The Seventh Angel - Страница 66

The corners of the captain’s mouth came up slightly. “Everybody knows squids can’t keep their mouths shut. But the fifth launch position has constant air cover now: HIND-D attack helicopters, with frequent over-flights by MiG fighters. There’s not much chance of sneaking another EOD team in there now, and the bad guys are on to the plan. So the Marines must figure that it’s finally safe to tell the Navy.”

He smiled at his own joke. “What was your second question, Dennis?”

“Well, sir,” the young officer said, “we know where the last launch position is, and Zhukov knows that we know. He knows we’ll be watching that spot closely. What makes us think he’ll let his submarine get anywhere near there? It seems to me that his smartest move would be to plant some new launch positions, and keep his sub as far as possible from the one that we already know about.”

“He might well do that,” Captain Bowie said. “If he does, we’ll have to figure out an entirely new way to go after his submarine. But COMPACFLEET thinks our Mr. Zhukov is going to want to demonstrate to the world that he’s still in the game. And they think he’s going to want to do it quickly. They’re expecting something big, and they’re expecting it soon.”

The captain looked around. “Any other questions?”

No one spoke.

Bowie checked his watch. “Alright,” he said. “We’ve already turned north, toward the ice. We’ll be crossing through the Kuril islands just after sunset, a little over two hours from now. We’re going to run quiet and dark — full stealth mode, and full EMCON. We know there are MiGs and helicopter gunships operating just north of our planned search position.”

He turned to one of his officers. “Your show, XO.”

The man he had addressed cleared his throat. “Thank you, Captain.”

Ann had forgotten the man’s name, but she knew that he was the ship’s Executive Officer.

“As the CO mentioned,” the Executive Officer said, “we’ll be operating in close proximity to hostile air cover. And because we’ll be in stealth mode, we’re going to be using passive sensors only. We won’t have any radar to spot the bad guys, or to dodge ice floes, for that matter. We’re going to need as many topside lookouts as we can muster, because we’re going to be depending on human eyes and ears to identify threats to this vessel. Have representatives from your divisions hoof it up to the Boatswains Locker and draw cold weather gear from our UNREP stash for anybody who needs it. It’s going to be freezing up on deck, and I don’t want any of my Sailors getting hypothermia because they don’t have the proper clothing.”

Heads nodded around the small group.

“As the Captain just told us, we’ve got about two hours until sunset,” the XO continued. “We’re going to use that time to strip any unnecessary fittings from the topside of this ship. We’re obviously going to leave the radars, antennas, and weapons alone, and don’t mess with the life lines. We’ll need them when we’ve got Sailors standing up there in the dark. Anything else that’s not vital or protected by PCMS gets unbolted and goes below decks. Fire extinguishers, the J-Bar davits, line handling equipment, whatever. Bring it inside the skin of the ship, and find a temporary place to stow it. We’re going to shave every fraction off of our radar signature that we can.”

He rubbed his chin. “We’d better leave the life rafts alone too. I hope like hell we don’t need them, but things might get ugly tonight, so let’s not take a chance on that.”

“Try to think like ghosts,” he said. “Think of anything you can to make this ship invisible and undetectable. Because if we get caught, those bastards are going to do their best to turn us into ghosts for real.”

He scanned the assembled faces. “Any questions?”

“Yes, sir,” one of the female chiefs said. “What if we’ve got topside gear that won’t fit below decks?”

“If it’s not something we’re going to need immediately, we may have to toss it over the side,” the XO said. “If you’re in doubt, ask your Department Head. Make sure you get the serial number off of anything that goes in the drink. We’re going to have to account for that stuff later.”

If there is a later, Ann thought.

The XO looked around again. “Any more questions?”

No one spoke.

The XO clapped his hands. “Alright, people. Let’s get to it.”

CHAPTER 54

MOUSE (MULTI-PURPOSE AUTONOMOUS UNDERWATER SYSTEM)

SOUTHEASTERN SEA OF OKHOTSK

THURSDAY; 07 MARCH

2139 hours (9:39 PM)

TIME ZONE +11 ‘LIMA’

It began with a single frequency. The sound was weak at first, hovering right at the detection threshold for Mouse’s passive sonar sensors, so the robot tagged the tonal, and began sending frequency and bearing information to its onboard acoustic processors for evaluation. The signal was very close to one of the frequencies listed in the robot’s library of mission data. It was one of the tonals that Mouse’s target was known to generate. But the signal strength was only fractionally higher than the ambient noise level under the ice pack. It was too weak and intermittent for tactical exploitation, and there were no corroborating frequencies to make further identification possible.

Mouse’s onboard computer labeled the lone frequency as “Investigatory Signal #1,” and assigned a confidence factor of 02.1 %. Mouse was 2.1 % certain that Investigatory Signal #1 was the target the robot had been programmed to find.

The mission was only a few hours old, and Mouse still had most of the search grid left to cover. The computer weighed this knowledge against the low confidence factor it had assigned to Investigatory Signal #1, and decided not to deviate from the search grid to pursue the weak signal. Instead, it would monitor the frequency, and reevaluate later if the circumstances changed.

The robot continued on its course, gliding slowly but quietly toward the next waypoint in the search grid. It cruised past ice keels, which it identified only as navigational hazards, and through swarming schools of under-ice krill, which it recognized only as a source of non-target noises. Mouse was neither interested in these things, nor distracted by them. Despite a high-degree of functional autonomy, it was a very single-minded machine. It had been programmed to carry out a task, and anything not directly related to that task was irrelevant.

As Mouse followed the search grid, the strength of Investigatory Signal #1 began to fade. The robot’s computer noted the waning signal strength, but decided that the priority of such a low-confidence tonal was too low to justify turning away from the search program.

Mouse reached the next programmed waypoint, and turned thirty-five degrees to starboard, to begin its transit toward the waypoint after that. Almost immediately after the robot made the turn, the strength of Investigatory Signal #1 began to increase.

It was slow at first, the signal growing stronger by tiny increments. After three minutes on the new course, the signal strength began increasing more rapidly.

The robot detected a second acoustic frequency, on the same bearing as Investigatory Signal #1. The second signal was routed to acoustic processing, and was identified as another tonal that Mouse’s target was known to generate. The computer tagged the new frequency as Investigatory Signal #2, and noted that the strength of both signals were increasing now.

To say that Mouse became excited would be both an overstatement, and a misnomer. The robot had no emotions whatsoever. It neither liked, not disliked anything. It had no preferences, or fears. Nevertheless, an examination of the machine’s electronic mission records might have easily led an unknowing person to make that mistake.

The electrical activity inside the robot increased dramatically. Mouse’s computer began loading and activating additional subroutines and library function calls as it continued to evaluate the signals that its sonar sensors were tracking. The confidence factor rose to 12.7 %, and then 25.8 %, and then 33.2 %.

Based on signal strength and bearing drift, the computer decided to deviate from its programmed search grid. It was not a large enough deviation to affect the integrity of the search, but a small one that could be easily compensated for if the signals did not turn out to be the target of interest.

The robot turned seven more degrees to starboard, and was almost instantly rewarded with a third acoustic signal. Another search of the mission library revealed that this new frequency, Investigatory Signal #3, was also one of the tonals that the target was known to generate.

More significantly, this third tonal was one of the designated class identifiers. Unlike the first two frequencies — which might have originated from many underwater sources, including Delta III class submarines — this new frequency was known to come only from Delta III class submarines. There were no other known underwater sources for this particular frequency.

In the world of passive sonar, a class identifier is the acoustic equivalent of DNA evidence. It’s as close to positive identification as the physical limitations of the audio spectrum will permit.

The robot’s mission library included the acoustic class identifiers for the target Mouse had been programmed to find. Based on the newly-detected frequency, the computer elevated its confidence factor to 98.2 %. Mouse was now 98.2 % certain that it had located the assigned target.