Fatal Thunder: A Jerry Mitchell Novel (52 page)

“Torpedoes in the water!” yelled Halleck. “Same bearing as Sierra eight seven!”

“Execute starburst maneuver to starboard,” snapped Jerry.

“Starburst to starboard, aye, sir,” Thigpen responded. “Countermeasure station, deploy starburst pattern!”

As soon as countermeasure symbols started popping up on the starboard VLSD, Jerry commanded, “Pilot, right full rudder, steady course one three zero!”

*   *   *

The countermeasure pods near
North Dakota
’s stern launched two stationary sonar jammers just before she started to turn. Now, two mobile jammers were kicked out, heading away from the submarine on reciprocal courses, building a wall of intense sound—essentially a barrier, opaque to any acoustic sensor. Finally, a mobile decoy was deployed and it continued down the course
North Dakota
had just turned away from—a maneuver that had been completely hidden from the onrushing
Chakra
.

INS
Chakra

“Central post, contact has deployed countermeasures, I’ve lost contact,” shouted Patil.

Jain had expected as much. The commander of
North Dakota
had demonstrated that he was no fool. “What was the last good bearing and range?” he demanded.

“Bearing red zero zero five, range, four thousand eight hundred meters. He was still on course zero six zero at last contact.”

Looking at the Omnibus display, Jain saw that the American was running away from the countermeasure barrier.
Excellent,
he thought proudly.
The salvo should catch him.
“Steady on course!” he cried out, smiling.

USS
North Dakota

Two minutes after making the run, Jerry deployed another stationary ADC Mark 5 countermeasure. Between this new addition and the mobile jammer, there was another wall of sound hiding
North Dakota
from the oncoming UGST torpedoes. The only legitimate target in their field of view would be the mobile decoy that was now running away from the scene at twenty knots.

“Skipper, one of the torpedoes has begun range gating! It’s past CPA and opening, it’s locked on to the decoy!” said Halleck with noticeable relief.

“Gotcha,” Jerry whispered, followed immediately by, “Firing point procedures, Sierra eight seven…”

“Wait, Captain!” howled Samant.

Jerry turned, taken aback by the Indian’s sudden interruption. He looked at the man’s face and saw the tears welling in his eyes.

“Please, Captain, Jerry, allow me to issue the order to fire,” choked Samant. Both Jerry and Petrov looked at him with amazement.

“I appreciate the offer, Captain,” replied Jerry. “But you wouldn’t be able to live with yourself if you gave the order.”

Samant gave a cynical chuckle, then responded, “I won’t be able to live with myself now as it is, Jerry. But if my crew has to die, then I prefer it be at my hands. An Indian started this nightmare, it’s only proper that an Indian end it.”

Jerry paused, considering Samant’s emotional appeal, then nodded. Turning forward, he announced loudly, “Attention in control, Captain Girish Samant has the conn, Lieutenant Lymburn retains the deck.”

All the stations acknowledged Jerry’s pronouncement and then watched as Samant stepped over to the fire control consoles.

“Which control launches the torpedo?” he asked the fire control technician quietly.

The petty officer looked toward his XO. Thigpen gave a curt nod signaling it was okay. “This one, sir,” answered the young sailor.

Straightening himself, Samant gave the order. His voice was firm and professional. “Stand by torpedo attack, target, INS
Chakra
, tube three.” Reaching over, he pushed the button and thundered, “Fire!”

“Normal launch, torpedo course, two seven zero, speed four zero knots,” reported the petty officer. He was looking at Samant when he spoke.

*   *   *

The torpedo ran straight out from tube number three to clear itself and the guidance wire from the submarine. It then began a wide turn to the right, its movement screened by the mobile sonar jammer. By the time it had passed in front of the countermeasure field it had already gone active. And once it was past the intense sound barrier, its seeker was pointed straight at
Chakra
, barely fifteen hundred yards away. The torpedo locked on and began accelerating.

INS
Chakra

“Torpedo alert! Starboard side!” screeched Patil.

Jain’s head spun as he looked at the Omnibus display. The incoming weapon was very close. “Deploy countermeasures!” he screamed.

It was too late. Before the countermeasures were ejected from the Akula, the Mark 48 torpedo’s warhead detonated, devastating compartment three and violating the bulkhead with compartment two. The submarine heeled sharply over to port and pitched downward. At thirty-four knots she slammed into the shallow bottom with tremendous force, crushing some of the torpedo tubes and the weapons loading hatch. Water began gushing into the torpedo room.

The submarine’s momentum carried it forward, lifting its stern clear of the water as it rotated about its shattered bow. Slamming back down into the water, the boat jumped a bit and then settled quickly. The aft part of the boat came crashing down onto the ocean floor; the harsh impact caused the shaft seals to fail, and water began pouring into yet another compartment. Skidding to a stop,
Chakra
lay still, bleeding to death.

USS
North Dakota

“Loud explosion bearing two six zero! There’s breaking-up noise, loss of propulsion plant tonals!” reported the sonar supervisor. But unlike the last time, there were no cheers, no congratulatory backslapping. Just silence.

Thigpen finally broke the stillness. “It looks like we got her, sir.”

Jerry nodded and sighed; he felt relief and sadness at the same time. A lot of brave men had just been killed, betrayed by their fleet commander, and executed by their former skipper—the irony couldn’t have been more tragic. Jerry watched as Samant walked slowly out of control, spots of water appearing on the deck as he headed aft.

Petrov had started to move toward him when Jerry grabbed his arm. “Let him go, Alex. He needs some time alone. He has to deal with this on his own terms. It’s what he wanted.”

The Russian fought initially, then stopped, heeding Jerry’s counsel. Petrov knew exactly how Samant felt; he’d lost a boat and some of his men as well. He knew that his friend would never get over this day. Sometimes doing the right thing can be personally devastating.

Facing Jerry, Petrov remarked quietly, “That was the most courageous act I’ve ever witnessed. I don’t know if I could do what he had to.”

Jerry shook his head, struggling with his own emotions. “I know I couldn’t.”

INS
Chakra

The pounding of his head dragged Kirichenko to a state of semiconsciousness. He tried to move, but found he was pinned under a console. The central post was dimly lit by the battle lanterns; wisps of smoke floated through the beams. No one moved.

Off to his right, Kirichenko saw Jain’s body draped over the navigation plotting table, his neck at an unnatural angle. The Russian felt his eardrums pop and he heard the noise of rushing water. He could feel the cold liquid as it crawled up his legs.

Unable to completely understand what was going on, Kirichenko did realize that
Chakra
was dead, and that he would be soon enough. Weary and racked with pain, he couldn’t summon the strength to try and move the console off of him. Then he saw a shadow move, or thought he did.

At first, he couldn’t make it out. But then it looked like men slowly making their way toward him. He tried calling out to them, but all he could manage was a faint gurgle. As the nebulous figures got closer, Kirichenko thought they looked odd. They didn’t seem to be Indian. Then two of them moved into the light. They were pale, vague images, dressed in Russian naval uniforms. Straining to focus his eyes, he finally caught sight of the billet patch on the closest individual; it was in Russian, and it read
COMMANDER
.

Panic gripped Kirichenko as the muddy seawater lapped upon his face. More and more of the wraithlike images huddled around him, waiting patiently. Soon the seawater covered his mouth and he struggled to breathe through his nose. The apparitions were now all smiling, and began reaching out to him. And just before the murky water covered his eyes, he saw the commissioning pin on the commander’s uniform—the name on the pin was
Gepard
.

23

CLEANUP

20 April 2017

0800 EST

White House Situation Room

Washington, D.C.

“The water depth is only fifty-two meters, Dr. Patterson. What do your experts tell you?” The Chinese minister of national defense sounded impatient, like he’d already had this discussion, perhaps more than once.

Patterson tried to sound positive. “My experts tell me we likely have a few days, General. They want to use some of that time to find out if there is a way to use conventional explosives. They think they can adapt one of our air force’s Massive Ordnance Penetrators for the task. They’re running simulations now to see how the bomb behaves in an underwater explosion. The tamping effect…”

General Shi interrupted, “We’ve considered that as well. The problem is that no matter how big a conventional device is used, there is no guarantee that the devices in the remaining nuclear torpedoes will be destroyed. It might simply shred and scatter the wreck, leaving the torpedo warheads intact. Even one or two one-hundred-fifty-kiloton bombs detonating off our coast could do tremendous damage.

“And what if a conventional explosion merely damages the devices so they fail to detonate? The wreck is not in deep water. It is conceivable that some organization could search the wreck and recover them.” The general’s voice hardened. “We have been threatened with rogue nuclear weapons once. We will not let it happen again.”

Patterson argued, “Our engineers are optimistic they can come up with a nonnuclear way to destroy the torpedoes in
Chakra
’s wreck.”

“So are ours,” Shi countered, “but can they do it in time? We know the torpedoes were not fitted with any kind of deadman switch, or they would have exploded already. But we don’t know the Indians’ timetable. How far north were they going to go? The list of targets your source discovered goes all the way to Qingdao and Dalian. Do we have days, or hours? And your people have suggested that the Indian captain had the ability to change targets, skipping one port to save time.”

“That’s true,” Patterson conceded.

“Then they could probably reset the timers, as well,” Shi continued. “In truth, the hulk of that submarine could explode with the equivalent of a six-hundred-kiloton nuclear bomb at any moment. We’ve issued the standard notice to airmen and mariners, and our navy is doing its best to keep the area clear, but when those bombs go off, people are going to die, and more will die later from the fallout. The only certain way to completely destroy everything inside the submarine’s hull is with another nuclear device—much smaller than the one-hundred-fifty-kiloton weapons on board, but big enough.”

Patterson recognized that Shi’s argument was based on hyperbole. It would be virtually impossible for all four timers to hold the exact same time, within nanoseconds of each, and at best two weapons might detonate simultaneously—the other weapons destroyed in the blast before their fuze mechanisms could get them started. But still, that meant a three-hundred-kiloton explosion. On the whole, the general’s reasoning was sound. “All right,” she conceded. “The U.S. will support your decision. How big a bomb will you use?” she asked.

“I don’t think that’s important, as long…”

“We’ll be able to measure the size of the blast as soon as you detonate it,” she pointed out.

Shi nodded. “Of course. My country, like yours, has a store of nuclear depth bombs designed for use against hostile submarines. They can be set for different yields. Our minesweepers have already verified the location of the wrecked submarine and placed a buoy over it.
North Dakota
’s initial position report was most accurate and due to her assistance, we were able to quickly assess the situation. Our aviators say they can place the depth bomb within half a meter of the wreck, perhaps directly on it, by helicopter. After listening to our best scientists, the Central Military Commission decided on a ten-kiloton yield.”

I’ll bet the experts said five would be sufficient,
she thought. Still, in a case like this, overkill might be the best course.

“When will this happen?”

“Tomorrow morning at zero six hundred hours, just after dawn local time,” Shi answered. “We will be ready sometime later tonight, but we will wait until it is light and we can be sure that all ships and aircraft are out of the area. Because it is a much smaller explosion, we only have to clear an area a few kilometers square. The fireball will be less than four hundred meters in diameter, with no damage three kilometers from the center. Even the fallout from the explosion will only extend a few tens of kilometers to the northeast, all over open water. If the four torpedoes were allowed to detonate, the fallout cloud would reach all the way to the Korean peninsula.”

“Is there anything we can do to assist you?” Patterson asked. She tried to sound helpful.

“China is taking this action unilaterally, and does not require the permission or assistance of any nation or organization to protect its citizens.” Shi paused, then scowled. “But we would ask for America’s support in the Western media that this deliberate, peaceful detonation of a nuclear device is intended to save lives and reduce damage.”

Patterson thought about all the back-and-forth the U.S. and the PRC had engaged in, for so many years. They were still rivals, but that didn’t mean the two countries had to act like jerks all the time. “Ending this incident quickly and safely is in everyone’s interest. You can count on the U.S. administration releasing a statement in support of your operation. We have no interest in furthering tension or mistrust in the region. And General, I would submit that the more information the People’s Republic of China releases about this operation, the better.”