tc.redstormrising-第35部分

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ly　shaken　head。
The　navigator　was　the　most　nervous　of　all。　There　were　all　sorts　of　good　reasons　not　to　be　here。　Chicago　might　or　might　not　have　been　in　Soviet　territorial　water；　itself　a　legal　question　of　no　small　plexity。　To　the　northeast　was　Cape　Kanin；　to　the　northwest；　Cape　Svyatoy。　The　Soviets　claimed　the　entire　region　as　an　〃historic　bay；〃　while　the　United　States　chose　to　recognize　the　international　twenty…four…mile　closure　rule。　Everyone　aboard　knew　that　the　Russians　were　more　likely　to　shoot　today　than　request　a　decision　under　the　International　Law　of　the　Sea　Convention。　Would　the　Russians　find　them？
They　were　in　a　bare　thirty　fathoms　of　water…and；　like　the　great　pelagic　sharks；　nuclear　attack　submarines　are　creatures　of　the　deep；　not　the　shallows。　The　tactical　plot　showed　bearings　to　three　Soviet　patrol　craft；　two　Grisha…class　frigates　and　a　Poti…class　corvette；　all　specialized　antisubmarine　ships。　All　were　miles　away；　but　they　were　still　a　very　real　threat。
The　only　good　news　was　a　storm　overhead。　The　twenty…knot　surface　wind　and　sheets　of　falling　rain　made　noise　that　interfered　with　sonar　performance…but　that　included　their　own　sonar；　and　sonar　was　their　only　safe　means　for　getting　information。
Then　there　were　the　imponderables。　What　sensing　devices　did　the　Soviets　have　in　these　waters？　Might　the　water　be　clear　enough　that　a　circling　helicopter　or　ASW　aircraft　could　see　them？　Might　there　be　a　Tango…class　diesel　boat　out　there；　moving　slowly　on　her　quiet；　battery…powered　electric　motors？　The　only　way　they'd　learn　the　answer　to　any　of　those　questions　was　the　metallic　whine　of　a　torpedo's　high…speed　propellers　or　the　simple　explosion　of　a　falling　depth…bomb。　McCafferty　considered　all　these　things；　and　weighed　the　dangers　against　the　priority　of　his　Flash　directive　from　SUBLANT：
Determine　at　once　the　operating　areas　of　REDFLT　SSBNs。
That　sort　of　language　gave　him　little　leeway。
〃How　tight　is　the　inertial　fix？〃　McCafferty　asked　as　casually　as　he　could。
〃Plus　or　minus　two　hundred　yards。〃　The　navigator　didn't　even　look　up。
The　captain　grunted；　knowing　what　the　navigator　was　thinking。　They　should　have　gotten　a　NAVSTAR　satellite　fix　a　few　hours　ago；　but　the　risk　of　detection　was　too　high　in　an　area　crawling　with　Soviet　surface　craft。　Two　hundred　yards；　plus　or　minus；　was　fine　accuracy　by　any　rational　standard…but　not　while　submerged　in　shallow　water　off　a　hostile　coast。　How　accurate　were　his　charts？　Were　there　unmarked　wrecks　out　there？　Even　if　his　navigational　data　were　pletely　accurate；　quarters　would　be　so　tight　in　another　few　miles　that　a　goof　of　two　hundred　yards　could　ground　them；　damaging　the　submarine　。　。　。　and　making　noise。　The　captain　shrugged　to　himself。　The　Chicago　was　the　best　platform　in　the　world　for　this　mission。　He'd　done　this　sort　of　thing　before；　and　he　couldn't　worry　about　everything　at　the　same　time。　McCafferty　took　a　few　steps　forward　and　leaned　into　the　sonar　partment。
〃How's　our　friend　doing？〃
〃Continuing　as　before；　skipper。　No　changes　at　all　in　the　target's　radiated　noise　level。　Just　toolin'　right　along　at　fifteen　knots；　dead　ahead；　no　more　than　two　thousand　yards　off。　Pleasure　cruise；　like；〃　the　sonar　chief　concluded　with　no　small　irony。
Pleasure　cruise。　The　Soviets　were　sortieing　their　ballistic　missile　submarines　at　intervals　of　one　sub　every　four　hours。　Already　a　majority　of　them　were　at　sea。　They　had　never　done　that　before。　And　all　seemed　to　be　heading　east…not　north　and　northeast　as　they　usually　did　to　cruise　in　the　Barents　or　Kara　seas；　or　most　recently　under　the　arctic　ice　cap　itself。　SACLANT　had　learned　that　piece　of　information　from　Norwegian　P…3　aircraft　patrolling　Checkpoint　Charlie；　the　spot　fifty　miles　offshore　where　Soviet　submarines　always　submerged。　Chicago；　the　nearest　sub　to　the　area；　had　been　sent　to　investigate。
They'd　soon　detected　and　gotten　into　trail　position　behind　a　Delta…III；　a　modem　Soviet　〃boomer；〃　as　missile　subs　were　known。　Trailing　her；　they'd　stayed　within　the　hundred…fathom　curve　the　whole　way　。　。　。　until　the　target　had　turned　southeast　into　shallow　water　toward　Mys　Svyatoy　Nos；　which　led　to　the　entrance　to　the　White　Sea…all　of　which　was　Soviet　territorial　water。
How　far　did　they　dare　follow？　And　what　was　going　on？　McCafferty　returned　to　control　and　went　to　the　periscope　pedestal。
〃Look　around；〃　he　said。　〃Up　scope。〃　A　petty　officer　turned　the　hydraulic　ring　control　and　the　portside　search　periscope　slid　upward　from　its　well。　〃Hold！〃　McCafferty　stooped　at　the　conning　station；　catching　the　instrument　as　the　quartermaster　stopped　it　below　the　surface。　From　a　position　that　was　murderously　unfortable；　the　skipper　duck…walked　the　scope　in　a　full　circle。　On　the　forward　bulkhead　was　a　television　monitor　which　worked　off　a　camera　built　into　the　scope。　It　was　watched　by　the　executive　officer　and　a　senior　petty　officer。
〃No　shadows；〃　McCafferty　said。　Nothing　to　make　him　suspect　that　something　was　there。
〃Concur；　skipper；〃　the　XO　agreed。
〃Check　with　sonar。〃
Forward；　the　sonar　watch　listened　carefully。　Circling　aircraft　made　noise；　and　there　was　about　an　even　chance　that　they'd　heard　it。　But　now　they　heard　nothing…which　didn't　mean　that　nothing　was　there；　like　maybe　a　high…flying　chopper　or　another　Grisha　laying　to；　her　diesels　shut　down　as　she　drifted；　listening　for　someone　like　Chicago。
〃Sonar　says　they　don't　have　anything；　skipper；〃　the　XO　reported。
〃Two　more　feet；〃　McCafferty　ordered。
The　quartermaster　worked　the　lever　again；　bringing　the　periscope　up　by　twenty…three　inches；　just　barely　out　of　the　water　in　the　troughs　of　the　waves。
〃Skipper！〃　It　was　the　senior　ESM　technician。　The　highest　item　on　Chicago's　periscope　was　a　miniature　antenna　array　which　fed　signals　to　a　broadband　receiver。　The　instant　it　projected　above　the　surface；　three　lights　flickered　on　the　ESM　tactical　warning　board。　〃I　read　three…five；　maybe　six　India…band　search　radars。　Signature　characteristics　say　ship　and　land…based　search　radars；　sir；　not；　repeat　not；　aircraft　sets。　Nothing　in　the　Juliet…band。〃　The　technician　started　reading　off　the　bearings。
McCafferty　allowed　himself　to　relax。　There　was　no　way　a　radar　could　detect　so　small　a　target　as　his　periscope　in　these　waves。　He　turned　the　periscope　in　a　plete　circle。　〃I　see　no　surface　ships。　No　aircraft。　Seas　about　five　feet。　Estimate　the　surface　wind　from　the　northwest　at；　oh；　about　twenty；　twenty…five　knots。〃　He　snapped　up　the　handles　and　stepped　back。　〃Down　scope。〃　The　oiled　steel　tube　was　heading　down　before　he'd　spoken　the　second　word。　The　captain　nodded　approval　at　his　quartermaster；　who　held　out　a　stopwatch。　The　scope　had　been　up　above　the　surface　for　a　total　of　5。9　seconds。　After　fifteen　years　in　submarines；　it　still　amazed　him　how　so　many　people　could　do　so　much　in　six　seconds。　When　he'd　gone　through　submarine　school；　the　criterion　had　been　a　seven…second　exposure。
The　navigator　examined　his　chart　quickly；　a　quartermaster　assisting　him　to　plot　the　bearings　to　the　signal　sources。
〃Captain。〃　The　navigator　looked　up。　〃Bearings　are　consistent　with　two　known　shore　radar　transmitters；　and　three　Don…2　sets　match　the　bearings　of　Sierra…2；　…3；　and　…4。〃　He　referred　to　the　plotted　positions　of　the　three　Soviet　surface　ships。　〃We　got　one　unknown；　bearing　zero…fourseven。　What's　that　one　look　like；　Harkins？〃
〃A　land…based　India…band　surface　search；　one　of　those　new　'Shore　Cans；〃'　the　technician　responded；　reading　off　frequency　and　pulse…width　numbers。　〃Weak　signal　and　kinda　fuzzy；　sir。　Lots　of　activity；　though；　and　all　the　transmitters　are　dialed　into　different　frequencies。〃　The　technician　meant　that　the　radar　searches　were　well　coordinated；　so　that　the　radar　transmitters　would　not　interfere　with　one　another。
An　electrician　rewound　the　videotape；　allowing　McCafferty　to　reexamine　what　he'd　seen　through　the　periscope。　The　only　difference　was　that　the　periscope　TV　camera　was　black　and　white。　The　tape　had　to　be　run　at　slow　speed　to　avoid　blurring；　so　rapidly　had　the　captain　made　his　visual　search。
〃Amazing　how　good　nothing　can　look；　eh；　Joe？〃　he　asked　his　executive　officer。　The　cloud　ceiling　was　well　below　a　thousand　feet；　and　the　wave　action　had　rapidly　coated　the　periscope　lens　with　water　droplets。　No　one　had　ever　invented　an　efficient　gadget　for　keeping　that　lens　clear；　McCafferty　reflected；　you'd　think　that　after　eighty…some　years　。　。　。
〃Water　looks　a　little　murky；　too；〃　Joe　answered　hopefully。　A　visual　sighting　by　antisubmarine　warfare　aircraft　is　one　of　the　nightmares　all　submariners　share。
〃Doesn't　look　like　a　nice　day　to　fly；　does　it？　I　don't　think　we　have　to　worry　about　somebody　getting　an　eyeball　sight　on　us。〃　The　captain　spoke　loudly　enough　for　the　control　room　crew　to　hear。
〃The　water　deepens　out　some　for　the　next　two　miles；〃　the　navigator　reported。
〃How　much？〃
〃Five　fathoms；　skipper。
McCafferty　looked　over　at　the　XO；　who　was　conning　the　boat　at　the　moment。　〃Use　it。〃　On　the　other　hand；　some　helicopter　jockey　might　get　lucky　。　。　。
〃Aye。　Diving　officer；　take　her　down　another　twenty　feet。　Gently。〃
〃Aye。〃　The　chief　gave　the　necessary　orders　to　the　planesmen　and　you　could　feel　the　sighs　through　the　attack　center。
McCafferty　shook　his　head。　When　was　the　last　time　you　saw　your　men　look　relieved　over　a　twenty…foot　change　in　depth？　he　ask