Free U.S.S. Seawolf by Patrick Robinson

of remote Pacific islands, running southwest for 540 miles, almost to Taiwan.
    But around these islands is the only deep water in the entire area, before the great continental shelf of the People’s Republic of China rises up to meet incoming submarines, driving them inevitably to the surface, or at least forcing them to leave behind the giveaway trail of a swirling wake.
    Seawolf ’s CO planned to do neither, and in 350 feet of water they patrolled silently below the surface, their speed now down to only 10 knots, the senior officers hoping to God the Chinese had not yet mastered the satellite sub-spotting techniques they had hijacked from the laboratories in California.
    The weekend passed without any change. Four times they accessed the American satellite, and each time there was confirmation that the Xia had not moved. At 0900 on Monday morning, June 26, however, one of Frank’s sonar operators thought he picked up something out to the west: “Hard to explain…just a slight rise in the background level…doesn’t sound much like weather.”
    The CO joined Frank standing behind the operator’s chair, and several minutes went by before they picked up any further sight or sound. “There it is again, sir…right there…we got faint engine lines coming up. Relative one-twenty-five…”
    “Come right to one-thirty-five to resolve ambiguity.”
    Seawolf swerved around while the sonar men tried to resolve the bearing. It took more than 10 minutes because the lines continued to be faint. Kyle Frank called it at 0922: “Bearing two-eight-zero.”
    By now the “waterfall” screen was showing a much more definite picture of the engine lines, and the computer was scanning and comparing at high speed, trying to pinpoint the exact ship they were locating.
    “It’s a submarine, sir, no doubt about that,” said Frank as his eyes darted from one screen to another. For a few moments he was silent, and then he blurted out, “Jesus, sir, it’s Russian…right, here we got ourselves a real live Russky…look at that. It’s a Kilo-class boat, I’d guess ten thousand yards off our starboard quarter…what the hell’s that doing here?”
    “Possibly the same as us—waiting for the Xia ?” asked Rothstein.
    “I doubt it,” replied Judd. “The damn thing’s stacked with Russian technology anyway. I’d be surprised if there was anything they don’t know about it. They’re all best friends these days. They don’t need to spy. I’d say the Kilowas Chinese—I think they have about five of them now, and one of them is out here on some kind of exercise.”
    “Shall we go a little closer, sir…see if we can learn anything?”
    “I think we might, Linus. But I don’t want to go too close, maybe five thousand yards off track. Steer course two-five-zero…make your speed six knots…”
    Seawolf edged in closer, and as she did Kyle Frank’s man picked up a new sound, machinery noise only, bearing one-four-zero.
    “This is possibly a surface ship, sir, moving left slow or stopped, with a diesel engine running…puts us right between the Kilo and him.”
    “I’ll have a look down the bearing, Sonar.” Seawolf ’s CO kept the periscope up for a span of about seven seconds. He instantly identified the contact as a 5,000-ton Dazhi-class support ship. The computer told the sonar room it was 40 years old and carried four electrohydraulic cranes and a large stock of torpedoes.
    “Know what I think?” said the captain.
    But before anyone could answer, Kyle Frank’s sonar operator had picked up another passive contact very close to the Kilo.
    “ Jesus Christ !” said the operator to himself. “ Bastards’ve opened fire on us .” But he was all pro when he made his announcement.
    “TORPEDOES…INCOMING…POSSIBLY TWO…BEARING TWO-EIGHT-THREE…BEARING STEADY…”
    Lt. Commander Clarke said, “My God, sir…what if they have warheads…STAND BY FULL DECOY PATTERN…we ought to be firing back…these bastards are