Red Phoenix

“New buoy number fifteen is on. Target! Bearing one three five, range four hundred yards!” The sonarman fought to keep his voice from cracking with excitement.

Sierra Five settled back into level flight, this time aimed right at the submarine picked up by its active sonobuoy.

“Weapon away!”

Nobody aboard the Orion saw the splash as its Mark 46 torpedo hit the water. They were too busy preparing for another attack run.

DPRK LIBERATOR

“Torpedo in the water! Bearing three three zero!”

The sonarman’s shout froze Min for a crucial half-second. Then he turned and screamed at the helmsman, “Right full rudder! Flank speed!”

The submarine tilted abruptly as it turned and accelerated toward its meager full speed of fourteen knots. Min pulled himself across the control room and into the plot office. He sighed. It was as he’d thought. The water was too shallow to allow any serious maneuvering in the vertical plane. He’d have to try to outturn the American torpedo and hope it lost him. Not that there was much chance of that.

“Torpedo still closing, Comrade Captain!” Min could hear the fear in his first officer’s voice and knew the same hopelessness. Still, they had to try.

“Left full rudder, then!”

Liberator heeled in the opposite direction as the helmsman executed his order immediately. One man at least hadn’t panicked. That was something. He waited, bracing himself for the impact.

“Torpedo screws fading, Comrade Captain! It has lost us!” Cheers greeted the sonarman’s report.

Min smiled tightly. He would let the poor fools celebrate. They would learn the truth soon enough.

SIERRA FIVE

“That first torp missed, Skipper. Still running, but it’s moving away from the contact.”

The P-3’s pilot, a burly Naval Reserve commander with the name LAMBROS stenciled across his flight suit, looked at his copilot and smiled. “Ya know, the biggest ASW mistake the Japanese made during Word War II was giving up too soon. I’m not making the same mistake.” His hands pulled the Orion into another turn.

“Madman! Madman!”

“Weapon away.”

DPRK LIBERATOR

The cheers faded into a collective groan.

“Right full rudder!” Min turned to his first officer. “Raise the radio mast.”

“But…” Sung looked confused. “Comrade Captain, the enemy will see it… especially at this speed!”

“Idiot! Do you think that will matter? Listen!” The pings of several active sonars could be heard clearly, even above the noise made by Liberator’s laboring screws. “Signal all units that we are under attack. And do it while there is still time.”

Min watched his lieutenant enter the Radio Room and then leaned back against a bulkhead to await his fate. They had been lucky once. They wouldn’t be lucky again.

SIERRA FIVE

“A hit!”

Water fountained skyward in a column of white foam, dead fish, and pitch-black oil. The P-3’s pilot winced slightly watching it. He had an active imagination and could easily visualize how the Mark 46’s high-explosive warhead had killed the enemy submarine — it must have ripped the sub open like a gutted trout. He stared at the oil-coated waves rippling away from the impact zone. There wouldn’t be any survivors. Not in the middle of that.

With an effort he pulled his eyes and mind away from the dead submarine. “Signal the O’Brien. Tell ’em we got the bad guy.”

“Aye, aye, Skipper.” The tactical coordinator’s voice was jubilant. “That’s one down and surely more to go.”

ABOARD DPRK REVOLUTION

Commander Sohn Chae-Hwan studied the message flimsy. “You’re sure this is all that was sent?”

The signals rating nodded. “Yes, Comrade Captain. Just the call sign for Liberator and those words, ‘under attack.’” He flinched as a dollop of spray sluiced across the Osa-class missile boat’s open bridge. He’d grown too used to his warm cubbyhole belowdecks and didn’t like standing outside, fully exposed to the cold sea.

Sohn dismissed him with a curt gesture and turned to look at the chart for Liberator’s last known position. He had to assume that the submarine had been sunk by whatever enemy had attacked it. And that left just one Romeo-class antique in the probable path of the American convoy. He sneered. It was unlikely that one ancient diesel submarine would be able to do much on its own.

He glanced up from the chart, studying the stubby silhouettes of the other two missile boats that made up his command. The original plan hadn’t called for the Osa squadron to attack until the mop-up phase, but the original plan had just gone by the boards. Liberator sunk without even exacting a price for its loss. Disgraceful.

But perhaps a sudden attack by the twelve SS-N-2C Styx missiles his boats carried could sow enough confusion to give that last Romeo a fighting chance. It was worth trying.

He snapped out an order. “Signal the squadron. New course is two three five degrees. Full speed ahead!”

Sohn felt the Revolution leap under his feet as its three-shaft diesel engines roared into life. The three missile boats turned southwest, toward the northernmost tip of Tsushima Island, racing ahead at thirty-six knots.

USS O’BRIEN

Levi watched as a rating updated the CIC’s plot, showing the P-3 moving further north to lay another sonobuoy line across the northern tip of Tsushima Island. Another seaman entered the convoy’s current position.

He turned to his ASW officer. “Well, what do you think, Bill?”

“I think we’re right on the edge of game time, Skipper. I sure as hell don’t think that NK sub was out there all alone. He’ll have company around somewhere.”

“Agreed. Okay, then. Let’s get Duncan’s helo down for refueling. But tell Vandermeier I want his replacement in the air first. I want continuous coverage to our east. Clear?”

The ASW officer nodded.

Levi glanced at the air status board. They hadn’t been updated yet. He frowned. “What’s the latest on our own birds?”

“Hotel Three is at plus-five. Ready to launch at your order.” The ASW officer followed Lev’s frown and frowned himself. Somebody was being slow.

“What about Two?”

“Still down. They’re trying to get that cracked rotor casing off for repair, but it looks like an all-day job.”

Levi’s frown grew deeper. His second SH-2F Sea Sprite had been out of commission off and on ever since leaving Pearl two weeks before. What the hell use was a helicopter that wouldn’t ever fly? “Well, try to light a fire under them down there, Bill. You know the old saying, ‘For want of a helo…’”

The ASW officer grinned. “Aye, aye, Skipper. Consider the pyre lit.” His grin faded. “But I don’t think it’s going to do much good.”

“Yeah, well. At least it’ll make me feel better. So get it done.” Levi turned his attention back to the plot, trying to guess where the NKs would come from next.

DPRK GREAT LEADER

Senior Captain Chun pondered the fragmentary message relayed by East Sea Fleet Command at Wonsan. “And there has been no further contact with Liberator?”

“No, Captain.”

Chun dismissed the man with an absentminded wave. Min and his submarine had almost certainly been sunk.