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

it was to imagine that just over the horizon, his homeland was on the very knife-edge of nuclear war with its neighbor, Pakistan. How could a scene so peaceful and calm exist in the same world in which otherwise sane nations hungered for a nuclear war? The border incursions in the Kashmir were bad enough, but those had been going on for generations. The previous month’s terrorist attacks in Surat and Navi Mumbai—by madmen trained and sheltered in Pakistan—simply could not go unanswered. But again, such barbaric acts were nothing new.

It was Pakistan’s most recent saber rattling and their new open alliance with the Chinese military that were most disturbing. How could any free country stand idle when just across the border their sworn enemies had placed their nuclear forces on high alert? And with the full and open backing of the tiger to their north?

Commander Vikat was all too aware that he was responsible for his country’s most secure nuclear deterrent. If India’s enemies suddenly decided to rain down nuclear death, it was Vikat’s responsibility to retaliate with the eight KL-4 submarine-launched ballistic missiles that the Argihat carried in her missile tubes. That retaliation was the primary reason—maybe the only reason—that an unbelievably deadly atomic war had not already erupted in the region.

Ashwinder Vikat knew his duty, accepted it with his commission, had eaten, worked, and slept with it for almost two decades. But he dreaded its possibility with soul-wrenching angst. How could he possibly carry out an order that would bring horrible, searing death to untold millions of his fellow human beings?

As he stood at the scope and watched the docile waters of the Arabian Sea, Vikat thought of his wife, his children, his friends, his neighbors, his fellow sailors and soldiers. It was a vain attempt to clear out the inevitable unwanted thoughts of fiery destruction.

He had a sworn duty. Should it come to it, he must concentrate on performing that job to the best of his and his crew’s ability. If their adversaries had any suspicion that he might hesitate or fumble, his awesome firepower was no deterrent at all.

“Captain, we have all radio traffic aboard.” The report from the radio room broke Vikat’s reverie.

“Very well,” he snapped. “Watch Officer, make your depth fifty meters.” The commander slapped the periscope training handles up as his assistant smoothly lowered the scope into its housing.

As Vikat stepped toward the control room door he ordered, “Come right to course three-two-zero and head for our next patrol box. Maintain your speed at ahead one-third.” Looking directly at the watch officer, the CO continued. “I want you to maintain a careful sonar search. Be especially vigilant. Report all contacts to me. I really do not like how quiet it has been. It does not leave me with a good feeling.”

Commander Vikat turned and stepped out of the control room, a concerned look on his dark face. He said over his shoulder, “I will be in my stateroom.”

Ψ

As Commander Vikat suspected, the Argihat was not alone in this part of the Arabian Sea. Ten thousand meters astern of the Indian submarine, another submersible ship, a Chinese YUAN Type 39D-class AIP diesel vessel, the Changcheng Wushiwu, ominously lurked. Literally the “Great Wall Number Fifty-Five” but known simply as the Wushiwu, the undersea killer was on its first deployment beyond the First Island Chain.

Navy Captain Yon Hun Glo watched as his sonarmen followed the on-screen trace that represented the unsuspecting Indian SSBN. Captain Yon was quite proud of his crew and their new ship. Together, they had already sneaked into the very mouth of the American dragon and photographed the naval base at Diego Garcia, deep in the Indian Ocean. More importantly, they accomplished this feat while completely evading the much-vaunted American sensor systems. Captain Yon’s PLAN masters were very pleased with the Wushiwu and, most importantly, with Captain Yon’s daring exploits.

His current assignment, while not nearly so daring, was even more important to the Chinese strategic plan. He was to trail this Indian SSBN while being ready to destroy it on a moment’s notice. A brace of YU-9 homing torpedoes was nested in their tubes, ready to shoot an instant after the order came.

“Captain, the Indian has changed depth,” the lead sonarman called out. “It appears he has come down from periscope depth to normal patrol depth.”

Yon nodded. The Indian submarine’s captain was nothing if not predictable. Every four hours like clockwork, he came to periscope depth for a few minutes, probably to copy communications and check in with his headquarters, before returning to his patrol depth. Fifty meters. Always fifty meters. After that maneuver, he would start a slow, wide circle, alternating first to the left and then the right. Captain Yon Hun Glo knew it was now time to observe a slow turn to the left.

“Captain,” the sonarman said over his shoulder, “our friend is not turning left this time. Bearing rate shows him turning right.”

Yon watched the trace swing, first rapidly to the right and then slowly pointing to the northwest. The Indian SSBN was doing something different, headed off in a new direction. For just a second, Yon wished that he could eavesdrop on the message the Indian sub had just received. Wished he could know what command headed him off in a new direction. A very dangerous direction.

Yon Hun Glo’s orders were quite explicit and had been in place since he had been assigned to shadow the Indian submarine. If the vessel he tracked came north of twenty degrees north latitude while also being west of sixty-eight degrees east longitude, the standing order was to sink him. Now, with this surprising change in the normal routine, the Indian only needed to traverse