report.
“USWE — Sonar. We have weapon start-up.”
Chief McPherson was dimly aware of a report that three more Bogies were down, but she had eyes and ears only for the submarine. She stared at the screen, her eyes begging the blue torpedo symbol to lock onto the hostile submarine. “You can do it,” she whispered. “You can do it. Come on … You can do it.”
“USWE — Sonar, torpedo has acquired. Estimated impact in four minutes.”
The chief heard CIWS fire again, but this time it was the aft mount. The last Bogie was either bugging out, or trying to attack from a different angle.
There was another close-aboard explosion, and the screen of the CDRT flickered, went dark, and then flared back to life. The chief heard several operators cry out in frustration as their own consoles went down, and apparently did not come back on line.
The ship shuddered as another set of outbound missiles tore off into the night sky.
The blue torpedo symbol continued to close on the submarine, but the sub was making no effort to avoid the attack. The submarine
A chilling thought shot through the chief’s mind. Could this be a mobile decoy? Had they been suckered? With literally
The hostile torpedo symbol crossed the edge of the rectangle that marked the launch position, and suddenly the chief understood. The sub was already committed to the launch cycle. The commanding officer had decided to complete his mission, regardless of the cost to his boat.
The Air Supervisor’s voice came over the net. “TAO — Air. Splash Bogie number four. All Bogies are down! All Vipers are down!”
The report was followed quickly by the report from the Weapons Control Officer. “TAO — Weapons Control, our missile inventory is
“Talk about cutting it
Someone else cut loose with a whistle.
But chief was still watching the screen. It was a race between symbols now. The red submarine symbol and the blue torpedo symbol, on an iconic rendezvous with destiny.
“Get him,” Chief McPherson said to the torpedo symbol. “Kill the bastard
The 29-MC speaker rattled with the voice of the Sonar Supervisor. “All Stations — Sonar has multiple launch transients bearing two-niner-zero!”
The chief’s heart froze in her chest as she saw two hostile missile symbols appear on the CDRT.
“Oh God,” she said. “Oh my
The water at the center of the hole roiled and frothed, and the ice began to tremble madly. A final surge of expanding gas ruptured the surface of the water, and riding in its midst came the blunt-nosed profile of a Russian- built R-29R ballistic missile.
The 35-ton machine rose above its watery launching cradle, and the instant that it cleared the surface, the rocket engines of the missile’s first stage screamed to life in an orgy of burning fuel and manmade thunder.
The missile climbed toward the heavens on a pillar of silvery fire and smoke.
The displaced water had not even fallen back to the surface of the ice when the performance was repeated. Again the water at the center of the hole churned, and a second Russian nuclear missile leapt toward the stars in the black Siberian sky.
In seconds, both missiles were climbing faster than rifle bullets, and still accelerating rapidly as they roared away into the night.
The captain’s voice was a shout, and it didn’t come over the net. “Weapons Control this is the Captain. Kill those missiles! Kill them now!”
The ship shuddered once in instant reply, and a friendly missile symbol appeared on the Aegis display. “One bird away,” the Weapons Control Officer reported. “No apparent casualties.”
For the first time, Chief McPherson lost track of the submarine. That was it. The missile cells were empty. There were two nuclear missiles streaking toward their targets, and only one missile to go after them. There were no more. The cupboard was bare.
A deathly quiet descended over Combat Information Center, broken only by the hum of cooling fans and the muffled sobbing of an unseen Sailor.
The spell held for several long seconds, until it was shattered by an amplified voice from the 29-MC speakers. “All Stations — Sonar. Loud underwater explosions with secondaries, bearing two-niner-zero. I think we just killed us a submarine.”
For the half-second before the Sonar Supervisor released the microphone button, the cheering of the Sonar team came faintly through the 29-MC. They had done their job, and they were celebrating. But they didn’t know what the CIC team knew.
On the Aegis display, three missile symbols rushed toward the sky — two of them red, the other blue.
Chief McPherson felt her eyes well with tears as she watched the writ of Armageddon play itself out in a dance of colored icons.
Someone behind her spoke. It was a man’s voice, but she didn’t turn to see who it belonged to.
“And the seventh angel poured out his vial into the air,” the man said. “And there came a great voice out of the temple of heaven, from the throne, saying, ‘It is
As the last word died down into silence, two symbols merged on the screen. A half second later, the Air Supervisor shouted. “Got one! We got one of the bastards! Splash one ballistic missile!”
Someone clapped the Air Supervisor on the back, but no one cheered. On the screen, the remaining missile symbol moved with increasing rapidity as the real ballistic missile gathered speed out there somewhere in the night. Already, it was beginning to edge to the east, toward the United States.
“We’re done here,” Captain Bowie said. He turned to the TAO. “Call the bridge. Tell the XO to take us home.”
He looked away from the screen. “If there’s any home left to go to.”
CHAPTER 57
“My God,” the president said. “I can’t believe this is happening again.”
On the wall-sized geographic display screen, a curving red trajectory line arced up from the Sea of Okhotsk toward the United States.
National Security Advisor Gregory Brenthoven sat at the briefing table. “I know, Mr. President,” he said. “But we can take a little comfort in knowing that this is the last one. USS
As he spoke, the curving red line on the screen flashed and grew longer. The unfinished end of the arc crept toward the U.S.
“One missile is enough,” the president said. “Last time, he was aiming for the ocean, and one of the
