Chief Biko stepped through the main bridge hatch, removing his cap. “Sir, damage control report. We had a few feathers ruffled by that shock wave, and some minor EMP damage.” Biko was all business. He had been as surprised as anyone else when the nuke went off, but that want not his business. He saw to the ship, fretting over each and every mechanical and electronic component like they were his children.
“Anything serious?”
“A little damage to one of the MP-407 ECM systems, and strangely, to the secure radio set. I have men on it now, but we won’t be able to send messages to Kazan until I get that fixed. Give me twenty minutes.” He saluted and withdrew, more business to attend to.
Karpov looked at his Plexiglas status board. “Well, Kazan is right on top of those bastards. Why hasn’t he fired?”
Gromyko looked to be no more than 16 nautical miles from Takami, and in fact, he was just about to enter the game. He had brought Kazan from its cruising station above the layer up to shallow depth, about 130 feet, suitable for missile launch. He slowed to 12 knots to prevent cavitation at that depth, wanting to remain as silent as possible, even if he was about to give away his position and fire.
Chernov, his Sonarman, then reported something odd, a sound, like that of a great kettle drum being struck, and a deep rumble that resolved to some very strange harmonics.
“Where?” said Gromyko, leaning over his station, and Chernov pointed out the location. “Here sir, about fifty nautical miles north of Kirov’s position.”
Gromyko listened to the recording of the sound Chernov had heard, his eyes narrowing and his aspect more resolved with each passing second. He had heard this before. Something was happening, and every sense warned him of danger. Kirov was at war…
“Admiral,” he said to Volsky. “With your permission, I would like to engage and kill that ship.”
“Permission granted,” said Volsky. Then he inclined his head. “Can you kill it, Captain?”
Gromyko gave him a thin lipped smile.
He decided to send a distraction towards the Japanese ship to see if they were on their toes. He wanted to know the score when he went shallow, so he fired a Fizik 533 mm Torpedo to see what his quarry would do, internally counting the seconds that passed after he made that launch. Sure enough, the Japanese reacted almost immediately, without ten seconds hesitation, Chernov reported the enemy ship had turned away from the torpedo, and they were putting on speed.
So they know I’m here, he thought. Either that or they have a very good sonar operator to locate the exact bearing of that torpedo launch so quickly. No. They must have made me long ago, so I’d better finish up here and be quick about getting somewhere else.
“Sir, passing through 140 feet…. 130 feet and leveling off. Running shallow.”
“Very well,” said the Matador. “Time to skewer the bull. Warm up six 3M-22s.”
“Mister Gorban, signal Kirov and tell them I’m attacking Takami.”
“Sir, I’m getting interference on the secure channel. I can’t get a handshake.”
“Very well, persist until you do. Are we ready Mister Belanov?”
“Aye sir, six 3M-22 Zircons hot and ready. The boat is running shallow at 12 knots.”
“Range to target?”
“Sir, we’re passing through eleven nautical miles.”
Gromyko shrugged. “Barely enough air space for the missiles to get pointed the right way. Alright Belanov. Let’s kill that ship. Fire all ready 3M-22s.”
The missile firing warning sounded, the outer hatches opening ominously in the murky water. Then, with a wash of bubbles, the ship killers were up, rising like fast swimmers to the surface of the sea, then breaking out in a wild spray, sleek dolphins of doom. They streaked away, made a 15 point course adjustment, turned on their radar seekers, and began to burn toward the target like comets.
Chapter 36
Harada had received the contact report from his Sonarman, Koji Nakano, but was still scratching his head over it. Twenty minutes earlier, Nakano had reported a possible submarine, confidence high. As always in combat, it was something unexpected. It wasn’t beyond the realm of possibility that one side or another might have a submarine out here. It could be a US sub, or even an IJN boat.
“Where is it, Mister Nakano?”
“About 16 nautical miles slightly southeast of us.”
Harada thought for a moment. “That helo off Kongo was coming in real low… Lieutenant Shiota, signal that helo and ask them to take a look at that position if they can get there soon.” Harada knew that some of these old WWII subs could be fairly quiet, all diesel boats. You don’t fool around with a sub in that close, and so he thought it best to get a helo on top of it.
“What’s the range on those old torpedoes?” he asked Fukada.
“Which side? If it’s a typical B series IJN boat, they’d have the Type 95, which could range out 9 to 12 klicks. That’s the baby brother of the Long Lance.”
“Sir,” said Shiota. “Kongo’s helo reports they can put down dipping sonar immediately.”
“Good,” said Harada. “That’ll give us two sets of ears and we should be able to—”
“Con, sonar…. I think I can read this skunk. Contact speed is approximately 20 knots, and it’s fairly deep. I’d put it just above the layer at around 400 feet.”
Fukada gave Nakano a dismissive look. “Come on Lieutenant. Get the wax out of your ears. Test depth for subs of this era was no more than 300 feet, and not one of them could make that kind of speed submerged.”
“Sorry sir, but that’s what I’m reading.”
“That can’t be right.” Fukada went over to the sonar station, as if to see for himself, though he knew nothing about that craft.
Harada did not like what he was hearing at all. His man Nakano was every bit as good as the equipment he was operating. “Lieutenant, Go active and see if you can nail this guy.”
“Aye sir. Active sweep…. I have him… bearing 060, speed twenty, depth 420, on a heading of 260…. Getting data from Kongo’s helo now as well…” Nakano looked up at the Captain, an unbelieving look in his eye. “Sir, we’re getting a pattern match, but this doesn’t make any sense. I’m reading Yasen Class. Kongo One confirms.”
That hit Harada like a good left hook.
“What? Yasen Class?” That was the only moment he would cede to hesitation, then he was all business. In any situation like this, you stow your assumptions and go with what your instruments were telling you. “Secure from active sonar,” he said, finally wondering just what was happening here. Yasen Class… That was the same class of the Russian boat that escaped after that scrap off the Kuriles. What if….
“Mister Fukada, with me please.”
His XO came over to where Harada waited near his chair. “Could this be that Russian boat that went missing off the Kuriles when the Yanks thought they sunk Kirov?”
Fukada took that in, then nodded. “The only other explanation is system malfunction.”
“Great Buddha… This situation is becoming a real bento box! Here we were about to spring a nice big surprise on Karpov, when he pulls one over on us!”
“Sir,” said Shiota, “I have Admiral Kita on the secure channel.”
“They picked up the data link and probably want to know what’s going on with that damn Russian sub.”
Harada began walking towards the comm station, one eye on the situation board, a digital screen that was displaying all known contacts and tracking events. Then he saw a bright white circle expanding northwest of Kirov’s position. There was a brilliant flash of light, and Captain instinctively knew what had happened. Karpov had thrown a nuke at them.
“Doshitano! What’s that crazy Russian doing?”
“Brace for shockwave!” said Fukada. “Recommend all systems move to EMCON status.”
“A little late for that,” said Harada. Then they felt the palpable wave in the atmosphere, the much dissipated shock wave passing the ship, and the moan of a l
onesome wind. They were over 75 nautical miles from the position of the detonation, and so they didn’t expect any effects beyond that shock wave, or perhaps some EMP damage.
“This guy is a lunatic,” said Harada.
“No, he’s just damn smart,” said Fukada. “All our planes off the Kaga reported safe bomb delivery, we had over sixty GBU/53s inbound on those bastards. They were toast. It was only a matter of time.”
“So Karpov threw a nuke at them?”
“Obviously,” said Fukada. “There was no way he’d knock down even half of those Vampires, but if he positioned that blast right, he could take out everything there on that northern attack axis. That’s exactly what he did.
Ryoko Otani sounded off, reporting her system was experiencing difficulty. “Just got a hard flutter through the whole board,” she said. “I thought we were going to lose power.”
“Could be the EMP pulse,” said Fukada.
They would not have any time to think about it, nor would they have solved the problem if they did. That flutter was not any part of the residual shock wave from that blast, which was very attenuated at that range; not even enough to roll the ship. Nor was it EMP effects. The ripple was a small temblor in time, or rather spacetime, as Einstein would have it. We didn’t live in space, with time being nothing more than a contrived metric we superimposed on all our doings. We lived in spacetime, and Einstein had already showed us that it could be warped and bent by mass. It could also be broken and even shattered.
200 kilotons was not much compared to the larger explosive events that had battered spacetime. The Demon Volcano that had sent Kirov and his flotilla careening back through time to 1945 had power equivalent to 200 Megatons, a thousand times greater than Karpov’s warhead. The same could be said for the massive eruption of Krakatoa that first brought Takami and crew to this time. So it was a relatively light tap on the fabric of spacetime, all things considered. Yet for Kirov, possessing some rather exotic materials lurking within her control rods, the effect was enough to phase the ship for the briefest moment for those aboard. For those stalking her, the ship would disappear from all their radar screens for over ten minutes before it reappeared.
“I’ve lost Kirov,” said Otani. “The system is just guesstimating now.” SPY-1 was only reporting the last known location of the contact, and drawing an expanding area around it that encompassed all possible locations where it might have moved as the seconds ticked off—their electronic ‘farthest on.’
“Mister Nakano,” said Harada. “Do you still have that sub?”
“Aye sir, but it’s changing depth, climbing through 300 feet and reducing speed.”
Harada didn’t like the sound of that. Seconds later he heard what he had been fearing when his Sonarman called out: “Torpedo in the water! Bearing southeast, range 11 nautical miles and inbound on our position at 30 knots.”
“Helm, come hard right to 270 and ahead full!”
“Aye sir. Coming to 270 and all ahead full.” Harada was turning and running away from the torpedo. His ship could make those 30 knots easily enough, and those fish would never catch him… Surely that Russian sub Captain had to know that….
“Damn! Why you sly son-of-a-bitch,” Harada breathed. “He wanted to see if we had a fix on him! He wanted me to do exactly what I just ordered, and now he knows we had him in red. He’s coming up to run shallow at missile firing depth. That’s one cagey sub driver. Alright people, get everything hot, and I mean everything. Charge the laser and stand up the SM-2 system. We’re about to have unfriendly visitors.”
Kazan had finished firing at 11:41, and the missile warning had shaken the bridge to tense alertness. They were coming, blistering fast, and only seconds away at this range of just under eleven nautical miles. The air defense system was on full automatic, the aft deck cells on the SM-2 were already firing. The first missiles out would have a ghost of a chance at getting those Zircons, and in the first group of four, two of them would get hits.
But not a single missile fired after that would find its target. The Vampires were so close that they could not achieve their top speed in this short timeframe, but they were still coming very fast. A second after those first two kills, the ship’s Phalanx guns were grinding away at the incoming missiles, and had perhaps a 35% chance of hitting something in this equation, but they were not good enough that day. The Zircon was just too fast.
Three seconds later, Takami showed the Vampires some leg. The ship deployed its Mk 182 Chaff in an attempt to seduce the sensors on the incoming missiles. That had no more than a 10% chance of success, and it failed. They heard the laser fire and saw the bright explosion off the aft port quarter when it hit. There were three vampires left.
The SM-2s were still firing, but the Vampires weren’t going to be stopped by a missile now, they were too damn close. The J/NOLQ-2 ECM defensive jammer was trying to fry their brains, and it spoofed one of the missiles, causing it to malfunction, but the other two came ramming home. One hit the fantail, and they were lucky there was no Seahawk there being armed and fueled for operations. It came in a little high, the explosion a bright fireball that was mostly an air burst. It was as if the missile scudded right off the deck when it hit.
The other Zircon was fast and true, and it plowed right into Takami’s gut, achieving near 100% penetration. The explosion rocked the ship heavily, like a boxer being hit low. Takami rolled back through the black smoke, critically wounded. There was a flash on the bridge and then all systems went dark as the ship’s power failed. Heavy smoke obscured everything and the fire alarms were going crazy. Almost all the fuel that Zircon could have used to run out hundreds of kilometers was now feeding that fire.
The entire engagement had taken just twelve seconds, and the ship would not survive that hit. The destroyer listed heavily to port, shipping water from the enormous hole in the hull. The eight shiny new SSMs they had taken on from Omi would never be fired, nor would Fukada ever get to take a poke at his enemy with that rail gun at long range. Harada knew it was now only a question of trying to save as much of his crew as he could. He turned to Fukada, looked him in the eye, and gave the order: “All hands, make ready to abandon ship!”
Admiral Yamamoto’s Guardian Angel was out of the game.
* * *
“Admiral!” said Rodenko. “Kazan has launched missiles on Takami!”
“Show me.” Karpov rushed over, almost too late for Rodenko to point out the radar contacts.
“It’s about time,” Karpov breathed.
“Look how close he was, inside eleven miles. That’s an explosion, sir. They got at least one hit.”
“Excellent!” Karpov stood up, smiling and looking for Fedorov. “So much for this Captain Harada’s little game out here. Now he knows we mean business, if he even survived that. What did Gromyko throw at him?”
“Six Zircons,” said Rodenko. “Damn, sir. They were so close.”
“I think we can safely say that ship is dead. But what about these other bears out here north of Takami?”
Turkey 1 was still feeding them data, in spite of local interference as a residual effect of that nuke. They had seen three more contacts well north of Takami, effectively pegging the positions of Kirishima, Kongo and Atago. It was Takami three times over, and behind them there was still Admiral Kita with the carriers Kaga and Akagi, and that still left both the destroyer Takao and DDH Kurama in reserve.
“Looks like three more destroyers,” said Rodenko. These first two are reading Kongo Class.”
“You’ve got sensor emissions from them?”
“Aye sir. They’re modern ships. Look here’ sir. That’s a Seahawk returning to one of those destroyers.”
“Range to this contact? What is it designated… Brownbear?”
“Yes sir, Brownbear is at 120 nautical miles.”
“I see… Well Gromyko has fired and he’s probably running deep and sprinting to a new position by now. We can’t let him have all the fun, can we? Mister Samsonov.
Key up four Moskit-II missiles and put them on Brownbear—low attack profile. Let’s see just how good that old Kongo Class is.”
Karpov had gone through the insanity of having to deploy a nuclear warhead, seeing Fedorov vanish and reappear before his very eyes as the ship phased in time, and still he was all business as usual, wanting to take advantage of any opportunity he could find. He seemed completely unshakable, for in truth, after having endured everything he had experienced in this long saga, he was unshakable, and this was a borscht he knew how to cook so very well. He wanted to keep fighting, even as Fedorov shook his head in amazement.
Seconds later, the four missiles were away, surging out 28 miles before they made a fifteen point turn to redirect at their target. The closed the range through the fifty mile mark, completely unseen. They closed through the 30 mile mark, rapidly nearing their target’s far horizon. They were running at 1,450 knots, 60 feet above the sea, each with a 320kg warhead.
At 20 nautical miles out, they crossed that horizon, and Kirishima’s radars picked them up for the first time. Captain Kenji Namura was shaken by the sudden alert, but reacted quickly, ordering offensive ECM and a full response from his SAM system. He was carrying 54 RIM-161 Standard Missile 2s, every bit as good as those that had been carried by Takami. Standard procedure would see two missiles assigned to each incoming Vampire, and out they went. It would take six to do the job, but they would get all four of those Sunburns.
Aboard Kirov, Samsonov turned and gave Karpov a sheepish look. “Strike failed,” he said. “All missiles destroyed by enemy SAM defense.
Karpov nodded gravely. He considered running due north, hoping he could find that carrier before they could turn over those strike planes. To do that he would have to fight all three of those other destroyers… “Secure from offensive combat. The ship will come to 180 and increase to all ahead flank. Mister Nikolin, signal Turkey-1 to stay outside 50 nautical miles of that contact and begin a return path south. Have the Helo Deck ready the next available helicopter for operations, maritime surveillance loadout.”
Lions at Dawn (Kirov Series Book 28) Page 31