The Trident Deception (49 page)

Malone reviewed the events over the last ten days again. The unexpected Launch order, the strange encounter with the 688s, the mysterious stationary object, the attack by the P-3C, and now the Australian submarine.

It didn’t make sense.

However, their protocols were clear. They would execute their mission unless they received a Launch Termination Order. His hands were tied.

Finally, he made his decision.

He flipped down the Permission to Fire toggle switch.

Looking at the Chief of the Watch, he said, “Secure from Battle Stations Missile.” He turned to the Officer of the Deck. “Make preparations to proceed to periscope depth.”

This situation was beyond unusual.

He would contact COMSUBPAC.

*   *   *

“No close contacts!”

The crew had secured from Battle Stations Missile, and Tom was stationed as Officer of the Deck again. The ascent to periscope depth was uneventful, and as Tom rotated quickly on the periscope, he observed no ships on the horizon. A quick aerial search verified the absence of air contacts, and Tom settled into a low-power search as Malone spoke into the overhead microphone.

“Radio, Conn. Line up for EHF comms. Patch communications to the Conn.”

Radio acknowledged, then reported over the 27-MC a moment later. “Conn, Radio. Request Number One periscope.”

Malone turned to Tom. “Switch periscopes.”

“Switch periscopes, aye.” Tom turned the port periscope until it faced forward, calling out as he reached up and twisted the periscope locking ring, “Lowering Number Two scope.” He stepped to his right. “Raising Number One scope.” The starboard periscope began rising as the port scope settled into its well, and Tom’s eye was soon pressed against the starboard periscope eyepiece, turning slowly clockwise as he continued his search of the horizon.

Tom called out, “Radio, Conn. Number One scope is raised.”

Radio replied a moment later, “Conn, Radio. EHF is lined up to the Conn.”

Malone pulled the red phone from its holster on the Conn, pressing it against his face as he spoke. “COMSUBPAC, this is
Kentucky
actual. Request to speak to N9, over.”

Malone waited for a response, but there was nothing but silence. He tried again. “COMSUBPAC, this is USS
Kentucky
’s commanding officer. Request to speak to N9, over.”

Silence again. There was something odd about the silence too. Clean. No static. Just … silence.

Malone glanced at the overhead microphone as he spoke. “Radio, Conn. Are you sure we’re lined up properly? It doesn’t sound like we’re getting through.”

Radio responded a moment later. “Conn, Radio. Everything looks good in here.”

Malone located the Messenger of the Watch, standing on the port side of Control. “Find Chief Davidson and have him report to Control.”

A quick acknowledgment, and the young man was on his way, scouring the ship for the submarine’s Radio Chief. A few minutes later, Chief Davidson arrived in Control.

“Radio problem, Captain?”

“Maybe,” Malone answered. “Can’t get through on EHF comms. And no static either. I need you to check the lineup in Radio.”

“Aye, sir.” Chief Davidson headed into Radio, and a moment later, his voice came across the 27-MC. “Conn, Radio. This is Chief Davidson. I’ve verified the lineup is proper. I’d like you to give it another try.”

Malone pulled the red handset from its holster again. “COMSUBPAC, this is
Kentucky
actual. Request to speak to N9, over.”

Silence.

Chief Davidson’s voice carried across the 27-MC again. “Conn, Radio. Everything’s working fine on our end. Must be a problem shore-side or with the spot satellite. Perhaps we should try again after we finish launching.”

Malone shook his head, then called out, “Radio, Conn. Line up UHF SATHICOM to the Conn.” He turned to Tom. “We’ll need a multi-function mast.”

“Aye, sir,” Tom replied. “Chief of the Watch. Raise Number Two Multi-Function.”

The Chief of the Watch complied, and the port multi-function antenna was soon raised from the submarine’s sail. A few seconds later, Radio’s report echoed over the 27-MC. “Conn, Radio. UHF SATHICOM is patched to the Conn.”

Malone pressed the handset against his face. “COMSUBPAC, this is
Kentucky
actual. Request to speak to N9, over.”

Silence. Clean. No static.

Malone’s grip on the handset tightened.

“COMSUBPAC, this is
Kentucky
actual. Request to speak to N9, over.”

Silence.

Malone slammed the handset back in its holster, then strode into the Radio Room.

Chief Davidson was hunched over one of the radio consoles with the first class leading petty officer, on watch with Petty Officer Greene, manning the other console. Davidson turned as Malone entered.

Stopping next to one of the large gray communication cabinets, Malone surveyed the racks of complex gear. “Chief, there’s no way both EHF and UHF systems are down. And something tells me there’s a Launch Termination Order we haven’t received. That means there’s something’s wrong with our Radio Room. Tear this place apart and figure it out.”

“Sir,” Davidson replied, “our Radio Room is fully operational. We’re copying the broadcast every time we go to PD.”

“Don’t argue with me. Run a complete set of diagnostics. There’s something squirrelly going on with our comms.”

Greene turned sideways in his chair, a puzzled expression on his face, looking first at the Captain, then at Davidson, then at the Antenna Patch Panel. “Sir,” Greene began.

“It’s not important,” Davidson interrupted, shooting Greene a stern look.

“What’s not important?” Malone asked.

Davidson replied, “Greene was about to mention the card we installed last Refit. Gives us a new diagnostics capability.”

Malone turned to Greene. “Where?”

Greene pointed to the Antenna Patch Panel.

Malone motioned for Petty Officer 1st Class Rob Mushen to open the panel.

Mushen unscrewed the knurl knobs and opened the panel. Pulling a small flashlight from a nearby toolbox, he examined the cabinet internals, spotting the card Chief Davidson had installed during the previous Refit.

“What the…”

“What is it, Mushen?”

“There’s a card in here, just like Chief said, but I’m not aware of any modifications authorized to this cabinet.” Malone clenched his hands into fists as Mushen examined the card and other modifications to the cabinet. “There are some wiring changes as well. As best as I can tell, our antennas are cut off and everything is rewired to this card.”

Malone swiveled toward Davidson, grabbing him by the collar of his coveralls, slamming him up against the Radio Room cabinets. “What the fuck have you done?”

Davidson said nothing for a moment as Malone glared at him, then replied calmly, “What someone should have done long ago. And proud of it. I helped my country defend itself from those intent on destroying it.”

“
Your
country?” Malone repeated. “What country is that?”

Davidson looked away.

Malone shoved Davidson to the deck. He picked up the 27-MC. “Officer of the Deck, Captain. Have the COB and two armed petty officers report to Radio.” Turning to Mushen, he said, “Get this Radio Room operational ASAP.”

Mushen’s acknowledgment was interrupted by Tom’s excited voice over the 27-MC.

“Radio, Conn. Captain. Sonar reports a new contact, Sierra two-four, bearing zero-nine-five. High-speed submerged contact!”

82

USS
NORTH CAROLINA

With his fast-attack submarine at Battle Stations, Commander Dennis Gallagher stood behind the Officer of the Deck’s Tactical Workstation, his attention focused on the sonar display. The Engineer hovered beside him, the urgency of his report written on his face. But Gallagher knew what the Eng was about to tell him; as he pushed the
North Carolina
past its limits, red alarms were flashing throughout the Engine Room.

Four days earlier, the reactor had scrammed due to a dropped control rod, one they had been unable to relatch. Gallagher had informed Naval Reactors, but as the
North Carolina
headed home for repairs, he was stunned by the response. He had been directed to turn around and proceed west, authorized to operate at ahead full, exceeding the reactor’s temperature limit. Navy leadership had apparently decided they were willing to accept the destruction of the
North Carolina
’s core, if that gave them the chance to locate and sink their target. But by operating the reactor at the higher temperature, they were deliberately hurling themselves toward the precipice of a reactor meltdown, and they would soon reach a point from which they could not pull back.

Despite the authorization from Naval Reactors, Gallagher was uneasy; he had been ordered to commit heresy. No submarine had ever deliberately violated reactor operating limits—that was a fundamental rule ingrained into every officer and enlisted man. But the order had been given, along with new criteria beyond which reactor operation would not be allowed. From the look on the Engineer’s face, they were approaching that limit.

“Sir, the reactor fuel cells are beginning to melt. We must shut down.”

Gallagher replied quickly, irritated with the Engineer’s melodramatic, qualitative assessment. “Inform me when radiation levels at the Secondary Shield have reached the new limit. Assuming the ship is out of harm’s way, we’ll shut down then.”

“Yes sir,” the Engineer replied stiffly before leaving Control, allowing Gallagher to return his attention to the tactical situation.

“Pilot, ahead two-thirds,” Gallagher ordered.

As the
North Carolina
slowed to search the surrounding waters, he reviewed the relevant data.

For the last four days, they’d been heading west at ahead full. Luckily, they had been headed in the right direction, and after detecting an underwater explosion two hours ago, only a minor course correction to starboard was required. They had already slowed in the vicinity of the explosion, but there was nothing there. So Gallagher had continued west, increasing speed to ahead full again. A few minutes ago, Sonar had detected mechanical transients, most likely missile muzzle hatches being opened. Their adversary was close.

Time to slow down and find it.

“Sonar, Conn. Report all contacts.”

83

USS
KENTUCKY
USS
NORTH CAROLINA

USS
KENTUCKY

“Man Battle Stations Torpedo,” Malone announced as he entered Control from Radio.

The Chief of the Watch made the announcement on the shipwide 1-MC, then sounded the General Alarm, followed by a duplicate 1-MC announcement. Men began streaming into Control, manning their workstations.

Malone called out to the open microphone. “Sonar, Conn. Report classification of Sierra two-four.”

*   *   *

Inside the Sonar shack, Petty Officer DelGreco was starting to sort things out. They had already determined it was a submerged contact. A high-speed submarine in the middle of the Pacific Ocean meant it was probably nuclear powered, and that meant it was a U.S. submarine.

DelGreco tapped the Narrowband Operator, Petty Officer Rambikur, on the shoulder. “Look for 688,
Seawolf
, and
Virginia
-class tonals.”

DelGreco had lots of experience going up against
Los Angeles
–class submarines, and one glance at the frequencies told him this was no 688. That meant it was either a
Seawolf
or a
Virginia.
Rambikur came to a more specific conclusion.

“Sonar Sup. Sierra two-four is classified
Virginia
-class submarine.”

USS
NORTH CAROLINA

“Conn, Sonar. Hold a new contact, designated Sierra five-seven, bearing two-seven-two, classified submerged.”

“Sonar, Conn. Aye,” Gallagher replied.

This was their target.

“Attention in Control. Designate Sierra five-seven as Master One. Track Master One. Carry on.”

Gallagher turned his attention to the geographic display. They were headed directly toward their target, but had no idea yet how far away it was. Headed toward it, they weren’t going to get any useful bearing rate information for their combat control algorithms.

Time to turn.

“Pilot, right fifteen degrees rudder, steady course north.”

The Pilot acknowledged, and the
North Carolina
began turning.

USS
KENTUCKY

“Conn, Sonar. Contact zig! Sierra two-four has turned away to the north.”

Malone glanced at the one of the three combat control displays, then at the XO, who nodded, confirming Sonar’s preliminary analysis.

Not good.

The
Kentucky
had been detected, and Sierra two-four was beginning target motion analysis. They were developing a firing solution.

Under normal circumstances, Malone could probably extend the cat-and-mouse game for hours, constantly maneuvering, making his adversary’s job of developing a firing solution a nightmare.

But Malone was at periscope depth, moving slowly at five knots. His first priority at the moment was to repair the Radio Room and communicate with COMSUBPAC. It looked like American submarines, and not just the Australians, had orders to hunt down the
Kentucky,
and the sooner Malone contacted COMSUBPAC, the safer they would be.

There was a problem with his plan, however. The
Virginia
-class submarine would not receive new messages until she went to periscope depth. Even if Malone contacted COMSUBPAC and they ordered the
Virginia
-class submarine to stand down, she would not receive the message until after she had sunk the
Kentucky
and went to periscope depth to report.

Should he stay at periscope depth and communicate with COMSUBPAC, or go deep and run?

They had been fortunate against an Australian submarine with Mod 4 torpedoes. But against a
Virginia
-class, most likely carrying MK 48 Mod 7s?