Had the data link at least been up, Lake Champlain could have targeted her missiles using radar data from another ship. That was standard procedure, and no problem for Lake Champlain or crew.
“Can you shift to a different antenna for LINK?” Batman asked.
“It’s not the antenna, sir, it’s something in the processor. I don’t know if it was an electrical short, vibration damage, or what, but the entire console tripped offline during that last hit. I have technicians on it now, but we’ll have to change out just about every part in her. It’s going to take a little time.” Batman could hear the frustration in the captain’s voice. Without a radar, the cruiser was virtually useless. Without her data link, the cruiser’s missiles were no of use.
“I keep waiting for the next set of missiles to target the carrier,” Batman said. He glanced at the status board, and was relieved to see he now had fourteen Tomcats and Hornets airborne. There was also tanker support, as well as E-3 electronic support and SAR helos. “But it looks like it’s not going to happen. I guess their objective was to knock out our advanced radar capabilities.”
“We’re down for a bit, but we’re not knocked out completely,” the captain said, his voice determined. “But as I said, Admiral, it’s going to take time.”
Batman made his decision instantly. “I want you to close the carrier, then. Take station on our starboard beam, five thousand yards. You’ll be well within our antiair envelope, and at that range your CWIS won’t pose a danger to us. I’d much rather defend you close in — that way, I don’t have to break off an extra set of fighters for you.”
“Aye-aye, Admiral,” the captain responded. “I don’t like it, but—”
“But you’ll do it. Not only is it an order, but you know as well as I do that you’re a sitting duck while everything is down. I know it’s tough, but get your ass in close for now. The fighters will carry the load for now.
As he watched Batman saw the symbol representing Lake Champlain execute a turn and head back for the carrier.
Batman picked up the phone linking TFCC with SCIF, the special intelligence unit located immediately next to TFCC. “Where did it come from?”
Lab Rat answered, his voice calm and certain. “The Straits. We have the launch indications from national sensors, and AWACS confirms it. Right there.” A new symbol popped into being on Batman’s tactical screen. It was located on the eastern side of the Straits of Hormuz. “We’re certain of it, Admiral.”
Batman turn to the TAO. “How many of those Tomcats are loaded with bombs?”
“Four. The rest are strictly antiair.”
“Break off all four Bombcats, as well as two fighters for escort. Ten minutes from now, I want to be looking at a sheet of fused glass where that installation is right now. You got that?”
The TAO nodded, but he looked uncertain. “Admiral… no clearance from higher authority? I mean, it is an attack on the land mass.”
Batman wheeled on him. “You think I don’t know that? When I need some snotty-nosed junior officers to question my decisions, I’ll pin the stars on your collar instead of mine. For now, you follow orders. You got that, mister?”
“Yes, of course, Admiral.” The TAO was visibly shaken by the intensity of Batman’s anger. His fingers trembled slightly as he picked up the radio to make the call.
Batman watched him for a moment, then turned back to the screen. Okay, maybe he had blown his top. But there wasn’t time for questions, was there? Not when there could be another wave of missiles raining down at any second. And had he made a mistake committing two of his fighters as escort for the land attack? He wondered if he should clear it with Fifth Fleet… okay, maybe he should, but dammit, it was his cruiser that was crippled. They attacked him, not vice versa. An entirely different set of circumstances than if he launched the attack without provocation.
Still, he had to give the TAO credit for having the balls to speak up. Not every junior officer would have done that, and there might be a time someday when just such a question would keep him from making a serious mistake.
He walked over to the TAO and put one hand on the man’s shoulder. “It was a good question, Tom. Don’t you ever stop thinking, okay? Someday, when you got the stars on your collar, and you’re sitting in the same position I am, you remember this, okay? Remember it, and know that even admirals lose their temper sometimes.” He turn back to the screen, ignoring the startled expression on a TAO’s face that slowly transformed itself into a grim smile.
It was Sonarman Renny Jacobs who had the first warning that all was not well. The submarine was running in quiet ship, all of her active sensors secured. Input from the passive sonar array was their only means of examining the water around them.
At first, it was nothing that Jacobs could put his finger on. The background noise changed slightly, shifting upward in frequency, slightly quieter on certain bearings. The change was so faint as to be almost undetectable, and it took him a few seconds for his tired ears to process exactly what was happening. It wasn’t something that you ran across every day.
In the first microsecond, all he knew was something had changed, and change was dangerous in the world of undersea operations. He turned to the chief, intending to ask him, then cold, clear certainty washed over him. His hand darted out to toggle the switch to the bitch box. “Conn, Sonar! Obstacle in the water, slightly off our starboard now!”
“What sort of—?” the conning officer started to ask, then the XO cut in.
“Hard left rudder!”
The submarine immediately began to turn, but it was difficult to change the direction of that much sheer mass and inertia moving through the water. Renny felt the deck shift slightly, and held his breath, hoping that he had been fast enough. He damned himself for the seconds of delay, even as he knew it would not have made a difference.
At first, it was a humming metallic sort of sound, as though a tuning fork had been struck. It quickly crescendoed into an all-encompassing squeal, a hideous howl of metal against metal. The ship jolted violently to the left, the deck slamming up at a ten-degree angle and throwing every piece of loose gear across the compartment. Strapped into his seat, Renny felt the harness cut into his abdomen.
Seconds later, screams were added to the cacophony as the ship’s motion caught the rest of the sailors off guard — the dull sound of bodies hitting steel bulkheads, the clatter of pots and pans and plates in the galley crashing to the deck.
Within seconds of the initial impact, the captain was by the XO’s side. As far as the XO could tell, he had not even shut his eyes, yet the clock indicated that he left the control room over an hour ago. It was not possible that he could’ve remained awake the entire time.
It seemed to go on for hours, each second louder and more horrifying than the previous one. Finally, the sound tapered off, and except for the moans of the wounded, there was silence on the submarine.
“All stations report!” The XO’s voice snapped.
In control room, the XO was not aware of any panic. Fear, yes, coupled with anger that this had happened to the ship. But the need for immediate action to prevent flooding and further damage to the submarine took priority over all their human emotions.
He knew within the first seconds what had happened. This entire body of water was a maze of uncharted pipelines and obstructions. Wrecks from the Gulf War still littered the ocean floor, although most of those were charted. No, it was the truly incomprehensible predilection for these nations to build undersea pipelines and conduits without bothering to inform any international charting agency of their existence. That was undoubtedly what had happened to Seawolf—she had rammed a pipeline.