Ninety Degrees North

by Stephen Makk

  “Scooby running in. Tango one’s northwest, sounding like he’s flooding tubes and opening outer doors.”

  Nathan swallowed. He must get it right. He leaned on the rail at his conn, hung his head and calculated angles of approach, distances, speeds and runtimes. The calculations were done.

  “Weaps. Scooby to simulate two Mk48 launches on Tango one. Targets forward, aft and amidships. That will be H hour, 10.22 hours. At H hour plus 1 minute 34 seconds, launch tubes one to three, Mk48s, at Tango one. I want three up and underbelly strikes, forward, aft and amidships.”

  The control room became subdued. Weaps spoke to the torpedo room. The Chief was speaking to a seaman at the rear. Nikki saw the tension in Nathan’s shoulders and she wanted to hug him, but couldn’t, of course.

  Instead, she walked over and stood close with her hand on his back. “We’ll do it.” She smiled. “We’ll do it.”

  Time slowed and crept on.

  “Scooby’s gone active. He’s simulating a Mk48 launch; his fish is away. He’s launching another.”

  “I confirm launch simulation,” said Benson.

  The Pointer would increase the volume to simulate an incoming torpedo. It would become apparent that it was a simulation, but it would take time to judge that.

  “Mk48s have targeting information now.” Weaps waited until the time was right. “Launch tube one.” A rushing sound and a slight vibration came from upfront. “Launch tube two. Launch tube three.

  “Good launch, sir. Motors running, on their way. Tubes being reloaded with 48s.”

  The Mk48 CBASS were on their way, running through the cold dark Arctic sea under wire guidance and control. Positional updates came from the boat’s sensitive bow sonars, and now Lucy, the towed array sonar. The powerful Cray computer onboard processed the input and refined the course.

  “All three fish are running and hungry,” reported Weaps. “Scooby is transmitting Mk48 attack sounds.”

  “No response yet from Tango one,” called Benson. Within a minute he’d changed his mind.

  “Two ASW fish launched from Tango one, type unknown.”

  “Mk48 countermeasures enabled and ready,” said Weaps.

  “Mortar attack on forward fish.”

  “Cutting wire on all fish,” called out Weaps. The torpedoes would need to be free to manoeuvre; they used Inertial Navigation System but soon switched to onboard sonar.

  “Nathan,” said Nikki, “we could be next. For mortars.”

  “Emergency deep, emergency deep,” barked Nathan.

  USS Stonewall Jackson flooded all forward and went to full revs. The boat dived. The XO was right.

  “Sir, mortars above us, multiple drops.”

  Let’s hope we can out-dive them. For goodness sake, we have to.

  “Aft fish pinging. Midships fish and forward pinging. ASW fish closing, closing. Forward fish countermeasures. Closing, closing hit. Enemy fish has exploded. Forward Mk48 not responding. It’s gone.”

  Benson was sat up and lifting off his chair. “Mortars detonating above.”

  The deep thuds sounded through the hull and the boat rolled left and was pushed harshly. Crew members hung on. More explosions above.

  The explosions stopped. Thank God.

  Nathan looked to Nikki. “Good call, XO. We dived just in time.”

  Benson stood. “Our 48s are pinging, pinging. On terminal, final run.”

  A Mk48 slammed from below into Peter the Great’s stern, just aft of the engine room. She lifted from her rear as 650lb of high explosive erupted in her aft end. Her nuclear-powered turbines were ripped from their mounts and the nuclear reactor’s control rods dropped, closing down her power. Seawater gushed in.

  Another Mk48 rammed up into her midships. Her control room, galley and engineering spaces were blown apart. Two missiles in her central magazine lit their motors; another quickly followed. Surface-to-air missiles cooked off and their warheads exploded. Water flooded two bulkheads with unreasonable speed; another two filled.

  “Sir, Tango one has taken two fish amidships and aft, magazines are going off. She’s still afloat but crippled.”

  Nathan felt for her crew. It must be hell on there. He knew that war was war though. “Weaps, tube four, select amidships and put another fish in her.”

  “Sir, flood tube four, opening outer doors. Launch tube four.” There was a rushing sound from the forward torpedo room. “Good launch, fish running and hungry. Going for an up and underbelly shot.”

  The Mk48 sped off towards the Pyotr Velikiy at 45 knots; impact in 2 minutes 24 seconds.

  Nathan sat at the conn and looked down at the deck. He drew no pleasure in this. Nikki walked over and stood up close.

  “I know it’s not easy, Nathan, but we have to.”

  He nodded and then looked at his wrist. The seconds ticked by. Four, three, two, one. That’s it.

  Benson punched the air. “Yes, goddamn yes. Hot datum. We got him right up where he doesn’t like it. Eat that, Ivan.”

  The torpedo had run up into his mid-section, and the blast had ruptured what was left in there. The central magazine blew; sunburn missiles, shells and Grumble SAMs exploded. With her hull split and torn, what happened next was just physics. The weight of the superstructure was pulled down by gravity. Steel gave way under the unbearable force. The Battle Cruiser’s back broke, her bow and stern sections lifted out of the water, bulkheads buckled under the strain.

  Peter the Great, pride of the Northern Fleet, sank by the midships. Her stern rolled over and fell into the sea. Eight minutes later, she finally went down, and the bow slipped below the waves. Life rafts had been launched and survivors were lifted aboard. Strong brave swimmers volunteered to swim out and pull men and women from the icy waters.

  Word spread throughout the fleet and men cried in shock. The king was dead.

  22

  Nathan pulled the intercom from its hook. “All hands, all hands. We’ve carried out our orders and scored a hot datum on the enemy flagship Peter the Great. He’s on his way to the seabed. Well done.”

  A cheer ran through the boat. Nathan waited. “You’ve proved yourself against the best. USS Stonewall Jackson got in amongst the enemy fleet and gave Peter what he deserved: the bayonet. Men and women of the Jackson, give him his due. Ivan fought bravely, but he took on the best boat in the best goddamn navy on Earth. You don’t fuck with the USN. Captain ends.”

  Nathan knew all this was as much about politics as battle. He’d got the knife in; now it was time to twist it.

  “Planesman, come south, speed 20 knots.” The Russians would be too shocked and confused to respond quickly.

  Fifteen minutes later, the boat cleared the Russian Fleet. “Planesman, speed 6 knots. Trim fore and aft for ascent. Up bubble ten, make for periscope depth.”

  “Aye sir, periscope depth 6 knots.”

  “Weaps, get the loaded VPM tube active, which was it?”

  “Tube two, sir. 49ers is available.”

  A Tomahawk cruise missile was sitting waiting.

  “Ready the bird. Set target for the Alyosha War Memorial, east bank of the Murmansk Fjord.”

  It doesn’t come more symbolic than the center of Murmansk, home of the Northern Fleet.

  “Periscope depth, sir.”

  Nathan looked to Weaps; he nodded. “Open outer doors, VPM tube two. Ready the Tomahawk.”

  “Tube two open, bird aimed and ready, sir.”

  “Launch.”

  “VPM tube two,” said Weaps. “49ers, returns Gyro up, green board, route A, target T1, Alyosha War Memorial Murmansk. Bird up and ready, sir.”

  “Go, go, go!”

  There was a faint whooshing sound from back aft.

  Weaps called it. “On the surface, 49ers reports launch, good burn. Motor in, wings deployed, gaining altitude. Ladies and gentlemen, we have a flying bird. She’s heading for the enemy’s den.”

  The Tomahawk headed south towards the Murmansk Fjord. It entered the channel. At l
ow level, the missile known by her crew as the San Francisco 49ers, passed the Polyarny inlet, home of the Northern Fleet submarines. She turned hard west and flew low for 8 miles and then pulled hard to the south. After 3 miles, 49ers turned to the east and over the city, and she hit the Memorial, detonating the warhead. The area around was blasted clear.

  The point had been made. You don’t mess with the best.

  The Northern Fleet was withdrawn to port. Statements were issued about a cowardly submarine attack by multiple enemy nuclear submarines. Peter the Great had taken two enemy boats with her, but had finally been overwhelmed.

  NSA Oak Ridge. Building 5300. Tennessee.

  The large twin-rotor Chinook helicopter landed close to the NSA building. It had flown from the airport at Chattanooga, 50 miles away. Two USN Officers got out as the rotors spun down, and an NSA employee walked over to them.

  “Hi, I’m the head of the facility. You can call me Robert,” said a middle-aged man with a greying full head of hair.

  The three of them entered the building.

  “We know perfectly well who you are, but you need to pass through the security point.”

  A Hispanic woman inspected their passes and took their pictures. “Please, Lieutenant Commander Kaminski, stand here and rest your chin on this. It will take a scan of your retina.”

  Nikki stepped up and the machine performed its scan.

  “Now, Commander Blake, do the same please.”

  Nathan stood for his scan.

  She checked the screen. “Welcome to the NSA.”

  The man who called himself Robert motioned them to join him. They walked down a corridor and into a room to one side. Robert swiped his pass over the sensor. Elevator doors opened, all three walked in, and he swiped his pass. The doors closed and the elevator descended.

  Nathan judged it to have descended four or five stories. The doors opened. Robert walked over to a row of seats and gestured at them to sit. He sat at one end.

  “Welcome to Oak Ridge NSA. The Department of Defence has requested that you be given a look at something you helped to put in place.”

  Nikki frowned.

  “You are Commander and Executive Officer of the USS Stonewall Jackson, and were a big part in the rescue of Danish national Nils Sondergaard and Israeli national Marjan Ghazaryan of the Mossad. She’s not here today; she works elsewhere in the Oak Ridge facility. I’ll introduce you to Dr Sondergaard. I must warn you, he can talk in riddles.”

  Robert got up and opened the doors to a large bank of huge screens. On them were images of buildings, vehicles and parts of machinery. None of it made much sense.

  “Nils.” Robert called out. A young man walked over to them. “These are the two submarine officers we talked about.”

  He smiled and shook their hands. “Hi, I’m Nils. I owe you a big favour. Without you I’d have been a frozen corpse on the icecap. Thank you. I’m to show you my Eye of Ra. Come on, let’s sit at this monitor.”

  They sat at a 72” monitor.

  “I’ll try to give you some idea about what you’ll see here. There’s a phenomenon called quantum entanglement.” He looked at them. “This is going to be a bit weird. Quantum entanglement says that two particles can be joined, so that whatever happens to one must also happen to its partner, however far apart they are.

  “Einstein didn’t like it, he called it ‘spooky action at a distance’. This entanglement happens instantly, too. From here across to the next building or from here to a distant star, it doesn’t matter. It’s not rubbish, it’s real and proven.”

  “What?” said Nikki.

  “I’ve made a huge breakthrough. I’ve been working on quantum radar and this is what we’ve built here. I’ll have to explain using some technical weird speak.” Nils had recited it so many times. “The Eye of Ra solves what computer science calls an ‘NP-complete’ problem: that’s a problem that’s impossible or nearly impossible to calculate on a classical device like a computer.”

  “Why do you call it Eye of Ra?” asked Nathan.

  “It’s named after the Ancient Egyptian Eye of Ra, which is believed to be an all-seeing force that uses violence to subdue and control its enemies. So, entangling allows the absorption spectrum and the resolution limit of quantum radar systems to be selected independently of one another. So, while current radar systems must compromise between range and resolution, quantum radar systems can simultaneously achieve the low attenuation/high range associated with a long wavelength and the high resolution associated with a short wavelength.”

  Nikki leaned over and touched Nils on his arm and smiled. “I’m sorry, Nils. We haven’t a clue what you’re saying. Sorry.”

  “I see. Well, let’s take a look at what it does.”

  He switched the screen on. It showed a large building from around 30 degrees above the horizon. “This is building twelve at the Sukhoi factory in Komsomolsk-on-Amur in Siberia. It’s the Russian equivalent of the Lockheed Martin Skunk Works or Boeing Phantom works.”

  Nils zoomed in on a truck. You could read the licence plate. He zoomed in again. Now you could see a scratch and blemishes on the truck’s hood.

  Nathan thought it was obviously a view from a spy satellite; impressive, but no big deal.

  “A spy satellite,” said Nikki.

  Nils smiled but shook his head. “Now Miss Kaminski,” the Danish scientist said. “Where do you live? Give me the zip code.”

  She did. The view changed to her street in Macon Georgia.

  “What number?”

  “215.”

  The view changed to her house. He zoomed into an upstairs window, then further in. A spider crawled across the window ledge. He then zoomed into her bedroom. Her bed was unmade and just as she’d left it.

  “I was in a hurry,” she said, a little embarrassed.

  Nils picked a drawer against the wall. He gave her a look and then zoomed inside the drawer. There were skimpy panties laid out.

  Nikki was wide-eyed. “But that’s inside a closed drawer.” He smiled and nodded.

  “Let’s see what else we can see.” The view zoomed in to what she knew was the next pair: the red ones under the first.

  She gasped. A look of horror crossed her face. She knew what they’d see next. That was unthinkable. “Get out. Pull back.”

  Nils did. She relaxed.

  “Ok, let’s try here.” He pulled back to the center of the room and zoomed into the kitchen a floor down below.

  “What?” Nikki said.

  Nils picked the microwave oven and zoomed in on the digital clock screen. He zoomed in again and they saw the circuitry behind the clock. He zoomed into some text; it was in Korean, and a popup onscreen translated. YRR3044/3 LG electrics, product of Korea.

  Then he zoomed into the letter ‘e’ until it filled the screen. He zoomed in and a popup screen displayed chemical symbols. “It’s showing us the chemical composition of the print used here.”

  He pressed a switch and the view changed back to the Sukhoi plant. Nils zoomed inside the building and they saw technicians working on an aircraft. He zoomed in further and they saw the innards of the aircraft, its electrical circuits.

  “That’s stunning,” said Nathan.

  “If we set it to object scan mode we can run through the whole thing and store all the images and detailed metallic, electrical and chemical compositions. We can see it just as though we had one here at Oak Ridge. We keep everything on digital servers for anybody who we think should see them. We can store anything from the innards of the Russian President’s cell phone to the insides of his mistress’s vibrator.” He cast a brief glance at Nikki, who looked as pale as a sheet as she suppressed a look of horror. “Where do you want to go next?”

  Nathan directed Nils to a PLAN submarine base. They zoomed into a Chinese SSBN and he let Nathan look around the control room.

  “That’s staggering,” said Nathan.

  Nils smiled. “We can also change the chemical composition of remote
objects. That’s a new capability so far. As an experiment from here, we’ve been able to weld hatches shut inside M1 Abrams tanks in Germany. That was a laugh. We couldn’t say how it’d been done; we blamed the manufacturers.”

  After another hour, they left.

  “I can’t believe what we just saw,” said Nikki.

  He nodded. They were on a 737 on its way to New York and then to Groton USN base where the boat was getting a new prop.

  “Nathan.” She pushed up as close as she could; she couldn’t get as close as she wanted. They were USN Officers in uniform. “We have two weeks leave from next week. Where would you like to go on vacation?”

  Nathan thought for a while. “You know, Nik, I’d like to start our trip by staying at the Hotel Wisslunfrau, Rome, Italy.”

  “What? How?” She was shocked, she’d made the reservations yesterday. “How did you know?”

  “I’d seen you putting that blue envelope in your purse.” He grinned. “I knew it was from a travel company. When you went to the restroom at Oak Ridge, I had Nils zoom in and take a look.”

  “You what?” she hit him.

  Nathan laughed at her. She hit him again, then softened and laughed with him.

  Get your free ebook

  Nathan and I hope you enjoyed reading Ninety Degrees North, book 6 of the USS Stonewall Jackson Series.

  As a buyer, you’re entitled to a free download of the short story Birth of a Boat, about the origins of the USS Stonewall Jackson. Get your copy at dl.bookfunnel.com/c6anggmhkw

  Once you’ve got your free ebook, read on for an excerpt from the first book in my other submarine series (The Tom Hilton Series): Beneath Sunless Waves.

  Thanks for reading,

  Stephen Makk.

  Beneath Sunless Waves – excerpt

  The Tom Hilton Series – Book 1

  Synopsis

  To the Special Forces, it’s a mission; to him, it’s the dilemma from hell.