Shattered Trident - Страница 39

“It is my nightmare,” admitted Komamura. “Our goal is to inflict crippling economic damage on China before they have a chance to strike back effectively. We must focus on that task, and continue moving forward.”

“So will the Americans continue interfering?” Kubo asked.

“It’s likely. Only experience can tell what effect they will have on Chinese losses. Have you decided what our subs will do if they detect an American submarine?”

“That’s easy. Definitely not fire at it,” the admiral replied. “That will be my recommendation to the working group. That, and send out more submarines to compensate for American interference.”

Komamura asked, “Have you made a recommendation about what we should do when China calls out the alliance openly?”

“Those plans are ongoing, but yes, a plan is in place.”

“Then please tell the working group my recommendation is that we continue as before.”

4 September 2016

1600 Local Time

PLAN Frigate Yancheng, Hull 546

Yellow Sea, South of Qingdao, China

Yancheng was only four years old, and Jiang Wu was only her second captain. She was sleek and clean in her light gray paint, with an angled superstructure designed to reduce her chance of being detected by hostile radars. She was armed with first-line missile systems to engage surface and air targets. But more to the point, she carried a helicopter and a towed array. The Type 054A frigates were the most capable anti-submarine platform in the PLAN.

Looming dangerously close, the tanker’s aft deckhouse blocked Jiang’s view forward and to starboard. Following the guidance of the experts at North Sea Fleet headquarters, Commander Jiang had tucked Yancheng in tight against the tanker’s stern.

Motor vessel Da Qing 435 was laid out like most tankers, with a long, low hull, a slightly higher bow, and a deckhouse at the stern, housing the propulsion plant, the crew’s quarters, and the bridge, all clustered in a single high superstructure. Hopefully, a submarine on a periscope approach wouldn’t notice the smaller frigate behind the deckhouse’s bulk. More important, the noise of the frigate’s engines should be hidden by the tanker. The Type 054As, designed with sub-hunting as one of their missions, had a quieter acoustic signature to begin with, while the tanker’s diesels sounded like a New Year’s celebration.

Thanks to the tanker’s noise, the frigate’s bow sonar was nearly useless, but the passive towed sonar array, streamed two kilometers astern, was working well. It was more sensitive than the bow sonar, and while the forward-looking beams would be filled with the tanker’s noise, the other beams that looked past the tanker were unaffected. That would give them their first warning.

Ever since rendezvousing with Da Qing 435 two days ago, Jiang had lived either on the starboard bridge wing or in the sonar cabin. The two ships had followed the shipping lanes along the China coast, first east, then curving north. Plodding at twelve knots, the tanker’s best speed, it would take another day to reach Dalian harbor and the oil piers.

He was sure Captain Xin was counting the minutes. He’d had no choice, indeed no notice, about being used as bait for the mystery submarines. Jiang’s frigate had simply shown up and taken station near the tanker’s stern.

It had been a tense, but boring two days. Three hundred meters between the two vessels sounded like a lot until you thought in terms of ship lengths. Jiang wasn’t worried about his Yancheng. She was a gazelle compared to that hippopotamus of a tanker, but if the tanker maneuvered without warning, his smaller ship would suffer the most. Although only a third longer than his frigate, the tanker was exactly twice his beam and eight times his displacement. Apart from the damage a collision might cause, and the failure of his mission, he’d have to shoot himself from the sheer embarrassment of it.

The winds were offshore, from the east, and the seas were relatively mild, just sea state three. Environmental noise, caused by wave slap and even breakers on the shoreline, mixed with the sounds made by fish and other sea life and the noise of engines from other ships nearby. This was called “ambient noise,” and the whisper of a submarine’s approach had to be picked out of this cluttered background.

Theoretically, the submarine had a similar problem, but the tanker’s engines were much noisier, plus the sub knew where to look. Jiang had worked it out several times. There was an even chance that their first warning of an attack on the tanker would be the sound of torpedoes in the water. That was why his two pilots had slept in the helicopter for the past two days, allowed out of the cockpit only for the demands of nature. Yancheng’s helicopter stood ready, fueled and armed.

Jiang had reviewed all the possibilities, drilled his crew, studied what little intelligence the navy had, and now could only wait.

* * *

It came while he was visiting the sonar cabin. The operator reported, “Contact, bearing zero four zero.” The “waterfall” display screen showed the towed array’s entire frequency range, left to right. Sounds at different frequencies showed up as bright lines along the top edge of the screen. Technically, there were two possible bearings, 040 and 340 degrees, but the second bearing pointed toward the nearby shore, so the valid bearing was obvious.

A moment later, the sonar took another sample of the incoming sound, and then another. Each sample extended the line, pushing the earlier sample down the screen. This created a “waterfall” effect. Random noise that appeared and faded quickly showed up as faint dots or misshapen blobs, but a constant sound showed up as a line, marching down the display.

It could still be a “biologic,” a school of mackerel warning of a predator, for instance. But man-made mechanical sounds tended to be narrow, sharp lines, while natural sounds were broad, even fuzzy. That’s why sonar operators went to school. Jiang had gone to the same school as his sonar operators, and then done another six months of theoretical work on top of that.

The operator listened carefully to the sound, as well as watching the distribution of acoustic energy on the computer display. He needed both senses to solve this problem. Classifying a contact was a slow, exacting process. They’d had dozens of false contacts that afternoon, each one analyzed and examined until it could be confirmed as “not a submarine.” This time, the operator was taking longer, and Jiang fought the urge to grab a second set of headphones. He could see the screen, and the line was narrow and very bright.

The rating looked up at his captain and nodded confidently. “It’s not natural.”

That was all Jiang needed to hear. He picked up the handset for the intership phone system and ordered, “Launch the helicopter and send it northeast. We’ll give them a precise steer once they’re in the air.” With that urgent task done, he ordered, “Put the crew at combat alert against submarines. Add that it is not a drill.” He’d run the crew ragged practicing, and he didn’t want anyone making foolish assumptions.

The sonar techs ignored the alarm klaxon and the bustle behind them as more people came into the space. As soon as Jiang hung up the phone, the tracking operator reported, “He’s tracking right, with a fast bearing drift. He’s close.”

Which meant he was close to firing. Jiang had no illusions. Any modern submarine’s sonar was going to be better than his equipment. If he could hear the sub, it was nearby. His only advantage was surprise.

Jiang ordered sharply, “Check the datalink.”

The tracking operator reported, “The link is up. We are sending.”

Jiang smiled approvingly. He picked up the phone again. “Warn the tanker, ‘Sub off your starboard bow, prepare—’”

“Torpedoes in the water, Captain!” Jiang could see the weapons appear on the display, three bright strong lines.

“ —belay that, tell him to turn now to… one zero zero, and warn our helmsman to watch for his stern!” Jiang had taken the time earlier to brief Captain Xin on torpedo evasion.

Yancheng had to steer a straight course, unfortunately. If she turned, the towed array streaming behind her would kink at the point where she turned, and be useless until it stabilized. He couldn’t afford to lose his primary search sensor for even a few moments, much less several minutes. Luckily, his ship wasn’t the target.

A rating stood at the door. “Helicopter is airborne.”

Good, things were happening fast, as they had drilled. Jiang acknowledged the report, then instructed the sonar team, “Watch for the sub’s signal to separate from the torpedoes. He’s not expecting an escort, so he won’t try to clear his firing point as quickly.” The operators nodded their understanding, already deep into the search.

Jiang stepped from the sonar cabin into the command center, now fully manned at combat alert. He found the helicopter controller, one of his junior officers, hunched over his display screen. “We don’t have a range yet. Run him straight down the towed array’s bearing and have him search at five kilometers.” Certainly the sub had been at least that far away when he fired. The controller acknowledged the order and began guiding the aircraft.

Jiang noted the time. Forty-five seconds since the torpedoes had been launched. It was unfortunate, but one useful piece of information would be the time it took for the weapons to strike their target. Most torpedoes cruised at roughly forty knots, or just over one kilometer a minute. The time of their detonation would give him a rough idea of how far away the sub was when it fired.