Brodie returned the microphone to the overhead and thus far he’d not even glanced her way once. But she felt she was clearly missing something. They’d stayed on the surface long enough to be noticed by anyone with even a passing interest in where they were heading, and he hadn’t seemed to care in the least. But now, the possibility they were being followed had become his main concern.
None of it really made sense to her, but she trusted him implicitly and knew he had a reason. Their lengthy stay on the surface had not been so the two of them could watch the sun go down, she was sure of it. He’d kept the Seawolf exposed on the surface with a specific purpose in mind. Brodie checked with the radio room who reported multiple search radars on the surface.
“How many?” Brodie asked. “What’s their bearing and wavelength.”
The information was reported and Kristen watched Brodie and Ryan Walcott plot the bearings on a chart. Meanwhile, COB made some fine adjustments to the trim tanks, making the boat perfectly level prior to diving any further. At the same time, Graves focused on having each compartment checked for any unexpected trouble before they risked going deeper.
Kristen waited calmly out of the way, watching, learning, and admiring the way Brodie managed everything in the control room with apparent ease, processing the mass of information coming from the boat’s sensors and his officers. Again he called the sound room, “Sonar, this is Brodie. I need an oceanographic report.” Kristen knew this meant he wanted a report on the water around the boat including thermoclines, increasing or decreasing salinity levels, and ocean currents at various depths.
“Skipper, we’ve got a thermocline at four hundred feet and another at six hundred, over,” Miller reported.
Kristen could feel the unease growing in the control room. Just a few minutes earlier everyone had simply been puzzled about the reason for staying on the surface for so long. Now everyone realized their captain knew something none of them were yet privy to.
Brodie finally glanced at Kristen, his expression hard; the same uncompromising mask he always wore in the control center. He tapped his right ear with his hand and then pointed her toward the sonar shack. Kristen understood what he wanted and moved forward. As she did so, Brodie ordered the towed array reeled out.
Throughout the boat, men were going on about their daily routine, unaware that something ominous was at hand. She reached the sound room and quietly entered.
“Good evening, Lieutenant,” Miller welcomed her curiously. “What can I do for you?” He mopped his sweaty brow, his skin clammy and perhaps a little paler than usual.
“The captain would like me to have a listen, Senior Chief,” she answered easily, aware that the sonar shack was still an enlisted man’s domain, and she would always be an interloper. But to her surprise, Miller didn’t offer any sign of displeasure at having her arrive in his kingdom. Instead, he winced slightly at some indigestion then snapped his fingers at the sailor manning the spectrum analyzer.
“Step aside, Anderson,” he ordered. “Let the lady have a seat.”
Kristen slipped past the Chief, noticing the food stains on his belly and smelling the chilidog-flavored belch he let out. She wrinkled her nose slightly as she took a seat at the spectrum analyzer. She made some adjustments to the equipment, having no idea what Brodie was looking for or expected her to hear. She then heard his voice over the 1MC, “Rig the ship for ultra-quiet.”
The current sonar watch team hadn’t worked with her before, but they were just as curious about what was going on as she was. Then the submarine began to dive slowly as they reduced speed. Normally the boat’s quiet speed was twenty knots, but Brodie ordered a speed reduction to five knots. At such a speed the Seawolf was quieter than the natural ocean sounds around her. But it also caused the towed sonar array to angle down sharply, sinking significantly lower than the Seawolf.
They leveled off at three hundred and fifty feet. At that depth, the lengthy towed array actually dipped below the thermocline at four hundred feet, and she realized this was his plan all along. He wanted to know what was happening beneath them. The thermocline below reflected noise energy and could potentially hide a submarine trailing them. Of course, why Brodie suspected a submarine might be following them she had no idea.
Kristen refined her search, focusing her entire system on the towed array as the Seawolf leveled off. She had to wait a few minutes for the lengthy towed array, now trailing them by nearly a mile, to sink below the thermocline. Kristen closed her eyes, concentrating, clearing her mind of every distraction and focused all of her significant mental energy on the sound in her headphones.
Chief Miller grimaced slightly and pounded his chest lightly to get out another burp. Kristen glanced over her shoulder and held a finger to her lips, “Shh!”
Several other sonarmen cringed, expecting Miller to reply with an angry retort to the “Nub.” Instead, he offered an apologetic hand wave. “Sorry,” he whispered.
Kristen listened intently, her fingertips gently moving the joystick to focus on a different bearing, sweeping ever so gently back and forth across the Seawolf’s baffles. Kristen felt the eyes of Miller on her, and she could sense his bulk standing just behind her. She ignored him, focusing her attention on her scan.
“Submerged contact, bearing one-eight-seven,” she announced abruptly as she heard what she took to be cooling pump noises. She glanced at Miller, half expecting him to argue, but instead, he immediately reported the contact to the bridge.
“Con, sonar. Submerged contact on the towed array, bearing one-eight-seven. Designate contact as Sierra Nine, over.”
The other sonar operators turned their attention to the bearing she’d reported. Kristen made a few fine adjustments and reported, “He’s below the thermocline. Faint plant noises…”
Miller checked the printer, expecting it to spit out a contact report at any moment, but it stayed silent as the other operators searched. One of the other operators nodded his head, hearing the noise. “I got something on the same bearing, definitely a submerged contact in our baffles, Chief.”
Kristen realized none of this could possibly be coincidental. Brodie had known they were being followed. The question she couldn’t answer was why he’d allowed their tail to stick around this long. He could’ve submerged hours earlier and shaken off the trailing submarine then. She leaned forward, as if willing the hydrophones to give her more information, then turned and reported, “Sierra Nine has seven blades, classify target as Akula fast-attack boat.”
“A fucking Akula?” Miller asked in disbelief and checked the printer. Thus far the computer had been unable to do much more than verify the trailing contact. “Are you certain?”
Kristen turned back to her console and nodded. “Yes, I’m certain.” She bristled slightly at the realization he still doubted her. But a moment later the computer finally finished classifying the target, and she heard the printer come to life.
A few seconds later, after the computer had verified her conclusion, he reported the contact to the control room. “Con sonar, classify Sierra Nine as Akula III Russian fast-attack boat, range about two thousand yards. Contact is below the thermocline.”
“Con, sonar,” Kristen heard Brodie. “Keep your ears open, we’re coming around. Let me know what he does.”
“Aye, Skipper,” Miller replied and leaned over her. “Stay on him, Lieutenant,” he whispered.