SSN - Tom Clancy [62]
Mack paused. There were no friendlies in the area, so what could they have been attacking? "Sonar, conn. Did it sound like they got anything?"
"Conn, sonar, no, sir. But I was kinda preoccupied, Captain."
Mack smiled to himself. "Sonar, conn, aye. We're going back after the convoy. Get a clear picture, sonar."
"Conn, sonar, aye."
"Captain. What about the cripples?" the combat systems officer asked. "Are we just going to leave them?"
"That's exactly what we're going to do. Our job is to stop a convoy, not rack up a tonnage score. And your job," Mack added, "is to get me firing solutions on three more convoy ships,"
"Aye, aye, sir," the combat systems officer said.
That diesel submarine bothered Mack. The question that kept coming back to him was how did that diesel know Cheyenne was there? A diesel boat couldn't keep up with the convoy while submerged, and the odds of Cheyenne running into a diesel like that by coincidence right in the middle of the convoy route were simply astronomical.
The executive officer was thinking about the same thing. Suddenly he smacked a fist into his palm. "It makes sense, Captain," he said. "That's why no one stopped for survivors; why the convoy never changed course when we attacked. They've got to maintain course and speed. The damned Chinese have diesel boats sliding into place just in time to protect the convoy. They just sit and wait while we run up and beg to get hit,"
Mack's eyes narrowed as he thought about what the executive officer had said. "You're right," he said. "And that would explain why they have an ex-submarine commanding officer running the convoy. He's the one who cooked up those little surprises."
Mack grinned, and it wasn't a friendly grin. The Chinese commander wasn't the only submariner with a trick or two up his sleeve. He looked up at the clock. "We should be coming up on the next intercept point," he said.
We'll start creeping in a little earlier this time." Mack then ordered Cheyenne to slow to five knots and eased her above the layer.
After giving the orders for getting Cheyenne into position to make another assault on the convoy, Captain Mackey returned to the fire-control party. "We may very well run into another diesel boat hiding out here. So let's stay alert and keep in mind that there could be multiple threats."
No one on board liked the thought of encountering another threat that identified its presence only when it fired a weapon. That was how a Los Angeles class submarine like Cheyenne operated, and they had seen for themselves too many times already just how effective that could be.
But there was no time to dwell on profound realizations. There were targets to pick and a convoy to stop.
The three merchant container ships closest to Cheyenne's position became the next targets, designated Masters 62, 63, and 64. "Let's update the TMA solutions and get it done quickly," Mack said.
Cheyenne glided quietly into her chosen ambush site. Sonar reported no contacts other than the closing convoy. But the convoy escorts had changed their tactics somewhat. Every one of the escorts was maneuvering erratically though still attempting to stay somewhat on station. Waves of active sonar pulsed through the ocean from the escorts as though the sheer mass of energy used could create a protective wall around the convoy. The remaining five convoy ships maintained a steady course, unable to do anything other than watch and wait and hope that someone else would be the next torpedo's victim.
When the fire-control coordinator was satisfied with the TMA solutions, he informed Captain Mackey. Mack then directed that all tubes be made ready, and opened the outer doors on tubes one and two. This time he would take no chances. Another submarine was out there, waiting. He could feel it.
"Sonar, conn. Keep your ears open after we shoot tube one. You might be able to hear an enemy submarine flooding its tubes and opening the doors. Hopefully we can get off a shot before he does." "Conn,