Empire Rising

by Rick Campbell

  Wilson ordered, “Helm, ahead standard. Right full rudder, steady course two-eight-zero.”

  Michigan began reversing course to the west, away from the explosion reverberating through the ocean depths. Christine took in a deep breath, realizing only now how shallow her breathing had been. However, as the tension eased from her muscles, a powerful sonar ping echoed through Control.

  Seconds later, the Sonar Supervisor’s announcement struck fear back into her heart. “Torpedo launch transients, bearing three-one-zero!”

  58

  USS MICHIGAN

  “Hold a new contact, designated Sierra five-zero, bearing three-one-zero! Yuan class submarine.” Sonar’s follow-up report echoed from the 27-MC speaker on the Conn.

  Another Chinese submarine had materialized from the murky waters. This time, however, Michigan wasn’t hugging the ocean bottom, masked by the reverberations of a torpedo explosion.

  Before Wilson could engage the second Chinese submarine, he had to deal with the incoming torpedo. “Helm, ahead flank! Steady course two-two-zero. Launch countermeasure!”

  The Helm acknowledged Wilson’s order and rang up ahead flank, maintaining his rudder at right full. Michigan’s powerful main engines surged to life and a Fire Control Technician launched one of Michigan’s decoys into the water. Christine felt the engines vibrate through the deck again as Michigan swung rapidly toward its torpedo evasion course. However, as Michigan approached its new course of 220, there was another report from the Sonar Supervisor.

  “Torpedo in the water, bearing two-three-zero! Hold a new submerged contact, bearing two-three-two, classified Yuan diesel submarine.”

  Christine was beginning to hate the sound of the Sonar Supervisor’s voice. She followed Wilson’s eyes to the sonar display on the Conn, where a second bright white trace had appeared next to an accompanying faint white line. Michigan was now heading directly toward another Chinese submarine and its torpedo. These two diesel submarines were probably the other two of the trio of Chinese submarines that had chased Michigan into the ocean bottom a day earlier.

  “Launch countermeasure! Helm…” Wilson hesitated.

  There was no good course to maneuver to. The Chinese submarines had Michigan bracketed. If Wilson put one torpedo on the beam in an attempt to drive out of its path, the other torpedo would end up directly ahead or behind, a recipe for disaster. Yet they had to turn somewhere, and fast. They were barreling directly toward the second torpedo.

  Wilson finally completed his order. “… shift your rudder, steady course one-five-zero.”

  The Helm shifted the rudder to left thirty degrees, reversing Michigan’s turn to starboard. Wilson had decided to place the second torpedo on the beam, but that meant the first torpedo was chasing right up Michigan’s tail. At least they were headed away from it, buying precious time while Wilson developed a plan to save everyone’s bacon.

  Wilson calmly stepped off the Conn, stopping behind Lieutenant Cordero again. “Geographic display with geoplot overlay,” Wilson commanded. Cordero pulled up the requested display as Wilson was joined by the XO. “We’re going to maneuver between the two torpedoes,” Wilson said. “To do that, I need to know their courses.” Both men turned toward Lieutenant Cordero, who spoke calmly into the mouthpiece of his sound-powered phones.

  “Sonar, PRI MATE. Report Sonar Search Plan range, Yuan class submarine.”

  Christine couldn’t hear Sonar’s response over Cordero’s headset, but a few seconds later, Cordero began manipulating one of the trackballs, adjusting the range parameters of the torpedo solutions, overriding the automated algorithms. His hand fell still and he looked up at Captain Wilson, awaiting further direction.

  “Use High Speed for a Yu-6 torpedo,” Wilson ordered.

  Cordero returned his attention to his display as he adjusted the speed of both incoming torpedoes, forcing them to fifty knots. Wilson examined the results of Cordero’s analysis, then turned to the Ship Control Panel.

  “Helm, left full rudder, steady course zero-nine-zero.”

  The Helm acknowledged and a second later Michigan was turning to port again. As the submarine steadied on course 090, Wilson returned to the Conn and addressed his crew. “Attention in Control. Both torpedoes were fired on a line-of-sight bearing vice corrected intercept. That means our best evasion course is to the east. If our countermeasures fail to decoy the torpedoes, we’ll have to hope they don’t detect us as they pass by. Carry on.”

  The Executive Officer ordered Lieutenant Cordero to enter the torpedo solutions into Combat Control, and the geographic display updated with projections of both torpedoes. Their paths formed a giant X, crossing two thousand yards behind Michigan.

  It was quiet in Control, the silence interrupted only by the periodic torpedo bearings. Christine could see the strain on the crew’s faces as they attempted to discern whether their countermeasures would decoy the torpedoes—and if not, whether the torpedoes would pass behind them without detecting their submarine speeding away.

  Another 27-MC announcement. “First torpedo bears three-zero-zero. Second torpedo bears two-four-zero.”

  Two new bearing lines appeared on the geographic display. Both torpedoes were drawing aft, continuing their crisscross pattern. Christine watched the two torpedoes approach the decoys Michigan had left in its wake, waiting for a sign the countermeasures had worked.

  “First torpedo bears two-nine-five. Second torpedo bears two-four-five. Both torpedoes approaching countermeasures.”

  Christine’s eyes went to the geographic display again. Both torpedoes were within a hundred yards of Michigan’s decoys.

  “First torpedo bears two-nine-zero. Second torpedo bears two-five-zero. Both torpedoes have passed our countermeasures.”

  The geographic display updated, verifying the Sonar Supervisor’s report. Both bearings marched onward, giving no indication the torpedoes had been fooled by the decoys.

  And so it had come down to this. Michigan would thread the needle between both torpedoes, hoping each would pass by without detecting them. Christine studied the geographic display, watching the red inverted Vs gradually gain on the white dot in the center. The two torpedoes continued their crossing pattern, drawing closer together as they converged on Michigan.

  “First torpedo bears two-eight-zero. Second torpedo bears two-six-zero.”

  The Executive Officer joined Wilson on the Conn. Lieutenant Commander Greenwood was the Fire Control Coordinator, responsible for generating a firing solution for their targets. But he had no firing solutions; Michigan was evading at ahead flank and they had lost both Chinese submarines due to the turbulent flow of water across the submarine’s sonar dome. Besides, it seemed pointless to Christine to launch another torpedo now. At least not until one of the two torpedoes Petty Officer Walsh was reassembling was ready.

  Seemingly in response to Christine’s thoughts, the Weapons Officer announced, “Reassembly of both torpedoes is complete. Loading Tubes One and Two.”

  Wilson acknowledged the Weps’ report, his eyes never leaving the geographic display.

  “Both torpedoes bear two-seven-zero.”

  The two torpedoes were now at their closest point of approach, and Christine heard the faint, high-pitched chirp of the torpedo sonars. She gripped the Conn railing tightly, hoping there was enough distance between Michigan and the torpedoes behind them.

  “First torpedo bears two-six-five. Second torpedo bears two-seven-five.”

  Christine could feel the collective sigh in the Control Room. Both torpedoes were continuing on their original courses, which meant they hadn’t detected their target. But now, instead of a narrow stern aspect, the torpedoes would pass by Michigan on its beam, getting a much clearer look at the 560-foot-long submarine. Although the torpedoes were now gradually opening, the danger hadn’t passed.

  “First torpedo bears two-six-zero. Second torpedo bears two-eight-zero.”

  Christine listened intently as the torpedo bearings marc
hed up Michigan’s port and starboard side, until both torpedoes were abreast Michigan and opening. Christine assumed the torpedoes could look only in front of them, and apparently her assessment was correct, as the tension in the Control Room faded. The men at their consoles and the Supervisors began conversing and passing reports between them again.

  They had survived. Michigan could now speed away and return later, attempting to slip through the Chinese submarine blockade at some other location. But instead of heading away, Wilson did the opposite.

  “Helm, all stop. Left full rudder, steady course two-seven-zero.”

  Christine’s jaw almost dropped. Michigan was turning around, pointing toward the two Chinese submarines behind them. Wilson explained.

  “Attention in Control. We’re going to turn and fight. We have a timeline to meet with respect to inserting our SEAL team, and we can’t keep running away every time we’re detected. We’ll have surprise on our side—the last thing the Chinese expect is for us to turn and fight with a Torpedo Room full of defective torpedoes. Our opponents believe they are invincible, and we’re going to use that belief against them. I’ve ordered all stop, reducing our noise signature so the Chinese submarines will lose contact on us. We’ll wait until they’re close and shoot two torpedoes in their face, and hopefully the Chinese sonar pulse won’t shut down our modified torpedoes. Carry on.”

  Captain Wilson was placing a lot of faith in Petty Officer Walsh. Turning to fight would be either a brilliant tactical move or suicide, depending on whether Walsh had successfully modified the two torpedoes.

  Michigan completed its turn to the west, gradually drifting to a stop while Lieutenant Herndon and Wilson stood on the Conn, scanning the sonar display for evidence of the Chinese submarines pursuing them. After a few moments, two faint white lines appeared on the display, accompanied by a 27-MC report from Sonar.

  “Conn, Sonar. Regained Sierra five-zero and five-one, bearing three-zero-zero and two-four-zero respectively.”

  “Very well, Sonar.” Wilson acknowledged Sonar’s report, then announced loudly so everyone in Control could hear. “Designate Sierra five-one as Master One and Sierra five-zero as Master Two. Track Master One and Two.”

  Wilson glanced at his Executive Officer, who was already engrossed in the task of determining the course, speed, and range of the two Chinese submarines.

  The Executive Officer finally called out, “I have a firing solution for both contacts.”

  Christine’s eyes shifted from the sonar monitor on the Conn to Captain Wilson, expecting him to order Firing Point Procedures. But he just stood there. As Christine wondered what he was waiting for, her thoughts were interrupted by the Weapons Officer’s report.

  “Tubes One and Two are loaded. Powering up both weapons.”

  Wilson remained silent, and for the first time, Christine sensed the tension in his posture. Petty Officer Walsh hadn’t been sure the torpedoes would function with the primary Signal Processing card removed, yet Wilson’s plan hinged on two functional torpedoes.

  “Both weapons have powered up, communicating with combat control,” the Weps announced.

  Wilson ordered, “Firing Point Procedures. Salvo from Tubes One and Two. Assign Tube One to Master One, Tube Two to Master Two. Tube One first-fired. Set Short Range tactics and change Search Speed to High-One, both units.”

  The Executive Officer bounced between the three combat control consoles, eventually tapping Lieutenant Cordero and one of the petty officers on the shoulder as he announced, “Solutions ready.”

  Lieutenant Herndon reported, “Ship ready.”

  The Weapons Officer followed up. “Both tubes flooded down. Opening outer doors, Tubes One and Two. Sending presets to both units.” Lieutenant Stewart returned his attention to the Weapon Launch Console as Wilson and the rest of the personnel in Control waited quietly. For what, Christine wasn’t sure, but Wilson’s eyes were fixed on his Weapons Officer.

  As the crew waited for Weps’ next report, the Sonar Supervisor’s voice carried across Control. “Downshift in propeller blade rate, both contacts. Master One and Two are slowing.”

  There was no reaction from Wilson as he acknowledged Sonar. Lieutenant Herndon moved close to Wilson, speaking quietly. “Sir, we are at all stop. I recommend we put speed on the ship. If either submarine fires, we’ll need speed to evade.”

  “No,” Wilson replied. “I don’t want them to realize we’re pointed at them. What we lose in speed we’ll gain in surprise.”

  Herndon nodded as the Weapons Officer called out, alarm in his voice. “Sir, weapons not ready! Neither torpedo is accepting presets.”

  Wilson snatched the 27-MC microphone from its holster, punching the button for the Torpedo Room. “Torpedo Room, Captain. Put Walsh on.”

  A moment later, the Torpedoman answered. “Petty Officer Walsh.”

  “Neither torpedo is accepting presets. Is there something we need to do?”

  “No, sir,” Walsh replied. “There’s nothing we can do. It could be both torpedoes are running additional start-up diagnostics now that their primary SP cards are missing. Or maybe I should have left them in and short-circuited them, but I didn’t know how to do that. I recommend we give them a little more time.”

  A powerful sonar ping echoed through the Control Room. Wilson’s eyes went to the sonar display, showing a bright white blip on the bearing of Master One. “Time is a luxury we don’t have, Walsh.”

  “Give them a few more seconds, Captain.”

  A second sonar ping penetrated Michigan’s hull, this one coming from the bearing corresponding to Master Two.

  The XO turned toward Wilson as the Captain slid the 27-MC microphone back into its holster. “Both contacts have closed to three thousand yards and have slowed to ten knots.”

  Wilson acknowledged the XO, then called out, “Weps, report weapon status.”

  “Sir, both torpedoes are still refusing to accept presets.”

  An uneasy silence settled over Control as Wilson stepped off the Conn to examine the geographic display at Cordero’s console. The two Chinese submarines were closing on Michigan, one from thirty degrees off the bow to starboard and the other from thirty degrees to port. It wouldn’t be long before one or both submarines calculated a firing solution and sent a torpedo down Michigan’s throat.

  Christine wondered what the two submarines were waiting for when she heard Captain Wilson mutter under his breath, “That’s it, you overconfident bastards. Get nice and close, so your torpedoes won’t miss this time.”

  It seemed this was part of Wilson’s plan, remaining dead in the water, drawing their adversaries in close. For what purpose, Christine didn’t know. But she figured she’d find out soon enough.

  “Conn, Sonar. Master One and Two are opening torpedo tube outer doors.”

  The Executive Officer followed up, “Sir, both contacts have closed to within two thousand yards.”

  Wilson returned to the Conn, his eyes shifting between the sonar monitor and the geographic display. He seemed on the verge of issuing new orders when the Weapons Officer called out, “Both torpedoes have accepted presets! Weapons ready, Tubes One and Two!”

  Wilson responded, “Match Sonar bearings and shoot! Helm, ahead flank!”

  The two Fire Control Technicians at the combat control consoles updated the firing solution for each contact, and the Fire Control Technician manning the Weapon Launch Console pressed the launch button at the bottom of his display.

  There was a high-pitched whirr as Michigan’s starboard torpedo ejection pump jettisoned the four-thousand-pound torpedo from Tube One, followed by the Weapons Officer’s announcement, “First fired unit running, wire good, merging on bearing to Master One!” Seconds later, the unique whirr filtered through Control again as Michigan’s second torpedo was ejected from Tube Two. “Second fired unit running, wire good, merging on bearing to Master Two.”

  Meanwhile, the Helm had rung up ahead flank and Michigan was now surging dire
ctly toward the two Chinese submarines, splitting the distance between them.

  Sonar’s reports echoed through Control as they monitored their torpedo milestones.

  “First fired—fuel crossover achieved.”

  “Turning to preset gyro course.”

  “Shifting to High-One speed.”

  Sonar repeated the announcements for their second fired unit. It appeared both torpedoes were functioning as expected. Whether they were now immune to the Chinese sonar pulse was another question, which would be answered soon. Another powerful sonar ping echoed through Control, this one at a slightly higher frequency.

  The Weapons Officer hunched over the Weapon Launch Console, examining the data being transmitted back over the wire from each of Michigan’s torpedoes. Christine was relieved when Lieutenant Stewart called out, “Both units functioning normally!”

  Wilson responded, “Pre-enable and shift both units to Slow speed.”

  Christine wondered what Wilson was up to as the Weps repeated back the order, then sent the commands to each torpedo over their guidance wire. Michigan’s two torpedoes turned off their sonars and coasted down, giving the impression they had been dudded by the Chinese sonar pulse.

  Although an important element of Wilson’s plan appeared on track, there was another aspect of his plan that worried Christine—they were barreling directly toward the two Chinese submarines, which would no doubt fire back.

  Sure enough, Sonar reported, “Torpedo in the water, bearing two-four-zero!” Seconds later, the Sonar Supervisor followed up, “Second torpedo in the water, bearing three-zero-zero!”

  The two Chinese submarines had counter-fired, and Christine wondered which direction Wilson would turn the ship to evade the torpedoes. But Wilson did nothing, leaving Michigan on a course of 270, headed between both torpedoes. He didn’t even launch a torpedo decoy, but that was understandable, given the decoy would be ejected behind them and do nothing to distract the torpedoes racing toward Michigan.

  Wilson seemed oblivious to the danger speeding toward them. Instead, he focused on the geographic display, watching Michigan’s two torpedoes continue toward their contacts. The MK 48 torpedoes had reduced their speed, but instead of coasting to a halt, were continuing toward their targets at Slow speed, and were now only five hundred yards away. Apparently that was what Wilson was waiting for.