Kirov Saga: Armageddon (Kirov Series) (19 page)

The wire trailing out behind it allowed two-way communication with
the Firing Control Officer on the
White Dragon
, who was still receiving
more refined location data on the contact from sonar. The squeaky bearing may
have given away
Kazan’s
initial location, but engineers were quick to
the scene with lubricants as an expedient measure to quash the noise again. Yet
now that the Russian sub had fired, the additional sonic information helped the
Japanese get a better ear on its general location.

Countermeasures in the water there fired by
Kazan
bloomed
like a rose in the sound field, but a well trained human ear could recognize
those sounds and feed instructions to the torpedo via the wire to ignore them.
The enemy would not be there in the middle of that rose, but elsewhere, lurking
off the bearing or speeding away, leaving the noise at its back in an attempt
to outrun the torpedo. The contact had been heading south, and so the Fire
Control Officer made a course correction, sending his fish to a place he
expected the enemy should be in another fifteen minutes.

The Russian javelin was the Big Type 65 torpedo, heavier and
faster than its adversary with a 450kg explosive warhead and a speed of 93KPH.
It also had a good long range of 50 kilometers, which is why Gromyko had
selected it as opposed to his Type 53 weapon, which maxed out at 22 kilometers.
At a firing range of 20 klicks, the Type 53 had little margin for error where
fuel was concerned, and it was also slower at 83KPH.

The Captain’s weapon of choice was also going to make a difference
in the engagement. It could fire farther, hit harder, and was quicker to the
target zone than the Japanese torpedo. The Type 65 was going to be in the hot
zone well before the enemy’s weapon became a threat, heating up Nakamura’s day
at the critical time when his own torpedo was attempting to lock on to the
Russian sub. To make matters worse, Gromyko had turned on a bearing that was
taking
Kazan
away from the pursuing Type 89s, and he had the speed and
power to nearly match the torpedo.

The bottom line in all of this was that the Russian torpedoes had
a distinct advantage. Their target was well located and it was approaching
them. The Japanese Type 89s were bearing fired and being nudged to the expected
target zone by the best guess of a human operator. As
Kazan
sped away,
it was also beginning to put the rising volcanic seamount that became the
Ulleung-do island between it and the oncoming torpedo. As the minutes passed it
soon became obvious that the Japanese fish were not going to find their quarry
that day. The question now was whether the Russian torpedoes could effectively
locate the target, for the Japanese sub was also gliding away off its firing
axis and attempting to become a hole in the water that would make it disappear.

The big torpedoes came in twelve minutes after firing, and while
one elected to go after
White Dragon’s
noisemakers, using its passive
sensors to home in, the other went active and soon found what it thought was a
possible contact. It adjusted its course and ran true, and forced another
frantic round of countermeasures aboard the
White Dragon
that barely saved
the boat.

The second Type 65 had a choice of a fairly robust sound signature
or a quiet echo behind it, and it chose the former, exploding about 50 meters
ahead and devouring the noisemakers. The resulting concussion shook up the
Japanese boat severely and, in the ensuing wild minute after, they lost their
tenuous sonic leash on
Kazan
, which had now put the undersea volcanic
mound between itself and the
White Dragon.
The boat keeled to one side,
lights flickered, and equipment rattled throughout the ship. Men were thrown
from their feet, and anything lose went flying through compartments all over
the boat. Fragments of the warhead raked the hull like buckshot, one larger
piece of shrapnel lodging in the nose of the boat, but the hull was not
breached.

Nakamura was lucky to be alive, and the sweat on his brow was
ample testament to the tension. One look at his chart told him what had
probably happened. The enemy was still running south, through the west gap on
the other side of the island. There was no way his slower boat was ever going
to catch up now, and he did not think he would get a second shot. That decided,
his only play was to turn south now himself, and take the eastern gap between
Ulleung-do and the Anyongbok seamount. If nothing else, he would be moving to a
position to better coordinate with
Kuroshio
, which was moving northwest at
that very moment from a position well south of the island.

Word was being flashed to Sato’s surface action group, and the
Seahawks
were ready to take wing and join the fray. Far to the east, the
Mississippi
was hearing it all as well on their own excellent passive sonar systems, and
Captain Donahue decided it might be nice to join the party.

“Looks like we found our bad boy out there,” he said to his XO.

Chambers nodded in the affirmative. “They’re well west,” he said. “Probably
running down the other side of Ulleung-do. Any chance the Koreans can bird dog
for us?”

“PACCOM says they’re a little more than edgy with the way the
North Koreans are stacking up on the border. No, I don’t think they want a
piece of this. To be honest, the Japanese would rather not tangle with the
Russians either. They were supposed to flush this bird for us, and that’s what
they did. I think we’d best get
Mississippi
west before this boat slips
away.”

“It’ll go dark while its behind that undersea massif,” Chambers
pointed at the map. “There’s a lot of shadow there in the sound field.”

“Which gives their skipper a number of choices. He can pull an
about face and head north again. If he does, we’ll lose him, which is fine by
me in this situation. As long as we keep them away from our planned operations
to the south we’ve done 90% of our job.”

“What if he stays on a heading south?”

“Then game on. In another hour he should be about 10 klicks
southwest of the island unless they’re running full out. If we push it we just
might get close enough for a decent shot. Let’s steer about 262 degrees and
crank it up. The Japanese will have a diesel boat off our port side and another
to our north. We should have
Seahawk
support from their destroyers as
well. If this contact insists on pushing south, we’ll have one hell of a picket
line moving in to nail the bastard.”

“Very well sir, 262 it is. Shall I run in Wiki mode or put it on
overdrive?”

“Ahead full battle speed,” said Donahue. The
Virginia
class
had a publically advertised speed that anyone could look up on Wikipedia, but
its real numbers were never revealed. It was time to move, and
Mississippi
had the speed to get into the action, which is exactly what she did.

*
* *

“Admiral,
we are going to be in a situation if we stay on this heading much
longer.” Gromyko decided he had better give Volsky the bare knuckled truth. “I
don’t think we’ll be bothered by that last sub again, but it will have signaled
our position, course, and speed to anyone else nearby, and we could be visited
again soon. They might have a P-3 up, and that surface action group is
obviously heading our way. They’ll have helicopters.”

Chernov had been listening intently as they slipped behind the imposing
undersea flanks of the Ulleung-do volcano. He soon heard the telltale sound of
surface ships approaching, and they knew these were most likely Japanese ships
on ASW patrol, most likely part of a screen to guard the approaches to the
Tsushima Strait.

“What is the situation with your reactor engineer?” Gromyko wanted
to know the score.

Fedorov had been in contact with the reactor room at Volsky’s
request and relayed the news. “Dobrynin says things have cleared up
considerably, sir. We’re well south now. I think he could run the procedure any
time, but that would mean we could use no more than two thirds power.”

“Is that acceptable, Captain Gromyko?” Volsky was obviously
concerned given the current situation.

“How long does this procedure take?”

“About an hour,” said Fedorov. “It took longer aboard
Kirov
,
but Dobrynin says he has to alter the tempo of the retraction process to
achieve the harmonics he’s after.”

“Then do it now. Our only other option is to turn about and head
north. But if we have to come south again for any reason, I think the other
side will be much better prepared. I can give you an hour while we’re behind
that volcanic massif. After that we’ll be in the basin and that is fairly open
water. It would be good to have speed if they should find us there again.”

“Alright,” said Volsky. “I don’t think we want to reverse course
now only to find out Dobrynin reports this sound he hears again. Go, Mister
Fedorov. Tell the Chief to begin, and you may keep us informed.” The Admiral
turned to Gromyko as Fedorov sped away for the reactor room.

“Captain,” said Volsky, “some years ago I took my young nephew with
me to Paris and we toured the Disneyland park there.”

Gromyko raised an eyebrow, wondering what this was about.

“He wanted to ride the runaway train on Big Thunder Mountain, but
when he got a look at the train cars at the end of the ride, and the astonished
look on everyone’s face, he began to get cold feet. Well, I told him what I
must now tell you. We came all this way and you just bought the ticket. Now
you’re going to take the ride.”

Gromyko smiled. “I’ll try to keep the train on the tracks for you
for a while, Admiral.”

“That is good to hear. But what I must also tell you is this…”
Volsky lowered his voice. “We aren’t really sure this will get us where we hope
to go. Rod-25 has had a fondness for the 1940s. Dobrynin believes he can hear
the music—that is how he puts it—some kind of nuclear song that will control
the displacement if he can achieve the same harmonics during the procedure. But
we could end up anywhere.”

“I understand, sir.”

“I’m glad someone does, because even after bouncing back and forth
five or six times I’m still not sure I can believe what happened. Let us hope
we have good luck in the next hour.” Yet no sooner had he finished saying that
when another voice called a warning.

“Con, sonar. Undersea contact, possible submarine. Confidence
high. The bearing is 150.”

It was the last thing Gromyko wanted to hear just then. Volsky
gave him a wide eyed look. “I can countermand that order, Captain. Just say the
word.”

“No…I think we can proceed,” said Gromyko. “What is the heading on
that contact Chernov?”

“Listening… Listening….I make it 262 southwest, sir. Moderate speed,
perhaps no more than 12 knots, but this is an approximate reading. I will need
active sonar to verify that, or a lot more time if we stay passive.”

The Captain folded his arms, as if he might be wrapping himself in
a cape, lost in his own inner muse for a moment. Something was creeping across
his intended path southeast of his present position, most likely another
Japanese diesel boat.

“Does this sound like a turtle, Chernov?”

“Yes sir. I think it is.”

“Very well, keep listening and feed data to the Fire Control
Officer as before.”

“Very well, sir.”

“A turtle?” Volsky did not understand what he had just heard.

“That’s what the Japanese call their older diesel boats, Admiral,
Dongame
,
which means languid turtle. Their officers have a self-deprecating way of
talking about their work, and they call themselves ‘Turtle Boat Captains.’
We’ve got one paddling our way at 12 knots, but if he sticks his neck out too
far he just might get a nasty surprise.”

For the next ten minutes they drifted silently through the quiet
undersea world, each man lost in his own thoughts, listening to something
whispering at the edge of infinity, or so it seemed. Chernov was listening to
the subtle disturbance of a very quiet submarine moving stealthily through the
water somewhere in the darkness ahead. Gromyko was listening to his boat, and
hoping he would not soon hear the dry squeal of a bad bearing again anytime
soon. Volsky was listening to the voice of his wife in his head, imagining her
face as she would sit at the table stirring honey into her tea, and he missed
her dearly. Now he was about to vanish again, or so he believed, and leave her
just that extra measure away from him, long years, long decades this time if
they were successful.

And down in the reactor room Dobrynin raised his hand and signaled
his technicians to begin the rod retraction, while Rod-25 waited above in its
containment canister, ready to be dipped into the soup. He did not know whether
he should choose an odd or even rod this time, but decided in the end to match
his exact selection for the shift they made to 1908 aboard
Anatoly
Alexandrov
. That was an odd number, always associated with a backward
shift. He had just brought them all home by replacing rod number eight on the
Anatoly
Alexandrov
, so now he chose rod seven here on
Kazan
, lucky seven.
Then he listened, waiting for the sound to become the familiar vibration he had
heard so many times before. It would take thirty minutes to withdraw the number
seven rod, and all the while Rod-25 would be moving in tandem into the open rod
position in the reactor core.