Hayat placed his teacup on a podium and aimed a laser pointer at a wall-sized monitor. Square symbols represented surface ships of the Japanese convoy and its Taiwanese escort frigates. Inverted triangles represented submarines. Color differentiated friend from foe.
“The Hamza was on its third day of a seven-day patrol with your commodore onboard for observation,” he said. “Intelligence suggested that a large convoy of Japanese tankers was loaded with fuel and possible weaponry with the ultimate destination of Keelung, Taiwan.”
Beside him, the same interpreter who had accompanied him on patrol translated his debrief into Mandarin.
“The Taiwanese frigates Kang Ding and Hung La left port two days prior to the event,” Hayat said. “Chinese maritime reconnaissance aircraft spotted the Japanese convoy a day prior to its rendezvous with the frigates.”
He surveyed his audience while the interpreter translated. The captains and executive officers of China’s East Sea Fleet submarines were jammed into the small auditorium. The most capable officers–the half of the dozen who commanded China’s state of the art Russian-built Kilo class submarines–sat in the front row with the commodore. The other half dozen were at sea enforcing the blockade.
Interspersed with the Kilo commanders sat half of the ten captains of indigenously-built Songs, respectable submarines less capable than the Kilos, and one commander each of the pre-commissioning crews of the anticipated stealthy and capable Yuan diesel and of the next-generation nuclear attack submarine, Shang.
A few captains of the older Ming and Romeo submarines, younger and of lower rank than the leaders of the more capable vessels, sat behind the rest. Hayat realized that the young captains, who appeared eager and sharp, had been recalled to port for his training session.
Very wise, he thought. With my enlightenment, these capable men may soon join the world’s elite.
“The maritime aircraft estimated the convoy’s course, and the Hamza was summoned to the surface so that the commodore could broadcast the strike plan.”
The interpreter’s translations became a drone as Hayat relived and taught his tactics to attentive listeners.
“Five submarines were within range to intercept the convoy–the Hamza and four Romeo submarines, commanded by Commanders Sun, Chin, Xiong, and Hou. But Hou needed to snorkel, and he could not take part in the attack.”
As Hayat mentioned the names, he swept a laser dot over each submarine on the monitor.
“Sun took a position to the north, followed along the convoy’s track by Chin, me, and Xiong at eight-nautical mile intervals. We knew American submarines had been reconnoitering the area and that interference was possible. Knowing this, I was able to respond when the La Jolla revealed itself by launching a weapon at Sun’s boat.”
The crowd stirred, and he realized those present were reacting to the two lost Chinese submarine crews.
“I used the knowledge of Sun’s position, Doppler effect, and knowledge of American torpedo speeds to solve the La Jolla’s position. I verified the position with the hole-in-ocean display in the lower broadband frequencies. Targeting was adequate to engage with a torpedo, but I opted to employ a Shkval rocket to reduce time-to-target with hopes of pre-empting the attack against Chin.
“My weapon arrived too late for Sun, but it flustered the La Jolla as it targeted Chin. Stop play here.”
The symbols on the monitor froze.
“Evidence suggests that Chin performed a textbook evasive maneuver for the first torpedo. Unfortunately, the first torpedo was the leading weapon of two. As Chin turned one-hundred and forty degrees, he successfully opened range from the lead torpedo. But this placed him on a collision course with the second, lagging, torpedo.”
He paused for breath and then continued.
“In multiple-vessel engagements, submerged adversaries may not have time to resolve tight solutions and may compensate with a lead-lag two-weapon salvo. Chin could have optimized his evasion by turning one hundred degrees and seeking the edge of each weapon’s seeker’s acoustic acquisition zone.”
Members of Hayat’s audience nodded, pointed, and whispered. Some scribbled notes.
“Your Kilo submarines and probably your Songs can defeat a capable submarine as I did with the Hamza, except for launching the rocket, which is too large for conventional tubes. Given the results of the Shkval, I recommend that you modify one tube per ship to support using the rocket, as your shipyard did for the Hamza. Continue play.”
The symbols moved again.
“After crippling the La Jolla, I finished it with a second Shkval. Then I was able to re-engage the convoy.”
A wireless phone vibrated in his pocket.
“I need to answer this,” Hayat said.
The interpreter nodded as Hayat lifted the phone to his ear.
“Modifications are complete, sir,” Raja said.
“The second sixty-five centimeter tube?”
“Welding and hydrostatic testing are complete.”
“The Shkvals?”
“There are four onboard. One in a tube, three on the racks.”
“And the special heavyweight torpedoes?”
“Four weapons, sir, as the commodore arranged. One each loaded in tubes one and two, both tubes flooded. We have continuity between the weapons and the fire control system. I am ready to carry out your order.”
“Well done, Raja,” Hayat said. “If you do not hear from me in an hour, you know what to do.”
Hayat slid the phone into his pocket and noticed that the scene on the monitor had run to its end. The Commodore had climbed onstage and stood beside him, speaking. The interpreter translated.
“Thank you for the debriefing. We would like to focus the question and answer session on anti-submarine warfare. The opportunities of the next patrol–”
“There will be no more patrols for the Hamza in support of Chinese efforts,” Hayat said.
The interpreter remained silent.
“Tell him,” Hayat said, “that I’ve fulfilled my obligation by establishing Chinese subsurface dominance in the waters surrounding Taiwan.”
The interpreter exchanged words and spoke for the commodore.
“There will be more convoys, and there is no guarantee that the Americans will not return. You must stay.”
“You are skilled at anti-surface combat and don’t need my help. And by sinking the La Jolla, I have forced the Americans to shy away from the region.”
“If they don’t?” the commodore asked through the interpreter. “Then what? You are obliged to patrol our waters until Taiwan falls.”
“I drove back your greatest adversary, and if America comes again, I’ve taught you how to fight them.”
Hayat started off the stage.
“You are forbidden to leave.”
“Forbidden?” he asked.
“We have invested many resources into your submarine at great diplomatic risk. If you will not honor your obligation, we will detain your crew, take back our nuclear torpedoes, and confiscate your submarine.”
Hayat looked at his watch.
“I have honored my obligation,” he said. “But if you insist on disagreeing and restrict me, my executive officer will destroy the Hamza in fifty-five minutes.”
“You would destroy your own ship?”
“No,” Hayat said. “I will detonate two of the heavyweight nuclear torpedoes you just loaded. I will destroy not just my ship, but your base, your East Sea Fleet Command, and many of the inhabitants of the city of Ningbo. The fallout will carry as far as Shanghai.”
The interpreter glared at Hayat.
“I won’t embarrass you by translating that. It’s a bluff. The physical safeguards are–”
“Irrelevant,” Hayat said. “I can create conditions to simulate a true nuclear-tipped torpedo attack.”
The interpreter smirked.
“Impossible. The Hamza is in dry dock.”
“My tubes are flooded from my interior tanks, and the weapons’ water sensors believe they are immersed. Raja will launch the weapons into your dry dock, and the impulse of the launch will suffice for the accelerometer interlock. Before the weapons land in the concrete basin, Raja will command-detonate them through the guidance wires.”
The interpreter’s face betrayed his concern.
“You wouldn’t,” he said.
“Safeguards are designed to prevent unintentional launch,” Hayat said. “With tactical weapons, even nuclear-tipped ones, it’s quite simple to purposely set them off. Do not doubt my resolve.”
“If you leave, I will inform Karachi of your whereabouts,” the interpreter said. “That would hinder your plans.”
“If any Pakistani asset approaches me, I will know it was your doing and will return to make Ningbo the victim of my attack. Begin flooding your dry dock immediately and have tugs standing by to enable the Hamza’s egress to open ocean by nightfall.”
“Why?” the interpreter asked. “Why such an extreme act? What is your urgency?”
The question made Hayat aware of the constant pain he normally ignored. Cancer cells metastasizing from his pancreas to his stomach, liver, and vertebrae compressed the bundle of nerves at the base of his spinal cord. Codeine kept the pain tolerable, but Hayat felt his biological clock clicking away.
“I have a destiny to fulfill,” he said, “and Allah demands that I hurry.”