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

mumbled to no one in particular, “That would be the ASROCs. At least the destroyer shot at the right guys.” He looked quickly at the ECDIS that Foster was watching. Allison could tell that she was guiding him behind Dongsha Atoll, staying as close to the coral mountain as possible.

Good tactic. Maybe it would be enough to keep them alive if the evasion devices failed.

The XO held up her hand and then signaled.

“Come left, steer course zero-six-five, come to four hundred feet,” Allison ordered.

“Loud explosion on the bearing to Sierra One-Seven,” Chief Vincent called out. It appeared that at least that part of the Chinese subs’ attack was successful. Boise’s task remained to be sure that the other part would not be.

“Loss of contact on the incoming weapons. Blocked by the countermeasures,” Vincent reported. Maybe the Chinese torpedoes would go for the countermeasures. Or maybe they would be lured off by the EMATT.

“Detect, first weapon!” Weps yelled. “Detect! Weapon shifted to acquisition.” The bloodhound from Boise’s tube one was on the scent.

“Loss of wire continuity, tube one,” Weps reported. The fine cable that connected the torpedo to the submarine had snapped. Allison knew that their maneuvering could have broken the wire. Or maybe it had found the enemy and blown them up already. With a speed of sound in water of fifteen hundred yards per second, it would be over six seconds before they would know if that was the case.

“Re-acquired both incoming weapons. First weapon bears three-two-six. Looks like it is tracking the EMATT.” Chief Vincent’s voice carried pure relief. It appeared that the little electronic device was going to sacrifice itself to save the Boise.

“Loss of wire continuity, tube two,” Weps reported. The reports were coming so fast Allison had a hard time absorbing them all.

“Second weapon bears three-four-three. Still closing.” Damn! No relief on this one. One of the Chinese torpedoes was still doggedly on their trail.

“Launch two evasion devices,” Allison ordered. “Then wait ten seconds and launch two more.”

As he gave the commands, the skipper glanced at the ECDIS display. It showed that they were just rounding the corner of Dongsha Atoll. But not by much. How accurate was this little electronic wonder? Accurate enough to bet the lives of every member of the crew?

“Multiple explosions on the bearings of Master One and Master Two.”

Well, Vincent was reporting that something was happening back where it all started. No telling what, but those two SSNs were definitely in the middle of it.

“Range gating on incoming weapon,” Vincent yelled. He really did not need to use the 21MC. The fear in his voice rolled right through the door from Sonar.

Allison rolled the dice in his head.

“Come to course north. Make your depth one hundred feet.”

According to ECDIS, they would just skirt the reefs on the east side of the atoll. That is, if the charts were accurate. And if they were where they believed they were.

The big sub angled over as it swung around to the new course.

“Incoming weapon still range gating,” Chief Vincent reported. “Now bearing two-seven-seven.”

Allison looked at the plot. If the weapon was where they thought it was and if they were where they thought they were, the remaining torpedo was taking a straight-line course directly at them. That would take it right over the shallow reef at the south end of the atoll.

Allison and the crew had done all they could. Now, their lives depended on billions of coral polyps and calcium carbonate standing in the path of that deadly weapon hurtling their way.

A tremendous explosion rocked the Boise. Lights flashed off, then back on again.

Chet Allison tried to grab hold of something but was knocked to the deck, banging his head brutally on something hard and unmoving. The last thing he heard was a 1MC announcement—"Flooding, flooding in the engine room!”—echoing, growing fainter, until it was lost in a dull roar.

Then, darkness.

Ψ

Chet Allison seemed to be groping his way through a long tunnel toward an incredibly bright white light. His legs felt like they were mired in molasses, but there was a voice. A voice urging him to stop struggling.

“Easy, Skipper. Just lie still.” It was Henrietta Foster. “You got a pretty nasty bump on your head. Doc just gave you an injection for pain.”

Allison opened his eyes and tried to focus. He was still in the conn. His XO was cradling his head and wiping the blood away from a gash behind his right ear.

“The… the boat?” he stammered.

“Boise is okay,” Foster answered. “Looks like that last torpedo hit the coral just aft of us. That still gave us enough of a jolt to cause some flooding through the stern tube. We’re bobbing on the surface right now, inspecting damages.”

“And...”

“Crew is good. Few bumps and bruises, like you. Damage reports coming in. Port turbine generator breaker popped open. Re-shut okay. Steam leak on the evaporator, isolated now. Sonar reports loss of the TB-34 towed array. No signal and no continuity. All in all, looks like we were pretty lucky.”

Allison tried to shake his head, but it hurt like mortal hell. “We wouldn’t have been so lucky if you hadn’t thought of sneaking behind the atoll, XO. Good thinking. You saved our butts. We know anything about the rest of the players?”

Foster answered, “Heavy fighting on the island. Must have been assault troops on those rubber boats the Chinese were launching. It appears the Kee Lung was sunk. And both of the Chinese subs. There’s no way to tell who hit what in all that mess. But folks died. Lots of folks.”

Allison nodded, grimaced with the pain even that small amount of movement caused, then held his head as a wave of nausea rolled over him. He relaxed and sucked in a deep breath, which seemed to help.

“Just as well. I imagine there will be a lot of finger pointing from all points of the compass.” He felt himself drifting back into the darkness. “Good job, XO. Relay that to the