Larry Bond - Cold Choices

“That will make them think twice!” laughed Petrov. “Make turns for ten knots. Shubin, do you still see their remote vehicle?”

“Yes, sir. Bearing red zero six five, range seventy-four meters, speed about three knots. It’s still heading toward the American sub.” Shubin was tracking the American UUV with Severodvinsk’s MG-519M mine-hunting sonar. It was no good as a general search set, but its high-resolution range and bearing data made it perfect for finding small objects nearby. “Recommend slow turn to port, or it will pass into our blind spot aft.”

“Agreed. Helm, left standard rudder, reverse our course, steady one five five. Starpom, don’t lose that thing’s position. If we’ve cut its tether, it should slow down and stop now. With luck, it will sink to the bottom, and we can mark the spot. What’s the American sub doing?”

“Passive sonar’s still limited from our high-speed pass, sir, but he was just starting to turn to starboard as we went by”

The American was being slow to react. After surprising him so completely, Petrov had expected a more violent reaction.

The high-frequency active sonar display showed two objects: the larger American sub, and a much smaller blip, no larger than a torpedo. The U.S. boat had been stationary, hovering, and it was obvious they were up to something that involved a remotely operated vehicle. Planting something? Recovering something? Whatever they were doing, it was not in Russia’s interests.

The obvious move was to break the tether on their ROV. The Americans would be forced to abandon it, and Severodvinsk would guard the device until it was salvaged. The U.S. would not be able to deny the physical evidence, and the clues it provided would tell what the Americans had been up to.

“Sonar, report.” Petrov was impatient. He’d made his move and was waiting for the Americans to react. Part of his impatience was because they had no good moves to make. This was his field, his game.

Mitrov responded, but he sounded puzzled. “The American sub is moving away slowly. Last good bearing before he went into our baffles was green one four five. The remote has turned sharply and is now heading away from the U.S. sub at a higher speed.”

“Toward us?” Petrov’s question held concern. It could still be a weapon.

“No sir, it’s going northwest at about five knots.”

“Then it’s still under control,” Petrov remarked, thinking aloud. “Apparently, we missed the tether.”

By now, Severodvinsk had reversed course and was heading to the rear of the slow-moving U.S. submarine. “Position us for another pass, closer to the American. Closer this time.”

USS Seawolf

“All hands, this is the Captain.” Rudel’s voice was calm. “We are not under attack. Nothing has collided with us. A Russian attack boat just made a fast, close-aboard pass down our port side. They’re not happy about us being here. He seems upset, so we are not going to do anything to provoke him.”

Rudel put the microphone down and asked Jerry, “Is the UUV heading away from us?”

Jerry nodded. “Just finished sending the instructions, sir. LaVerne’s been ordered to loiter at point Romeo One, about ten miles from here.”

“And the quickest course away from the Russian coast?”

Jerry didn’t have to look at the chart. “Toward Romeo One, recommend three zero zero.”

“Very well. Make turns for five knots, right fifteen degrees rudder, come to course three zero zero.” That would take them through almost three-quarters of a full circle, but the quicker turn to the left would take Seawolf directly in front of their maneuvering adversary.

“Conn, sonar. Sierra three zero has zigged. Looks like he’s turning. His blade rate is also increasing again. Rapidly.”

“Sonar, conn, aye. Any classification yet? Who is he?”

“Hard to tell, sir.” Stapp’s voice was apologetic. “It’s a first-line attack boat given its speed, but it doesn’t match anything in the database. She’s very quiet, though. I’ve had somebody reviewing the recordings when she was on top.. ”

Then Stapp interrupted his report. “Blade rate’s still increasing, and the bearing drift’s changed from left to right. I think he’s going to make another run.”

“Helm, increase your rudder, right full. Get us some more separation to starboard.”

“Increase my rudder to right full, helm aye.”

“Should we use our HF sonar? There’s no point in staying covert,” said Lavoie.

Jerry thought that sounded like a good idea. It would be nice to have a better idea of where the Russian was.

Rudel paused before answering Lavoie, but shook his head. “No. I don’t know how he’d react to it. He might interpret it as a prelude to hostile action. Some Russians like to use HF sonars for fire-control ranging.” The captain spoke quickly, and Lavoie nodded his understanding as they watched the command displays and tried to fathom the Russian’s intention.

“Conn, sonar. Sierra three zero is closing, zero bearing rate, signal strength all increasing. I’m starting to get separate bearings on different parts of the boat!” Jerry felt a lump of ice forming in his chest. The Russian was 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.”