Steve Abbott - Devil's Gambit

“Present depth, helm?”

“Six forty feet and steady sir.”

“Sonar, anything happening with those torpedoes yet?”

“Negative, sir. They haven’t acquired.”

“Ten degrees down on the planes take us to the bottom. Hold at seven fifty. Get another noisemaker in the tube and this time I want it to sound like it’s hurting. Helm, prepare to turn to a heading of two zero zero and accelerate to flank at my command. Navigation plot the new course.” He turned to his XO. “We’re going to make a knuckle right down in the basement and give him a good strong return to go after. I’m hoping his fish will hit the bottom and detonate. He’ll assume he got lucky and we’ll pop up behind him and clean his clock.”

The XO smiled back at his Captain. It had been a bad day for him as well. He wanted this Korean just as much as his Captain. Of course, this new tactic would bring them within dangerous distance of the ocean floor. If Miami nosed up suddenly, the stern would slam into the bottom and tear open the pressure hull. They would be just as dead as if the Koreans had killed them.

The Leader’s weapons officer stood beside the sonar station with one side of a headset held to his left ear and a stopwatch in his right. The Americans were very good. They had managed to avoid the two torpedoes. The sonar officer had directed the bow-mounted hydrophones at the track of the two torpedoes. Their high-speed thrum filled his left ear. He could also hear the high frequency pings of the sonar seekers, but the pings remained constant. The Captain’s ruse had proved ineffective. No, that was not correct. It had just failed to generate the hoped-for results. The weapons officer had been hand-picked by the man and would not give in to doubts about his commander’s abilities. The headphones went silent. The torpedoes had run out of fuel. He turned to his Captain. “Torpedoes ran out of fuel, Captain. No contact.”

The Captain took the news in silence. Perhaps he was too hasty. The Americans might have been too badly damaged and withdrawn from the area. He shook his head. No! That was not the way they thought. They were a nation that hated to lose. That sub was still out there and now they knew for sure that the Leader was out there as well. Every kilometer counted. Time to put distance between the indestructible and elusive American sub.

“Helm, come to a heading of zero eight five. Five degrees down on the planes. Take us to three hundred.” The order had just left his lips when the sonar officer spun around.

“Sir, I have a transient bearing one one six. Range about twelve hundred meters. It is running deep.” The man pressed the headset closer to his ears, trying to get a better idea of the sound. “Definitely mechanical. It could be that the Americans sustained further damage avoiding our torpedoes sir.”

“Are the tubes still loaded?”

The weapons officer nodded. “Give me a solution, then flood the tubes and fire.”

“Conn, sonar contact. High speed screws.” The Sonar Chief smiled from ear to ear as he turned to face his Captain. “They’re coming in from a high angle, heading right for the knuckle and the noisemaker. No active pings. The guy is so confident he has us he’s smoking them right in by wire.”

The Captain allowed himself a smile. “Helm, new heading three two five, five degrees up on the bow planes. Sonar, did you get a fix on his depth?”

“Around three hundred, sir. Hard to tell for sure. He’s hiding in the surface clutter.” An explosion vibrated through the hull. The Leader’s torpedoes had found the bottom. Silence settled on the command center. All eyes were on the silent figure of the Captain, waiting, hoping for the command.

“Give me a bearing, sonar.”

“One one six at three hundred and fifty feet. Range about two thousand.”

“Five more minutes on this heading helm, then come to one one six and take us up to four hundred.” The Captain looked over at his Chief. “COB have them load all of the forward tubes with high speed fish. We’ll wait till we’re in his baffles before we flood the tubes.” He studied the plot in front of him, looking for any mistake on his part. It looked solid. “Now let us see how you handle yourself, my North Korean friend.” He thought to himself.

The minutes crept by. The Helmsman kept a close eye on the clock over his station. At exactly five minutes after the Captain’s command, he turned to the new heading. Ever so gently; they were still very close to the bottom. “Turn completed Captain.”

“Take us to four hundred. Nice and slow Bob. We don’t want to give him any hull noises. We’ve all had enough surprises for one day.”

With a twist of his wrist, the dive officer released small amounts of compressed air into the ballast tanks. Water was forced out and the Miami began to climb out of the rock strewn bottom and up to the greater room of four hundred feet. They had little left in undamaged sonar, but through luck and only luck, its forward left array had escaped damage. They had a better chance than before of finding the enemy sub, but like a dog, Miami would have to swing its nose about to sniff for the scent.

The Leader’s Captain walked over beside the sonar station. “Any sounds of break up?”

The sonar officer shook his head. “No Captain. The American has eluded us again.”

The Captain kept his anger to himself. Blast the Americans. Even with a crippled vessel they were still an equal match for his crew and equipment. Now it came down to who could take the biggest risks and still remain undetected. The Captain was back in his command chair in three strides. “First officer! Battery status?”

The officer, his hands still in nervous motion, appeared beside his commander, the ever-present clipboard clutched in his right hand. The Captain doubted the man could function without it. “Ninety two percent, Comrade Captain.”

“Excellent. Have the weapons room prepare a noisemaker.” The First Officer disappeared down the forward companionway. He did not want to drain the batteries too much and he wanted the Americans to have an absolute fix on his position. “Navigation, show me our present position on the chart table.” He turned his chair around and moved to the navigation table. He stabbed a finger at the end of the fresh line. “And you are sure of this position?”

The answer was in chorus. “Yes, Comrade Captain.”

The Captain looked up from the chart and smiled. “You have done very well, gentlemen. Very well indeed.” Only a few more miles and they would have the help of numerous comrades. The mission was almost over. The Captain shook his head. Such soft thoughts. Not until the Leader was safe in its reinforced pen could the Captain relax. He climbed once again into his chair and addressed the crew. “You have all done well, comrades. The Americans, with all of their high technology, now know what it is to feel the sting of a determined foe. There is one more supreme effort that we must make. A fast and hard sprint into the waters of the other side of this straight. There our fellow submariners wait to mislead the Americans and their anti-submarine attacks.” His voice rose. Its power filled the room. “We will not fail. We cannot fail. Our homeland depends upon us. You are the best crew a Captain could ever hope for.” The Captain began to snap out commands. He turned to the sonar officer standing a rigid attention. “Retrieve the towed array. Engineering, prepare to start the diesels. I want full speed ahead. Helm at my command. I want you to turn ninety degrees to port, cut power back to one quarter and give us ten degrees down on the planes until we are at five hundred feet. Weapons Control, launch the noisemaker the second I give the command to turn.”