The Seventh Angel

tugged at her lower lip. That couldn’t be coincidence.

A new voice came over the net. “TAO — EW, I’m tracking one L-band emitter, bearing two-niner-zero. Classification unknown.”

“EW — TAO, can you give me a little more to go on? What are the possibilities? What transmits in the L- band?”

“TAO — EW. The signal is right at 1.52 gigahertz, very weak. I think it’s directional, and we’re only picking up side lobe or back-scatter. Could be a satellite phone, ma’am. Pointed straight up at the sky, so that all we’re catching is the bleed-over.”

Chief McPherson felt the understanding click into place in her brain. It wasn’t coincidence. She knew what the krill sounds meant, and she knew where the satellite transmissions were coming from.

She was reaching to key her mike button when another voice came over the net.

“TAO — Air. We’ve got party crashers, ma’am. SPY is tracking six Bogies inbound from the northeast. Looks like three flights of two. No modes, no codes, and no IFF.” The Air Supervisor paused for a second and continued. “Flight One bears zero-two-eight. Flight Two bears zero-four- three. Flight Three bears zero-seven-one.”

The chief looked up in time to see six unknown aircraft symbols pop up on the Aegis display screen.

“Air — TAO. Copy your six Bogies, bearing zero-two-eight, zero-four-three, and zero-seven-one. What are their flight profiles?”

“TAO — Air. They’re coming in high and fast, ma’am. I think those helicopters we shot up might have called for the cavalry.”

“TAO, aye. Break. EW — TAO. Are you tracking any emitters on these Bogies?”

The Electronic Warfare technician responded quickly. “TAO — EW. That’s affirmative, ma’am. Bogies have just lit off their radars. I’m tracking six I-band emitters, in three pairs. Zaslon S-800 series phased array radars, on the bearings reported by Air. Looks like MiG-31s. EW concurs that Bogies are grouped in three flights of two. Request permission to seed early chaff.”

“EW — TAO. Permission granted. Launch chaff at will.”

Several rapid thumps announced the firing of five or six chaff pods.

Chief McPherson took advantage of a two-second lull to key her microphone. “TAO — USWE. Sonar is tracking unusual passive narrowband signals on the bearing of Gremlin Zero One, and on the bearing of the submarine launch position. One of those signals corresponds to the bearing of the L-band emitter detected by EW. Be advised target may be using acoustic transponders to relay communications to a satellite phone. The signal may be modulated to simulate biologics. The target submarine could be receiving tactical orders via satellite phone right now. Recommend you have EW try to jam that L-band transmission if possible.”

Lieutenant Augustine’s voice came in rapid response. “USWE — TAO. Copy all. Break. EW — TAO, jam all L- band transmissions.”

Before the Electronic Warfare tech could respond, the 29-MC speaker roared to life. “All Stations — Sonar. Loud underwater explosions, bearing two-niner-zero. No secondaries.”

Chief McPherson looked down at the CDRT. She knew exactly what had just happened.

* * *

Ice Pack, Southeastern Sea of Okhotsk:

All six charges detonated simultaneously. Ninety kilograms of ex-Soviet military-grade RDX explosive erupted into an expanding shock wave of heat and overpressure. A thirty-meter circle of ice was instantly obliterated, blasting water vapor and shards of ice into the Siberian night. The fragments and mist rained back down to earth, leaving a large circular opening in the ice pack.

The last zashishennaja pozicija was ready for action.

* * *

USS Towers:

Lieutenant Augustine’s voice came over the net. “Weapons Control — TAO, you have batteries released on all Bogies, and any Vipers. There are no friendly contacts in this area. Engage and destroy at-will. Shift to Aegis ready-auto. Set CIWS to auto-engage.”

The instant the Weapons Control Officer acknowledged the orders, the Tactical Action Officer was on the net again. “USWE — TAO. You have batteries released. Kill contact Gremlin Zero One as soon as the target enters your engagement envelope.”

Chief McPherson keyed into the net. “USWE, aye.”

The air was split by the rumble of launching missiles. “TAO — Weapons Control. Six birds away, no apparent casualties. Targeted one each on the inbound Bogies.”

Chief McPherson’s eyes were locked on the hostile submarine symbol. The target was now only three hundred yards outside of torpedo range. “Come on,” the chief said softly. “Just a little closer. Just a little closer.”

She keyed her mike. “Sonar — USWE, contact is three hundred yards outside of torpedo range, and closing. Stand by to trigger the beacon. Break. UB — USWE, what’s the status of your solution?”

“USWE — UB. I hold a firm fire control solution on contact Gremlin Zero One. Standing by to engage on your order.”

The Chief keyed her mike again. “All Stations — USWE. We’re only going to get one crack at this. Let’s make it a good one.”

Another report came over the net. “TAO — Air. Splash two Bogies! SPY is tracking four inbound missiles, in two flights of two. Bearing zero-four-niner, and zero-seven-five. I say again, four inbound Vipers, bearing zero-four- niner, and zero-seven-five.”

The report was immediately confirmed by the Electronic Warfare technicians, but Chief McPherson was no longer listening. The hostile submarine was now less than two hundred yards outside of weapons range.

The Sonar Supervisor’s voice rumbled out of the 29-MC speakers. “All Stations — Sonar has hydraulic transients bearing two-eight-five.”

“Shit!” Chief McPherson said to herself. “He’s opening his missile hatches.”

She keyed her mike. “TAO — USWE. Gremlin Zero One is opening his missile tube hatches. Submarine is preparing to launch ballistic missiles.”

There were three muted explosions in the distance, followed by the roar of more outgoing missiles.

“TAO, aye. How long until you can kill the sub?”

The chief eyed the screen and keyed her headset. “TAO — USWE. Target is one hundred yards outside of my torpedo envelope. At the current rate of closure, I can engage in approximately one minute.”

Her report was punctuated by a prolonged blast from the forward CIWS mount. The ship rocked from the concussion of an explosion, not aboard, but very close.

On the CDRT, the V-shaped hostile submarine symbol crept across the green ring of the ship’s torpedo envelope.

The Underwater Battery Fire Control Operator keyed into the net. “USWE — UB. Contact is at the very edge of my torpedo engagement envelope. UB holds a firm firing solution. Request permission to engage.”

“UB — USWE. Copy all. Stand by. Break. Sonar — USWE, go active now!”

“Sonar, aye.”

There was a brief pause, and then, “All Stations, Sonar is active.”

From Combat Information Center, the transmission was barely audible, but Chief McPherson was listening for it carefully. She caught it: a single shrill warble, nearly lost beneath the noise in CIC.

The Sonar Supervisor’s voice came over the net again. “All Stations, Sonar is passive. The beacon has been triggered, and is transmitting. Sonar is tracking acoustic transmissions from the beacon. I say again, the beacon is hot.”

The chief keyed up. “UB — USWE. Kill contact Gremlin Zero One with over-the-side torpedo.”

“UB, aye. Going to Standby. Going to Launch. Torpedo away — now, now, NOW!”

A blue friendly torpedo symbol appeared on the CDRT, followed an instant later by the Sonar Supervisor’s