CARRIER 6: COUNTDOWN By Keith Douglass

the Kola channel, searching for intruders precisely like the Galveston.

Ping!

They were getting closer. Montgomery could hear the gentle

chug-chug-chug of the ship’s screws now, gradually growing louder.

Ping!

Just because Galveston’s crew could hear the active sonar of the

approaching surface ship, it didn’t necessarily mean they’d been

spotted.

Sonar was more complicated than simply making a noise and waiting for

the echo; discontinuities in the temperature and salinity of the water

could refract sound waves in odd ways, and a submarine as close to the

bottom as Galveston was now could be lost in the background clutter.

Shipping channels such as this were usually littered with wrecks or with

debris dumped from surface ships, and near naval bases they were sown

with undersea hydrophones, remotely activated mines, and various types

of detection equipment. Even if the Russian sonar operators heard an

echo, they might easily misinterpret it.

Getting any information at all out of a sonar return was an arcane and

mysterious art.

Ping!

The throb of the ship’s propellers sounded almost directly overhead.

Had they spotted the American submarine, now lying directly beneath

their keel?

Throughout the control room, every eye not focused on a specific readout

or instrumentation was fastened on the compartment’s overhead, as though

trying to pierce the double hull and the darkness and the water, to see

the looming presence of the Russian ship as it came closer … closer

… and then the sound of the Riga’s engines was dwindling … fading

into the distance somewhere astern.

And it was gone.

Slowly, Montgomery let out a sigh of pent-up breath. Though the

temperature throughout the boat was always maintained at a comfortable

seventy degrees, Montgomery realized his khaki uniform shirt was sopping

wet beneath his arms and down his spine. His left hand was gripping a

handhold on the attack periscope mounting so tightly his hand had

cramped.

“Just routine,” he said, letting go of the handhold and massaging his

fingers. “Cakewalk.” Several of the men in the control room chuckled

nervously. “Engineering Officer, Captain. Make turns for five knots.”

“Make turns for five knots, aye, sir.”

Galveston continued her creep toward the south, penetrating still deeper

into the Kola Inlet.

0615 hours

Tomcat 201

U.S.S. Thomas Jefferson

Lieutenant j.g. Kathleen “Cat” Garrity sat in the rear seat of the F-14

Tomcat, which was parked on the starboard side of Jefferson’s flight

deck.

The long pins, each tagged with a red flag, that safed her ejection seat

mechanism had already been pulled. In front of her, the Viper Squadron

Co, Commander Willis F. Grant, better known aboard Jefferson by his

call sign “Coyote,” was going through the last of his pre-flight.

“Canopy coming down,” Coyote told her over the Tomcat’s intercom system,

or ICS. The transparent plastic bubble descended slowly over her head,

locking in place with a reassuring thump. “Starting engines.”

Cat’s heart was pounding beneath the tightness of her seat harness and

G-suit, and she could hear the rasp of her own breathing, thick behind

the rubber embrace of her oxygen mask, hissing in her ears. The

Tomcat’s twin F110-GE-400 engines spooled to life, their whine

penetrating the cockpit like rolling, high-pitched thunder. She

concentrated on finishing up her own pre-flight: WCS to STBY; wait for

the Weapons Control System light to come on, then flip the liquid

cooling switch from OFF to AWG-9. “AWG-Nine light’s Out,” she said.

That was as it should be.

“Rog,” Coyote replied.

Next she flipped the Nav Mode switch left of the radar display from OFF

to NAV, set IFF to STBY, and turned the radio knobs to BOTH and ON. On

the console just above her left knee was a keypad. Carefully, reading

from the penciled notations on a pad strapped to her thigh, she keyed in

Jefferson’s current longitude and latitude for the Tomcat’s on-board

computer: 22’05’15’ East, 71’00’35’ North–which translated as about

eighty miles off the northern coast of Norway. Finally she began

checking circuit breakers, by eye for those on her side consoles, and by

reaching up behind her head and feeling for the set behind the seat.

None had popped. Good. “Breakers all go.”

A loud thump from outside the aircraft startled her. The blue-shirted

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