“At least we know we’re in battle, sir. Shall I rig the ship for battle stations?”
“Silently. Spread the word without an audible alarm.”
Chan tried to make sense of the information overloading his frontal lobe. He wanted time to think, but the battle had reached him. Then Gao brought him the next piece of condemning news.
“Sir, the sonar team has analyzed the explosion. It was a lightweight torpedo. Probably air dropped.”
“But no sign of a sinking ship?” Chan asked.
As if proving the folly of questioning reality, a sonar technician announced that he heard creaking metal on the bearing of the explosion.
Chan found no option but to set people into motion. Activity would prevent imaginations from spinning. He projected his voice throughout the room.
“Very well,” he said. “The Americans have killed our comrades. But five of our submarines remain to carry out this mission, and we will make ourselves ready to fight. Warm up two torpedoes with presets to attack a surfaced target.”
Shocked faces began to reveal conviction.
“Also,” Chan said. “Warm up all the other weapons for submerged targets.”
Confusion contorted faces in the room.
“This is battle, gentlemen,” Chan said. “You’ve already proven your mettle in extreme danger, and I trust you to continue doing so. I am proud of you all, and I would select no better crew for our fight. But we must be ready for all foes, known and unknown, surfaced, submerged, or worse.”
Chan sensed pride rising as he spoke.
“Warm up the weapons, remain alert, and forget that you are aboard the least capable vessel in this engagement. History is filled with examples of great men defeating lesser foes who were better equipped. You are on a vessel that is capable enough, and you will prove that you are a better crew than any adversary.”
CHAPTER 31
“What blew up?” Jake asked.
“Air dropped torpedo, American Mark Fifty-Four,” Remy said. “It hit the Yuan to the north.”
“Did the Yuan get off a torpedo?”
“No. I don’t hear anything.”
“Damn,” Jake said. “When you know where a submarine is hiding, it’s not really hiding. Easy pickings for aircraft. It’s not even fair.”
From a seated perch at his control panel, Henri glanced over his shoulder and caught Jake’s eye.
“I believe it’s time to maneuver in closer to the Romeo to align a kill shot,” Henri said.
“Hold on,” Jake said. “That Romeo knows that something is going wrong. It heard the same explosion we did. There’s a commanding officer on it with an itchy trigger finger.”
“All the more reason to end this quickly,” Henri said.
“I’ll end it when I end it. Firing point procedures on the Romeo, tube one. Set a slow-speed search on the torpedo.”
“Slow speed? Why?” Henri asked.
“I want the wire to stay attached so we can steer it, and I want its fuel to last in case our target runs. Any more questions, or can I shoot this damned torpedo?”
Henri sighed, shook his head, and faced his panel. Jake kept his eyes on the mechanic’s white hair while turning his head toward Jin. Holding a détente with the Frenchman, he shifted his eyes to the seated Taiwanese officer.
“Commander Jin?” he asked. “Are you ready to go to firing point procedures?”
“I’m setting the parameters in tube one for the Romeo based upon the present Subtics solution.”
“Very well,” Jake said.
As Jin tapped his screen two seats away from Remy, the sonar technician announced the continuance of the fray.
“Torpedoes in the water! Multiple bearings. Multiple sources.”
“Anything coming at us?” Jake asked.
“I can’t tell yet,” Remy said.
“Anything from the Romeo?”
“No,” Remy said. “It’s the only thing quiet out there. All three of the other Chinese submarines have launched torpedoes at the Reagan decoy.”
Jake looked to the chart. The helicopter-dragged hydrophone array blaring sounds simulating the Reagan slid through water twenty miles away.
From the corner of his eye, he watched the fingers of Remy and a Taiwanese companion beside him fly across two consoles, confirming acoustic data in the Subtics system. Enemy torpedo locations and movements faded in to illuminated life on the chart.
“Are you seeing the bearing rate to support this?” Jake asked. “Or are you just guessing that they’re all shooting at the Reagan decoy?”
“I see bearing rate on each one, Jake,” Remy said. “Six torpedoes, two from each submarine.”
“Then we’re safe,” Jake said. “And helicopters will likely take care of all but the Romeo. That’s our job.”
He thought of his brother’s warning about killing and its associated dangers. He noticed the senior Taiwanese officer stir and lean back from his console. In preparation for the expected report, Jake stood straight and faced him.
“Weapon is ready,” Jin said.
“Shoot tube one.”
“That’s the activity I wanted to see!” Chan said. “Salvos targeted at the Reagan.”
“We hear the Reagan, too,” Gao said. “Shall we shoot?”
Chan considered that the Kilo choreographed to parallel him in the last latch of the trap may be skulking behind him preparing backstabbing friendly fire. Balanced between disbelief of betrayal and commitment to cause, he bought time.
“No,” he said. “It’s still too far. Let it maneuver towards us for a certain shot. Let it take crippling blows from our colleagues. Let it count when we shoot.”
“I understand, sir.”
Chan leaned over the table and curled his finger. Gao bent forward to listen to his whispers.
“Kilo three-six-six hasn’t launched yet,” Chan said.
“They could be waiting, as we are.”
“Or they could be afraid to reveal their position.”
“Why? They have no idea we intercepted their orders.”
“If they’re maneuvering to attack us, they very well couldn’t launch weapons at the Reagan without arousing our suspicion by being where they should not be.”
Gao appeared stoic, his features firm but unforced. Chan wondered if he stared at death’s acceptance.
“We’re outmatched by the Kilo, sir. In every tactical aspect. Sound emissions, hydrophone sensitivity, hydrophone coverage, signal processing, speed, endurance. We’re a relic at odds with a contemporary masterpiece.”
“Agreed,” Chan said. “But despite not knowing whether or not to believe our cracked message, we have a tactical informational advantage. If they intend to kill us, we have a narrow window of surprise over them and must take action.”
“And if they don’t intend to kill us? If it’s a ruse against our adversaries?”
“Then we must also take action. We must attack the Reagan.”
Chan tapped a pencil on the chart beside his ship.
“If you were Kilo three-six-six and you wanted to kill us, where would you position yourself?”
“I’d be anywhere but where we think it is — I wouldn’t be in their assigned loitering area. I also wouldn’t be between us and the Reagan because that’s where we’re listening, and the Kilo wouldn’t be able to distinguish our shot at the Reagan from a retaliatory shot at them if we were to launch one.”