Free U.S.S. Seawolf by Patrick Robinson Page A

shooting at us…trying to sink us, sir.”
    “Negative, XO,” replied Captain Crocker.
    “WHAT DO YOU MEAN, NEGATIVE!” Linus Clarke’s voice was almost out of control. “I’M LOOKING AT TWO TORPEDOES INCOMING FROM A CHINESE SUBMARINE!”
    “Sure, Linus. Just shut up for a minute, willya? I’m gonna let ’em go right by. RIGHT STANDARD RUDDER…MAKE YOUR COURSE TWO-EIGHT-THREE.”
    “But how the hell do you know they’re going right by, sir?”
    “Well, first of all they haven’t gone active. Second, it’s gotta be about a hundred to one against the torpedoes being at the same depth as us. And five hundred to one against them being on the exact right course to hit us. That’s an acceptable risk.”
    “POSITIVE TWO TORPEDOES BEARING TWO-EIGHT-THREE…BEARING STILL STEADY, SIR,” called the sonar operator.
    “’Course it is,” replied the captain. “We’ve just wandered into a torpedo test-firing exercise. That old Dazhi support ship I saw is acting as a TRV, torpedo recovery vessel—and none of the Chinese on either ship has the remotest idea we’re here. We’d sure know if they did.”
    Right now, not for the first time in this submarine, the CO and his XO had totally different mindsets.
    Judd Crocker’s thought process had told him with great clarity, Up range from us is an obvious torpedo recovery vessel. The Kilo has loosed a couple off. Neither of them is aimed at me in this small patch of water. I assess it’s at least 5,000 to I against either of the weapons hitting us, and even if one did, it plainly does not have a warhead, and it would not be in any way terminal .
    Linus Clarke’s view was diametrically opposed: We are virtually in enemy waters. These bastards are shooting. Jesus Christ! My captain has placed our submarine right in the path of the torpedoes. He refuses to put out decoys. HE ACTUALLY DOES NOT WANT TO DO ANYTHING…HE MUST BE OUT OF HIS MIND. It’s a basic law of the universe…cover your ass. My God, a minute from now we could all be dead .
    And even as the tortured thoughts of the XO thudded through his brain, the big TEST 96 missiles came cleaving through the water, not increasing in speed from 30 knots, not going active, but nonetheless coming nerve-wrackingly close to USS Seawolf ’s position.
    “Bearing’s still almost steady, sir…I now have two separate weapon tracks…but they’ll pass either side of us…the first one out to starboard, the second a little farther away to port…no danger, sir, unless they switch on active homing.”
    And everyone in the control room area heard the sonar reports.
    “WEAPON ONE MOVING RIGHT TWO-NINE-FIVE…LOUDER…CLOSING…NO TRANSMISSIONS ON THE BEARING.
    “WEAPON TWO MOVING LEFT TWO-SIX-ZERO…LOUDER…NO TRANSMISSIONS ON THE BEARING.”
    A minute later: “WEAPON ONE MOVING RIGHT FAST ZERO-ONE-FIVE…” The tension in his voice was dying. An air of calm was returning. “Weapon two moving left fast two-zero-five…”
    Then, “Weapon one moving right, zero-six-five…slightly fainter…Doppler opening…weapon two moving left, one-six-three, fainter. Doppler opening.”
    “Guess you called that one, sir. They just went right by as if we were just a little old hole in the water,” said Rothstein, smiling and, as he often did, contemplating the complexities of the human mind. Here we had a scenario, not four minutes long, not one minute ago, and we had two highly educated people simultaneously seeing that scenario from totally opposing perspectives. If they’d been in a courtroom giving evidence, the jury would have been in complete confusion. And rightly so . “Almost all evidence,” said Cy to no one in particular, “is colored by opinion. Therefore it should largely be ignored because it is unreliable in the extreme.”
    “Well, my reasoning wasn’t that difficult,” said the CO. “The Chinese obviously did not have a warhead fitted or the Dazhi wouldn’t have been right in the path of the weapons. They