by Larry Bond
Lieutenant Commander Hampton added, “We’ll be rigging hammocks later this morning.”
Patterson waited for him to smile, and realized he was serious.
Hampton saw her expression. “Really. They’re good for your back. We’ve got some volunteers already.”
“The XO has also added your people to our watch, quarter and station bill.” Baker explained, “It says where each of you should go for different situations or emergencies. For example, when we’re at General Quarters, I assume you and Commander Silas will want to be with me in the combat information center.”
Patterson nodded silently, and Baker continued, “And for Abandon Ship stations, you and Miss Matsui and Miss Parker will be with me and the command team in the whaleboat.”
“God forbid,” Patterson answered.
“And you’re welcome to hear eight o’clock reports with me every morning and evening while you’re aboard. It will keep you apprised of our material condition and planned evolutions. For instance, we will practice abandon-ship drill along with several others this afternoon. And we will be running surface tracking and antimissile problems in CIC from now until we get closer to the Russians.”
“We aren’t going into battle, Captain.” Patterson said it automatically, and then realized he could see it as a criticism. She quickly added, “Can you tell me why you think that’s necessary?”
“I’m uncomfortable, Doctor. I can be honest about it. We’re one ship, not a formation. We’re going further north than most Navy surface ships ever get, and I don’t know anyone on this ship who’s been north of the Norwegian Sea, including me. There’s the weather.” He leaned forward a little. “And a Russian battle group reportedly just left port, heading for the same spot we’re going.”
Patterson remembered something in the message she’d read. “Why is it important that the Russians aren’t emitting any electronic signals?”
Baker was eating, and motioned to Hampton. “Because if they’re transmitting, we can locate them. The type of signal they’re radiating can help us identify the exact type of vessel as well,” the XO explained.
The captain added, “And if I was leaving port in formation in heavy weather, I’d sure as hell have my navigation radar on. He’s using something we call EMCON—emission control. The Russian commander is deliberately taking a serious risk to deny us information about his movements and composition. He’s on a wartime footing.”
Baker sat back in his chair. “I know what my rules of engagement are, but until I see his, we’ll run drills.”
“When will we see them?” Patterson asked. “Will we reach the collision site before they do?”
“I don’t know, Doctor. We don’t know their precise location. The site of the collision is about three hundred and thirty nautical miles to the northeast from their base. The slowest ship in the formation is Mikhail Rudnitskiy. She can make what, fifteen knots?” Baker looked at Hampton.
The XO shrugged. “Downhill, maybe.”
“All right, we’ll assume a fourteen-knot base speed. Under normal conditions, they’d reach the spot in about twenty-four hours. Since the storm is still clearing along the northern Russian coast, that will slow them down a little. So add another hour, maybe two until they’re out from under it.”
He paused for a moment, then answered Patterson’s unspoken question. “We’re twenty-four to twenty-six hours away at our present speed of twenty knots. I’ll speed up when the weather’s clear, but in these seas, twenty-five knots is the best I can do, and we’ve got five hundred miles to cover.”
Patterson felt like she’d already lost the first move. “What will they do?”
Russo spoke from further down the table. “Declare an exclusion zone. It’s SOP for any rescue operation. Unfortunately, they can use it to keep us out, and Seawolf, too, if they find her.”
Hampton followed Russo’s logic. “Chase away Seawolf and they’re screwing themselves.”
Silas added, “Seawolf has already found Severodvinsk and is attempting to provide them with supplies. I’d say they’ve done their bit. If the Russians want her to leave, that’s their problem.”
Russo shook his head. “It’s never that easy. Having that sub and her UUVs on the scene would be very useful. The data they can provide the rescue force may be the main thing that saves Severodvinsk’s crew.”
Silas wasn’t convinced. “Ma’am, Rudel will surface and report after he’s resupplied Severodvinsk. I recommend that if he’s successful, you order him out of there. His boat is badly damaged, and the Russians already blame him, and us, for the accident in the first place. Limit our involvement and our risk.”
“I can’t talk to him, not yet. He’ll report to SUBGRU Two,” Patterson replied.
“Then have Admiral Sloan give the order. He’ll follow your lead.”
“Rudel is the on-scene search-and-rescue commander,” Russo argued. “He can’t leave until he hands over control to the Russians.”
“He’ll have to surface to do that,” Silas pointed out. “They’ll be able to see the damage to Seawolf.”
“That’s not a bad thing,” Patterson said. “Seawolf’s damage supports her side of the story.” She turned to Baker. “And this is a rescue operation, during peacetime. Run your drills, Captain, but the Russians aren’t fools. They won’t shoot at anyone. There’s no reason to.”
“I can’t make that assumption.”
“Agreed, but we can take steps to make it less likely. We are going to broadcast our position, in the clear, every half hour, explicitly state our actions, and Rudel’s as well. In fact, we are going to generate a constant stream of messages to the Russians, to the Norwegians, to everyone who will listen.”
“My intention was to use EMCON ourselves, Doctor.” Baker didn’t look happy. “I’d like to keep the Russians in the dark as long as we possibly can.” He paused. “It gives us more freedom of action, and limits theirs—it creates uncertainty in their plans.”
“Which in this particular instance is bad,” Patterson replied. “We don’t want any uncertainties in a rescue mission.”
Russo supported her argument. “If we tell the world exactly what we’re doing, we can actually limit the Russians’ political options. We also reduce the chance that they will blame us for anything by being totally open about our actions.”
Bt this time, they’d nearly finished breakfast, and others were waiting to eat, including Parker and Britt Adams from Skynews. As Patterson got up, she headed over to Joyce Parker, who at first tried to avoid her until she realized that Patterson intended to speak to her. The doctor even had a pleasant expression. “Miss Parker, after you and Mr. Adams have finished your breakfast, please see me in our cabin. There’s some important work you can do for me.”
USS Seawolf
* * *
With the supply loadout finalized, allocated, and triple-checked for total weight and trim, the torpedomen transferred the payload from the deck next to LaVerne into Patty. It would be the UUV’s last mission. The Russians would pull her inside to unload her, but there was no way for them to launch her again.
Without warning, Captain Rudel came down the ladder. Both Jerry and Palmer stood and faced their CO, but the fast-approaching deadline dictated that those working continue. Rudel handed Palmer a thick envelope, double-wrapped in plastic.
“I hope there is still room. These are hard copy images from LaVerne’s survey of Severodvinsk. Petrov won’t be happy.” Rudel looked unhappy as well, largely because he was sending some really bad news. “But at least he’ll know the score. I’d want to know.” He paused, looking at the work in progress. “How much longer?”
Jerry fought the urge to answer. This was Palmer’s show. The jaygee said, “Twenty minutes, sir. We’re almost done with the loading, then sealing the case and getting her ready for launch is the same as any other mission.”
Rudel checked his watch. “Then we’ll set UUV stations at 0940. I brought this down myself because I wante
d to wish you luck, Jeff. I know you’ll get the job done.”
Rudel left, and Palmer handed the package to Chief Johnson, who added it to the nearly-bursting UUV. While the torpedo division finished loading Patty, Palmer stepped back, motioning Jerry to follow.
Speaking softly, Palmer said, “Nav, I want you to make the run.”
Jerry was surprised. “What? You’re the UUV operator. You went to school on these things.”
“Yes, but we’ve all heard about your fancy Manta flying on Memphis. This run will be in full manual control. I did that once, on the school simulator, for about ten minutes.” Palmer pointed back toward the ladder. “You saw what just happened. The Captain came down here to wish me luck!”
“That’s because you’re the guy doing the job. If I was doing it, he’d wish me luck.” Jerry lowered his voice to almost a whisper. “Look, the Captain’s pretty tense about this. Is he making the right decision by letting us try this? Is he missing anything that would give it a better chance of success? And you have to admit this plan is pretty wild. Is there anything, anything at all that he can do if it doesn’t work?”
“This isn’t making me feel better,” Palmer gloomily observed.
“So if he didn’t think you were the best man for the job, would he let you do it? He’d pull you in a heartbeat if he thought someone else could do it better.”
“All those men depend on me doing this right.”
“Correction, they depend on all of us, and we’re not going to let them down.”
Jerry got out of the torpedo room before he yielded and agreed to Palmer’s request. He wanted to do it, and part of him believed he was the best man to do it, but not enough of him to take it away from Palmer. It was torpedo division business, and Jerry was the navigator. Palmer had run plenty of sorties, all without a bobble. He’d be fine.
Jerry took his station in control. There wasn’t much navigating involved, but Seawolf was going to move around to Severodvinsk’s starboard side. Since the Russian was listing to port, only the starboard torpedo tubes were accessible. Rudel would position his sub just two hundred yards from where Severodvinsk lay, shortening the distance Patty would have to cross with her brainwashed navigation system.
Jerry had prepared for the move by studying the sonar survey of the area. At the same time that LaVerne had imaged Severodvinsk, she had mapped the bottom around the crippled sub for two nautical miles in every direction. QM1 Peters was still updating their charts, but Jerry knew to the foot what the depths were, and where the rocks and hollows were. He’d picked a likely spot astern of the Russian sub, a hundred feet off the bottom. There was nothing but smooth seabed between Patty and her goal.
“Control, torpedo room. Maxine is away.” Chandler acknowledged the report. As part of his belt and suspenders policy, Rudel had ordered Maxine positioned so they could watch Patty’s progress with her sonar suite. Properly positioned, she could give Palmer some of the depth perception he’d lost when they’d bypassed Patty’s forward sonar ranging circuits.
The repeater set in control changed from black to blue as Maxine’s sonar activated. In map mode, it showed an overhead view of Seawolf, Severodvinsk, and Maxine’s location.
It took only a few minutes to cover the few hundred yards to the spot they’d decided on, and Maxine swung around. The Russian’s hull filled one side. Jerry knew Palmer would enter commands telling the vehicle to remain in that spot, pointed in that direction, and its own computer would keep it there. He’d be busy enough.
Palmer didn’t wait for an order from control. “Control, torpedo room. Patty is away.” After Chandler acknowledged that report, Rudel picked up the microphone for the underwater telephone. “Severodvinsk, Seawolf. We have launched the vehicle.”
The answer, distorted but brief, was “Understood. Good luck.” It sounded like Petrov’s voice. Passage through seawater had removed any emotion, and Jerry didn’t know what had been there. Desperation? Encouragement?
The bridge display shifted to Patty’s sonar image, showing the sonar picture from the vehicle’s point of view. Palmer brought Patty tight along Seawolf’s side after launch. The image shifted, wobbling up and down and left to right, and Jerry saw the difference between the stabilized automatic and the manual mode.
At first, the UUV seemed almost out of control. Wild pitch-downs were followed by equally wild pitch-ups. A zig to the left toward Seawolf almost rammed the UUV into her side, but then the hull disappeared entirely as Patty swung almost straight away from the sub.
Jerry realized what was happening. Quickly, he picked up the sound-powered phone handset and connected himself to the UUV circuit. “Torpedo room, control. Jeff, allow for the delay in your commands. Remember everything moves at the speed of sound in water. The time delay will increase the farther Patty is from us. You’ve got to get ahead of Patty, anticipate her movements more.”
Chief Johnson answered. “Mr. Palmer’s nodding,” came over the handset. The image steadied, swung back toward Seawolf, but then steadied again. Steering a slow, less sinuous path, Patty headed aft. Seawolf’s stern and propulsor passed, then disappeared off the right edge.
“Control, torpedo room. Patty is running with a slight up angle. Compensating with the thruster.” Palmer’s voice sounded calm, but clearly stressed.
Rudel nodded approvingly, “Not bad, Nav. You and your team did a good job of balancing the UUV out with just a scale, tape measure, and an Excel spreadsheet.”
“Thank you, sir, I’ll be sure to pass your compliments on to all concerned,” replied Jerry, pleased with the results.
Severodvinsk appeared, a little off to the right, but visible. The image swung left, away from the sub, and for an instant, Jerry was afraid Palmer was overcontrolling. Then he saw Palmer was opening the distance, to line up on Severodvinsk’s starboard torpedo tubes.
It took a few minutes, but the Russian swung back into view with her forward hull filling the screen. The open tube was a yellow dot down on the dull-colored hull, even with the forward edge of the sail.
Palmer had Patty advance slowly; he had to make a picture-perfect straight-in approach. This wasn’t going to be easy, as Severodvinsk’s torpedo tubes were angled out from the hull, like Seawolf’s. Complicating the matters was the Russian’s list to port and downward pitch. Thus, the tube pointed down as well as out. While the open tube was visible, there was nothing to line up on. They’d estimated what the proper azimuth and elevation angles should be graphically, but they were only approximate values. Patty would have to line up exactly on the tube’s axis, perfectly centered on the opening if she was going to make it inside.
Numbers danced at the top and bottom edges of the display. Elevation, azimuth, depth, speed, motor rpm, only range never changed, pinned at “999.” Even without range, Jerry could see the side of Severodvinsk grow. The false-color image was deep green, and the screen became a solid wall of the color.
It was impossible to see inside the opening, to see whether Patty was aligned with the Severodvinsk’s tube. He found himself watching the elevation and azimuth numbers, subconsciously trying to nudge them. The less they changed, the steadier the image, the better Jerry liked it.
The opening grew steadily, but slowly. Three knots was a slow walk, and Jerry began to eye the charge meter. Luckily, it gave an accurate reading, but it had started out in the red, showing only less than an hour where a full set of batteries was good for fifty-plus hours.
The opening kept drifting right, and while Palmer kept correcting, it meant the angle was constantly changing. More and more of Severodvinsk’s hull became visible with each correction, and the UUV’s angle numbers went past the limits they’d calculated. Finally Palmer turned Patty to the left and circled. It was a small circle, and this time Jerry noticed Patty’s speed was a little higher. The image was steadier, and grew quickly, then shuddered and flickered.
“Seawolf, we felt a vibration.” The underwater telephone still mutated any voice, but Jerry imag
ined the Russians waiting, hoping. A vibration?
“It missed. Patty must have bounced off the edge of the tube.” Shimko’s voice couldn’t hide his disappointment.
Rudel passed the news to Severodvinsk. “Our first attempt failed. We’re positioning to try again.”
Palmer was already circling for another pass. It was a tight circle this time, but he made his approach at a bare crawl. It looked good, but at the last moment, the display flashed with bright yellow pixels, then froze. A moment later, Patty’s computer rebooted, showing the vehicle lying alongside Severodvinsk’s hull.
“We can’t do that again.” Rudel said what everyone was thinking. “Get Mr. Palmer up here.”
Palmer set Patty to hover, with her forward-looking sonar shut off to save power, and then headed for control. The CO, XO, and others were all clustered around the now-dark UUV display, discussing what had gone wrong, when Palmer entered almost throwing his hands up in frustration. “It’s the cross-current, sir. It’s strong enough to throw Patty out of alignment just before we reach the tube. I don’t have enough time to react to the change before she hits the boat.”
“Patty can’t take another bump like that.” Shimko was stating the obvious, but it was meant more as a question.
“I know I’m close, sir. Did you see the bright yellow flash, just before she hit the second time? That was the sonar beam reverberating off the inside of the tube. The rest of the hull has anechoic coating, but the tube is bare metal. We were that close, then the current pushed me out of line.”
“So we use a crosswind landing,” Jerry announced. Ignoring their expressions, he continued his explanation with Palmer: “The water’s pushing you to the right as you try to enter the tube, right? Well, we often had to land on a runway that wasn’t exactly downwind.”
Jerry held out one hand, moving it in one direction, but angled it slightly to the left. “We called it ‘crabbing,’ just a little sideway angle that compensates for the crosswind. At the last minute, as we touched down, we’d add a little rudder to bring us into line with the runway.”