Cold Choices

closer this time.

Rudel looked over toward the BCP and yelled, “Chief of the Watch, sound collision. All hands brace for impact.” As the collision alarm screeched, Jerry imagined men in spaces throughout the sub, with little idea of what was happening, being told to brace. Expecting what? A crushing blow, icy water, and a sudden death?

“Eventually we’ll have to break contact and sort out how he found us, but right now my only goal is to not make a bad situation worse.”

The Russian sub thundered by again, closer. This time the sound was stronger, more intense. Jerry could distinguish the beating of the sub’s propeller blades.

As it reached a peak, another sound, an even louder solid bang, resonated in the control room. It stopped, then came again, and again, in fast rhythmic pulses. The Russian had turned on his main active sonar and focused its energy into a tight narrow beam, pointed straight at Seawolf.

A nuclear sub’s main active sonar could send out a sound pulse that could be heard hundreds of miles away. It would kill a diver nearby. Almost in pain, Jerry tried to cover his ears, but by the time he could react, the Russian was gone, and welcome quiet returned.

Then Seawolf, all nine thousand two hundred tons, tilted to the right, pushed aside by the wake of the harassing Russian sub. Jerry was glad for the captain’s warning, but he’d lost his grip raising his hands. He almost fell, and several in control did stumble.

Shaken, Jerry saw his face mirrored in the rest of the watch, pale and wide-eyed, some picking themselves up.

Lavoie, compelled to state the obvious, said, “That was too close.”

“Conn, sonar. Sierra three zero is not, repeat not, transmitting known Shark Gill waveforms.” Shark Gill was the NATO nickname for the SKAT family of sonars on all current Russian nuclear-powered attack submarines.

Jerry watched Captain Rudel, waiting for a reaction, or new orders, but the captain was as pale as the rest. Jerry watched him scan the displays, even glancing toward the plotting table. He was a man in desperate need of information. What boat was this? What did the Russian captain want? Would his next pass be even closer?

“Skipper, who are we dealing with?” asked Shimko, clearly shaken as well.

Rudel initially looked just as confused as the others; then abruptly, his demeanor changed as an idea popped into his head.

“Navigator, check the intel traffic and see if a Russian boat has left Sayda Guba in the last few days.”

“Aye, aye, sir,” replied Jerry, still puzzled.

“You’ve got that look, sir,” quipped Shimko.

“I have a theory, XO. Nothing more.”

“Would you mind sharing this theory with the rest of us ignorant peasants?”

“I think it’s Severodvinsk, Marcus.”

Shimko took his captain’s theory and compared it to the available data. A nuclear-powered attack submarine with an unknown acoustic signature and unknown active sonar in the Northern Fleet led to but one conclusion— Severodvinsk.

“Ooh shit.”

“Yeah, that’s about it,” said Rudel. “Hopefully, Jerry will be able to confirm it once he gets done searching the message traffic.”

Lieutenant Commander Lavoie was searching as well. “Whoever he is, he’s real unhappy we’re here. Maybe he’s trying to drive us away.”

Rudel nodded, still thinking, but answering, “It’s a possibility. Maybe we aren’t moving fast enough for him. But then why block our path out?”

Lavoie continued. “If he’d wanted to hit us, he could have. He isn’t that crazy”

“I sure as hell think he’s nucking futs to get as close as he has,” remarked Shimko.

“Concur, XO. He’s crazy enough for me as well. Helm, all ahead two-thirds, steady on three zero zero.”

Severodvinsk

“What about the remote vehicle?” Petrov’s attention was almost entirely fixed on its progress. He’d let Kalinin take Severodvinsk in a right turn this time, paralleling the American’s turn on the outside.

He might have been unconsciously acknowledging the starpom’s concern. The last pass had been only two hundred meters to port of the American, at an unbelievable thirty-three knots. Even their mine-hunting sonar had been blind at that speed.

Mitrov answered, “It’s still heading northwest at a steady speed. And we’ve identified the sub’s class. It’s an American Seawolf-class.” Petrov barely acknowledged the report.

“Even if the tether’s cut, it may have an inertial guidance and its own power supply. Assuming it’s a tethered vehicle to begin with.” Kalinin’s suggestion was certainly possible. It would explain the vehicle’s behavior, but it was unsatisfying. His evidence was slipping away. “We could follow it,” the starpom suggested.

“And leave the perpetrator?” Petrov retorted. “The remote vehicle can lead us on a wild-goose chase while the American escapes. And we have no way to stop or recover the device. No,” he concluded, “we will stay with the American sub.”

Petrov studied the tactical display. The American lay ahead of him, to the north. He’d increased speed to fifteen knots and was headed northwest, away from Russian waters. Severodvinsk was in a slow right turn, swinging past south.

For one moment, he contemplated letting the American go. He had confirmed its existence, identified it, and disrupted whatever they were trying to do. He had met all his mission objectives.

Even as this thought flashed through Petrov’s mind, he rejected it. He could trail them. He could follow them out of this area, watch them recover their remote, and then leave Russian waters, virtually unscathed. They could deny ever being there, and Russia would have only the word of Severodvinsk and her crew. And they still didn’t know what the Americans’ mission was.

They needed more proof. “Increase our speed to twenty-five knots and set up an intercept. I want to pass directly in front of the American. I’m not letting him leave the area.”

As Kalinin acknowledged and turned toward the helmsman, Petrov added, “And Vasiliy — no margin.”

USS Seawolf

“Conn, sonar. Sierra three zero’s blade rate is increasing again. Possible target zig to starboard. He may be getting ready to make another pass.”

“That’s it,” Rudel announced defiantly. “I’m not betting our lives on his seamanship. Increase speed to twenty knots. XO, prepare a spread of coun-termeasures. Two ADC Mk 5s, an NAE, and a mobile decoy.” He didn’t wait for a reply. “Sonar, conn. We’re speeding up. Stand by to go active on the HF set, but try and keep tracking him passively. Regular reports.”

Sonar’s first report put the Russian at two thousand yards, off their port quarter. “Blade rate is increasing. Contact has steadied up on a new course.”

“Sonar, conn. Good job, Stapp, you’re our eyes. Keep the reports coming.” Rudel released the intercom key and looked at the control-room watch. They were silent, expectant.

“There’s no point in only maneuvering. He can follow our movements and it just increases the chance of a collision. I intend to wait until he’s committed to his run, release a mobile decoy and some countermeasures, then break hard left away at speed. We will then head southwest and break contact. Comments?”

Jerry felt some of the ice in his chest start to melt. The skipper had a plan. It was reassuring to know the captain could still think clearly with a nuclear sub buzzing them.

“Captain, Sierra three zero now bears one seven five at fourteen hundred yards. Estimated speed twenty- three knots and increasing,” reported Shimko.

Rudel watched the display. “Very well, XO. What’s the status of the decoy?”

“CSA launcher ready, where do you want the mobile decoy to go?”

“Preset base course three five zero, maximum speed. Jamming function enabled.”

“Aye, aye, sir.”

“Conn, sonar. Sierra three zero’s bearing is unchanged! Repeat, constant bearing, decreasing range. Speed now twenty-five knots.” If a contact didn’t change his bearing and the range decreased, there was only one possible result. Jerry wondered if the Russian planned to swerve at the last minute. Or did he really intend to ram them?