Attack of the Seawolf

“Stay awake and keep this plant up, no matter what. If we get a shock that opens the scram breakers, do a fast recovery startup. Don’t wait for orders.”

“Aye, sir. Good luck, Eng.”

Vaughn walked into the tunnel leading through the hatch to the forward compartment, up the ladder and down the passageway into control.

“Ready to launch, XO,” he said.

“Launch the signal ejector,” Lennox ordered.

Vaughn keyed a button on a small panel by the conn.

A hundred feet aft, the outer door of the signal ejector opened, and twenty seconds later a solenoid valve in a branch pipe from the auxiliary seawater system popped open, sending highpressure seawater into the bottom of the signal ejector tube that pushed out the radio buoy. The buoy climbed the fifty-five feet to the surface and began to float, barely visible in the brown water of the bay. A timer inside the unit began a three-hour countdown … At the end of the countdown a whip antenna extended from the buoy and the UHF radio activated, transmitting the message from the Tampa to the western Pacific COMMSAT high overhead in a geosynchronous orbit. Within thirty seconds the message transmission was complete, the buoy flooded and sank to the silty bottom of the bay.

By the time the Harbin Z-9A sub-chasing helicopter flew over the square mile of water from which the buoy had transmitted, the submarine Tampa was over fifty miles further east, approaching the entrance to the Lushun/Penglai Gap.

KOREA BAY, 130 MILES EAST OF LUSH UN SURFACE ACTION GROUP 57

AIRCRAFT CARRIER USS RONALD REAGAN

0947 BEIJING TIME

Admiral Richard Donchez stood in Flag Plot in the carrier’s island with a wall of windows overlooking the flight deck below. The central chart table was taken up with a chart of the Lushun/Penglai area, the Bohai Haixia Strait in the center. Donchez, in working khakis, leaned over the table. After a moment his aide, Fred Rummel, brought in a satellite photo of the P.L.A Navy fleet piers at Lushun. Donchez studied it for a moment, then straightened up and looked at Rummel’s fleshy face.

“The Northern Fleet’s getting underway.”

“Yes, sir. Every ship they have.”

“Including the Shaoguan,” Donchez said, pointing to the largest ship in the outbound fleet, the aircraft carrier that looked like a battleship with half the deck lopped off for the installation of a flight deck.

“Which means they’ll be flying ASW aircraft and helos. We’ll need the air wing. Call the SAG and the Air Boss to flag plot and get me a NESTOR circuit to the White House and the SecDef.”

Rummel grabbed a phone and gave a series of orders, then replaced the handset and looked out the windows at the sea, at the formation of the surface ships surrounding the carrier.

“What do you have in mind. Admiral?”

“We’ll launch a squadron of F-14s and a squadron of F/A-18s to blow out their helos and their jet torpedo-carriers. I’m counting on Seawolf to take care of the surface ships, but she’ll be damned low on Mark 80 SLAAM missiles by the time she and Tampa get to the strait.”

“Washington will never go for it. Admiral. That’s a direct attack on PRC naval assets. It would look like we’re starting a war with China.”

“I don’t care what it looks like, I care about getting our subs out.”

“I’LL try, sir, but I wouldn’t count on it.”

“Admiral,” an ensign said, knocking on the door.

“Immediate message for you, sir.”

Donchez took the steel clipboard.

“Is the SAG on the way?” He meant the admiral in command of the surface action group comprised of the Reagan, two nuclear cruisers, two Aegis cruisers, five destroyers, four fast frigates, two fleet oilers, a supply ship and a hospital ship. Rear Admiral Patterson Wilkes-Charles III, the SAG, was a capable surface officer, but, in the opinion of both Donchez and Rummel, unaggressive and more concerned with his career than with the mission at hand.

“He’ll be here in another five minutes, sir,” the ensign said.

“So, Fred, you think the SAG will launch aircraft on my authorization without getting permission from Washington?”

“Patty? Patty the shrinking violet? Never, sir.”

Donchez looked down at the message, read it, shut the metal clipboard cover and shoved it at Rummel.

“Look at paragraph four.”

Rummel glanced at the message, a status report from the Tampa. The first three paragraphs consisted of a report of ship’s material condition, ship’s position and the miserable weapon situation. Rummel skimmed down to the fourth section of the message: