Attack of the Seawolf

“At least try to swim out of here, sir. My helicopter will circle the water to find you …”

Sun ran down the steps to the flight-deck level, the passageways barely illuminated by the battle lanterns, emerged from the superstructure and paused while his eyes adjusted to the dark. He made out the gaping hole in the deck, a brief hellish impression, the torn steel girders, the ripped piping, the dangling cables, mangled deckplates, the jet-fuel fires and reflections of fires from the lower decks, and the sight of some two dozen torn bodies. Another distant rumbling explosion shook the deck, the energy of it more a feeling than a sound, the bass of the shock vibrating Sun’s chest, the treble barely registered in ears already abused by the earlier explosion when the missile hit the ship.

He became aware of the sound of beating helicopter rotors and ran toward the sound, skirting the deep gash in the ship, and found the Hind helicopter hovering over the ship, no longer able to idle on top of the deck because of the steep angle. Sun threw himself toward the door, and men grabbed him as the helicopter lifted off the ship.

Just as the Hind cleared the deck the huge carrier, now inert scrap metal, began to capsize, its huge form rolling to port, the splash a phosphorescent burst of foam as the superstructure hit the water on the port side. Soon the entire superstructure vanished into the sea and the deck became vertical, exposing the flank of the ship’s hull. For a moment the hole in the hull revealed itself as the ship continued to roll, then stopped, the ship completely upside down, the bow deeper than the stern. After another minute, all that was left of the ship was her four huge brass screws, the blades waving mournfully toward the sky. Finally the stern went down, and the P.L.A Navy aircraft carrier Shaoguan vanished into the rain-swept water of the Go Hai Bay.

The pilot of the helicopter flew around the bubbling turbulence of water where the ship had once been, but finding no survivors outside the lifeboats and rafts, flew on to the west.

Tien Tse-Min looked out the window at the foam marking the spot where the aircraft carrier had been.

“Stupid fool. He should have listened to me. I tried to tell him the submarines would be coming out of the north passage, not the south…”

In the darkness Tien could not see Sun Yang’s eyes glaring at him.

Forty meters under the dark water of the Go Hai Bay, the strategy room of the Shaoguan was now upside-down and flooded with water. Fleet Commander Chu Hsueh-Fan was still conscious, still aware of the water around him. He had been a strong swimmer all his life, and even now he instinctively had held his breath. The room had toppled quickly, and he remembered taking his last deep breath as the windows shattered and admitted the flood of bay water, the water cold as it smashed him against the starboard bulkhead.

The room had rolled completely over, leaving the battle lantern on the floor instead of the ceiling, its weak light insistently illuminating Chu’s too real nightmare.

The ship had gone down so fast that the pressure rise had ruptured Chu’s eardrums. He held onto the hood of what had once been the radar repeater, which now hung from the ceiling. It was almost a welcome event when the crushing grip of sea pressure smashed his ribcage and he gave up his last air to the sea. The battle lantern failed, leaving darkness. Chu lost consciousness, and four minutes later was brain-dead. The corpse of the Shaoguan came to rest on the bottom of the deep passage of the Bohai Haixia Strait. One last explosion sounded from one of the boiler rooms, and then she remained quiet.

USS SEAWOLF

Michael Pacino shut his eyes in concentration as Jeb’s announcement came over his headset.

“Conn, Sonar, multiple aircraft overhead circling our position. If you put up the scope I think you’ll see about five of them. Most of the contacts are helicopters but I’ve got a definite jet in the mix. And that’s not all. The two destroyers are close now and slowing. I’m guessing they’re inside of their weapons range.”

“Jeb called it. Skipper,” Keebes said.

“Firecontrol range to Target Fourteen is twenty-six thousand yards.

He’s within SS-N-14 range.”

“What now. Captain?” Morris asked, an edge in his voice.

Pacino ignored him.

“Conn, Sonar, the aircraft overhead are backing off.”

“Say again?”

“The aircraft are flying away, they’re bugging out.”

“That’s good,” Morris said.

“No,” from Keebes, his face grim.

“It means the Udaloy destroyer, Target Fourteen, has decided he’s the senior man and wants to fire the killing weapon.

An SS-N-14 will be on the way any minute.”

Morris stepped close to Pacino, who was staring into space in deep thought. Morris tapped his shoulder.

“Pacino, what are you gonna do?”

Michael Pacino blinked and looked at Jack Morris for a long moment, his face blank and hard. When he spoke his tone was that of someone stating the obvious.

“We surrender.”