Arabian Storm (The Hunter Killer Series Book 5) by George Wallace (different ereaders .txt) 📕

had been vectored over to intercept and keep tabs on them as they steamed in Middle Eastern waters.

But the Chinese ships pulled into Colombo, Sri Lanka, for an unexpected port visit. That left the American submarine steaming around an empty ocean while the Chinese sailors enjoyed a tropical liberty port.

“Officer of the Deck,” Edwards called out. “We need to copy the broadcast and ventilate the ship. Make preparations to come to periscope depth. Call me when you’re ready. I’ll be in my stateroom.”

As Edwards strode out of the control room, Lieutenant (junior grade) Bill Wilson, the George Mason’s electrical officer and her most recently qualified OOD, answered, “Make preparations to come to periscope depth, aye, sir. Sonar, fire control, clearing baffles to the left. Pilot, right full rudder. Steady course south.”

“Clearing baffles” was the submarine term for making sure that no undetected ships were coming up behind them. Coming up shallow, to periscope depth, would be a very hazardous operation if an undetected ship suddenly appeared close aboard. On older submarines the best sonar sensors were up in the bow, designed to look forward and out to the sides. Any ships that might be behind them would be hidden by the submarine’s mass and the noise from the engine room and screw. They would be “hidden in the baffles.” The only way to detect them was to turn the ship around and have a look. The George Mason’s large-aperture flank arrays and mile-long TB-29A towed array made it very unlikely that anyone could sneak up behind her without being detected, but submariners were a cautious lot.

The pilot, Chief Arnold Schmidt, chuckled.

“Mr. Wilson, if you want to clear baffles to the left, suggest left full rudder.”

“Uh, yeah, that’s… that’s… what I meant,” the flustered young officer stammered. “Left full ridder…uh, I mean rudder. Steady course south.”

Chief Schmidt shook his head and grinned as he confirmed the OOD’s command. “Left full rudder, steady course south, aye.” He reached up and punched a couple of buttons on his touch-screen display. The rudder angle indicator display shifted smoothly until it was fully to the left. The digital compass display started to count down rapidly. “My rudder is left full. Coming to course south.”

Unlike older submarines, the George Mason’s sonar was operated from the control room. So were all the boat’s other sensor systems except for communications and electromagnetic sensors. This arrangement made for rapid and easy coordination within the watch team. The sonar operators and fire control operator worked together to carefully search the surrounding ocean.

As they searched, they found nothing except the one tanker, still out at better than thirty thousand yards.

“Steady course south,” Chief Schmidt called out as the rudder automatically swept around to stop the sub’s turn at precisely one-eight-zero.

The sonar operator scanned his displays for a few seconds, then reported, “Completed careful search of previously baffled area. No new contacts. Only contact is Sierra Two-Four-Seven, bearing zero-three-three. Range tracking at three-seven thousand yards. Drawing to the left, best estimate of course is two-nine-five. Past CPA and opening.”

As the sonar operator completed his report, Brian Edwards strolled back into the control room, sipping on a fresh cup of hot coffee.

Bill Wilson repeated the contact situation for his skipper and added, “Request permission to come to periscope depth to copy the broadcast, ventilate the ship for fifteen minutes, and shoot three loads of trash.”

Edwards took a quick scan of the sonar displays and nodded. “Officer of the Deck, proceed to periscope depth, copy the broadcast, and conduct housekeeping.”

Wilson immediately replied, “Proceed to periscope depth, aye, sir. Raising number one photonics mast.”

Wilson was reaching for the button on the command console as Chief Schmidt called out, “Speed six.” It was safe to raise the mast. Again, unlike older submarines, the George Mason did not have traditional periscopes, like those in most submarine movies. There was no shiny, vertical steel tube cutting through the control room. Nor did the OOD have to peer through an eyepiece as he paced a slow circle with the periscope. Instead, a mast in the sail slid upward. A series of video cameras fed images to a large-screen monitor in the middle of the control room. The OOD controlled the mast with a hand-held device that looked very similar to an Xbox controller. Most everyone had the same view as the cameras.

Chief Schmidt reached up on his control screen and touched the button to go to what was still called “periscope depth.” The ship control computer took over from there, commanding the bow and stern planes, even pumping and flooding water from the depth control tanks to maintain trim—keeping the boat under control—as the sub moved up to the surface.

Wilson and Edwards watched the deep blue on the large-screen display become a lighter turquoise as the mast cleared the surface just as the submarine leveled off. Wilson spun the camera around in a complete circle before calling out, “No close contacts.”

“Conn, Radio, request you raise the HDR mast,” a voice on the 21MC intercom system squawked.

LTjg Wilson ordered, “Co-pilot, raise the HDR mast and prepare to ventilate.”

The co-pilot, Chief Lonnie Wedge, who sat next to Chief Schmidt, reached over and touched two buttons. One raised the high-data-rate antenna and the other aligned various ventilation valves and dampers around the ship.

“The HDR mast indicates raised and the ship is ready to ventilate,” the co-pilot reported.

Wilson ordered, “Raise the snorkel mast and commence ventilating.”

Chief Wedge grabbed the 1MC microphone and announced, “Commence ventilating.” Then he pushed a button that raised the snorkel mast up out of the sail and into the clear evening air on the surface of the sea. As soon as the mast indicated raised, he pushed another button that started the low-pressure blower, a large fan that sucked the warm, clean Indian Ocean air into the boat.

“Captain, Radio, high precedence message traffic for you.” The announcement came over the 21MC speaker. Brian Edwards pursed his lips as he stepped over to the command