SSN

    The Ming heard Cheyenne cavitating, but it didn't alter course. Instead, it increased speed in the direction of McKee and fired two torpedoes. Only then did the Chinese submarine change course, but by then it was too late.

    Mack had already slowed and, with the BSY-1 computer solutions, had fired two Mk 48s at the Ming. Minutes later, the torpedoes acquired their target and homed in on the enemy submarine. The sonar supervisor reported two explosions, followed by the sounds of the Ming filling with water. The Ming was dead.

    "What about the Chinese torpedoes?" Mack asked, "How's McKee doing?"

    He didn't have to worry, though. McKee was running away from the SAET-60s as fast as she could. At twenty knots, she wasn't able to outrun the torpedoes, but she was able to stay ahead of them until they ran out of gas.

    When sonar lost contact on the second Chinese torpedo. Mack ordered Cheyenne to periscope depth. "Radio, conn, tell McKee we're coming in."

    He was going to be glad to reach the tender. Cheyenne needed to rearm and resupply. But he had the feeling that the captain and crew of McKee would be glad to see them, too.

6. Ambush

    Cheyenne's crew was well rested after their relatively relaxing stay on board the submarine tender McKee. Cheyenne had been rearmed and their food and supply stocks had been replenished. Captain Mackey was even looking forward to his next mission.

    According to naval intelligence, that mission was going to be a "breeze" compared to his last several-and Mack hoped they were right. By now, his officers and crew were combat-hardened veterans who had more than paid their debt to their country. If Mack had his way, he'd give each and every one of them a medal and a promotion for their service.

    The captain called the executive officer into his small stateroom. This was one of the few places where the captain could have a quiet moment to himself. He had asked the executive officer to join him because he didn't always trust naval intelligence and he wanted a second opinion on the orders Cheyenne had received.

    When the executive officer arrived, Mack handed him the message. He didn't say a word. He didn't have to.

    The orders called for Cheyenne to enter into the Chinese-claimed Spratly Islands and patrol several of the now-abandoned oil rigs in the area, including the partially built rig bordering on Swallow Reef.

    The executive officer studied them for two minutes and then looked up. The look on his face made it clear that he wasn't any happier than Mack was. A week earlier, naval intelligence had proclaimed those waters too dangerous to enter. Now they were claiming that they'd been deloused and were clear of all enemy submarines.

    Mack had gotten what he'd wanted-confirmation of his suspicions. Cheyenne had her orders, and she would carry them out, but she would be expecting trouble, no matter what those intel guys said.

    "Gather the officers," he said. "I want them all in the wardroom in fifteen minutes.".

    Ever since he'd first met the executive officer, Mack had liked him and trusted his opinion. During wartime, Mack knew, one couid never be too reliant on intelligence reports from thousands of miles away. The executive officer had agreed with his feelings on their orders and that made Mack trust him even more.

    Fifteen minutes later, the wardroom was quiet when Mack entered. He looked around at the assembled officers and decided to get right to the point.

    "We've been ordered to enter the Spratly Islands chain and patrol several oil rigs in the area that are believed to be possible locations for submarine supply depots," he said. "Naval intelligence doubts this finding, but they have sent us to investigate nonetheless."

    Because the intelligence analysts didn't think that they would find anything in the area, CTF 74 had decided it would be cost efficient to load Cheyenne with only twenty Mk-48 torpedoes; no Tomahawks and no Harpoons. So even if Mack did find a remote Chinese operating location, he couldn't attack it with Tomahawks as he would have liked to. He was ordered to report back, and then the Navy would order an air strike. He hated this kind of thinking.

    The assembled officers were silent, waiting for him to continue. "Naval intelligence reports that due to our successful actions during the past several weeks, as well as the actions of the rest of the Navy, the Chinese units in the area are running low on supplies and morale. They expect that, at the most, we will come into contact with only a handful of submarines in these waters."

    Mack looked around the room, assessing his officers.

    "This mission is supposed to be an easy one," he said, "but you all know what that means. It just means we have to be extra careful and keep on our toes. I don't like being that close to Chinese-occupied waters any more than you do. But we have our orders."