USS Washington, SSN 787, “the Blackfish”
Commotion at the sonar stacks drew Knepper’s attention.
They’ve got something, he thought with a satisfied smile.
The report from the sonar supervisor came a beat later.
“Conn, Sonar, sonar holds new narrowband contact, designated Sierra Two-Seven, bearing two-three-seven,” the sonar supervisor said. “Officer of the deck, Sierra Two-Seven is classified as a possible submerged contact.”
“Gimme the deets, Boone,” Juggernaut said, walking over with Knepper to take a look.
“151.7 hertz just fired up out of nowhere. Signal-to-noise ratio is solid,” Boone said, pointing at the bright trace on the waterfall display.
The OOD put her hands on the back of Boone’s seat and leaned in for a look. “Yeah, it is, and the bearing lines up with the clank we heard earlier . . . XO, I think Boone found us a Russian submarine.”
“Looks that way,” Knepper agreed. Why don’t we stay on this course for another five minutes and collect some data, then come to heading 200.”
“I was just going to propose something similar,” she said.
“Great minds think alike.”
“Do you want me to inform the captain?”
“I already woke him up once. Might as well be me this time, too,” he said and headed out of the conn to command passageway to knock on the skipper’s door.
“Come,” Commander Clint Houston said through the door before Knepper could even tap his knuckles on the wood.
Knepper cracked the door open and wasn’t surprised to find the CO sitting up in his rack with a book on his lap and his reading lamp on. No way he was falling back asleep with the possibility of a Russian sub poking around the data hub.
“Captain, we just picked up a narrowband trace on the twenty-nine in the same location as the clank.”
Houston scrubbed his face with his hands, tossed the Tier One novel he’d been reading onto his desk, and swung his legs off the side of the mattress. He slipped his sockless feet into a pair of OluKai Holos and headed out of his stateroom wearing the fear the blackfish T-shirt and gym shorts he’d been sleeping in earlier.
“How long ago did you pick it up?” the skipper asked as he shut the door behind him.
“Just now,” Knepper said.
“Captain in control,” the control room messenger announced as they walked onto the conn together.
“So Juggernaut decided to go fishing. What did you catch me, Jackie?” the captain said.
“I caught you a shark, Captain,” Juggernaut said, crossing her arms on her chest. “Literally.”
Knepper cocked an eyebrow. “It’s an Akula?”
“Yep. Boone just did a lookup in ASD and here’s what popped,” she said and gestured to the monitor on terminal two.
NAME: K-335 Gepard
TYPE: Akula III–class submarine
PENNANT #: 895
STATUS: Active
FLEET: North / Arctic
PORT OF RECORD: Polyarnyy
PROPULSION: Single 7-bladed propeller
SOUND OFFENDERS: 151.7 Hz on port aft quadrant
“Interesting,” Houston said and stared at the middle distance for a moment while the man’s formidable intellect churned through multiple scenarios. He did that from time to time, Knepper had noticed. Finally, the captain spoke. “It’s possible it’s been here the entire time. A silent escort for the Finitor, keeping tabs on the surface activity.”
The theory got a collective nod from everyone in control, because it made perfect sense.
“What do you want me to do, Captain?” Juggernaut said, hands on hips. “Keep tabs from a distance?”
The corners of the CO’s lips curled up into a mischievous grin. “Nope, I want you to get close.”
Juggernaut smiled back. “How close?”
“Really fucking close, Jackie. I want to vacuum up every sound offender we can get on this guy. Also, I want a dead nuts firing solution locked in at all times. The Ford is up there right now, completely vulnerable. And based on the traffic we pulled down on the last broadcast, things are starting to heat up with the Russians. If the CO of the Gepard so much as thinks about engaging the carrier, we need to be ready.” He tapped the Blackfish logo on the middle of his chest and uttered the boat’s battle cry. “Fear the Blackfish.”
Gooseflesh stood up on Knepper’s forearms as he, and everyone on the conn, answered in unison: “Prepared for war!”