Terminal Run

McKee clicked into it, the message a transmission from the Leopard, which had been setting up to attack Battlegroup One at the Formosa Strait when he and Petri had called it a night and retired early. McKee expected an after-action situation report. McKee’s orders to Leopard gave her captain, Commander Dixon, wide latitude to either watch and report on the Chinese battle group and wait for reinforcing submarines, or fire on the task force and take out as many high-value units as his weapons load and tactics would allow. Knowing Dixon, the Southerner would consider it a matter of honor to launch the entire torpedo room at the surface force.

But the message was not the expected pre formatted after-action report. McKee’s face dropped into lines of sadness as he read the body of the Email:

242058Z JUN2019

FLASH FLASH FLASH FLASH FLASH

PERSONAL FOR COMMANDING ADMIRAL //

PERSONAL FOR COMMANDING ADMIRAL

FM USS LEOPARD SSN 780

TO COMUSUBCOM

SUBJ SUB SUNK

TOP SECRET BLACK WIDOW AUTHENTICATOR TWO SIX NINE ECHO MIKE FOUR

AUTHENTICATE ONE FIVE FOUR NOVEMBER DELTA FOXTROT QUEBEC TANGO

//BT//

1. (TS) JULANG SSN DETECTED, RANGE TWENTY THOUSAND (20,000) YARDS ON A 254 HERTZ DOUBLET, BROADBAND AND ACOUSTIC DAYLIGHT. JULANG-CLASS ENGAGED WITH VORTEX AND LEOPARD CLEARED DATUM, BELIEVE JULANG SSN DESTROYED.

2. (TS) PRIOR TO JULANG SINKING, JULANGCOUNTERFIRED A SUPERCAVITATING UNDERWATER MISSILE. LEOPARD EVADED BUT HIT AND DAMAGED.

3. (TS) LEOPARD ON SURFACE WITH CATASTROPHIC FLOODING AND SEVERE CREW CASUALTIES INCLUDING COMMANDING OFFICER. SHIP IS SINKING AND SELF-DESTRUCT CHARGES BEING ARMED. CREW IS ABANDONING SHIP THIS APPROX POSITION.

4. (TS) LATITUDE 24 DEC 23 MIN 56 SEC NORTH LONGITUDE 121 DEC 32 MIN 04 SEC EAST, ERROR CIRCLE TWO ZERO NM.

5. (TS) EXECUTIVE OFFICER LCDR. D. PHILLIPS SENDS

//BT//

McKee handed the pad computer to Petri. “Goddamned communications work-around,” the admiral muttered. “This supposed flash message is two damned hours old.”

Petri read the message, her expression falling. When she was done, McKee pushed the machine over to Judison, and while he read it McKee glared at his chief of staff. “Captain Petri, go to the stateroom and work on a recommendation to vector in the nearest submerged units for a rescue, and draft a forwarding message to Admiral Ericcson with this. I want aircraft overhead that position to see to the status of the survivors, and make sure we keep any Red surface units away from them. I want them out of the water in twenty hours. As a lower priority, draft a sitrep for Admiral Patton.”

“Yes, sir,” Petri said, hurrying back to the stateroom. McKee’s face took on the harsh lines of fury.

“Conn, Sonar, loud broadband transient detected, bearing north,” the overhead speaker crackled.

“Sonar, Conn, aye,” Lieutenant Commander Ash Oswald said in a deadpan voice to the bombshell the sonar supervisor just dropped. Oswald was the navigator and Section I officer of the deck of the USS Hammerhead, standing the watch during an uneventful afternoon spent in a flank-speed transit to the intercept point on the anticipated track of the Snare. Oswald glanced at the junior officer of the deck, Lieutenant Junior Grade Melissa White — a talented nonqual air breather who worked for the chief engineer and was a month from earning her gold dolphins — then glanced at the sonar screen on the command console, selecting the waterfall display. There at the bearing marked 000 was a blooming light trace on the dark background. “So how long will that god damned hillbilly sonar supe take to share some information with us?” Oswald said sarcastically to White. “Sonar, Conn, sonar supervisor to control.”

“Yes sir,” a voice immediately said behind him. The sonar chief had been standing there all along. Sonarman Chief Petty Officer Stokes, a strapping and aggressive young technician from western Kentucky, stood leaning with his massive forearm on the stainless-steel rails that surrounded the conn.