Free Nimitz Class by Patrick Robinson Page A

anyway.”
071145JUL02.
    In the ops room of the old eight-thousand-ton Spruance Class destroyer USS Hayler , positioned twenty-five miles off the starboard beam of the Thomas Jefferson , Anti-Submarine Warfare Officer Lieutenant Commander Chuck Freeburg was contemplating the rough weather. In this cavern of electronics warfare, the darkened room, lit mainly by the amber lights on the consoles, was pitching and rolling with the rising sea beyond the kevlar armorplated hull. A new track appeared suddenly on his tactical screen, 5136 UNK.
    Turning to the Surface Warfare Compiler, Freeburg said quickly, “Surface compiler, ASWO, what is Track 5136 based on?”
    “Desk Three reported disappearing radar contact. Four sweeps. No course or speed.”
    “ASWO, aye. Datum established in last known. Datum 5136. Put it on the link.”
071146JUL02. 22N, 64E. Course 035. Speed 12.
On the Admiral’s Bridge of the Thomas Jefferson .
    Big seas have caused the cancellation of all fixed-wing flying. Captain Baldridge is speaking on the internal line.
    “Admiral, I had this disappearing radar contact fifty miles southeast. Datum established on the last known.”
    “How many’s that today, Jack?”
    “That’s the fifteenth I think, Admiral. Must be the weather.”
    “Well, we can’t afford to ignore them. Keep the PIM out of the ten-knot limited line of approach. Get a sonobuoy barrier down, this side of the datum. If it’s a submarine, we’ll hear him as he speeds up. If he stays slow, he’s no threat. If it’s not a submarine, who cares? Don’t wanna waste assets on seagulls.”
    “Aye, sir. We always get ’em around here. I guess there may be some kinda current or upwelling causes it.”
    “Still we don’t want to run scared over four sweeps on a radar scan. Let’s proceed, but keep watching. Lemme know, Jack, if something’s up.”
071430JUL02. 20N, 64E.
Course 320. Beam to sea. Speed 3.
    “Shit! You see that? Jesus Christ! I just seen sonobuoy, starboard side. We nearly hit the fucker. They must have heard us. Holy Christ!
    “Ben! There’s a sonobuoy right out there forty meters. They must have anti-submarine aircraft in the air. Jesus Christ! Ben, we don’t fight U.S. Battle Group, they kill us all.”
    “Cool it, Georgy. Cool it. Keep the speed down to three knots, which means we are silent, and keep listening. Also try to keep that somewhat hysterical edge out of your voice. It will make everyone nervous, even me. Keep creeping forward. And for Christ’s sake cool it. Now let’s have a quick chat in your cabin….”
    “You say cool it! Jesus Christ! Ben, they bring in frigates and choppers, surround us, we caught like rat in a trap. Oh fuck, Ben. Yankee bastards—they kill us, no one never know. Oh fuck.”
    “Georgy, shut up! Let me remind you we have as much right to be in these waters as they have. They will do nothing to usunless they are sure we are going to do something to them. Anyway, I could pass for an Indian officer. I can speak passable Urdu, but my Anglo-Indian is certainly sufficient to confuse an American commander.
    “They have no right to search this ship, and we have committed no offense against anyone. So kindly refrain from panic.”
    “You are a hard man, Ben. But you forget. Americans can do anything. They trigger-happy cowboys. They call everyone to find out about us. We never get out of jail. Like that French bastard Napoleon.”
071600JUL02. 21N, 64E.
Ops Room. Thomas Jefferson.
    “Yeah, I heard the Sea Hawks are back, found nothing. Which at least means there’s not some spooky nuclear boat following us around.”
    “Probably means there’s nothing following us around. They got nothing on the barrier. Hardly surprising in this god-awful weather. Bet it was just a big fish. If there was an SSN snooping around we’d hear him. We’d hear him for sure.”
    “We would if he was nuclear. But I don’t think Captain Baldridge is very happy. He’s been down here in the ops room