Free Defcon One (1989) by Joe Weber

his voice only a whisper to Mcconnell.
    You may be right. Ken. Mcconnell looked at his watch and continued, If my message didn't reach the Constellation I didn't see any friendlies overhead then we're on our own.
    And being depth-charged, Houston reminded his friend in a quiet voice.
    And being depth-charged, Mcconnell acknowledged.
    My first instinct was correct. Blow the friggin' Russian off the planet and get the hell out of here. If they are setting us up for a sub, which seems like a logical conclusion, we don't have a lot of time, Mcconnell said as he reaffirmed their position on the chart table.
    Chief, stay close on our sonar, Mcconnell ordered Booker, we may have a Russian sub stalking us.
    Aye, Cap'n, Booker responded, concentrating intently as he turned up the gain on the sonar, listening intently.
    The captain ordered the Tennessee back to periscope depth in order to get a visual confirmation on the Soviet ASW ship.
    Give me a solution, Mcconnell ordered his exec, now handling the control room as fire control coordinator.
    Aye, Skipper, Houston responded as he viewed the data input to the Mk-117 fire-control computer.
    The Tennessee's Mk-48 torpedoes were the most powerful in the U.S.arsenal, wire-guided and capable of homing on a target with its own sonar. Captain Mcconnell knew that a fifty-knot torpedo would do the job. Two Mk-48 torpedoes would be even better.
    Solution, Skipper, Houston reported, double-checking the computer readout with his own figures.
    Go, Mcconnell responded.
    Bearing three-four-zero. Range is five thousand, four hundred yards.
    Running time four minutes, five seconds, Houston reported, adrenaline coursing through his veins.
    Stand by tubes three and four, Mcconnell ordered as he prepared to raise the main periscope.
    The torpedo tubes were flooded down and ready for launch.
    Confirm tubes three and four, Houston replied, looking around the crowded control room.
    No one was breathing, not even blinking. The reality of the imminent assault on the Russian ship was registering.
    I can't believe this, Mcconnell said quietly to his exec, as perspiration formed under his ball cap.
    They depth-charged us first. Mark. We have every right to defend ourselves, Houston said in a steady, even tone.
    Up periscope, Mcconnell ordered, as he gripped the hand controls and again swept the horizon through 360 degrees. Stopping on the Akhromeyev, Mcconnell visually and verbally confirmed the Soviet ASW ship.
    Stepping back, the captain asked his executive officer to verify the target for decision continuity. The visual confirmation, unless in a declared war, had been instituted after the Iranian Airbus tragedy in 1988.
    Russian Udaloy-class ASW ship, confirmed, Houston said, noting that one of the Kamov helicopters was refueling on the aft helo-pad.
    Ivan the bombardier is about to receive the surprise of his life, Houston said quietly as the skipper stepped back to the periscope.
    Fire three, Mcconnell ordered.
    The Tennessee shuddered as the compressed air charge shoved the big Mk-48 out the number three torpedo tube.
    Three fired, sir, responded the control room speaker after receiving confirmation from the torpedo room.
    Fire four, Mcconnell repeated as he slammed the handles upward and stepped back from the descending periscope.
    Another shudder. Then the eerie sound of two torpedoes generating increasing energy as they reached maximum speed.
    Four fired, sir.
    Take her down, right full rudder, all ahead flank! Mcconnell ordered the helmsman.
    Sonar, what do you have? the captain queried Chief Booker.
    Both fish running hot and true, sir. Two minutes fifty-five seconds to go on the first torpedo. Skipper.
    Okay, let me
    Depth charges! Booker interrupted the captain.
    Rudder amidship. Take her to four hundred feet, Mcconnell barked, noticing the navigator flinch.
    The Tennessee plunged ahead as every crew member grabbed for a handhold.
    KAMOV-27 #ONE
    The pilot of Akhromeyev One, Mladshiy Leytenant