The Trident Deception (30 page)

Tom passed the order to man Battle Stations on the 1-MC, followed by another order to Sonar. “Send triangulation ranges from the spherical and towed arrays to combat control.”

Although the
Kentucky
’s sonar systems could normally determine only a target’s bearing, if the contacts were extremely close, such as the buoys being dropped around them, their range could be estimated by triangulating the bearings from the spherical and towed array sonars. As Malone and Tom peered over the fire control technician’s shoulder, the buoys began appearing on the geographic display. Two rows formed, each with four sonobuoys, both rows almost perpendicular to the
Kentucky
’s course. They were passing through the first row now, two buoys to starboard and two buoys to port, with the second row of buoys two thousand yards ahead.

“Conn, Sonar. Third row of buoys being dropped.”

A third row of contacts appeared on the screen, beyond the first two rows. The
Kentucky
was passing right through the sonobuoy field, and the only thing they could do until they exited was maximize their distance from each buoy, splitting the distance equally between them.

“Helm, come right to course two-nine-zero,” Malone ordered. “Ahead one-third.”

The
Kentucky
turned slightly right, threading its way between the second row of sonobuoys, slowing to reduce the signature from its main engines and propeller.

In Control, the XO and another twenty men hurriedly donned their sound-powered phone headsets, energizing the dormant combat control consoles and plot displays. Battle Stations Torpedo brought the ship to a combat footing as the crew prepared to fight and defend itself. But against an aircraft dropping sonobuoys, there was nothing to attack. Their sole aim now was to protect themselves if the aircraft dropped a torpedo, speeding away from the splash point as rapidly as possible while they attempted to fool the torpedo with decoys. But if one was dropped close enough and detected the
Kentucky
before they could launch countermeasures, the torpedo would home to detonation, blasting a hole through the submarine’s pressure hull.

Thankfully, Tom thought to himself, there was nothing to worry about. There were very few countries with antisubmarine aircraft, and only one country that could operate this far into the open ocean. The aircraft was obviously a United States P-3C.

The
Kentucky
was safe.

EAGLE ZERO-FIVE

“Target confirmed. Submerged contact.”

Graef acknowledged Sensor Two’s report, then adjusted the GEN track on his screen so it agreed with the data from the two buoys that held the contact. A submarine in the middle of a buoy field this tightly packed would normally have been held on at least four buoys, but this submarine was a quiet one indeed, held on only two. They’d been lucky to pick up the submarine in the first place on the widely spaced Distro Field, the submarine traveling almost directly under buoy 34 as it floated on the surface of the water, listening silently above. Now that they held the contact, the next step was to determine the target’s solution.

The contact parameters on the screen in front of Graef turned from amber to green, indicating the automated algorithms agreed with the TACCO’s solution for the target’s course, speed, and position. Graef pressed Accept Solution on his console, then activated his comm circuit. “All stations, TACCO. Set Battle Condition One.”

Each member of the crew, from the pilots to the Sensor Operators, pulled out their weapon release checklists, methodically accomplishing each step.

“Flight, TACCO,” Graef spoke into his headset. “We are Weapons Red and Free.”

Graef continued his calculations, determining the Splash Point for their torpedo, placing it in an optimum position to detect the submarine once the torpedo entered the water and began its search. After identifying the Splash Point, he calculated the Release Point where the P-3C would drop the torpedo from its bomb bay, so the torpedo’s ballistic trajectory as it fell toward the water resulted in an impact at the Splash Point. That took only a few seconds.

“Flight, TACCO. Inputting Fly-To coordinates.”

Eagle Zero-Five tilted to starboard, and Graef felt his stomach in his throat as the P-3C dove downward, descending to launch altitude. The pilot’s voice crackled in Graef’s ears a moment later. “TACCO, Flight. Inbound to Fly-To Point.”

“Flight, TACCO. Give me bomb bay open, Master Arm On.”

The aircraft shuddered as the bomb bay doors swung slowly open, clearing the way for the release of one of its lightweight torpedoes. Graef selected Bay One, containing Eagle Zero-Five’s only MK 54. He held his hand over the Storage Release button located on the upper portion of his console, watching the aircraft’s icon on his display slowly approach the Weapon Release Point.

An amber light illuminated on Graef’s console.

“Flight, TACCO. I have a Kill Ready light. Stand by for weapon release.”

“TACCO, Flight. Standing by.”

Graef had pressed Storage Release dozens of times before. But they had all been training missions, dropping exercise torpedoes that circled around friendly submarines, not a warshot torpedo that would sink the target below them, killing everyone aboard. As his fingers rested on the cold metal switch, he imagined what it would be like on board the submarine in a few minutes when the torpedo detonated and the unforgiving ocean flooded in, dragging the ship and its crew to the bottom. Fortunately, Graef didn’t have time to dwell on his thoughts, as Eagle Zero-Five approached within one hundred yards of the Release Point, just seconds away.

“Flight, TACCO. Weapon away—now, now, NOW!”

Graef pressed the Storage Release button for Bay One, and watched the MK 54 torpedo disappear from the bomb bay window.

USS
KENTUCKY

Beneath the P-3C as it sped overhead, the
Kentucky
continued to the west at ahead one-third as the last watch station reported in; the ship was at Battle Stations Torpedo. Tom had just been relieved as Officer of the Deck and was headed to the Forward Damage Control Party in Crew’s Mess when Sonar’s report came over the 27-MC.

“Conn, Sonar. Additional splash, bearing two-one-zero.” But before Malone could acknowledge, Sonar announced, “Torpedo in the water! Bearing two-one-zero!”

“Ahead flank!” Malone yelled. “Helm, right full rudder, steady course three-zero-zero!”

The Helm swung the rudder yoke to right full and twisted the Engine Order Telegraph to ahead flank. The
Kentucky
’s powerful main engines sprang to life, churning the ship’s propeller rapidly through the water, accelerating the
Kentucky
toward its new course. But an eighteen-thousand-ton submarine did not accelerate rapidly.

“Launch countermeasure!” Malone ordered.

A torpedo decoy was launched from the ship, which began transmitting sonar pulses that matched the sonar returns bouncing off the
Kentucky
’s hull.

“Conn, Sonar. The torpedo is in a circular search pattern on the port beam.”

“What type of torpedo is it?” Malone asked.

“Still analyzing, sir.” A few seconds later, Sonar added, “It’s a Mark 54!”

Malone pounded his fist on top of the Fusion Plot. “Those idiots!”

The
Kentucky
had been attacked by its own navy. And they hadn’t dropped just any torpedo. Malone had participated in the operational testing of the MK 54 and knew firsthand how capable it was. The MK 54 was the most sophisticated lightweight torpedo in the world. If it was dropped close enough to the submarine, it’d find it, and no type or amount of countermeasures could fool it.

It also couldn’t be outrun unless it was dropped at maximum range and the submarine was already at high speed. But the
Kentucky
was just now approaching twenty knots, and the MK 54 was finishing its first search pattern. Malone checked the range estimate to the torpedo being generated by combat control.

Six hundred yards.

The
Kentucky
didn’t have a chance.

Seemingly in response to his thoughts, Sonar reported, “Torpedo has turned toward. Approaching on intercept course.”

The MK 54 had detected the
Kentucky
and had already completed a rough calculation of the submarine’s course and speed. It was now heading toward them—but not directly. It was aiming ahead, for a point the submarine and torpedo would arrive at simultaneously.

“Torpedo is range gating! Torpedo’s homing!”

The torpedo’s classification algorithms had completed their cross-checks, determining for certain the target it was pursuing was in fact a submarine and not a decoy. It now increased the rate of its sonar pings in an effort to more accurately determine the range to its target, so that an updated intercept course could be calculated.

“One minute to impact!” Sonar reported.

Malone searched for a way out of their predicament. The
Kentucky
was approaching ahead flank now in a futile attempt to outrun the speedy torpedo, capable of forty-plus knots. Malone knew the MK 54 had no weakness.

Except, maybe …

“All back emergency!” Malone yelled. “Dive, make your depth seven hundred feet!”

As the Helm ordered up the new bell, the Throttleman in Maneuvering spun the ahead throttles shut and whipped open the astern throttles. Malone felt tremors through the ship’s deck as steam was channeled into the main engines in the opposite direction from which the turbine was spinning, placing incredible strain on the turbine blades, quickly decelerating the ship’s propeller. The screw finally stopped spinning forward, then began swirling through the water in reverse, gradually slowing the
Kentucky
.

“What are you doing!” the XO asked.

“We’re stopping.”

“Is the 54 susceptible to low Doppler?” The XO knew most torpedoes were better at detecting faster targets than slower ones, just as the human eye is drawn to moving objects. He assumed the MK 54 was susceptible to this phenomenon, and that Malone had ordered back emergency in an attempt to stop the ship, hoping the torpedo would lose track of the
Kentucky
. But Malone knew that slowing the ship wouldn’t cause it to lose track.

As torpedoes went, the MK 54 Lightweight Torpedo had no weakness.

Except …

It was a
lightweight
torpedo.

“Forty-five seconds to impact!”

The thirteen-inch-diameter lightweight torpedoes carried by surface ships, helicopters, and P-3C aircraft were much smaller than the heavyweight torpedoes carried by submarines. With a warhead only one-sixth the size of a heavyweight, the lightweight torpedo would inflict much less damage. It could blow the propeller to pieces if it detonated at the stern of the submarine, and punch a hole through the ship’s pressure hull.

But the upper half of the
Kentucky
’s Missile Compartment was covered in a superstructure, or second exterior hull. The missile tubes were taller than the width of the submarine, and the top of the tubes protruded above the pressure hull. For hydrodynamic purposes, a second, nonpressure hull, called the superstructure, was welded from the sides of the submarine over the top of the tubes to create a smooth outer shell.

“Thirty seconds to impact!”

The
Kentucky
wasn’t going to fool or outrun the MK 54 torpedo. Their only hope was to control where it hit. Malone had to keep it away from the Engine Room if they had any hope of surviving. Continuing to evade at ahead flank would generate a tail-chase geometry with the torpedo closing from astern, exactly what Malone wanted to avoid. He wanted the torpedo to hit the submarine in the Missile Compartment, so he’d ordered back emergency, slowing the ship and forcing the torpedo to adjust course and close from a beam trajectory.

“Twenty seconds to impact!”

But not only did Malone want the torpedo to hit the Missile Compartment, he wanted the torpedo to hit the submarine where it had a superstructure, in effect a double hull. So he ordered the submarine deeper, forcing the torpedo to close the
Kentucky
from above. Hopefully, the ship’s superstructure would absorb enough of the explosion to prevent the torpedo from breaching the pressure hull. If he failed, and the torpedo blasted a hole into the ship, the
Kentucky
would sink. Even with only one of its compartments flooded, the submarine wouldn’t have enough buoyancy, even with an Emergency Main Ballast Tank Blow, to reach the surface.

“Ten seconds to impact!”

The torpedo’s pings could now be heard through the
Kentucky
’s hull. Silence gripped Control except for the periodic sonar echoes, which steadily increased in intensity as the torpedo closed the remaining one hundred yards.

All around Control, the crew braced themselves for the impending explosion.

EAGLE ZERO-FIVE

Sensor One and Sensor Two jerked their headphones from their ears as the explosion, transmitted from the sonobuoys floating in the ocean, blasted from each earpiece. The sonar displays on the aircraft blanked out, the sonobuoy sensors saturated by the reverberation in the water.

Lieutenant Burwell turned toward Graef, a wide grin on his face. “We got ’em, sir.”

A second later, the relieving P-3C aircraft broke in on the TACCO’s circuit. “Eagle Zero-Five, this is Tiger One-Eight. Looks like we got here a few minutes too late.”

“Sure did,” Graef said flatly. “That sub never had a chance. We dropped the 54 practically on top of it.”

“Congratulations. We’re envious over here.”

Graef didn’t reply. His thoughts returned to the submarine crew and the explosion that had undoubtedly killed them, destroying most of the P-3C’s sonobuoys in the process. “There’s not much left to turn over,” he said. “You’ll have to drop a new field and listen for hull breakup.”

“That’s what we figured. We’re already calculating expendable points. We’ve got the station now. See you back home.”

Eagle Zero-Five turned slowly to the south, returning to Kaneohe Bay. Next to Graef, Lieutenant Burwell had already relayed the good news back to Wing Two headquarters.