on Kirov, and now they're trying to beat on him. These two ships appear to be converging on something. I--another torpedo in the water, don't know whose. Gawd, look at all these explosions!"
McCafferty went aft.
"Periscope depth, now!" Chicago angled upward, taking a minute to reach her position.
He saw what might have been a mast on the horizon, and a column of black smoke, bearing three-two-zero. Over twenty radars were operating along with a number of voice radios.
"Down scope. We have any target solutions?"
"No, sir," the XO answered. "When they started maneuvering, all our data went to hell."
"How far to the next sonobuoy line?"
"Two miles. We're positioned to run right through a gap."
"Make your depth eight hundred feet. Ahead full, move us in."
Chicago's engines sprang into life, accelerating the submarine to thirty knots. The executive officer dived the boat to eight hundred feet, ducking deep below a sonobuoy set for shallow search. McCafferty stood over the chart table, took a pen from his pocket, and unconsciously began chewing on the plastic end as he watched his sub's course take him closer and closer to the enemy formation. Sonar performance dropped virtually to nil with the high speed, but soon the low-frequency sounds of the exploding ordnance echoed through the steel hull. Chicago ran for twenty minutes, zigzagging slightly to avoid the Russian sonobuoys, as the fire-control men kept updating their solutions.
"Okay, all ahead one-third and take her back up to periscope depth," McCafferty said. "Tracking party, stand by for a firing run."
The sonar picture cleared up rapidly. The Soviets were continuing to hunt frantically for whoever had fired at their flagship. One ship's trace was entirely gone--at least one Russian ship had been sunk or crippled. Explosions rippled through the water, punctuated by the screeing sound of homing torpedoes. All were close enough to be a matter of real concern.
"Shooting observation. Up scope!"
The search periscope slid upward. McCafferty caught it low and swept the horizon. "I--Jesus!" The TV monitor showed a Bear only half a mile to their right, heading north for the formation. He could see seven ships, mainly mast tops, but one Sovremenny-class destroyer was hull-down, perhaps four miles away. The smoke he'd seen before was gone. The water resounded with the noise of Russian sonars.
"Raise the radar, power-up, and stand by."
A petty officer pushed the button to raise the submarine's surface-search radar, activated the system, but kept it in standby mode.
"Energize and give me two sweeps," the captain ordered. There was a real danger here. The Soviets would almost certainly detect the submarine's radar and try to attack it.
The radar was on for a total of twelve seconds. It "painted" a total of twenty-six targets on the screen, two of them close together about where he would have expected Kirov to be. The radar operator read off ranges and bearing, which were entered into the Mk-117 fire-control director and relayed to the Harpoon missiles in the torpedo tubes, giving them bearing to target and the range at which to switch on their seeker-heads. The weapons officer checked his status lights, then selected the two most promising targets for the missiles.
"Set!"
"Flood tubes." McCafferty watched the weapons-panel operator go through the launch sequence. "Opening outer doors."
"Solution checked and valid," the weapons officer said calmly. "Firing sequence: two, one, three."
"Shoot!" McCafferty ordered.
"Fire two." The submarine shuddered as the powerful impulse of high-pressure air ejected the weapon from the tube, followed by the whoosh of water entering the void. "Fire one ... fire three. Two, one, and three fired, sir. Torpedo tube doors are shut, pumping out to reload."
"Reload with Mark-48s. Prepare to fire Tomahawks!" McCafferty said. The fire-control men switched the attack director over to activate the bow-mounted missiles.
"Up scope!" The quartermaster spun the control wheel. McCafferty let it come all the way up. He could see the smoke trail of the last Harpoon, and right behind it ... McCafferty slapped the periscope handles up and stepped back. "Helix heading in! Take her down, all ahead flank!" The submarine raced downward. A Soviet antisub helicopter had seen the missile launch and was racing in at them. "Left full rudder."
"Left full rudder, aye!"
"Passing through one hundred feet. Speed fifteen knots," the XO reported.
"There he is," McCafferty said. The pings from the helicopter's active sonar reverberated through the hull. "Reverse your rudder. Shoot off a noisemaker." The captain ordered his submarine back to an easterly course and reduced speed as they dropped through the layer. With luck the Soviets would mistake the noisemaker