Shit, thought Nathan, that was damn bad news, bastard.
The Mk 48s the USS NYC had launched were homing in.
“Fish pinging. Fish pinging,” said Lily. “Running in, cutting wire.”
The Russian boats took evasive manoeuvres. Countermeasures hissed and cavorted in a dance of bubbles. The first two Mk 48 fish slammed home. With hulls breached, gas escaped in huge clouds of bubbles. The two stricken boats sank into the deep. Fish three speared up into the Akula’s belly and blew her in two.
“Sonar. Hot datum on Tangos one to three.”
The fourth exploded at the Akula’s stern. She was disabled and unable to make way. The boat surfaced, now adrift. Nathan would leave her be; Tango four was no threat now.
“TYPE 53 FISH HEADING in,” said Nosey, “range two point two miles.”
Nathan knew they were in absolute peril.
“Weaps, dance the lure.”
The lure was switched to deception. It attempted to confuse the torpedo's passive sonar by emitting simulated submarine noise. Propeller and engine noise was emitted, which was more attractive than the actual boat to the torpedo's sensors. At least that was what Nathan hoped.
“The lure’s dancing sir.”
“It’s active now sir. The first fish has gone active, it’s pinging us. It’s heading towards us. Second fish is active too. Both to our port.”
“Planesman, down bubble 20. Make your depth, 380 feet.”
“Sonar. Range, incoming fish now point nine miles.”
The two Russian type 53s dived down towards her.
“Sing the lure,” commanded Nathan.
The lure incorporated additional active sonar decoys. It received, amplified, and returned ‘pings’ from any incoming torpedo, presenting a larger noisier false target than the submarine. The lure was transmitting the pings to the incoming torpedoes.
“The lure is singing sir,” said Lily.
“Fish now point three miles, point two miles.”
“Are they still port side?”
“Yes.”
“Eject countermeasures to port. Come to starboard. Blow forward one and two. Full ahead. Emergency ascent.”
The boat turned and rose. Countermeasures hissed bubbles and emitted prop sounds, and they spun out in the deeps trying to draw the fish away.
USS New York City rose fast under power and buoyancy. Faster, higher, she climbed in the water table. There were two thudding loud explosions to port, and the hull buckled and groaned. The crew were pushed to the right.
The boat rocked in the turbulence then gradually steadied.
“Damage control sir,” said COB, “no serious damage. Some lines leaking, aft oil pump on starboard plane being replaced. Re-routed flow to back up. One hour to full operations sir.”
“Well done Blake,” said Franks, “you got at them. All Tangos are out of the fight. Tango four’ll be reporting to Fleet command, but that might not be such a bad thing. Shit spreads. The Black Sea Fleet won’t like the news.”
HE LISTENED TO THE sounds of destruction, of boats being ripped cruelly apart and sunk. Boats like his.
“There’s something out there, it’s a bastard and it wants us,” said Captain Orlov. His boat was part of the left flank of the fleet’s push out into the Black Sea. Leopard was on secondment to the Black Sea Fleet from the Northern Fleet.
“Sonar. What’s the direction and range?”
“Sir due west, approximately 18 kilometres.”
“Keep tabs on any contact. Call Sokolov with the Whale.”
The signal went out by the device attached to the hull mounted sonar. It was an unofficial device built by a small team at the Pacific Fleet in Petropavlovsk, Siberia. It sent short-range sonar signals that were indistinguishable from a biologic. The device was known as The Whale Phone.
From this device, signals could be transmitted that sounded to the enemy just like a Whale.
The signals were short. Orlov ordered the Akula accompanying him to surface. Captain Sokolov of the SSN Volk heard the signal. He surfaced, saw the Leopard signalling, and replied. The two boats used periscope-mounted lights to flash out signals.
“Action to the west, approx. 18 Klicks. Suspect our friend from Sea of Azov or similar. Virginia class. Over.”
“Agree. Flank attack?”
“Agree. You take position south at 100 metres. I will stay north at 400 metres, nine knots. Turn in on contact. Over.”
“Will carry out the task. Over and out.” Orlov retracted the masts.
“Flood forward. Open and trim vents fore and aft. Make for depth. Planesman, set for down bubble 15, make your depth 400 metres. Speed nine knots.”
Orlov estimated the enemy boat was around 12 miles west of their position. The two Russian boats were eight miles off the north Turkish coast. He thought it unlikely the Virginia was any further south than they were. They’d advance quietly west, stalking their quarry.
“Sir we received a communication from Fleet while on the surface.” The Communications Officer handed him a slip.
ВОЕННОЕ ГОСУДАРСТВО 2
RNAZ 864T33 BSF
СЕВЕРНЫЙ ФЛОТ НАВИАЛЬНЫЕ СИЛЫ РОССИИ. NF7Y902
ЧЕРНОМОРСКИЙ ФЛОТ
В ЛЕОПАРД
ФЛОТ НАВИАЛЬНЫЕ // ID N7FF5IK //
MSGID / ФЛОТ НАВИАЛЬНЫЕ ФАКТИЧЕСКИЙ //
HАЧАЛО СООБЩЕНИЯ: //
ПРОИЗВОДИТСЯ В СРЕДИЗЕМНОМОРСКОМ ЯЗЫКЕ БОСПОРА. ВЫПОЛНИТЬ ЭКСПЛУАТАЦИЮ ЧЕРНЫЙ ШТОР.
CООБЩЕНИЕ ЗАКАНЧИВАЕТСЯ//
Translation:
WAR STATE 2
RNAZ 864T33 BSF
NORTHERN FLEET NAVAL FORCES RUSSIA. NF7Y902
VIA BLACK SEA FLEET
TO LEOPARD
NORTHEN FLEET// ID N7FF5IK//
MSGID/NORTHEN FLEET ACTUAL//
MSG BEGINS://
PROCEED TO MEDITERRANEAN SEA VIA BOSPORUS. EXECUTE OPERATION BLACK STORM.
MSG END//
Captain Orlov knew he had to comply with Fleet’s orders. But the Bosporus was to their west, they had business to attend to on their way there.
Operation Black Storm was Fleet business. Enemy boats were Leopard’s business.
Orlov had to take a judgement; how far from the coast would the enemy be? He decided about four kilometres, he knew it was a guess but the best he could make based on the sonar returns he had.
“Planesman, make for 200 degrees for five minutes, then come to two seven zero.” Leopard moved closer to shore then made her way west, parallel to the coast.
After ten minutes he ordered a coast. “Sonar, take a long, hard listen.”
After several minutes the operator looked across at the Captain. “Sir, I can’t make anything suspicious out, some distant civilian vessels, biologics. But nothing that says it’s a contact.”
“Ok, Planesman remain on course, speed nine knots.”
“Aye sir, nine on current bearing.”
It was a nuisance not being able to communicate with Volk, but Orlov knew Sokolov would be taking a similar tactical approach. For an hour or so Leopard carried out the chosen tactics: inch west at nine knots, coast, listen. Inch forward again. The SSN advanced forward 1,300 feet under the depths of the Black Sea. She knew her foe was out there somewhere, lurking and listening for boats like Leopard.
“SIR, I MAY HAVE SOMETHING.”
Franks smiled and kept his comments to himself. “Go on Nosey.”
“The lure is picking up one or possibly two subsurface contacts. They’re both to our rear approximately 18 kilometres. No ID as yet. I’d say the probability of one or more contacts is 70 percent.”
Franks knew he had to treat this as a probable threat. He decided to turn back and take up a position further behind and possibly amongst the two contacts. If that was what they were?