Andreyushkin thought a moment, then manipulated his pad computer. “We show arrival in-theater very early. We could hedge our bet, and instead of proceeding to Point Marmagao at maximum silent speed, thirty-one knots, we could do a sprint-and-drift tactic. Twenty-five minutes at max silent speed, then ten minutes at a best sonar search speed of eight knots, then another twenty-five at thirty-one knots. That makes a speed-of-advance of, let’s see, twenty-seven knots. A very slight degradation in speed over ground, but with the benefit that if the Americans get even sneakier than we think they are, we’d definitely detect them in the middle of the Arabian Sea. And if we stagger the drift time, with Novosibirsk drifting at the top of the hour and Voronezh at the bottom, we almost double our chances of picking up the trace of the Panther if it did diverge from the west coast of India.”
Zhigunov smiled at Andreyushkin. “You know, Aleksandr, I don’t care what people say about you. You’re actually quite bright.”
The Pacific Fleet admiral made a face at his Northern Fleet counterpart, as if they were two brothers antagonizing each other in the back of their parents’ car.
“Let us call our submarines to communication depth and present these orders to them now,” Andreyushkin said.
Captain First Rank Yuri Orlov took his tea to the wardroom table and sat at the center of the long end, facing the video screen. Captain Second Rank Ivan Vlasenko took the seat to Orlov’s right, with navigator and operations officer, Captain Third Rank Misha Dobryvnik, and Weapons Officer Captain Lieutenant Irina Trusov to his left.
The screen came up, splitting into three screens. On the left were his opposite numbers from the attack submarine Voronezh, Captain First Rank — apparently promoted since Orlov last saw him — Boris Novikov, his first officer, Isakova to his right and his navigator, Lukashenko, on his left. The other screens each showed a senior officer, the center screen showing Pacific Fleet Commander Admiral Aleksandr Andreyushkin, the right screen showing Northern Fleet Commander Admiral Gennady Zhigunov.
After the admirals briefed the officers of the Novosibirsk and Voronezh on the taking of the Panther submarine, and their orders to proceed together up the Indian coastline to intercept her and the assumed American submarine escort, Novikov objected.
“Putting two submarines together defeats the purpose of having two submarines. We need to spread out and cover more ocean.”
“No, Captain Novikov,” Zhigunov said calmly, “we believe the American hijackers and their escort sub will avoid a direct path back to the Atlantic, and they’ll believe a southward route will run them into the Russian support ships waiting at the test site. They’ll sneak away along the Indian coastline.”
“Fine, sir,” Novikov persisted. “Send Novosibirsk up the Indian coastline. Let me and my Voronezh prowl the center of the Arabian Sea and the Indian Ocean.”
“No, Captain. The area is too big to search without reliable intelligence.”
“Well, sir, then send out MPA antisubmarine aircraft and drop sonobuoys. Hell, drop so many a man could walk from India to Africa on them.”
“There’s a slight problem with that,” Andreyushkin admitted. “There is an ongoing cyber-attack that has paralyzed all of our aircraft and surface ships. Those of the Iranians as well. There will be no MPA aircraft or destroyers to help you two. All the Navy’s hopes rest on your two submarines.”
There was silence for a moment while the submarine crews absorbed this horrible news.
“There’s another problem with this,” Novikov said. “If we’re operating together, we’ll have to coordinate together using the sound communication system of the MGK-600. The Bolshoi-Feniks.”
The MGK-600 sonar had a spherical bow array, flank arrays and a towed array, all linked into the Mark VII Second Captain system. The unit’s bow array had a submarine-to-submarine communication and identification-friend-or-foe mode, called Bolshoi-Feniks, which emitted a series of high frequency tones sent in pulses, like Morse code, but with a much faster rate, almost like broadcasting a barcode. The code was encrypted with a daily-changing code, and was able to transmit to another friendly submarine within ten kilometers. Communication at a long distance required shifting the MGK-600’s spherical array’s hydrophones to low frequency, but the data rate was much slower.
“It’s like transmitting active sonar,” Novikov continued. “We could be counterdetected by the American.”
“American sonars are not that good,” Andreyushkin said. “And a transmission is short with the high frequency data rate. It’ll probably be mistaken for a school of shrimp, if the Americans hear it at all.”
“So,” Orlov said, “When we detect the target submarines, what are our rules of engagement?”
“Sink them,” Andreyushkin said. “You are authorized nuclear weapon release. You will each receive an order from the president and the Minister of Defense authorizing use of nuclear weapons. Once both submarines are on the bottom, send an urgent after-action message to both fleet headquarters and the Admiralty with the results of the battle and your own ship’s material condition.”
“Understood, sir,” Orlov said.
“Aye aye, Admiral,” Novikov said.
“Well, gentlemen, you have your orders,” Zhigunov said. “Good luck. Good hunting.”
The screen went black. Orlov reached for the phone and buzzed the central command post.
“Watch Officer,” Captain Lieutenant TK Sukolov’s voice answered.
“Take us back deep and fast, course east, Watch Officer, while the navigator lays in a track for the rendezvous at Point Marmagao.”
“Deep and fast, course east, Watch Officer, aye.”
Orlov drank the dregs of his tea and stared into the distance.
“You worried, Captain?” Vlasenko asked.
“I don’t like these orders,” he said. “Our side has two attack submarines, but we may as well only have one, with these search tactics. And I don’t like using the Bolshoi-Feniks to coordinate. It risks us losing stealth.”
“We’ll minimize its use, Captain,” Vlasenko reassured Orlov.
Orlov grimaced. “And if the president and the Kremlin have authorized us to use nuclear weapons, it means the bosses are worried. I wonder, what is it that is scaring them? Do they think that American sub can sink us before we find him? Please. We’re much superior. We’ll hear him long before he hears us. We’ll put him and the Panther down like the dogs they are.”
“Your lips to God’s ear, Captain. Let us hope so.”
22
Lieutenant Anthony Pacino leaned against the chart table in the navigation chart room, a five-foot-by-ten-foot closet jammed in aft of the central command post. After dealing with the electronics of Vermont’s chart table, going back to a paper chart and a pencil seemed strange, as if he’d wandered back in time.