Warshot (The Hunter Killer Series Book 6) by Don Keith (dark books to read TXT) 📕

Sanya. Finally, traffic thinned a bit and they made better speed once they cleared the center of the city and were on Yuyu Road toward Yulin. By the time they pulled to a stop at the pier, Yon Hun Glo had managed to wade through most of the detritus that seemed to pile up in his virtual in-basket. For a fleeting instant he longed for the days when all he needed to do to escape the cloying bureaucracy was to lower the periscope and take his submarine deep. Now, with the responsibility as Commander of the PLAN Submarine Force, he was at the mercy of every minor Party gofer anxious to make points. There was no escape.

The Admiral’s Barge, resplendent with polished brass and gleaming teak, made short work of crossing Yulin Harbor from the pier to the vast and growing naval base on the far shore. The harbor was crowded with warships, ferries, and cruise liners, either heading out or returning from the deep, blue South China Sea.

A UAZ personnel carrier was waiting at the pier to whisk Yon Hun Glo past the surface-ship piers, filled with destroyers and frigates, all busily getting ready for sea. There was frenzied activity everywhere. Next, the gigantic carrier pier served as a temporary home to two of the PLAN’s massive aircraft carriers.

The admiral smiled and snorted as he watched the hustle and bustle all around him. His brother had quoted Sun Tzu—as usual—as they had discussed the plan for the mission he was now on. The great military strategist had said, "All warfare is based on deception. There is no place where espionage is not used. Offer the enemy bait to lure him."

As Yon Hun Glo gazed out over the vast beehive of activity, he saw the massive deception at work. The American spy satellites would closely watch the surface fleet arm for war. It was all a massive sleight of hand, a diversion to keep them busy while he did something else entirely. A Shakespeare quote came to his mind: “Sound and fury, signifying nothing.”

The personnel carrier hurried further down the coast road, passing still more piers, warehouses, and maintenance buildings. Then, it suddenly made a sharp left turn into the entrance of a mammoth man-made cavern. The granite had been hewn out to offer an accessway that was fully twenty meters from the surface of the water to the top. It was easily thirty meters across the water, plus another ten meters on either side to form a very wide entrance road.

The admiral had to blink a few times as his eyes adjusted to the change from the brilliant tropical sun outside to the much less glaring artificial illumination inside the giant cavern. Then, he caught his breath as he saw, nestled up against the nearside wharf, his old boat, the Wushiwu. And beyond, three sister submarines. Across the dark water, on the far-side wharf, a pair of Type-93A modified Shang-class nuclear attack submarines sat motionless. His brother, Yon Ba Deng, had strongly suggested that they use these nuclear-powered boats for this mission. It had required considerable persuasion to convince the Assistant Vice Deputy to the Minister of National Defense for Naval Matters—and technically Yon Hun Glo’s boss—that stealth was far more important than speed for this mission. Besides, as capable as they were, the Shangs would be no match for the American Virginia-class boats in the unlikely possibility they encountered such an adversary out there.

And there was a much more interesting use for the nuclear-powered boats. They could perform a far more sinister diversion. And the key to his and his brother’s bold plan was diversion.

The personnel carrier came to a halt at the foot of the Wushiwu’s gangway. Yon Hun Glo was surprised to feel such a strong wave of nostalgia as he walked toward the brow of his old boat. Once a submariner, always a submariner. Now, even as her new captain, Liu Zhang, and the boat’s political officer, Yu Feng, waited at the boat’s end of the short brow, Yon Hun Glo hesitated for a moment, watching his former command bob easily in the light swell from a passing vessel.

Yon made a quick inspection. The Wushiwu’s mooring lines were crisply faked out in neat figure eights. Line handlers stood stiffly at the ready at each mooring line, awaiting the command to cast off. The shore power cables dangled limply from a crane, while the ship’s diesels already grumbled deeply, announcing they, too, were prepared to depart.

The admiral—always on command—could not suppress a tight smile. “His” boat was ready to get underway, precisely as he had ordered.

Yon Hun Glo finally crossed the brow and boarded the Wushiwu. He bowed, greeting Captain Liu and Political Officer Yu, both of whom knew precisely what was running through the admiral’s mind as he stepped aboard. Then he dropped down the hatch into the boat, skimmed down the ladder with the practiced submariner’s style, immediately passed through the control room—noticing that the same swirl of smells still circulated throughout the vessel—and then climbed the well-worn ladder to the bridge. He was a little surprised—but very pleased—to see that Wushiwu had already backed from the pier and out into the channel, and she was now heading toward the cavern’s mouth.

The other three boats were in various stages of following Wushiwu out to sea as soon as she led the way. As with all PLAN submarines, they were officially known only by their pennant numbers, Pennant Numbers Eighteen, Nineteen, and Twenty, respectively. However, sailors being sailors, and inevitably a superstitious lot even in today’s PLAN, they knew their boats as the Shiba, the Shijiu, and the Ershi.

The trio of Yuan-class submarines dutifully followed the leader out to open water in a line, like ducks behind their mother. Then, they all turned south before diving and disappearing from sight.

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The KH-12 Advanced Keyhole satellite passed two hundred and fifty miles above southern China. The bird’s advanced multi-spectral cameras continuously photographed a swath of almost