"What?"
"I read it as very close… less than fifty meters, still astern… but it has reduced speed to twenty knots. Sir, it appears to be simply following us in our dive."
Impossible! Torpedoes didn't act that way!
PING!…
At least, known torpedo weapons such as the American Mark 48 ADCAP did not.
Jian wrestled for a moment with the thought that Yinbi was being pursued by a new weapon of some kind. If so, it could have one of two possible effects. Either it was intended to give warning that the target could be destroyed at any moment — presumably by the flip of a switch on the enemy submarine's weapons panel — or the device was actually a homing beacon of some sort, a remote vehicle that found and locked on to the target submarine, broadcasting sonar pulses that would very quickly draw real torpedoes. If the first, then part of the weapon's purpose was psychological warfare, a means of shaking the target's crew. If the second, the device might be designed to patrol a designated area and lock on to any submarine that entered its homing range, at which point it would begin broadcasting a "here I am" homing message for American submarines or ASW ships or aircraft.
PING!…
The question was how much fuel or battery power the device had — how long could it track the Yinbi before running out of juice?
And the answer was… unknown. American technological prowess certainly suggested that it would have a considerable loiter time depending on its speed and range — as much as an hour, perhaps?
PING!…
Several of the men in the control room were looking panicky now, eyes wide as they stared toward the overhead, as if trying to see Yinbi's noisy pursuer. The men remained at their posts, but the tension, the sheer fear, was increasing. How much longer before that fear passed out of their control?
"Diving Officer! What is our depth?"
"Passing two hundred twelve meters, sir."
"Level off at two hundred fifty meters."
"Leveling off at two hundred fifty meters, sir." Gently, the deck began rising.
"Slow to ten knots." How closely would the American weapon pursue them?
"Slowing to ten knots, yes, sir!"
PING!…
"Captain! Sonar! Target is slowing… and appears to be leveling off at 775 feet. Speed now fifteen knots… still slowing… sir, the target is making revolutions for about ten knots."
On the control room monitor, the televised image from Junior showed the aft edge of the Kilo's sail looming huge just ahead, a titanic, oddly tilted cliff partly illuminated by an oval of harsh white light from one of the UUV's lamps. Carpenter hauled the joystick controller over, and, after a delay that was very nearly too long, the remote vehicle yawed sharply to the left, narrowly missing the Kilo's sail. The monitor went black as the UUV twisted away from the target, its cameras again peering out into the empty black of the ocean depths.
"Damn!" Carpenter exclaimed. "He pulled up on me and hit the brakes!"
"That's okay, Weps. Bring Junior around again. Slow to match the target's speed, but stay with him."
"Yes, sir."
Moments passed. Again, the enemy Kilo appeared ahead, a dark and murky shadow moving through the night.
"Mr. Carpenter… let's pick up on the pinging. I want to rattle that guy's cage."
Garrett steepled his fingers as he leaned forward in the command chair, watching the display with intent fascination.
PING!… PING! … PING!… PING!…
The American weapon's sonar probing had increased sharply, the pings coming very close together now. When the sonar operator gave his next report, it was difficult to hear his words because of the racket.
"Sir! Enemy torpedo now circling around behind us. It appears to have slowed to match our course and speed!"
Jian sagged, eyes closed, fist clenched at his side. The situation was impossible. A submarine lived by remaining unheard, unseen, unnoticed. For any submarine commander, this constant and unrelenting acoustical scrutiny was a kind of hell. Enemy torpedoes, real torpedoes, might be on the way already, homing on the acoustical signature of the echoed sonar pulses.
Yinbi de Gongji would die… and for what? Operation Yangshandian, a madman's attempt at geopolitical adventurism.
"Diving Officer!"
"Yes, sir!" The man's face was ashen, drenched with sweat.
"Blow main ballast, if you please. Emergency surface."
"Yes, sir!"
And Yinbi began rising from the depths.
23
"Captain, Sonar! Target is blowing ballast. Damn, sir, he's surfacing!"
Garrett sagged back in his seat, shaky with relief. He'd played a long shot, and won.
During the Cold War, there'd been numerous incidents where Soviet submarines had wandered closer than American commanders liked to key naval tar-gets — an aircraft carrier, say, or a U.S. boomer. With live fire not an option — the two giants had not actually been at war, after all — it was tough to enforce a "back off" order when the other fellow had decided to play hardball. One of the few weapons American attack boat skippers had possessed — short of ramming a too-persistent Soviet sub — was to ping him, relentlessly and unceasingly, letting him know he was smack in the crosshairs of American antisubmarine forces until he either fled or surfaced.
By showing the Chinese sub skipper that he was in Virginia's sights and that he would not be able to get away, Garrett had delivered an ultimatum. Depending on his orders, the Chinese commander might have responded with a torpedo… but Garrett had been hoping that the man had more of an instinct for survival than that.
After all, China was not at war with the United States now, either.
"Captain! Sonar! Torpedoes in the water!"
"Where? Sierra One-oh-three?" Had the bastard popped a couple of fish as he blew ballast?
"Negative, sir! These are coming from our stern quarter starboard… bearing zero-eight-eight, closing at forty-five knots! Estimate range to be… thirty-five hundred yards!"
That Chinese sub ahead might not be at war with the United States… but someone was!
"Fire three!"
"Tube three fired electrically, Captain! Torpedo running hot, straight, and normal!"
Ul Haq clung to the periscope housing, feeling the exultation surge through his body. Shuhadaa Muqaddaseen had left Small Dragon Island moments after General Han had ordered the Yinbi de Gongji to investigate the silence of Al Qahir. Moving swiftly but silently, the Pakistani Kilo had approached the battle zone from the east in time to acoustically "see" the American submarine banging on Jian's vessel with sonar… apparently from some sort of small remote weapon or device. The sonar served to illuminate both vessels from Shuhadaa Muqaddaseen's vantage point. It hadn't taken long to distinguish the two targets, one from the other. A Kilo-class boat had an exposed screw which, though very quiet, still made a distinctive noise. The American submarine — presumably a Seawolf-class boat — possessed an eight-bladed propulsor mounted inside a shroud. It too was very quiet… but the noise it made was distinctive as well.