Owens visibly pouted while the crowd laughed. Jerry chuckled at the junior officer’s feigned disappointment, but he quickly moved on. “Agreed, Captain. But I’d like your sonar techs to go over a number of detection simulations with historic sound velocity profiles and varying acquisition cone size just to make sure we’re not missing something obvious. Once we get closer to the minefield, we can do a final check with the actual acoustic conditions.”
“You’ve got that one for action, Mario,” chimed in Segerson, pointing to Lieutenant Junior Grade Phil DiMauro, Carter’s sonar division officer.
“Yes, sir, we’ll get started ASAP. Commodore, I’d like to borrow this material when I brief my division. I’m afraid my artistic skills leave something to be desired,” DiMauro replied.
“Not a problem, Lieutenant. Your XO already printed out a copy for you and your people. Get with him after we’re done.”
“Aye, aye, sir.”
Jerry nodded and moved on to his next slide. “Now, getting past the defenses is just the first phase of this operation. Next we need to look at how we’re going to destroy the launchers. Dr. Dan, that’s your cue.”
Cavanaugh stood up and squirmed his way around the tightly packed bodies to move up next to the flat-screen. A number of stifled chortles could be heard bubbling up from around the room.
“Have you finally managed to warm up, Dr. Dan?” teased Segerson.
“Despite your best efforts, Your Majesty, yes,” Cavanaugh shot back at his main tormentor. Still, his tone was amiable and there was a wide grin on his face.
“I have no idea of what you’re talking about, Doctor,” protested the XO. “I thought King Boreas was quite lenient in the trials he demanded of you.”
“I’m sure you do. But all of this has convinced me that the rumors I’ve heard about submariners are absolutely true. You people are certifiably crazy and should be locked up in a padded cell!”
“Nah, that’s why they send us to sea,” Segerson scoffed. The wardroom erupted again in laughter.
“All right, people, let’s move along,” chided Weiss. “Please begin, Dr. Cavanaugh.”
“Yes, Captain, um, could you bring up the next slide, please.” Cavanaugh picked up the laser pointer and drew the crowd’s attention to a series of crude diagrams. “Since we left New London, I’ve analyzed about two dozen possible launcher configurations. The seven shown here are the most likely possibilities. The number of launch tubes considered ranged from four to eight, and each scenario assumes an open, rigid steel frame with columns embedded in concrete slabs. Next slide please.
“Commodore Mitchell and I have studied the estimated timeline provided by the intelligence community, and this construction technique not only provides the necessary load-bearing structure for these very large torpedoes, but it also has the advantage of being easier and faster, since the major components can be manufactured on land and then trucked to the construction site and lowered into place.
“The disadvantages of this are that the Russians have to use human divers to do much of the final construction work. This will be a critical factor in how fast they can build this beast. For us, it means that placing the beacons on the structure will be somewhat problematic. My hope is that the large warhead of the Mark 48 torpedo will compensate for a less than optimum placement.”
“Is there anything we can do to alleviate this problem?” asked Owens.
Cavanaugh took a deep breath. “The best way to maximize our chances, Lieutenant, would be to conduct a full survey of the target facility, then pull back and analyze the data before we try to place the beacons. Unfortunately, the tactical situation isn’t conducive for this approach, and we’ll just have to wing it. That’s why we’ve been doing the detailed number crunching on these scenarios. Once we get an idea of what the launcher actually looks like, we’ll match its configuration as best we can to one of the preplanned structures.”
“Dr. Dan and I have looked at this at some length,” interrupted Jerry, “and I don’t believe we can count on having unobstructed access to the area near the launcher. There is the minefield, of course, but it’s almost a certainty that we’ll have to deal with at least one, and possibly more Russian submarines. ONI has reported that the Severodvinsk-class submarine Kazan and the Akula II — class sub Vepr have been out for some time. They haven’t been seen or heard in their traditional gatekeeper patrol areas, so it’s a good bet we may run into one of them. Then there is the special purpose submarine, Belgorod, that disappeared from Olenya Guba around the same time we left New London.
“Skirting the minefield will restrict our ability to maneuver. That’s not an advantageous position to be in should a Russian SSN suddenly rear its ugly head. We can probably sneak inside the perimeter once, but we’d be pushing our luck to try it twice.”
Weiss nodded his agreement. “There isn’t a lot of sea room around the Dragon torpedo launch facility. If we get caught up in a short-range melee with one or two Russian boats it would be like a knife fight in a closet. I want to minimize the amount of time we have to spend in such tight quarters. We get in, find the launcher, drop the beacons, fire our weapons, and then get the hell out of Dodge. Once the first Mark 48 goes off, all hell is going to break loose.”
“Concur, Captain, that is why I think we should change the UUVs’s beacon loadout,” Jerry declared.
Weiss was momentarily confused; the current plan was to carry as many beacons as possible. “In what way, sir?” he asked.
“The UUVs are currently configured to carry six transponder beacons each. Dr. Dan’s analysis indicates that the maximum number of torpedoes that we would need to take out the launcher complex is six; with four being the most likely. Since you’ve already stated your intention to have two tubes reserved for self-defense, we should only employ six beacons. A one hundred percent redundancy is unnecessary, and I believe we should replace two transponder beacons with NAE Mark 3 acoustic countermeasures.
“This way we can also use the UUVs to get our butt out of the sling, should we run into any trouble. During my engagements in the Sino-Littoral Alliance War, I found a decoy-carrying UUV to be a very handy tactical asset.”
Heads nodded all around. “Wise guidance, consigliore,” responded Weiss.
“UCC, Control. We are five thousand yards away from the minefield,” reported the voice through Jerry’s headset.
“Control, UCC, aye,” he replied. A cold shiver abruptly washed over him, but passed quickly. Jerry had never had to deal with mines during the Pacific war, or during his pursuit of the Indian Akula, so this threat was new to him. And while he was confident that they could slip under the mine’s acquisition cone, Lenny Berg’s dead boat lying nearby testified to the weapon’s effectiveness.
Behind Jerry, hovering near the plotting table, Dr. Cavanaugh kept watch in silence. Being more of an army guy, the paper plot was more useful in helping him to figure out where they were, and where the mines should be.
“José report all contacts?” demanded LT Ben Ford, Walter’s pilot. Normally he would be in the chair Jerry was occupying, overseeing the two UUV control consoles, but with the commodore on board, Ford was more than happy to relinquish his spot and fly one of the UUVs.
“No contacts,” replied Sonar Technician Second Class Miguel Alvarez.