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

as he wrote down every single word. “And then you change course and slow accordingly. Do you understand my orders, Captain?”

Liu Zhang nodded even more vigorously as he stepped over to the submarine’s underwater communications system. He first referred to his notes, lips moving as he ticked off each step.

Only then did he begin to send his message out to the rest of the trailing Chinese submarines.

Ψ

“Detecting underwater comms from Sierra Four-Five,” Josh Hannon called out, a hint of pent-up excitement in his voice. “Fifteen-point-four kilohertz. Equates to a Chinese Wolfdog encrypted acoustic comms.”

Jackson Biddle jumped across the George Mason’s control room to look over Hannon’s shoulder at his display. “Are you sure?”

“XO, I really gotta cure you of jumpin’ on my screen every time I report something,” Hannon complained, only half joking. “You can see the same thing on the command display and it’s a whole lot easier for me to do my job without you breathing down my neck.”

Biddle, mumbling something about sonar techs and their love of taking showers, stepped back over to the command display. There, Billy Jonas was already trying to make sense of the tactical picture of what Hannon had just observed.

“XO, this doesn’t add up very well at all,” Jonas admitted. “Their Wolfdog system is supposed to be very narrow-beamed, highly directional, and very short range. Primarily for one sub to briefly communicate with another or with a single vessel on the surface. This guy’s basically broadcasting. So, who is our Chinese friend trying to talk to? And where is whoever that might be?”

“Eng, I have the same questions,” Biddle told him. “We’ve been tracking him putzing along due south for the last several hours. He’s been staying real quiet, like he doesn’t want to get his ass found out here. Now, all of a sudden, he has gotten real talkative. What gives?”

Just as Jonas was about to reply, Josh Hannon called out an update that was even more puzzling.

“Possible contact zig based on bearing rate. Zig toward. Increasing bearing rate.”

Jonas immediately punched up the display for the narrow-band passive towed array. He cocked his head, now even more perplexed.

“I’m not seeing any change in received frequency. How sure are you that you’re seeing a contact zig?”

“Went from a right-point-zero-five-degree per minute to a left-point-one. Pretty definite change in speed across the line of sight. He had to have zigged,” Hannon explained.

“Well, he sure didn’t change his speed in the line of sight,” Jonas shot back. “Solid eleven-point-one hertz. No change.”

Jackson Biddle, listening to the exchange, tapped his chin with a forefinger.

“Boys, a wise old submariner once told me that there are only two truths in passive ASW, bearing and received frequency. Everything else is a guess. If our two truths are telling us different stories, there is something we don’t yet understand. And we absolutely need to, correct? Now, what are we overlooking? And do I need to remind you that this is not a drill? We are tailing a Chinese submarine in a highly inappropriate portion of the ocean.”

As the three were trying to sort out the problem, the passive search operator suddenly called out, “I have a second eleven-point-five-hertz contact. Two degrees to the right of Sierra Four-Five. Designate...Sierra Four-Seven. Classified submerged Yuan-class submarine.”

The three men looked at each other.

“Well, that probably solves the riddle of who Sierra Four-Five was jabbering with,” the exec said. “This thing just got twice as interesting, I’d say. But it still doesn’t resolve our zig riddle.”

Ensign Sam Walters was sitting at the fire control panel.

“XO, I might have an answer,” he volunteered. “If I put an anchor on the solution where Hannon called a zig, then slew the solution course to match the bearings, then slow the solution to five knots to keep the speed in the line-of-sight constant, I get a solution that matches both the bearing rate and the frequency. I reckon he slowed when he turned.”

Biddle nodded. It made sense. But now he had two Chinese subs out here to worry about. Two boats where they should not necessarily be, doing maneuvers that indicated they had some purpose in these waters rather than simply passing through. And even more worrisome, two submarines that might take violent issue with George Mason and her crew spying on them. One thing was certain. His orders from COMSUBGROUP SEVEN were to trail the Yuan and not lose contact. He meant to use every technology that his submarine possessed and every trick that he knew to make sure the Chinese subs didn’t slip away.

He turned to Jonas. “Eng, stay on this course for now. Don’t close either of the contacts within twenty-thousand yards. Last thing we want is for these two guys to know we are in the vicinity. I’m going to go wake the skipper and give him the good news.”

Just as Biddle headed out of control toward the CO’s stateroom, Josh Hannon called out some even more interesting news.

“New contact! Sierra Four-Eight, bearing two-one-two, just to the left of Sierra Four-Seven, another eleven-point-five line.” A moment’s pause. “Classified Chinese Yuan-class submerged submarine.”

“Damn, this swimming pool is suddenly getting very crowded,” Biddle muttered.

Then he hurried to let the CO know they were no longer shadowing a single PLAN submarine. It had turned into a wolf pack.

Ψ

The brilliant sunshine effectively blinded Jim Ward as his head emerged from the USS Hawaii’s personnel access hatch. The noontime tropical sun hung high over Singapore. The waters of Changi Bay twinkled with a thousand diamonds. Even the young SEAL-team commander’s Oakley sunglasses did not really help. Too many days spent in the “fluorescent sunshine,” as his dad, the former sub skipper, used to call the lighting inside a submarine.

Ward’s team had been assigned to ride the Hawaii for another month, but with the SWCS shot up there was no reason for them to stay onboard. So, the submarine had pulled into Singapore to unload its SEAL team passengers. Now their first chore was to lug all their gear