Warshot (The Hunter Killer Series Book 6) by Don Keith (top ten ebook reader TXT) 📗

rigid-hulled inflatable boats—RHIBs—alternately pushed and pulled the large, black, ungainly ORCA ONE submersible from the ship’s shadowy interior. It slowly backed out of the flooded-down well deck and into a patch of early afternoon sunlight.

The three officers watched as the unmanned submarine, now unleashed, turned and headed out toward the harbor mouth, dutifully falling in behind the outbound RV Deep Ocean Explorer. As it disappeared from view, Commander Weiss broke the silence.

“That’s about the end of the show from here, gentlemen. I suggest we go up to CIC and take a look at the mission plan.”

By the time they had climbed up to the Portland’s Combat Information Center, ORCA ONE had already cleared the harbor mouth and slipped below the waves. The darkened CIC looked very much like a video gamer’s dream setup. It was illuminated with dozens of flat-panel displays hanging around workstations, each festooned with joysticks and Xbox-like controllers.

Weiss guided the two captains to a large flat-panel display that hung from an outboard bulkhead. The screen showed a chart of the island as well as the ORCA’s outbound track. Weiss picked up a remote control and hit one of the buttons. The display shifted to a small-scale chart of a sizeable area of ocean, stretching from Tuvalu to the northwest to the Cook Islands to the southeast. He pressed another button and a track appeared on the chart.

“Since we only have the one ORCA right now, she’s going to have to do multiple missions.” He looked toward Glass. “Commodore, you gave us a maritime surveillance mission around the Tonga Trench and a mission to plant remote sensors around the Tongan main islands. That’s a lot of real estate to cover and this girl is not real fast, I’m afraid. She can do eight knots if she really needs to, but four is a more economical transit speed. I figure we’ll tell her to make one pass around the trench and then head off to the islands. It’ll take better than a week to put all the sensors in place and confirm that they’re operating. Then we will be back to a full-time surveillance on the Deep.”

Glass nodded. “That’s just what we asked for, Steve. I know that you didn’t bring your full team. How many people will be manning this control station? And do you need any augmentation?”

Weiss chuckled.

“Thanks, sir. But you remember that ‘U’ in UUV? That stands for ‘unmanned.’ And these babies are just that. She will go on out there and do her thing with little to no supervision. She will call home if she finds anything. Other than that, we just sit back and wait.”

Ψ

Tim Anson walked a slow circle as he swept Boise’s periscope around, looking at the horizon. “Dancing with the fat lady” was what submariners called it, and had since the days of the World War II diesel-electric boats. The slow shuffle as they swung the periscope around, looking at the outside world through a tiny soda straw.

Then, suddenly, something very fast flew past. A jet. A jet so low that Anson involuntarily ducked. Then, just as suddenly, three more aircraft flashed by, down low on the deck, likely roaring toward Dongsha Island. Anson caught just the barest glimpse of a red star on a wing as the planes screamed off into the distance. He could also see a heavy load of ordnance slung underneath those wings. Someone on Dongsha was about to get quite the fireworks display.

Anson was reaching for the 1MC mike to call the skipper to the conn when the 21MC speaker blared.

“Conn, ESM, receiving multiple pulse-doppler radar emitters. Probable fire control. Not a threat, but signal strength high.”

Anson grabbed the 21MC mike instead.

“Conn, ESM, aye. Just saw a flight of Chinese jets close aboard. Can you classify the emitters?”

“ESM, aye. Classifying now.”

They really needed to determine who was probing around up there.

“What you got, Eng?”

Anson turned to find himself facing the skipper.

“Flight of Chinese jets down low heading toward the island. Looked like they were heading in for a low-level attack. And ESM is reporting a bunch of radar emitters.”

Commander Chet Allison grabbed the periscope.

“Let me take a look-see,” he said as he trained the Type 18 periscope toward the distant island. “Dive, come up a couple of feet. I want to get a better look.”

The diving officer smoothly brought the boat up two feet. With the added height of the scope above the wavetops, Allison could now make out the island on the horizon. And the view was disturbing.

Smoke hung heavy above the atoll. Bright yellow and orange flashes erupted frequently, like heat lightning. Planes flitted in and out of view. It was impossible to tell who was who, though. There were only fleeting images as the metal birds rained down death on the tiny island.

“Conn, ESM. That high-signal-strength emitter equates to a Type 1473H pulse-doppler fire control radar carried on a Chinese Chengdu J-10 naval attack jet. Also detecting GD-53 X-band pulse doppler radars, carried on Taiwanese IDF F-CK-1 attack jets. And APG-83 scalable agile beam radars carried on F-16 E/F fighters. Sounds like we have an air war happening up there.”

“Eng, acknowledge that. Then get the XO up here.”

Anson nodded and keyed the 21 MC mike.

“ESM, Conn, aye.” Anson then grabbed the 1MC microphone. “XO to the conn.” Any announcement on the 1MC system would carry throughout the boat. No matter where the XO was, she would hear the summons and come as quickly as she could.

Anson had barely replaced the mike in the holder when the XO charged through the after control room door.

“What’s up?”

Allison pulled away from the scope for a second. “XO, looks like the Chinese and Taiwan have a major air battle going on over this hunk of coral. Go to radio and work with the ESM watch to sort out the players. Once we see who all has shown up for this party, get a status report off to CTF-74 as quick as you can.”

Henrietta