The Mk48 sped off towards the Pyotr Velikiy at 45 knots; impact in 2 minutes 24 seconds.
Nathan sat at the conn and looked down at the deck. He drew no pleasure in this. Nikki walked over and stood up close.
“I know it’s not easy, Nathan, but we have to.”
He nodded and then looked at his wrist. The seconds ticked by. Four, three, two, one. That’s it.
Benson punched the air. “Yes, goddamn yes. Hot datum. We got him right up where he doesn’t like it. Eat that, Ivan.”
The torpedo had run up into his mid-section, and the blast had ruptured what was left in there. The central magazine blew; sunburn missiles, shells and Grumble SAMs exploded. With her hull split and torn, what happened next was just physics. The weight of the superstructure was pulled down by gravity. Steel gave way under the unbearable force. The Battle Cruiser’s back broke, her bow and stern sections lifted out of the water, bulkheads buckled under the strain.
Peter the Great, pride of the Northern Fleet, sank by the midships. Her stern rolled over and fell into the sea. Eight minutes later, she finally went down, and the bow slipped below the waves. Life rafts had been launched and survivors were lifted aboard. Strong brave swimmers volunteered to swim out and pull men and women from the icy waters.
Word spread throughout the fleet and men cried in shock. The king was dead.
22
Nathan pulled the intercom from its hook. “All hands, all hands. We’ve carried out our orders and scored a hot datum on the enemy flagship Peter the Great. He’s on his way to the seabed. Well done.”
A cheer ran through the boat. Nathan waited. “You’ve proved yourself against the best. USS Stonewall Jackson got in amongst the enemy fleet and gave Peter what he deserved: the bayonet. Men and women of the Jackson, give him his due. Ivan fought bravely, but he took on the best boat in the best goddamn navy on Earth. You don’t fuck with the USN. Captain ends.”
Nathan knew all this was as much about politics as battle. He’d got the knife in; now it was time to twist it.
“Planesman, come south, speed 20 knots.” The Russians would be too shocked and confused to respond quickly.
Fifteen minutes later, the boat cleared the Russian Fleet. “Planesman, speed 6 knots. Trim fore and aft for ascent. Up bubble ten, make for periscope depth.”
“Aye sir, periscope depth 6 knots.”
“Weaps, get the loaded VPM tube active, which was it?”
“Tube two, sir. 49ers is available.”
A Tomahawk cruise missile was sitting waiting.
“Ready the bird. Set target for the Alyosha War Memorial, east bank of the Murmansk Fjord.”
It doesn’t come more symbolic than the center of Murmansk, home of the Northern Fleet.
“Periscope depth, sir.”
Nathan looked to Weaps; he nodded. “Open outer doors, VPM tube two. Ready the Tomahawk.”
“Tube two open, bird aimed and ready, sir.”
“Launch.”
“VPM tube two,” said Weaps. “49ers, returns Gyro up, green board, route A, target T1, Alyosha War Memorial Murmansk. Bird up and ready, sir.”
“Go, go, go!”
There was a faint whooshing sound from back aft.
Weaps called it. “On the surface, 49ers reports launch, good burn. Motor in, wings deployed, gaining altitude. Ladies and gentlemen, we have a flying bird. She’s heading for the enemy’s den.”
The Tomahawk headed south towards the Murmansk Fjord. It entered the channel. At low level, the missile known by her crew as the San Francisco 49ers, passed the Polyarny inlet, home of the Northern Fleet submarines. She turned hard west and flew low for 8 miles and then pulled hard to the south. After 3 miles, 49ers turned to the east and over the city, and she hit the Memorial, detonating the warhead. The area around was blasted clear.
The point had been made. You don’t mess with the best.
The Northern Fleet was withdrawn to port. Statements were issued about a cowardly submarine attack by multiple enemy nuclear submarines. Peter the Great had taken two enemy boats with her, but had finally been overwhelmed.
The large twin-rotor Chinook helicopter landed close to the NSA building. It had flown from the airport at Chattanooga, 50 miles away. Two USN Officers got out as the rotors spun down, and an NSA employee walked over to them.
“Hi, I’m the head of the facility. You can call me Robert,” said a middle-aged man with a greying full head of hair.
The three of them entered the building.
“We know perfectly well who you are, but you need to pass through the security point.”
A Hispanic woman inspected their passes and took their pictures. “Please, Lieutenant Commander Kaminski, stand here and rest your chin on this. It will take a scan of your retina.”
Nikki stepped up and the machine performed its scan.
“Now, Commander Blake, do the same please.”
Nathan stood for his scan.
She checked the screen. “Welcome to the NSA.”
The man who called himself Robert motioned them to join him. They walked down a corridor and into a room to one side. Robert swiped his pass over the sensor. Elevator doors opened, all three walked in, and he swiped his pass. The doors closed and the elevator descended.
Nathan judged it to have descended four or five stories. The doors opened. Robert walked over to a row of seats and gestured at them to sit. He sat at one end.
“Welcome to Oak Ridge NSA. The Department of Defence has requested that you be given a look at something you helped to put in place.”
Nikki frowned.
“You are Commander and Executive Officer of the USS Stonewall Jackson, and were a big part in the rescue of Danish national Nils Sondergaard and Israeli national Marjan Ghazaryan of the Mossad. She’s not here today; she works elsewhere in the Oak Ridge facility. I’ll introduce you to Dr Sondergaard. I must warn you, he can talk in riddles.”
Robert got up and opened the doors to a large bank of huge screens. On them were images of buildings, vehicles and parts of machinery. None of it made much sense.
“Nils.” Robert called out. A young man walked over to them. “These are the two submarine officers we talked about.”
He smiled and shook their hands. “Hi, I’m Nils. I owe you a big favour. Without you I’d have been a frozen corpse on the icecap. Thank you. I’m to show you my Eye of Ra. Come on, let’s sit at this monitor.”
They sat at a 72” monitor.
“I’ll try to give you some idea about what you’ll see here. There’s a phenomenon called quantum entanglement.” He looked at them. “This is going to be a bit weird. Quantum entanglement says that two particles can be joined, so that whatever happens to one must also happen to its partner, however far apart they are.
“Einstein didn’t like it, he called it ‘spooky action at a distance’. This entanglement happens instantly, too. From here across to the next building or from here to a distant star, it doesn’t matter. It’s not rubbish, it’s real and proven.”
“What?” said Nikki.
“I’ve made a huge breakthrough. I’ve been working on quantum radar and this is what we’ve built here. I’ll have to explain using some technical weird speak.” Nils had recited it so many times. “The Eye of Ra solves what computer science calls an ‘NP-complete’ problem: that’s a problem that’s impossible or nearly impossible to calculate on a classical device like a computer.”
“Why do you call it Eye of Ra?” asked Nathan.
“It’s named after the Ancient Egyptian Eye of Ra, which is believed to be an all-seeing force that uses violence to subdue and control its enemies. So, entangling allows the absorption spectrum and the resolution limit of quantum radar systems to be selected independently of one another. So, while current radar systems must compromise between range and resolution, quantum radar systems can simultaneously achieve the low attenuation/high range associated with a long wavelength and the high resolution associated with a short wavelength.”