Blackmail

by Rick Campbell

  Michigan’s main engines came alive and the submarine picked up speed as it turned away from the incoming frigates and angled toward the bottom of the Black Sea. The frigates’ sonar systems went active, sending powerful pings echoing through Michigan’s hull, and the rhythmic churn from their screws grew louder as the frigates approached.

  The first frigate passed overhead as Michigan leveled off at six hundred feet, and the Sonar Supervisor’s report came across the speaker. “Receiving multiple splashes on spherical array broadband. Bearings unknown.”

  Wilson knew why Sonar couldn’t determine the bearings—the splashes were directly overhead. “Brace for shock!” he ordered as he grabbed on to the nearest railing.

  Wilson had identified both frigates as Admiral Grigorovich class, each outfitted with an RBU-600 rocket launcher capable of firing salvos of up to twelve depth charges, automatically reloading from a magazine carrying ninety-six projectiles. Thankfully, Russian depth charges had only fifty pounds of explosives, give or take a few pounds depending on the projectile type. However, even fifty pounds, detonated close enough to the hull, could breach it. Seconds later, Michigan jolted as the first depth charge exploded.

  The equipment consoles shook as a deafening roar swept through the Control Room. Before Wilson could request a damage report from the Chief of the Watch, several more charges detonated, shaking the submarine each time. The explosions continued, growing more severe. After the twelfth detonation, it grew silent. But not for long as the second frigate sped overhead.

  Sonar reported, “Receiving splashes on broadband,” and Wilson gripped the Conn handrail firmly again.

  This round of explosions was more violent, knocking unsecured items to the deck. Wilson requested a damage report, and the status of each compartment flowed in to the Chief of the Watch, who relayed the results from all spaces.

  No damage.

  However, the last pass of depth charges was too close for comfort, and as approaching twin screws and sonar pings announced the return of the first frigate, Wilson turned to the Quartermaster.

  “Take a sounding.”

  The Quartermaster complied, activating the submarine’s fathometer for one cycle. “Sixty fathoms beneath the keel.”

  Wilson acknowledged, then ordered the submarine deeper. “Dive, make your depth eight hundred feet.”

  The Dive complied, ordering a ten-degree down bubble and full dive on the fairwater planes, and Michigan tilted downward. As Michigan leveled off at eight hundred feet, the first frigate launched another salvo of depth charges, and their explosions were notably fainter than the first pass, with only minor tremors felt through the hull.

  As the first frigate headed away and the second approached, announced by the increasing power of its sonar pulses, Wilson wondered if the frigate held Michigan on its active sonar, determining its depth. Splashes followed and Wilson’s crew waited with upturned faces, as if they could see the depth charges sinking toward them.

  The next round of depth charges began to detonate. Lighting fixtures shattered and Wilson struggled to maintain his feet as he held on to the Conn railing. Water started spraying from the port periscope barrel seal in the overhead and Wilson looked up to examine it, shielding his face from the spray. In the midst of the last few explosions, the submarine’s flooding alarm sounded, followed by a report over the 4-MC emergency circuit.

  “Flooding in the Engine Room!”

  91

  OMSK, RUSSIA

  Omsk Oil Refinery is the largest in Russia and one of the biggest in the world, processing over twenty million tons of crude oil each year. On duty today in the refinery’s main control station, filled with a dozen operators at their consoles, Bogdan Melikov sat at the supervisor’s station on an elevated tier at the back of the control room, preparing to eat lunch. Although there was a cafeteria in the refinery, Melikov preferred homemade food prepared by his wife, even if it was a sandwich.

  Russians weren’t big on sandwiches; ask for a sandwich in Russia and you’d likely get a confused look and asked what kind of soup you wanted instead. However, Melikov was fond of Doktorskaya bologna, the love child of bologna and sausage, and his wife had prepared his favorite sandwich this morning: a few cuts of Doktorskaya between rye bread, a layer of garlic spread, and a slice of salo, which could be described as either raw pig fat or meat-free bacon, depending upon one’s point of view.

  Melikov opened his mouth wide and took a big bite, wiping a dab of garlic spread from the corner of his mouth with a napkin. From his peripheral vision, he thought he saw movement on one of the security monitors, displaying feeds from the cameras atop the perimeter fence. He stared at it for a moment as he chewed, and after convincing himself it was just an animal passing by in the wilderness, he focused again on his lunch.

  He opened a can of mint-flavored kvass and took a swig. As he took another bite of his sandwich, security alarms went off in the control room. As he tried to ascertain the reason for the warning, searching the security monitors for a clue, the door to the control room blew open and a dozen armed men surged inside, weapons raised and pointed toward the control room personnel.

  The men halted after taking positions offering a clear view of the control room staff, and one of the armed men stepped forward, lowering his weapon.

  He spoke in Russian. “Who is in charge here?”

  The dozen men and women at the consoles turned and pointed toward the man seated at the supervisor’s station. Melikov still had a partially chewed bite of sandwich in his mouth. He swallowed hard.

  92

  USS MICHIGAN

  As the Black Sea flooded into the submarine’s Engine Room, Michigan’s stern tilted downward. During flooding, Wilson’s crew was trained to automatically increase the submarine’s speed. The hull served as a hydrofoil, like an airplane wing, with the amount of lift determined by the submarine’s speed and angle. The faster the submarine traveled and the higher the angle, the more flooding it could endure without sinking into the ocean depths. However, there were two frigates patrolling above Michigan, trying to pinpoint her location. Increasing speed would put additional propulsion-related noise into the water, making it easier for the frigates to accomplish their mission. Wilson decided to remain at slow speed instead, unless the flooding was severe.

  The Engine Room watchstanders responded as trained, with the Throttleman opening the ahead throttles and relaying his actions to Control. The Engine Order Telegraph shifted to ahead standard, whereupon Wilson overrode the automatic response.

  “Helm, ahead two-thirds.”

  The Helm relayed the order back to the Engine Room, and the initial surge from Michigan’s main engines faded, with the submarine settling back out at ten knots. As the stern tilted downward, Wilson waited tensely while the Chief of the Watch lined up the drain pump to the Engine Room bilges, cross-connecting the trim pump as well. When the twin eight-foot-tall pumps kicked in, Michigan’s angle stabilized, then the stern slowly rose, returning the submarine to an even keel. The flooding wasn’t catastrophic; the trim and drain pumps were keeping up.

  Wilson turned his attention to the leak from the port periscope barrel seal, spraying into Control. Michigan wasn’t in peril, however. The leak was minimal, more of an annoying shower. Two Auxiliary machinist mates stepped onto the Conn to address the seawater spraying from the overhead. They adjusted the packing around the port periscope, tightening the gland until the leak slowed to a trickle, then stopped. With the gland clamped tightly against the barrel, the port periscope was inoperable, but Wilson still had the starboard scope if needed.

  A moment later, an update was received from the Engine Room.

  “Conn, Maneuvering. The flooding is stopped.”

  Wilson picked up the 2-JV handset, conferring with the Engineering Officer of the Watch, in charge of the watchstanders in the Engine Room. The flooding was from the port Auxiliary Seawater system and had been stopped by shutting the hull isolation valves. Watchstanders were in
the process of isolating the damaged section and cross-connecting the port and starboard sides of Auxiliary Seawater, with both sides supplied from the starboard intake.

  Wilson’s relief was short-lived, as one of the frigates approached for another pass and Sonar reported more splashes. As the depth charges drifted downward, he decided to maneuver; it looked like the two frigates had a pretty good bead on Michigan’s course and depth. He glanced at the combat control consoles: the operators were working on solutions for the two frigates using sonar bearings, and preliminary estimates indicated they were on east–west runs.

  “Helm, hard right rudder, steady course zero-one-zero.”

  Michigan wasn’t far from the bottom and Wilson couldn’t go much deeper, so he turned north, where the Black Sea floor sloped quickly down to the Euxine abyssal plain, reaching a depth of seven thousand feet.

  The next round of depth charges detonated, jarring Michigan. But the effects weren’t as severe as the last round and no new reports of flooding were received. Wilson turned his attention to his weapons load; they should have reloaded tubes One and Three by now.

  Tubes Two and Four could also be reloaded now that their torpedoes had run to fuel exhaustion and their guidance wires were no longer needed, but Wilson decided to wait. It was risky enough to have two torpedo tube breech doors open for loading while being depth charged. Opening all four was asking for trouble. If one of the muzzle door seals failed, it’d be all over; there’d be no way to shut the breech door and Michigan would go to the bottom.

  Lieutenant Lawson announced, “Tubes One and Three are ready in all respects.”

  Wilson examined the frigate solutions on the combat control system consoles. It was clear the two ships held Michigan on their sonar systems; they had maneuvered to a north–south pattern, following Michigan into deeper water. It was only a matter of time, Wilson figured, before they got lucky; it would take only one depth charge close enough to the hull to breach it. The new solutions for the two frigates were shaky, but he didn’t need refined solutions. Put the MK 48 torpedoes near the two contacts, and they’d take it from there.

  “Firing Point Procedures,” Wilson announced, “Master two and four, tubes One and Three, respectively. Use normal surface presets, both weapons.”

  The required reports followed, and Wilson studied the solutions to both targets on the geographic display. Not wanting to endure another depth charging, he decided to shoot the closest frigate first.

  “Tube One, first fired. Shoot on generated bearings.”

  When Lawson received a Ready report from the torpedo, he ordered the tube fired. Sonar monitored the torpedo, verifying it performed properly and didn’t shut down prematurely.

  Sonar followed up with, “Tube One is merging onto the track for Master two.”

  The first torpedo was closing on the nearest frigate. However, firing torpedoes was a loud event due to using pressurized water to eject the torpedo, with that noise serving as a beacon for the two frigates.

  “Helm, ahead flank. Right full rudder, steady course one-eight-zero.”

  Michigan turned south, and with the second frigate behind the submarine, Wilson ordered an over-the-shoulder shot.

  “Shoot tube Three.”

  Lieutenant Lawson complied and Michigan’s second torpedo was ejected.

  Both frigates began evasive maneuvering, but the closest ship wasn’t far from Wilson’s first torpedo. The weapon went active, identifying its target immediately.

  “Detect, tube One!

  “Acquired!

  “Homing!”

  The first torpedo increased speed and adjusted its trajectory to intercept the frigate, altering course each time the frigate maneuvered. Sonar reported jammers and decoys being ejected into the water, but the torpedo closed the remaining distance.

  A loud rumble echoed through the Control Room after the first torpedo exploded.

  Wilson turned his attention to the last frigate, examining the geographic plot. It had maneuvered early enough, and the torpedo failed to detect it as it passed by and continued outbound. However, it wasn’t far away from the frigate and a quick steer might do the trick.

  Wilson ordered, “Insert steer, tube Three, left one-hundred.”

  The Weapons Officer complied, and Wilson watched the display as the torpedo veered sharply left toward the red surface ship symbol. It wasn’t long before Lieutenant Lawson made the report Wilson hoped for.

  “Detect, tube Three!”

  In quick succession, the torpedo reported it had acquired a valid contact, calculated the evading frigate’s course and speed, and increased speed to close on its prey. A minute later, with the frigate maneuvering wildly and its crew ejecting numerous countermeasures into the water, a second explosion rumbled through Michigan’s Control Room.

  It grew quiet in Control as Wilson examined the new target solutions. Based on sonar bearings, both ships were dead in the water, and their machinery noises were growing fainter. Wilson decided to take a look.

  “Helm, ahead one-third. Dive, make your depth two hundred feet. All stations, make preparations to proceed to periscope depth.”

  The Dive, Quartermaster, Radio, and Sonar acknowledged, and it wasn’t long before Michigan was at two hundred feet, then at periscope depth a few minutes later. Wilson spun on the scope as it broke the water’s surface.

  “No close contacts!”

  Wilson steadied on the bearing to Master two, watching the two halves of the frigate fill with water, then upend and slip beneath the surface of the Black Sea. Master four soon followed. There were survivors in the water, floating on the surface in orange life vests. However, Wilson couldn’t stop to pick them up. He had follow-on orders, plus there was plenty of debris in the water to cling to and they weren’t far from shore.

  Wilson announced, “All stations, Conn. Heading deep.”

  He swung the periscope to a forward-facing position, then lowered it into its well.

  “Helm, ahead standard. Left full rudder, steady course zero-five-zero. Dive, make your depth four hundred feet.”

  Michigan increased speed as it angled downward and turned to the northeast.

  93

  OMSK, RUSSIA

  Captain Martin placed his rucksack on the ground and, after sorting through its contents, retrieved the desired items. One was a material he was familiar with, having employed C-4 explosive many times. The other was an item he hadn’t seen before, although it was easily identified as a detonator. A bit exotic, he thought, with an integrated design leaving no wires between the electronics and detonator. Also missing was a remote initiator, and after pondering its absence, he realized the detonator was activated via a remote cellular or satellite signal.

  With the items laid out before him, Martin focused next on where they’d be used. The Omsk Oil Refinery was a massive installation: a maze of metal facilities, pipelines, and storage tanks. While researching his target, Martin learned that the Omsk Oil Refinery, in addition to being Russia’s biggest, was one of its best, winning Industrial Product gold prizes for its Euro-98 Super Petrol and Euro Diesel for cold weather conditions.

  Not for much longer.

  The men in his unit carried twelve sets of detonators and C-4, and Martin selected several key locations: the catalytic cracking gasoline and diesel fuel hydrotreatment units, the AT-9 distillation unit, and the nine biggest storage tanks. He gathered his men around before they set out on their tasks, reminding them of the warning they’d been given. Once it’s been activated, do not move the detonator.

  94

  MOSCOW

  In the Operations Center conference room, deep in the bowels of the Kremlin, the air was cold and the tension thick. President Yuri Kalinin sat at the head of the table, flanked by his military and civilian advisors, absorbing the somber information. When General Andropov completed his update, Kalinin cast his eyes across the large video screen on the far wall, assessing the carnage.

  Every one of Russia’s surfa
ce combatants in the Pacific had been destroyed, most floating aimlessly on the surface—blackened hulks or red torches with spires of smoke rising into the sky—while others had gone to the ocean bottom after internal explosions ripped their hulls apart. In return, all four of America’s aircraft carriers had been damaged, but none fatally, and only a few of the American cruisers or destroyers were disabled. Additionally, the United States had attacked what remained of Russia’s Black Sea Fleet, sinking the four frigates patrolling the mouth of the Bosphorus. America’s goal in the Black Sea wasn’t clear, but Kalinin had an inkling.

  One of General Andropov’s aides, with a flustered look on his face, entered the conference room and delivered a folder to the General. It contained a single-page message, which Andropov reviewed, then slid to Kalinin without a word. As Kalinin read it, the heat rose in his face. He was about to ask Andropov what Russia’s response should be, when the aide cleared his voice.

  “Excuse me, Mr. President. I have an additional message.”

  Kalinin shifted his attention to the Army Colonel, who said, “The American president has requested a videoconference with you.”

  “When?” Kalinin asked.

  “Now,” the Colonel answered. “We can proceed if you desire.”

  Kalinin surveyed the men and women at the table, implicitly asking for their input. None came, with several of his advisors avoiding his gaze, their eyes staring at the table.

  “Put the American president on-screen,” Kalinin directed.

  A moment later, the American president appeared on the display, with the video feed showing a situation not much different from Kalinin’s: the president seated at a conference table, flanked by his advisors.

  “Good morning, President Kalinin.”

  Kalinin checked the clock on the wall, annotated with Washington, D.C., which read 4 a.m.

  “Good morning to you as well.”

  “I’ll cut to the chase,” the American president said. “I’ve considered the ultimatum you gave NATO and the United States. Although you have a few valid concerns regarding your borders, I’ve come to the conclusion that a Russian occupation of Lithuania and Ukraine isn’t a good idea, so you’ll have to leave. I also realize that isn’t going to happen if I just say please, so I’ve been searching for a way to convey my request in a more convincing manner.”