Shattered Trident - Страница 45

1100 Local Time

INS Chakra

South China Sea

Captain Girish Samant surveyed his central post: the control room on a Russian-designed submarine. Everything was as it should be. The men were alert and attending to their duties as expected, despite the fact they’d been at action stations for several hours now. The war with China was only six days old and Chakra had already bagged four tankers, including one VLCC. Samant judged their performance thus far as adequate, but tankers are easy prey. Now they were hunting bigger game, a more elusive adversary, one that could fight back. Looking to his left at the Omnibus fire control consoles, he could see his first officer huddled with the two operators. The three men were having an animated discussion, their voices raised and excited. One of the operators pointed toward his circular display and commented on the target’s lack of proficiency. Samant frowned at such undisciplined behavior.

“Status, Number One,” he demanded sternly.

“Yes, sir. Contact four seven is heading westerly at four knots. Range estimate is ten thousand four hundred meters and opening. Recommend changing course to three one zero to intercept.”

“Very well, Number One. Helmsman, starboard fifteen, steer three one zero.”

The Indian captain was certain the fire control solution was inaccurate; he seriously doubted they could detect a new Type 041 Yuan-class submarine on the battery at ten kilometers. Still, the recommended turn was in the correct direction, and while Chakra swung to her new heading, he mentally ran through the math.

Girish Samant’s reputation as the finest submariner in the Indian Navy was not without justification. Not only did he finish at the top of his class in every course of instruction, he consistently had the highest ratings on the submarines he served on. But far and away his greatest accomplishment was that he was the first Indian naval officer to successfully complete the Royal Navy’s Submarine Command Course, or “Perisher.” Initially one of five officers in his class, and the lone foreign officer, he was one of only three who successfully made it through the demanding six-month course. The other two failed, or “perished.” Upon graduation, Samant was cited for possessing an exceptionally ordered mind and coolness under duress.

When he had been selected as Chakra’s second commanding officer a little over a year earlier, Samant considered it to be the pinnacle of his career. But then India joined the Littoral Alliance and he suddenly found his submarine thrust into war. With this change in perspective, his peacetime accomplishments abruptly seemed unimportant, trivial. Being the best submariner in the Indian Navy was no longer good enough. Now he was determined to become India’s most successful captain ever. So driven, he set out to sink as many ships as fast as he possibly could. And while tankers ran up the tonnage, sinking combatants, particularly submarines, brought more glory. This Chinese boat would not escape him.

As he studied the fire control solution at his command desk, a nagging feeling began poking at him. The bearing rate seemed a little too high, and this reinforced his earlier thoughts; the contact was closer to him. “Number One, reduce the contact’s range to seven thousand meters and recompute target course and speed,” he ordered.

“Aye, aye, sir,” replied Lieutenant Commander Maahir Jain. Within moments he reported back to Samant. “Captain, sir, revised target course is two eight zero, speed three knots. The starboard flank array has also picked up the contact, revised range estimate is seven thousand eight hundred meters.”

Samant’s expression remained an impassionate mask. Even though his range estimate was vindicated as accurate, the flank array’s information merely confirmed a fact. There would be no premature congratulations; it would have to wait until the target was sunk. “Very well, Number One, stand by for target setup. Helmsman, right fifteen, steer three four zero. Deck officer, set combat quiet condition.”

USS North Dakota

“Confirm target zig, Sierra two-nine has changed course to the right,” reported Thigpen.

Jerry looked up at the port large-screen display. It didn’t take a lot of imagination to guess where the Indian was going. “Well, that cinches it. He’s heading straight for the Yuan.”

“Yes, sir. But it also means he’s turned toward us,” Thigpen replied with emphasis.

“Yeah, that too,” Jerry conceded. The geometry of the encounter was terrible. Turning to parallel the Akula made the most sense, except that it drove them toward the Yuan. Trailing six thousand yards off the Indian’s starboard quarter meant they risked getting closer, sooner to the Chinese boat. Worse yet, being loosely between the two hostile submarines increased their risk of getting caught in a cross fire.

“OOD, bring us parallel with the Akula, but slow us down to five knots. I need to consult with the XO.”

“Aye, Captain, come right and parallel the Akula, slow to five knots,” acknowledged Iwahashi. Jerry nodded his approval and stepped out of the way. As the junior officer started the course change, Jerry saw Thigpen turn and approach the command workstation.

“Our position stinketh, Skipper,” he lamented.

“It most certainly does, XO, and I don’t think we can get to a better spot before the Akula reaches his firing position. Do you concur?”

“Absolutely. Either we pound his ass now, or we break off and go with Plan B.”

“I’m leaning toward the latter, Bernie. We need to separate ourselves from these two before they start shooting at each other.”

“We could just slow down more and let the Akula pull farther ahead,” Thigpen observed. He placed his finger by the icon representing their boat on the geographic plot display and pulled it back to demonstrate a growing distance.

Jerry considered his XO’s suggestion; it solved the problem with the Akula, but not the other boat. It would take too long to get the desired angular separation. The Chinese captain would likely launch at least one weapon when the Indian reacted to Jerry’s interference. North Dakota could still get caught within the acquisition cone of one of the torpedoes.

“That doesn’t get us far enough away from the Akula, XO,” Jerry said. “Let’s come more to the right. If we steer forty-five degrees off the Indian’s course, we’ll pull away from his position faster, but still keep both targets out of the end fire beams of the towed arrays.”

“Works for me, Skipper,” nodded Thigpen. “Then we can bring Minot in and hit the Akula with her bow mine-hunting sonar. That should scare him off.”

Turning back to the geographic plot display, Jerry noted that Minot was five thousand yards off the Akula’s port quarter and a tad shallower. He’d have to get the UUV to move up along the Akula’s flank if both of the submarines were going to detect the high-frequency pulses.

“All right, XO. Let’s increase Minot’s speed to nine knots and position her off the Akula’s beam. Then turn her to…” Jerry adjusted the position of Minot’s icon with the trackball until it was aligned with the Indian Akula and the Yuan. “… zero two one and have her go active on the bow mine-hunting array. And use the lowest power setting on the acoustic modem. We don’t want to draw attention to ourselves.”

“Increase Minot’s speed to nine knots. When abeam of the Akula, come right to zero two one and have her say, ‘Tag, you’re it,’ aye, sir.”

INS Chakra

“Captain, contact four seven is steady on course two eight zero, speed three knots. Range estimate is six thousand eight hundred meters and closing. We have a good solution,” reported Jain.

“Very well, Number One.” Samant looked at the clock on the bulkhead. It had taken his fire control watch about eight minutes to obtain a firing solution. That was acceptable.

“Bring tubes one, two, seven, and eight to action state,” he ordered. The first two tubes held UGST torpedoes, the second two, MG-84 mobile decoys. Samant was taking no chances. He completely expected the Chinese commander to counterfire once he detected Chakra’s torpedoes.

“New contact, bearing two three zero, off our port side,” announced the sonar operator over the intercom.

Samant reached for his microphone, while simultaneously spitting out an order to his fire control team. “Begin tracking contact four eight. Be smart about it, Number One.”

Keying the mike, he said, “Sonar, identify new contact.”

“Captain, contact four eight is weak. No discernable bearing drift or tones. Possible submerged contact,” responded the sonar operator.

Another submerged contact, thought Samant. The possibility of an ambush crossed his mind, but that would require a detection and coordination capability well beyond what the Chinese were known to possess. But even if it were just a coincidence, the second contact had shown up at a most inconvenient moment and he had to deal with it.

“Bring tubes three and four to action state. Stand by for deliberate fire, contact four seven. Firing sequence tubes seven, one, and two.”

USS North Dakota

“Captain, Sierra two-nine is flooding tubes and opening outer doors,” said the sonar supervisor.

“Very well, Sonar,” responded Jerry. “XO, command Minot to go active.”

“Aye, sir. Command sent.”