To the north, Ukrainian helicopters provided radar support, painting his targets. He felt helpless in his reliance on airborne and orbiting sensors to empower his attack, but the tactic was working.
Then the icons representing the Kilo’s flashed and became hollow outlines.
“We’ve lost the Kilos,” his weapons controller said.
“Jamming?”
“I think so.”
“It won’t matter. The first round arrives in ten seconds. The Kilos are moving too slow for it to matter. We may not hit them in their diesels, but we’ve got enough metal raining down on them to make them think twice before submerging.”
The halos then disappeared.
“We’ve lost GPS guidance,” the weapons controller said.
“Very well,” Cahill said. “Ballistic flight will be good enough. Keep raining metal on them.”
The starboard cannon’s rhythmic eruptions continued as the Goliath spat rounds towards the Kilos.
“Send satellite imagery to the main screen for battle damage assessment,” Cahill said.
His target, the lead Kilo, issued billows of soft turquoise from its diesel engines. A ray of light blue extended towards it, spread its claws of buckshot, and drew streaks whizzing by the surfaced hull.
“Is that a miss?”
“I’m not sure. It looks like our shot skipped off the hull. The angle of attack is shallow.”
“We may need to shift to explosive rounds, or at least non-splintering rounds.”
“Give it a chance,” Cahill said.
The next flash of blue missed wide, but the third punctured his enemy, and small plumes of azure wounds grew in the submarine’s engine room.
“It’s a hit!” he said.
The next two rounds missed, but the sixth hit.
“Those are hits on target,” Cahill said. “That’s enough for that submarine. I hope Pierre realizes it and shifts the guidance of rounds to the next Kilo.”
“Incoming data shows an update to our rounds’ guidance. He’s shifting guidance now.”
“Great work on Pierre’s part.”
The next twelve rounds punctured hobbling holes in the trailing Kilos.
“Let Pierre figure out what to do with the rounds that are in flight,” Cahill said. “He can keep hitting the damaged Kilos or show mercy. It’s his call. Shift your fire to the last Kilo that’s trapped behind the bridge. It won’t be trapped forever. Send forty-five non-splintering rounds.”
“Non-splintering?”
“We need deep penetration into the water.”
“Shifting fire to the last Kilo, forty-five non-splintering rounds.”
Distant from the jamming electronics of surface warships and shore installations, the final undamaged Russian submarine in the Black Sea Fleet appeared helpless except for its ability to hide below the waves. But the shallowness of the Sea of Azov made Cahill optimistic.
Walker’s voice distracted him.
“We’re ready up here.”
“Go ahead, Liam. Report.”
“Ninety-four rounds are ready for use in manual mode on the port cannon. We’ll need two men in the compartment, and they’ll be isolated while we’re submerged, but we’ve repaired the electronics and communications to the port weapons bay. The hydraulics were beyond repair.”
“Very well, Liam. Good work. Get back inside. We’ve damaged the first three Kilos. I’m attacking the one in the Sea of Azov now.”
“We’re coming in.”
Cahill watched the projectiles trace an arc for more than a minute to the edge of his cannon’s range.
“I’m in the port engine room now,” Walker said. “The ship is rigged for dive.”
“Very well. We’ll stay surfaced and sprinting until we take out that final Kilo.”
Rounds started splashing in the Sea of Azov, kicking up splashes of deep blue.
“Bring the port cannon online.”
“Port weapons bay acknowledges,” the weapons controller said. “They’re raising the cannon manually.”
“That should take thirty seconds to crank it.”
The starboard cannon continued its periodic cracks.
“They’re done, sir. It took them only twenty-six seconds.”
“Send fifteen non-splintering rounds from the port cannon to the final Kilo.”
The rounds from the port cannon joined the forty-five from the starboard in targeting the final Kilo. As the first ten rounds missed, Cahill watched their bright blue trajectories slice the air and splatter water around the submarine’s last known position.
Then the rounds started spiraling out, tracing a search pattern for the elusive target.
“Cease fire,” Cahill said.
As he watched the final rounds on the display follow their arc to the Sea of Azov, Walker joined him.
“Look on the bright side,” He said. “Jake crippled the first Kilo, and you took out three more. The one on the other side of the bridge is the least threatening.”
“They’ll let it pass through the cleanup effort soon enough.”
Walker’s face lit up, and he pointed at the display. Cahill looked, and the final Kilo appeared on the surface, a white hot puncture wound atop its torpedo room.
“Maybe I spoke too soon,” Walker said.
“Let’s see what Pierre can do with the remaining rounds.”
Five rounds sliced through the engine room, and Cahill sighed and fell back into a chair.
“Let’s shift gears and start taking out engine rooms on the surface combatants.”
“Why?” Walker asked. “All the Russian ships are honoring the minefield. Shouldn’t we meet Jake and get out of here?”
“I need to catch you up on something while you were outside. The sonobuoy field is really a minefield.”
“Bloody hell. We’re trapped.”
“Pierre’s working on it. The Russians can’t keep it there forever. He thinks they set the mines to deactivate at a preset time, probably three days. But it’s all a guessing game at this point.”
“So what do we do?”
Cahill stood and rapped his sonar supervisor’s shoulder.
“Are we clear of the final torpedo yet?”
“I can’t hear it anymore, but it’s hard to be sure without a towed array. If you slow, I’ll confirm on the hull array.”
“Liam, man the ship’s controls and slow us to five knots.”
“Slowing us to five knots,” Walker said.
“What can you hear?” Cahill asked.
The sonar supervisor reached over the shoulder of one of his operators and grabbed a headset. He placed it over his ears.
“Nothing,” he said.
The operators confirmed the lack of evidence of a torpedo.
“With the active Kilo limited to eleven to twelve knots snorkeling, four to five knots submerged, we’re well out of its weapons range,” Cahill said. “I’m going to stay away from it, but I’ll keep us in cannon range of the ships on the east side of Jake’s minefield.”
“Let’s do it,” Walker said.
“All ahead standard, make turns for fifteen knots. Right full rudder, steady on course two-five-five.”
“The ship is at all ahead standard, making turns for fifteen knots,” Walker said. “My rudder is right full, coming to course two-five-five.”
“Aim the starboard cannon at the Kashin-class destroyer. Target the engine room with twenty splintering rounds.”
“Aiming the starboard cannon at the Kashin’s engine room,” Walker said. “May I ask why the Kashin?”