatch, as Hardy gave orders for others to help them inside.
“Dr. Davis, I need you to do one more thing before you stow the ROV. Make a pass along Memphis’ underside. I especially want to make sure the rudder and propeller haven’t been fouled by anything.”
“Do we really have the time?” Davis asked. She was obviously thinking about the approaching Russian ships.
“Mr. Mitchell will buy us time. I need to know if Memphis is free to maneuver.”
“Huey’s battery gauge is in the red, sir.”
“The ROV can move another six hundred feet,” Hardy stated sharply. “Do it,” he ordered.
“Aye, aye, sir.” Davis answered reflexively and dove Huey downward. The ROV was near the stern, so she steered toward that end.
Jerry grinned. “ ‘Aye, aye?’ Next thing you’ll be sporting a patch on one eye and a peg leg.”
“I’ve been on this sub too long,” she countered. She smiled, but kept her eye on the battery gauge.
The Manta’s sonar autodetect warning suddenly flashed on, and Jerry saw a broadband contact show up on the display screen. “Conn, U-bay. I’ve got a strong passive sonar contact bearing one eight zero. Looks like the Grishas.”
The phone talker replied. “The XO says to keep passing up bearings and change course to due south. He wants to get a good cross-fix.”
That pleased Jerry. Finding out exactly how far away those Russian patrol craft were would lower his stress level. They also needed that information to build a track, and that would tell them where he needed to release the decoy. Meanwhile, Huey had reached Memphis’ keel and the seabed just below her.
From the ROV’s point of view, Memphis loomed overhead like a metal storm cloud. Her curved hull vanished away from the camera in all directions. Hardy talked her down the length of the hull, telling her where to point the camera and when to slow down.
The bottom lay only ten to fifteen feet below the sub, rock with silt filling in the hollows. As little experience as he’d had in subs, Jerry knew that Memphis was dangerously close to the seabed, especially considering the poor charts.
The starboard side of the propeller and control surfaces appeared unobstructed, and the seawater suctions were all clear. Hardy then had her steer Huey past the bow so she could come down the starboard side.
“I’ve got something on the active sonar,” Davis reported. “It’s about a hundred yards away, off to the southwest.
“Back toward the barge,” Hardy observed. “We don’t need to worry about any more dump sites.”
“It’s too small to be a dump site,” Emily answered, “and the object is small, more the size of an oil drum. And I can see lines or cables running from it.”
“On the sonar?” Hardy questioned.
“This is a high-resolution sonar, sir. It’s designed to see obstructions like cables or wires.”
“Mr. Mitchell, have you reached the Grishas yet?”
“No sir, I estimate ten to fifteen minutes more before I can place the decoy.”
“All right, Doctor Davis,” Hardy conceded. “Go see what it is.” His tone made it clear that she’d better be quick.
Davis brought the ROV around to the left, angling away from the sub. She didn’t increase speed because of both the low battery charge and the short distance. In about a minute, an object appeared, centered in the video screen.
It rested on the seabed, two sets of short wheels barely visible in the silt. The body was cylindrical, about a foot in diameter and perhaps five or six feet long. It was painted dark green and there was virtually no marine growth. A thick black cable led away from the object to the west, in the direction of the shore. Two other cables with small bumps on them were laid out, parallel to the coastline. A white-painted “2” was visible as she steered Huey in a circle around it.
Jerry was still staring at the video image, trying to fathom its purpose, when Hardy ordered, “Dr. Davis, get your ROV back aboard as quickly as you can. Report the instant we can safely get under way.”
“Yes, sir,” Davis answered. Her expression matched Jerry’s puzzlement.
“Mr. Mitchell, report.”
“The Manta’s course is due south, speed ten. The XO’s computing the drop point for the decoy right now.”
“Do you understand what that object was?”
“No, sir,” he confessed reluctantly. It didn’t pay to admit ignorance to the Captain, but he really didn’t have a clue.
“It’s a fixed acoustic sensor, mister. Someone’s keeping a watch on that barge.”
“Like the Russian Navy?” asked Davis.
“It explains the Bear and the Grishas. We didn’t see any naval activity in this area until we found that damn barge.” Hardy was angry, although Jerry wasn’t quite sure at who.
“Why would you put sensors around something you dumped?” Jerry asked.
“You wouldn’t,” Davis answered. “It wasn’t dumped. It was hidden
here.”
“U-Bay, conn,” This time Bair’s voice came on the line. “Steer right to course three five zero. You should release the decoy in two minutes.”
“Steer right to course three five zero, U-bay aye. How far away are the Grishas?”
“Just less than five miles from you. You’ll drop the decoy at the edge of their detection range. They’ll see it, but not the Manta because it’s smaller. After release, change course to due north at ten knots, max depth.”
“Change course to due north at ten knots, max depth, aye,” Jerry answered. “Should I wait for your call to drop?”
“Yes. We’re continuing to track the Grishas passively. If they change course, we may have to alter the decoy’s location.”
Davis came on the line. “Control, I’ve started Huey’s recovery sequence. We should be able to move in a five minutes.”
“Thanks, Doctor,” Bair answered.
“Doc Noonan’s checked the divers,” someone on the circuit reported. “He says they’re okay, but he’s put them both on bed rest with borderline hypothermia and exhaustion.”
“One minute to decoy drop,” Bair announced. “Course is good.”
Jerry double-checked the console. He made sure he was set to release a Mark 4, and not one of the smaller Mark 3s. They might confuse a torpedo’s sonar, but never a medium-frequency search set. The Mark 3’s noise was too high-pitched for them to hear it. He could see two sonar contacts on his passive display. The signal was strong, which meant they were close. Jerry continued to report the bearings to control.
“Huey’s aboard,” Emily announced triumphantly. “Control, we’re secure.”
“Speak for yourself,” Jerry muttered as he felt the deck shift. Hopefully Hardy had left enough room in front to allow Memphis to turn. With their single screw and rudder configuration, Hardy couldn’t back and turn a submarine like a sports car. In fact, it wouldn’t even back and turn like a bus. He wondered how long they had been so close to the sensor—and what its owners would hear. He called out another set of bearings to control.
“Wait for it... Drop!” Bair ordered and Jerry pressed the release. Without waiting, he changed course to due north, keeping his speed at ten knots. He wanted to go faster, but too much noise would attract unwelcome attention. At that speed, it would take half an hour for him to get completely clear of the Russian patrol ships. On the other hand, the Russians would take at least that long to detect, localize, and classify the contact as false. He hoped.
Jerry desperately wanted to be in control, to see the Russian ships’ position as well as his own. He also wanted to go to sickbay and see how the COB and Harris were. And most of all, he really wanted to know what the story was with those missile warheads.
* * * *
Pursuit
June 11, 2005—1800
Northern Fleet Headquarters
Severomorsk, Russia
Admiral Yuri Kirichenko strode into the briefing like he owned the place, which, in effect, he did. He was the Commander of the Northern Fleet, which, even after the collapse of Russian naval power, still meant something.
Kirichenko’s legend had grown with his rank. A competent junior officer under the Soviet regime, he’d been promoted just in time to become another impoverished senior officer. He’d remained in the military, ruthlessly fighting corruption and pushing efficiency as a necessary substitute for proper funding. By force of will, he’d kept the Northern Fleet from imploding.
So when he walked into the room with his characteristic high-speed stride, everyone in the room snapped to attention and everything was ready for his arrival, from the briefing materials to the tea and fresh fruit by his seat. Kirichenko was also well known for expecting the perks and privileges of his rank.
“Good evening, Admiral.” Captain First Rank Orlov was the Intelligence Officer on the staff. Normally he had one of his deputies conduct the actual briefing, but this material was too important.
“Since the last brief at 0800, we’ve confirmed that there’s no surface traffic in the area. Two patrol craft have reached the scene and reported detecting a submarine contact within our territorial waters. They attempted to localize it for prosecution, but it disappeared before they could make an attack.
“The seabed sensor grid hasn’t reported any activity since 1715. Total elapsed time of the most recent detection was one hour and thirty-seven minutes. We’ve had experts examining the data but the sensors were never designed for narrowband...”
“I’m aware of the sensor’s capabilities, Captain,” growled Kirichenko.
Orlov nodded quickly “Of course, sir. My apologies. They have determined that the sound signals came from more than one source, and there were a large number of transients during the period.”
The intelligence officer frowned. “Combined with the length of time they were near the array, we conclude they were working at that location and that they were unaware of the array’s presence. They may have been landing agents or planting surveillance equipment.. .”
“When we catch them, we’ll ask them,” declared the Admiral, standing and walking around to the head of the table. Orlov hurriedly gathered up his notes and returned to his seat. Kirichenko’s entire staff had assembled for this meeting, and they all listened intently.
“Whatever their purpose, they are not here to help the Russian Federation. I’m declaring a fleet-wide alert. I want aircraft covering the Kara Sea from the location of the incident all the way north, to the edge of the polar ice pack. Every operational unit is to get underway and head for the area. Admiral Sergetev,” he pointed to his deputy, “will be in charge of the search.”
“Ivan, form a barrier running east from the northern tip of Novaya Zemlya and then move it south. You should find the submarine as he attempts to escape.”
Admiral Ivan Sergetev nodded in acknowledgment, but not agreement. “If we can get the barrier formed before he slips through. If he moves at high speed . . .”
“Sonobuoys will pick him up,” Kirichenko interrupted. “And there will be stragglers and units that are too far out of position to reach the initial barrier line. Have them form a second line running northeast. If he’s able to evade the first barrier, he may relax and we’ll trap him with the second.”
The deputies for aviation, surface ships, and submarines were all writing furiously, but so was Kirichenko’s supply officer. He raised his hand politely and waited for the Admiral’s permission to speak. Supply officers in the Russian Navy these days usually brought bad news—and this time was no different.
He spoke cautiously. “Admiral, our operating funds do not allow this type of deployment. We could use up our entire year’s training budget in a few days’ operations. And stores are critical. We’ll have to dip into war reserves for enough sonobuoys, and I’m not even sure we have enough fuel on hand to fill everyone’s tanks.”
“Then send them out half-full.” Kirichenko let him finish, but just barely. “And then get more fuel, and we’ll send out tankers if we have to.”
Kirichenko paused after answering the supply officer’s objections, then spoke to the entire staff. “I don’t care if we spend every ruble in the Fleet, including the stash under your mattress, Andrei.” Everyone smiled at the joke, but they also looked worried and puzzled.
Kirichenko was a commanding figure, tall with a long, angular face that had been weathered not only by the elements but the weight of command. That contrasted with his blond hair. So far it was hard to see how much of it had gone gray.
“We’ve had penetrations of our waters before, and the West thinks that with us facing hard times they can enter our territory at will. Captain Orlov says there are ‘multiple sources.’ It sounds like there is more than one submarine, possibly several. Why would they need so many if they weren’t making some sort of major effort against us?
“They’re not expecting a massive response, and a massive response is the only way to deal with this type of attack. Our training budget j
ust became our operating budget, and Andrei, this sounds like exactly the time to dip into war reserves.”
The admiral leaned forward a little, driving home his point to the staff. “And think of what happens when we catch him! We will make the Americans and the others respect our waters and prevent who knows how many future incursions.”
He turned to the supply officer. “And consider this, Andrei. What better way to get more funding for our Fleet than showing what we can do? With a success like this, I guarantee that I’ll be in Moscow the next day, demanding that they give us enough support to operate the Northern Fleet properly.”
Then he dropped his bombshell. “And Andrei, also use war reserves to make sure that every ship has a full load of ordnance, not just antisubmarine, but gun and missile ammunition as well. I want these intruders caught, and if they don’t respond to our challenges, then they will be sunk.”
