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Shattered Trident

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“I can see that, Rich,” snapped Simonis. “What’s the closest boat to her?”

“Theoretically, Texas is the closest. But Pascovich was the first CO to respond and he’s undoubtedly gone deep by now. He won’t be back up for a comms check for another ten hours.”

“What about Mitchell?” asked Simonis.

“Nothing since his acknowledgement of the recall order, sir, so he’s still in the process of recovering his recon UUV. Given Mitchell’s rude encounter with the Indian Akula, he’s probably moving cautiously,” Walker answered.

“A wise course of action,” said Simonis, nodding approvingly. He paused and looked first at the message, and then at the electronic plotting board. There really was no other option.

“Very well, Rich, send a flash precedence message to North Dakota, copy Santa Fe. Provide a rendezvous point and have Mitchell link up with Halsey; keep Santa Fe’s speed to no more than ten knots. I want North Dakota to escort Santa Fe out of the South China Sea. You have—”

“Yes, sir, I know. I have seven minutes,” shouted Walker as he leapt down the stairs. “Jeff! Get me a position that both boats can reasonably make given Santa Fe’s mobility restrictions. Use North Dakota’s last position and shift it to the west by fifteen miles. Move, people. We’ve got a hurt boat to get home!”

9 September 2016

1430 Local Time

USS North Dakota

Southeast of Hainan Island, South China Sea

They’d initially detected Santa Fe half an hour earlier at the ungodly range of thirty-five thousand yards. Even at ten knots, the shaft rub was very noisy and Jerry wondered how the Chinese could possibly miss it. Still, he prayed that their acute deafness would continue, preferably for the next several days. Guam was a long way away.

“Skipper, new contact, designated Sierra-six three, bearing north,” announced the sonar supervisor.

Jerry and Thigpen both looked over the supervisor’s shoulder as he pointed to a few tenuous lines on his display. “What do you have, Chief?” Jerry asked quietly.

“Don’t know, sir. The narrowband is really unstable,” replied Chief Halleck. “There’s no discernable bearing drift as well. It could be a distant surface contact, but that’s just a SWAG.”

“That bearing isn’t in the direction of the normal traffic lanes, or any harbor that we know of,” Thigpen remarked. “Why do I have the sneaky suspicion this isn’t a coincidence?”

“Because luck hasn’t exactly been running in our favor lately, XO,” admitted Jerry with a hint of irritation. “Mr. Covey, begin tracking Sierra-six three.”

“Aye, aye, sir.”

* * *

For the next six minutes, Jerry stared intently at the port VLSD, as if pure concentration could conjure up more information. Nothing. Absolutely nothing. There was no bearing drift at all, and sonar was still only picking up a couple of unstable tonals. But as each minute passed, Jerry became more and more agitated. There was something wrong here; his intuition was ringing with alarm bells. Finally in frustration he growled, “Chief, I’m starting to get really annoyed with this situation. I think we’re on an intercept course with Sierra-six three. Do you concur?”

“It’s a good possibility, Skipper. I’m not seeing, or hearing, any screw noise from the contact. If we’ve been constantly staring at his bow the whole time, that would explain the lack of any main-propulsion-related noise.”

Jerry walked over to Halleck and tapped the chief on the shoulder. He needed the man’s undivided attention. “Chief, I’m going to cut across the line of sight to try and generate some bearing rate. But I think we need to come shallow as well. If I remember correctly, we had a weak layer on the last SVP, but that was taken earlier this morning. If the layer has gotten stronger, and deeper, that would explain why we aren’t seeing more tonals.”

“Yes, sir, it would indeed.”

“Have your guys glue their noses to the stacks. I’ll bring us around,” Jerry said while patting the chief on the shoulder.

Turning back toward the ship control panel, Jerry called out, “Pilot, left full rudder, steady course three two zero. All ahead two-thirds, and make your depth one hundred and twenty-five feet.”

* * *

Moments after North Dakota reached her new depth, Chief Halleck sang out, “Broadband contact, Sierra-six three. Bearing zero zero six!”

“Very well, Chief,” Jerry replied with satisfaction. Then whispered, “Gotcha!”

“Tracking Sierra-six three, initial range, twenty-one thousand yards,” reported Covey.

Before Jerry could acknowledge Covey’s report, Halleck jumped in with unwelcome news. “Skipper, there are two contacts close together. Designate the second contact, Sierra-six four, bearing zero zero four!”

“Begin tracking Sierra-six four!” commanded Jerry. “Chief, I need a classification ASAP.”

“Working it, sir.”

Jerry watched the port VLSD as the fire control system’s output settled down to a consistent solution. Inwardly, he groaned. Whatever they were, the two contacts were headed straight toward Santa Fe. When Halleck made his report, Jerry already knew what he was going to say.

“Captain, both Sierra-six three and six four have two five-bladed screws.”

“Warships,” Jerry concluded grimly.

“Yes, sir. One is a possible Type 052 destroyer, the other looks like a Type 053 frigate,” answered the chief.

“Makes sense,” Jerry remarked. “Classic high-low mix.”

Thigpen also heard the report. His face showed his anxiety. “Skipper, I don’t think Santa Fe knows those two ships are even there!”

“I suspect you’re right, XO,” granted Jerry. “Without a towed array, Halsey doesn’t have an effective sensor. Between the strong layer and the increased noise from her shaft, Santa Fe’s spherical array probably hasn’t detected them yet.”

“Can we warn him?”

Jerry shook his head. “Santa Fe’s still too far away. And even if she did hear us, we’d have to transmit at such high power on the underwater comms gear that those two yahoos out there would hear it too.”

“Then… then what can we do?” pleaded Thigpen.

Jerry turned toward Thigpen. His expression was hard and determined. “We’ll do what we have to, XO. Copilot, sound general quarters!”

As the general alarm rang throughout the ship, Jerry added sternly, “If either of those ships even look cross-eyed at Santa Fe, I’ll put a Mark 48 into them.”

* * *

Control became abuzz with activity as the battle stations watchstanders filed in and took their positions. Jerry immediately began issuing orders to prepare North Dakota for battle. He hoped it wouldn’t come to that, but he still had to be ready for the worst. Even though there was plenty of activity going on, time seemed to crawl by for Jerry, as the distance between him and the Chinese warships wound down ever so slowly. The problem was that he was at the wrong end of the triangle; the warships were closing faster on Santa Fe than he was on them. If he wanted to close the gap, he’d have to kick their speed up a notch or three, but that only raised more alarm bells. Thigpen was thinking along those same lines. He was worried and said as much.

“I’ve got a bad feeling about this, Skipper. Why haven’t the Chinese warships gone active yet? Their hull arrays can’t be that good in passive mode.”

“They’re not, XO. One of those ships has a towed array. That’s how they’ve been able to track Santa Fe. I’m certain of it.”

“They could have an MPA in support.”

“A patrol aircraft would have attacked by now, and there’s no reason to expose your ships to a possible torpedo attack if you can engage from a distance. Those ships are closing in together, positioning themselves to execute a coordinated attack. You can bet there’s at least one helo in the air,” summarized Jerry.

“So what’s the plan, sir?” queried Thigpen.

“First off, XO, we need more information. An eye on the target,” Jerry replied. Then looking over at Covey he demanded, “What’s our status, Weps?”

“Sir, torpedo tubes one and two are ready in all respects with the exception of opening the outer doors. A Sea Tern UAV has been loaded into the number one signal ejector and is ready for launch.”

“Very well, Mr. Covey,” acknowledged Jerry. Moving back to the center of the control room, he cleared his throat and spoke loudly. “Attention in control. My intention is to launch a Sea Tern UAV to get a better view of the tactical picture. We need to watch this situation carefully. We don’t want to cause an incident, but if any of the Chinese units fire on Santa Fe, we will engage immediately with Mark 48 ADCAP torpedoes. Stay sharp; this ride may get a bit bumpy. Carry on.

“Pilot, all stop. Make your depth sixty-five feet.”

“All stop, make my depth sixty-five feet, Pilot, aye. Skipper, Maneuvering answers all stop.”

“Very well, Pilot.” Jerry watched as the speed started to drop. North Dakota had to slow down considerably before he dared to raise a photonics mast. Even at ten knots, the maximum safe speed for the mast, it would leave a huge wake—easily visible to an airborne helicopter.

To save time, Jerry used the residual speed to plane his boat up to periscope depth. It was only a few minutes until the pilot reported, “Captain, on ordered depth. Speed is six knots.”