Captain First Rank Boris Novikov took his seat at the far portside command console. He’d sent Isakova to her stateroom to try to recover from her personal issue. He felt sorry for her. A woman like her, hard as steel and cold as ice, but tell her that her father is dying and she dissolves into a six-year-old daddy’s girl, he thought. But he couldn’t allow her grief to interfere with the ship’s mission. But God also knew, he couldn’t let his sleep deprivation interfere either. He wondered if Isakova would pull herself together before the start of the next midnight watch.
He selected his display to the Second-Captain-discretion display, and the Second Captain put the screen immediately to the notifications section. There was only one notification, but it was flashing red.
0320 Moscow Time: Sonar history module irregularity
He clicked the notification. The voice of the Second Captain came up, an emotionless, sterile, uncaring female voice, that the crew delighted in, because it so visibly irritated Isakova. The navigator, that prankster Leonid “Luke” Lukashenko, could do an amazing impersonation of the Second Captain’s voice, and loved to use it on Isakova if they were off the ship just to see her face get red.
“Zero three twenty Moscow time,” the Second Captain said. “Sonar history module irregularity. Detected signal-to-noise ratio below the thermal layer, bearing two-nine-five. Noise signature is high sound-power-level of sustained transient noises correlating with high mass-flow-rate steam flow, with high frequencies associated with a fifty cycle large generator. There is an unknown loud steady-state noise, also flow-related, correlated with a medium probability of being a boiler feed pump. Sonar history module irregularity began at zero three twenty Moscow time.”
“Is it still present?” Novikov asked.
“The irregularity lasted until zero three forty-five Moscow time. At that time, all sound-related irregularities ceased.”
Novikov stood up from his seat and hurried to the chart table. “Second Captain, display own-ship’s position at zero three forty-five.”
The chart responded with a pulsing blue light from the track behind them, perhaps six kilometers aft.
“Generate a bearing line from that point to two-nine-five.” A red line grew from their past position, extending to the northwest, pointing just south of a line entering the Gulf of Oman.
“Watch Officer, are you seeing this?” Novikov asked in irritation.
“Yes, Captain. It must have come in while we were at periscope depth.”
“No, it was noticed when you were still deep.” Then to himself, “goddammit.”
He studied the chart. If this were the Panther, going almost 300 RPM meant she’d figured out how to start her reactor and had sped up to an ungodly velocity. But he shouldn’t jump to a conclusion, he cautioned himself.
“Second Captain, calculate probability that this sound irregularity is a Virginia-class submarine.”
“Calculating. Probability of a correlation with this sound irregularity and a Virginia-class submarine is zero point two percent.”
So, that wasn’t the answer. “Second Captain, calculate the probability of this detection being a Kilo-class submarine.”
“Calculating. Probability of a correlation with this sound irregularity and a Kilo-class submarine is eight percent.”
Novikov considered. That seemed way too low. What did that mean? Was it something else?
“Second Captain, slow the noise history down by a factor of five. That is, replay it for analysis at twenty percent speed. With the slowed-down history, is there a correlation between the sound irregularity and a Kilo-class?”
“Calculating. Probability of a correlation with this sound irregularity, slowed down to twenty percent speed, and a Kilo-class submarine is forty-six percent.”
Dramatic improvement, Novikov thought. “Second Captain, are you able to analyze a signal correlation if you remove the feed pump, the steam flow noise, the steam turbine and the large electrical generator? Then account for the slowing of the fifty-cycle generator?”
“Yes. It will be somewhat degraded, but it could be analyzed.”
“Second Captain, calculate the probability of a correlation of the sound irregularity with a Kilo-submarine, with the elements I mentioned subtracted out.”
“Calculating. Probability of a correlation of this sound irregularity, slowed down with elements subtracted, with a Kilo-submarine is eighty-four percent, however, the confidence interval is low-to-medium at fifty-eight percent.”
Eighty-four percent chance the noise was from the stolen Kilo. That was good enough for Novikov.
“Watch Officer, man battlestations,” Novikov ordered. “That’s him. And open up the Bolshoi-Feniks function of the MGK-600 and prepare to establish secure sonar telegraphy with K-573 Novosibirsk. Warm up the Fizik-2 torpedoes in tubes one through six. Then spin up the Kalibr antisubmarine cruise missiles in vertical launch silo tubes one and two. Settings to full yield, thirty kilotons.”
Kovalyov stared at him, dumbfounded. Finally he found his voice. “The Kalibrs are nuclear weapons, Captain. We’ll need the first officer’s concurrence.”
“Have her awakened and tell her to open my outer safe, then get the navigator to open the inner safe and instruct them to withdraw nuclear launch codes for cruise missiles one and two, and to keep the codes in two-person control at all times and bring them to the central command post.”
“Yes, Captain, right away sir.” He pulled a microphone to his lips. “This is the central command watch officer,” Kovalyov’s voice projected throughout the ship. “All hands, action stations for tactical launch. This is not a drill. I repeat, all hands, action stations.”
24
First Officer Captain Second Rank Anastasia Isakova rushed into the central command post, holding two sealed packages over her head, the navigator, Captain Third Rank Leonid Lukashenko following her, his hand gripped on the wrist of her arm holding up the packages. She stopped at the far portside station of the command console, where Captain Novikov waited impatiently.
The room was filling up rapidly with watchstanders, four taking seats at the portside sonar-and-sensor console, one at the under-ice console and Bolshoi-Feniks control station of the MGK-600 sonar. To Novikov’s right, at the battlecontrol consoles, the communications officer, Maksimilian Kovalyov, occupied the center seat, the forward seat taken by the torpedo and missile officer, Captain Lieutenant Seva Laska, the aft seat a combined firecontrol console and weapons control console, reserved for the weapons officer, Captain Lieutenant Pyotr Alexandrov. The empty center seat of the command console was where Isakova took her battlestation, the navigator taking the far starboard side seat.
Isakova looked at Novikov through eyes made bleary by hours of crying. With her free hand, she wiped her running nose with a handkerchief, stuffing it back in her coveralls pocket.
“Sir, what’s going on,” she whispered urgently to Novikov, who took the sealed packets from Isakova. He looked at them, each one a sealed set of codes that would unlock the nuclear-tipped Kalibr cruise missiles and allow them to dial in the yield settings.
“We’ve detected the target, the stolen Kilo submarine. Actually, you detected it. There was a notification from your watch, before you went to periscope depth. You should have been more alert.”
Novikov looked up at Isakova, who was in sad shape. Her entire face looked swollen. Her nose was running and her eyes were so bloodshot it looked like she’d lost a back alley fight. Under normal circumstances, Novikov would have sent her to her cabin to sleep off her grief, but firing nuclear weapons required her concurrence, and he had no choice but to plug her into the tactical situation.