"-Therefore the history of sea power, while embracing in its broad sweep all that tends to make a people great upon the sea or by the sea, is largely a military history..."
- Alfred Thayer Mahan, The Influence of Sea Power Upon History, 1660-1783
Convoy NAT-889, North Atlantic, 600 miles south of Iceland, 18-10-2025, 0340 Zulu.
Commander Matthew Edwards watched the sea from the bridge wing as the Ernest E. Evans, DDG-221, glided through the sea. She was quieter than a Zumwalt, owing to her twin pump-jet propellers that left only a faint ripple in the water, their blades not needing to exceed cavitation speed to keep pace with the large cargo ships and oil tankers of their convoy. She was a Heerman class Guided Missile Destroyer and his pride and joy.
They had been detached from their normal role as part of Carrier Strike Group 10 and placed on convoy escort duty while the George H.W. Bush CVN-73 was in drydock following a collision with the USS Leyte Gulf CG-55 in the Norwegian Sea earlier that year. Only one other ship, also from DESRON-26, USS Stout DDG-55, was in the convoy. While only two escorts for twenty odd transport ships would normally be considered paltry, the waters along the Atlantic Trade lanes were crawling with ASW groups and SSNs looking for isolated Siren raiding groups to add to their kill tallies. No, they were well protected. The destroyers were there, primarily for their sensors. The heavy lifting would be done by some of the personnel they carried onboard if serious trouble ever arose.
"What's the status of the sonar contact?" He asked, the question directed at a seaman who was waiting patiently to relay his orders. Edwards continued staring out at the sea, as if willing the sonar contact seventy nautical miles to their northwest to reveal who they were. He impatiently tapped on the railing, waiting for information that would determine if he would authorize a weapons release.
Behind the ship, a mile long cable connected to a pod containing a series of highly sensitive hydrophones. These measured the tiny perturbations and noises created by spinning propellers and the vibration of machinery that vessels produced, giving each ship a unique acoustic signature. Able to pick up on submarines hundreds of miles away, the system had the capability to even detect the comparatively miniscule acoustic signature of a Kansen in calm weather conditions.
While the Evans was a quiet ship, the separation between the propellers and the towed sonar array gave a far more favorable signal-to-noise ratio, allowing the passive sonar to more easily identify and locate sources of noise. To further aid in ASW operations, the pod could adjust its depth by using a pair of hydroplanes on either side of it, allowing it to move above or below the thermocline to listen in on acoustic signatures that would normally be obscured due to the distortions caused by the steep temperature gradient. In the case of the Evans, this meant they could detect deep-diving submarines that used the thermal layer to hide, a tactic the current contact was employing. It had previously spent an unknown amount of time above the layer, judging by how their bow sonar detected it first, followed by the towed array an hour later from below the layer.
They had held their current heading for the last two hours, carefully plotting the readings they received as they lost and reacquired contact with the vessel multiple times. These readings were interpreted with a distance and bearing being calculated by one of the ship's computers under direction by the Anti-Submarine Warfare Division and then handed off to fire-control. Inside the amidships VLS cells a Sea-Lance missile cooked, its inertial navigation system being continuously updated by the fire-control computer as more information was received and interpreted from the sonar array. All Edwards needed to do in order to fire was give the go-ahead, but that was, in turn, dependent on confirmation of the target's identity, an identity which had eluded them so far.
The Sea-Lance itself was a standoff ASW weapon either armed with a Mk-50 or Mk-54 lightweight torpedo or, alternatively, a 200 kiloton nuclear depth charge and launched out to a range of around a hundred nautical miles. It was the equivalent of the Soviet SS-N-16 Stallion, though with the key distinction, it could be launched from surface ships as well as submarines. Given the disastrous results of using nuclear weapons against the Sirens, as what was left of Boston and Murmansk could attest, the former payload option was favored. The latter would only be unlocked these days if the Masada Option was invoked. In that event, there were far greater problems afoot than worrying about Siren retaliation.
"It's a Foxtrot, one of ours." The seaman said after getting a response from the CIC.
Edwards nodded and let out a sigh. He stopped his tapping and went into the bridge and aft to the CIC connected to it. He liked that about the Heermans. The two spaces could be seamlessly integrated when not under battle conditions. It made things more personal in his opinion.
"Do you mind telling me what a Foxtrot's doing down here?" He asked as he took up his position in the CIC. The Anti-Submarine Warfare Evaluator stepped down, relinquishing control as his job was now done. It was odd for a Soviet or Pact boat to be operating in this sector, much less without SURFLANT or SACLANT notifying them.
"Probably just lost, sir. They're old boats. Not as bad as the Whiskeys, but those are practically Second World War vintage, no offense to the lady." The ASWE said, nodding to the young woman that had been shadowing Edwards this whole time.
She was young, probably not far off from Edwards' 30 years, though he would never describe himself as young. The description would also fall apart once one reached his eyes and the crows-feet that radiated out of them like the blast pattern of an artillery shell. Still, she was more his peer in physical age than most of the Senior Officers he rubbed shoulders with.
She laughed in her polite, distinctly English way. "Oh, it's no worry, love. I do feel my age at times." She said in a well-bred accent.
Edwards grinned at the officer's embarrassment.
He shifted to the woman. "Speaking of, Hood, what's the status of your girls?" He asked.
"The ladies are doing fine, if a little bored." She said, nodding out towards where they had entered.
"Good. I'd rather have them bored than excited at the moment." He said, casting her a glance. "See if you can get some rest. I want you at a hundred percent if we have trouble."
"Of , sir. Is there anything else I can provide?" She asked.
Edwards checked the chronometer and said, "No, we're good for scouting, so let's save the fuel. Supposed to have a couple P-8s running interference." He looked up and reiterated, "What's important is you and yours are ready to go."
"Naturally." she said, waiting expectantly.
"You're dismissed." Edwards said, nodding to the Battlecruiser.
"Until later Commander." Hood said, walking off to the quarters that their Kansen escort group occupied.
"You two seem to get along well." His XO, Lieutenant Commander Darrell Walker, observed after she left.
"She's certainly agreeable." Edwards conceded.
He had worked with Hood a couple of times over the years and found that she could be implicitly trusted. He liked that about her over a lot of the other Kansen. Hood was guaranteed to listen to what you said and respect it. He wouldn't say the two of them were friends. As a senior officer, you didn't have many friends in the traditional sense, but they certainly were acquaintances.
Walker chuckled in his rich Alabama baritone. "Just wait until they run you out of a job." He said.
"They'll get you too and we'll both end up pushing papers in Norfolk or Washington, if we're lucky." Edwards replied, giving a wry smile.
It was a lie. The Kansen were not going to replace crewed ships and both of them knew it. Not until they could take on modern hulls, that is. Even the old Essexes that had been surged after the initiation of hostilities and the remaining Gearings and the GUPPY boats that were still floating around these days were incompatible with Wisdom Cubes.
"Sonar, anything else to report?" Edwards asked, refocusing on his command. Technically, it was out of protocol for him to ask Sonar directly instead of going through the ASWE, but Edwards wanted to hear it from the kid's mouth.
"Negative, just the pitter-patter of the Stout." He said, smiling, riding on the humor of Hood's earlier comment and, subsequently, his superior's embarrassment.
That pitter-patter was the product of an acoustic dampening process known as a Prairie-Masker system. Masker was a sheath of air bubbles expelled from two bands that ran transversally along the hull forward of each of the gas turbines on most U.S. navy surface ships in order to obscure the noise of their machinery. Operating under similar principles, Prairie worked on the propellers where air-bubbles were released from the edges to disrupt the cavitations and dampen their sharp acoustic signature. Combined, they couldn't outright eliminate the acoustic signature of a ship, but they could suppress it and make the ship harder to identify, often sounding like rain on the ocean. The Evans had its own Prairie-Masker , but it was normally turned off as with the pump-jets. Avoiding detection was more important and pertinent than avoiding identification.
"Great." Edwards said, reflexively checking the ship's chronometer again. It was a hair before 0400 Zulu time. He'd been up for more than 24 hours by now and no amount of coffee or modafinil was going to offset his slowly building exhaustion from the many sleepless days he had spent escorting this convoy.
"Walker, I'm going to turn in for a bit." Edwards said, rubbing a tired eye.
"I am ready to relieve you sir." Walker said, having already been in-tune with the current activities after the sonar contact was detected.
"I am ready to be relieved. Make sure I'm up by 0800. Wake me if anything else happens." Edwards said.
"Aye, you stand relieved." Walker said.
"I stand relieved." Edwards replied. He pulled out the mouthpiece to connect him to the bridge. "Attention to the bridge. Lieutenant Commander Walker has the deck." He said into it and replaced the microphone, saluting Walker as a matter to cap off the ritual.
Walker responded in kind, and Edwards sighed tiredly.
"I can handle the morning watch. See you in a bit." Walker said.
Edwards nodded and quietly left the CIC. He didn't have far to walk. His "At Sea" quarters were just aft of the CIC in the event he was needed. He had a proper captain's stateroom below, but that was reserved for when he was in port. It was unusual for a destroyer to have such a configuration, but the Heerman class displaced more tonnage than a Ticonderoga and held significantly fewer men. Consequently, more space could be devoted to such elements. He didn't know if he should be happy with this. His stateroom was far nicer, but he also needed to be at the CIC the moment a threat appeared.
Whatever the matter, it was a moot point. He surrendered his stateroom to the Kansen before they left port anyways, and it would be distinctly inappropriate for him to intrude. It was both a matter of convenience and security, not only for the Kansen, but for himself and some of the items stored in his stateroom.
There was a tiny shower-toilet-sink combination tucked into a space smaller than most armoires. He readily used it, feeling somewhat rejuvenated after the luxury of hot water rolled over him. He changed into a fresh set of fatigues and passed out on his small rack.
Edwards was awoken by the piercing Botswain's whistle.
Then the dreaded voice over the PA announced, "GENERAL QUARTERS GENERAL QUARTERS ALL HANDS MAN YOUR BATTLE STATIONS! SET CONDITION ONE THROUGHOUT THE SHIP!"
He was up in a flash, not thinking so much as acting on instinct as the GQ alarm blared. He undogged the door to his room, closing it behind him, and pushed past the sailors manning their positions as he moved to the CIC.
His hands reflexively moved as he ran the twenty steps to the CIC, pulling his anti-flash hood over the top of his head and pulling up his front mask, covering his head in the protective Nomex cowl that would save him from the worst of a fire.
The CIC was a scene of controlled chaos.
"What's the situation Walker!" He asked, not bothering to get to his post in the CIC before asking the question.
"Siren rupture bearing 0-1-0, range twenty miles, sir!" Walker announced reflexively.
"SRO, do we have a count?" Edwards asked the Surface Radar Officer, trying desperately to keep the panic out of his voice as he took over his role as the highest authority present. The Sirens were right on top of them. Walker shifted into his role as the Kansen Coordination Officer now that Edwards was in overall command.
To finish the abbreviated handoff, Walker called to the bridge, "Attention to the bridge. Commander Edwards has the Conn!"
"Sir Numerous Contacts! Too many to get a good picture!" the SRO said.
Edwards turned to Walker. "Walker, what's the status of the Kansen?" He asked as Walker finished updating the bridge.
"They're deploying, sir!" Walker said, steadying his nerves and matching Edwards' inflection.
Edwards quietly noted that Walker would make a good commander if he could keep his calm. He was rewarded when Walker relayed bridge information to the Kansen, keeping the same tone as before.
"Good. SRO, do you have a solution on the Sirens?" Edwards asked.
"Sir, we have tracks on 2-2 ships! The rest are undefined!" SRO said.
Edwards confirmed the tracks on the Tactical Plot, the polar coordinate call-outs being changed into the Cartesian format of the plot. Assigned next to each isolated signal was a designation as the Identification Supervisor checked the contacts with IFF and compared their signatures with that of known Siren ships.
Edwards let out a breath that could not be heard nor seen below his mask. He closed his eyes for a half second and focused. He lacked the Tactical Action Officer that was normally a part of the CIC due to a dearth of officers being recruited into the Navy. As such, Edwards had to both think on the broader tactical level and work down to the details of the engagement. This suited Edwards just fine.
His eyes snapped open. "Weapons release authorized. SAO Prioritize Rooks and Queens, three 1Bs per, salvo Harpoons, two per ship on Bishops and Knights, get our SAMs in Anti-surface mode and target at your discretion, hold Tomahawks in reserve. Gun, HVP, pick smaller targets!" Edwards ordered quickly to the standing Surface Action Officer, mentally calculating the situation as he looked at the readout. The Siren fleet was large and to their north. They were already at flank speed and moving east, trying to stay out of effective range of the Siren guns and hopefully draw them away from the convoy. They no longer had the advantage of a quiet acoustic signature as the propeller blades cavitated, creating a series of distinctive cracks and pops that a passive sonar would pick up on. The ship compensated and a sheath of air bubbles formed around the amidships and propellers as the Evans' own Prairie-Masker system activated.
These measures only worked on potential sub-surface threats as the ship's radars, while painting the enemy, also broadcast their location for hundreds of miles around. Given that the Sirens were practically within spitting range, this was more a formality, as visual contact could be made with some of their closer vessels.
Edwards thought for a moment and said, "EWS start pinging those ships with a laser rangefinder and electronic attack equipment. I want them focused on us. Helm, heading 0-8-0, let's keep them away. Prepare for surface action, inform the Stout that we're going to try to draw them off."
"Aye sir!" the Electronic Warfare Supervisor said before relaying Edwards' orders to her superior, the Electronic Warfare Officer and the accompanying Division.
"Heading 0-8-0, aye!"
The CIC was settling into the well drilled and well-oiled machine that Edwards had worked to cultivate out of the fairly green crew.
The move seemed to work and a large portion of the Siren fleet was breaking off to follow them, but some were still heading south.
"ALL HANDS SURFACE ACTION STATIONS! ALL HANDS SURFACE ACTION STATIONS!" the PA read.
"KCO, send the Kansen to cover the convoy! SAO, prioritize targets trying to interdict the convoy!" Edwards ordered Walker, watching the lumbering ships ten miles to their southwest turn south to try and improve their odds of survival.
"Aye sir! Informing Hood." Walker said before focusing on the Kansen Coordination Division.
The surface warfare division stumbled, working to quickly re-task missiles before they executed the launch. Edwards winced, but the delay didn't pose any serious additional risk to themselves or their charges.
The swish of missile launches could be felt through the deck as the sixteen Harpoon missiles they carried salvoed out at the fast cruiser units that were heading towards the convoy.
The missiles' boosters kicked them out of their deck-mounted canisters, accelerating them to several hundred knots before the solid rocket motor fell away and the ramjet sustainer engine kicked in, allowing the missiles to skim at wave-top height towards their targets. Telemetries provided by the ship's radar gave them initial guidance information, while a radar altimeter ensured they didn't dip too close to the waves.
More vibrations were felt as SM-6 Block IB missiles were launched out of the forward VLS cell. The Block IB was a modified anti-surface warfare variant of the RIM-174 Standard Extended Range Active Missile. It carried a hardened penetrator warhead and was programmed to loft high into the air and come down at hypersonic velocities onto a target.
At this range, its path was almost directly up and down, and despite its higher speed, it would arrive at about the same time as the Harpoons. Edwards watched the dozen Block IBs they carried rocket high into the atmosphere on their courses as the Harpoons closed in on their targets. The approach style meant the SM-6 was not a particularly subtle weapon, but it could easily render a major surface combatant combat ineffective with a good hit.
30 miles to their west, Stout had launched their Harpoons as well, and was in the process of launching their IBs when radar picked up a new series of contacts.
"Stout detects air threat, axis is 3-4-4! Count is 1-0-0, Range 5-0!" The Tactical Information Coordinator called out as the Stout's data link provided a clear picture of the incoming aircraft. Soon the Evan's air plot showed the threats and the radar station indicated they had independent tracks on the targets.
"AAWC has engagement priority. Enter automatic target tracking mode!" Edwards ordered, giving the Anti-Air Warfare Coordinator control over the weapons systems.
He was micromanaging again. He internally chastised himself for the move, but nothing more. Most of this crew hadn't seen action before and he wanted them to get out of this.
From there, the AAWC passed orders to the Missile Systems Supervisor as she prepared the engagement. With a flick of a switch, Aegis was allowed to begin engagement, and immediately began assigning targets with a priority of destruction. Information was beginning to be fed from the Stout via the TIC, which was undergoing the same process, creating an overlay of target assignments on the board.
With the targets locked in, Aegis began prosecuting them, considering a number of factors from range, altitude, bearing, airspeed, and position within the enemy formation before assigning each an interceptor missile or round.
The forward gun, which was in the process of firing on a Pawn class destroyer, stopped and readjusted, angling up. Its chambers filled with a mixture of cryogenically stored oxygen, hydrogen, and helium until the computer calculated optimal propellant load and shut off the inlet tube with the "breech block".
With a crack that could be heard in the CIC, the 155mm Combustible Light Gas Gun fired, propelling the guided Hypervelocity Projectile out of its 110 caliber long barrel in excess of Mach eight. The sabot petals of the HVP broke away as it tore through the lower atmosphere. Homing in on the radar beams of the gun's own fire control radar, the dart adjusted course using small guidance fins. At the terminus of its journey, it detonated its small warhead a dozen meters in front of a Siren aircraft. The 500 pre-fragmented tungsten cubes sprayed out, shredding the slow-moving jet like a shotgun blast before it could react. A second and a half later, the first aircraft was joined by another, courtesy of the CLGG as the gun cycled at forty rounds per minute.
Edwards liked how the battle was going so far. The aircraft tracks were being quickly whittled down by the Evans' CLGG and now by Evolved Sea Sparrow Missiles and SM-2s of both the Stout and his own command.
"Time to see what they think of our fangs." He muttered as he watched the progress of the Harpoons and Block IBs.
At a dozen miles out, the Harpoons entered a sharp climb, popping up to several hundred feet. Their active radar seekers flicked on and scanned the sea in-front of them for targets. The detached Siren fleet was to their front, composed of several battleships, a handful of cruisers, and a smattering of around a dozen destroyers.
Finding targets, they coordinated with both each-other and the ship, selecting targets and pairing off. They dove to the wave-tops again and began making a series of maneuvers to throw off the Triple-A that the Siren ships were putting out. At the last moment, they made another climb before turning over and diving into the unprotected decks of the Siren Cruisers. Their 230 kilogram, semi-armor piercing high-explosive warheads punched through the decks and detonated inside the ships, wrecking gun turrets and blowing holes in their hulls.
All in all, the attack was a success. The combined twenty-four Harpoons from Evans and Stout scored twenty-one hits, three being intercepted before they could impact. Of those that hit, five failed to penetrate the armor of their target, detonating either against their belt, or in the case of three missiles from Stout, on the armored carapace of a Rook class Battleship.
The remaining successful hits were divided among the cruiser and destroyer formations of the force. One Knight class light cruiser exploded in a neon conglomeration as its fusion reactor was breached, arcing plasma melting through its superstructure and hull. A Bishop class Heavy Cruiser shared a similar fate when its stern was blown off from a detonating magazine.
In total, three destroyers were completely sunk, with another being damaged, while two cruisers had been sunk outright and another three were damaged to a significant degree. It wasn't perfect, but it wasn't bad either and it provided just enough distraction for the main course.
Screaming in a Mach Six, the two-dozen odd SM-6 Block IB missiles of the two destroyers turned on their radar heads. The plasma sheath that formed on their skin would obscure lower-power radars, but these used a series of capacitors instead of the usual batteries or generator for terminal homing. It would give them less than a second of information, but that would be all they would need, especially as they took turns scanning the fleet, networking data and assigning targets.
They selected their targets quickly, picking out the largest of the formation, the four Battleships of the raiding force and the two Bishop class heavy cruisers that were determined to be the least damaged by the onboard software. Additionally, around half of the missile force was targeted at the Siren group that was pursuing the Evans. These homed in on the three Queen class carriers and two of the Rooks that they could find.
While the Harpoon missiles were nothing to discount, their effects were inherently limited. The effects of the Standard Missiles were nothing if not spectacular as their smaller but far more optimized warheads penetrated deep into the ships detonating in their depths.
Instantaneously in the southern force two Rooks detonated in explosions that could be measured in the low single kilotons, followed by another Rook half a second later, and a Bishop a second after that. The remaining Rook and Bishop smoked heavily and quickly attained distinct lists as massive holes were blown below the waterline.
In the Northern force, one of the carriers had its port flight deck split in half by the detonation of its stored aircraft, conflagrating in a fireball that stretched a mile high. The other two carriers suffered comparatively muted fates, simply losing power as their electrical and propulsion systems were damaged, fires spreading throughout the ships. Almost as an afterthought, the two Rooks took several successive hits, slowing, and then stopping as they burned from the inside.
Suddenly, the TIC paled at something over the radio.
Edwards caught the expression, and a pit formed in his stomach.
"Alert…" the woman gulped, "Stout reports… Siren Kansen. Multiple. Argonaut! Argonaut!"
The bridge had a quarter second of silence before a flash and fireball to their west seen through the CIC's visual displays signaled the fate of the Stout. Siren Kansen were fleet killers if they appeared in significant numbers. It was why they had their own Kansen along.
"Sir. Lost contact with the Stout." The TIC said, fear creeping into her voice.
"Do we have a fix on the Argonauts?" Edwards asked, tone grave and collected. The Captain was the soul of the ship. They had to be collected even if inside they were feeling pants-shitting terror.
"Negative sir, but the last report said they were heading East." The TIC said quietly.
"Do we have a count?" Edwards asked.
"Uh, no. They just said multiple." She said, licking her lips.
"Acknowledged. We'll have to wait for our Kansen to finish up with the raiding force before they can focus on them." Edwards said, watching as Hood and her formation of cruisers and destroyers closed on the remaining ships of the raiding force. They were in a Catch 22. They could have Hood and her group break off and protect them while leaving the cargo ships unprotected or they could help the merchant fleet and leave the Evans unprotected. Splitting their Kansen force would just lead to a defeat in detail and could be eliminated as a matter of course.
There was no strictly right or wrong move between several of the choices. It was simply a matter of choosing and hoping that the decision you made played out well. If the Sirens swung south to engage the cargo ships, Hood would be well placed to stop them. If they didn't, well, Edwards just hoped they could get some Kansen reinforcement in time.
He refocused on the task and asked, "AAWC, any more airborne targets?"
"Negative sir." She reported with satisfaction. Edwards gave her a small smile as a quiet congratulation of a job well done.
"SAO, switch missiles to anti-surface and engage remaining forces at will. Usage of Tomahawks is up to your discretion. Prioritize the force chasing us, the Kansen have the raiding force and we don't want a blue-on-blue incident. Do not engage with the gun. I want it loaded with HVP if the Argonauts are headed here. Con make heading 0-9-0. SRO, keep an eye out to our West. I want the gun ready to be trained over if we spot them." He said, gaze level.
"Aye sir." the SAO responded
"Con 0-9-0. Aye sir."
"Aye sir."
He felt the rumble of more missiles being launched towards the Siren fleets. His eyes flicked between the radars and the blueforce trackers that showed where ships were in relation to one another. He tracked the progress of one of their MH-60 Romeos that was currently to their south, avoiding the fight. An idea formulated in his head.
"ASTAC. Get Heron 604 in a search pattern to our west. I want them to find those Argonauts before they make contact with either Hood or us." Edwards said, directing their Anti-Submarine Tactical Air Controller.
"But sir-" ASTAC started to say.
"I know." Edwards said, grimacing. "Do it." He may as well have condemned the four men and women on board the helicopter to death.
ASTAC took a deep breath and relayed the order. Edwards watched the helicopter turn north and begin searching the sea with its radar.
The Siren Kansen were small and their rigging would give the helicopter a detection range of maybe 20 miles. Given the limited volume they were searching, that would be perfectly adequate.
"Hood reports they have finished up the raiding force." Walker said.
"Acknowledged Walker, have them load up on their fastest ship and have them screen the transports. Inform them of any information on the Argonauts when it comes." Edwards said as he watched the search pattern of the helicopter's radar via the data-linked display.
Suddenly, several contacts appeared on the board.
"Heron 604 reports three contacts matching Argonauts. Range 2-0 miles, bearing 1-7-0, heading 0-7-5, speed 46 knots, sir." The TIC said.
"Acknowledged, ASTAC, have Heron break off." Edwards ordered.
The Tactical Air Controller was about to relay it when the tracker for Heron 604 winked out.
"Sir Heron 604 has gone dark, presumed destroyed." TIC said.
"Understood." Edwards sighed, tone composed as if the deaths of those people were not on his shoulders. You traded lives for objectives. That was the harsh calculus of war. It was the burden of being in charge.
"Looks like they're coming after us." Edwards muttered. For the benefit of the others, he ordered, "Walker. Have Hood redirect to our position. Let's see if we can box the Argonauts in." It was a boastful statement, especially after what just happened to the Stout, but it might instill that little bit of confidence in the crew that maybe, just maybe, this would all end well.
If they ran perfectly, they'd have a little under half an hour before the Sirens could engage them, but only about fifteen minutes before their radars could catch the Sirens. Of course, they would have to turn for their gun to bear on the targets. They had their JAGMs but those would be intercepted and only serve to harass the enemy Kansen.
Edwards looked at the broader strategic display. Battlegroups and aircraft were inbound to their position, focusing on the fleet. A Kansen rapid reaction force was inbound from Scapa Flow, but the sea was too rough for them to deploy. As such, their C-6M Cargomaster orbited 150 miles to their north, waiting for an opportunity to set down and let their force engage.
The good news was that the drone ships were almost all dealt with. A cell of B-52s that were ferrying to Keflavik from Barksdale had diverted and launched their combined sixty Harpoon missiles at the fleet. From what Edwards saw, they weren't much of a threat anymore.
Now, the Siren Kansen were another matter. Ships from nearby Battle Groups that had been rushing to aid the convoy were now pulling back and circling around while Kansen escorts deployed and steamed towards the battle. The nearest one was centered on the Battleship Howe and could be expected to arrive in the next two hours. Too late. The fight would be over or they'd be slag by then.
Edward's heartbeat quickened as he weighed his options, mentally reviewing kill probabilities and distances.
The gun would bear 60 degrees off the stern to avoid damaging the radars. He could override that and push it to 30 and accept toasting one of his SPY-6 radars and rattling the teeth of anyone in the bridge. Max propellant rate of fire for the Mk 87 Mod 3 CLGG was 70 RPM with a burst of ten rounds. After that it reduced to 40 RPM until the magazines were empty or the barrel warped. He had no illusions that they would last long enough for the latter to occur.
Max engagement range would be dictated by his radars and, with the short height of the Siren Kansen, obscuring them behind the radar horizon, they would see out to fifteen miles. Assuming a closing rate of say… 23 knots given the superior Siren speed and them turning for the gun to bear, they would have about… twelve? Fourteen? Minutes before the Sirens got in range in ideal circumstances. Enough for their magazine of HVPs to be depleted. However, there currently weren't ideal conditions, with a choppy and rough sea blowing up in the intervening hours between when Edwards went to sleep and now. Surface radar visibility could be as little as twelve miles against the Sirens, and then they'd only have maybe five minutes to engage them. Ten, twelve seconds of flight time for the rounds would mean that they'd have around 200 shots if everything went well to kill the targets before they came under fire.
"Walker. Tell Hood to go on heading 0-6-5." Edwards ordered, thinking, reviewing the time that the sighting report had been made at and the current time, comparing them and their positions and the position of their own Kansen.
"Aye." Walker said, before turning back to his division.
The seconds ticked by like hours in the CIC as despite the chill of the environmental systems, they all sweated. Beyond ten miles, HVPs had a Probability of Kill against Siren Kansen of roughly 0.02-0.04. Below ten miles, the PK briefly decreased to 0.03, then increased back up and continued climbing until hitting around 0.20 at five miles. Beyond that, there was no operational data to corroborate further conclusions, as ships simply did not survive getting that close. Of course, those were also not considering multiple versus individual Sirens. With three Sirens that probability could be far lower. Additionally, the HVP could be fired from the normal 127mm guns and those were included in the figure. The 155mm CLGG would significantly improve velocity and performance.
Edwards decided not to worry about it. They would either kill the Kansen or they wouldn't. The best he could do would give them a fighting chance for their own Kansen to arrive.
He checked the time again. Just a few minutes longer…
"SAO. Launch everything non-nuclear at the Siren fleet, save for ESSMs. I don't care if they're Sea-Lances or SM-3s. I want them off the ship." Edwards ordered.
"Aye sir." SAO said. Edwards felt more of the missiles launch, emptying their VLS cells of explosive material. Tomahawk cruise missiles were joined by SM-2 and SM-6 missiles along with a myriad of other assorted weaponry as they sped towards the Siren fleet. He waited for a minute so the sounds could die down as the launches concluded.
"SAO, I'm taking direct control for this." Edwards said, supplanting the Surface Action Officer.
"Aye, sir." The man said, frowning.
Edwards focused on the situation. "MSS. Launch on bearing, multiple ESSMs in anti-surface mode, Pitbull five miles out, spread, ten missiles from bearing 250 to 290." Edwards ordered, directing the Missile Systems Supervisor. It was a dangerous move in other circumstances, which was why he was taking direct responsibility. With no pre-programmed targets, the missiles could easily lock onto friendly ships. But with a trio of Siren Kansen bearing down on them, he had little choice but to play a bit dangerously.
"Aye sir." MSS said, a hint of doubt creeping into his voice.
It didn't show in his actions though, and the ripple of the Evolved Sea Sparrows could be felt as they were launched out to try to find the incoming Kansen.
He saw them go active and begin scanning the sea for targets.
"CONTACT! We have positive lock on Argonaut!" MSS said, voice increasing in pitch. The ten missiles tracked on what they registered as a single target. It was fourteen miles away, dead to their stern.
"Ripple every last ESSM on those targets. Now!" Edwards ordered.
"Aye!"
"Helm, get ready to set course 0-3-0 on mark!" Edwards said, looking up at the screen. The first wave of ESSMs winked out, not having made contact with their targets.
The next volley numbered sixty missiles and was still in the process of launching when the first missiles of the wave reacquired the target. They were roughly thirteen miles out now, far closer than he expected. Maybe they changed speed after the helicopter was downed.
"Mark! Helm 0-3-0." Edwards ordered.
He felt the ship heel over as they made the aggressive turn.
"Gun bear on targets, override warnings!" He ordered, holding onto his console to steady himself.
"Sir! Understood sir!" Gun Fire Control said, punching in the command to disable the firing lock for their aggressive angle.
"SRO, do you have a firing solution?" He asked, voice rising in pitch.
"Negative sir. They're too far out. Wait… I have a solution!" SRO said.
"Gun! HVP! Fire as you load!" Edwards ordered, hands trembling as they reached their critical point.
"Aye! Firing!" The gun fire-control operator said, his own heart racing as he punched in the commands.
With a thunderclap that Edwards could feel in his teeth even through the armored bulkheads that separated them, the gun fired, sending rounds downrange as the SPY-6 radar illuminated the three targets to their southwest. Immediately, the warning that their forward port AESA radar had been damaged flashed, indicating the muzzle overpressure had knocked it out. They could see the flash of lasers as the ESSMs were engaged. Whether any actually hit was unknown, but it seemed to slow the enemy Kansen down a fraction of a second.
The first HVPs were immediately lased, there seeming to be no issue as they were intercepted in sequence.
"Fuck they aren't at saturation." Edwards muttered. He had miscalculated, severely underestimating the effect of three Siren Kansen grouped in close proximity. If it stayed like this, they had little chance of overpowering their point defense and were only wasting ammunition.
"Cease fire." Edwards ordered.
"Sir-" The SAO started to say.
"I said cease fucking fire!" Edwards snapped. He wouldn't be second-guessed here, not when seconds mattered. He would need to have a discussion with the SAO about his conduct later. For now, he had to focus on the task at hand.
The gun went silent.
"How many HVPs do we have?" He asked.
"87 sir." Someone said.
"Two minutes." Edwards muttered. He checked the range to Hood's group. They would be here in maybe thirty minutes, less if the Sirens decided to break off and engage them.
"How far out do you think our JAGMs can reach?" Edwards asked.
"Uh. In this weather, maybe 9 miles, but they'd be pretty slow by then." The Missile Systems Supervisor said.
Edwards did some more mental calculations, eyes drawing taut with stress.
"Alright." He said, closing his eyes. "Range to targets?" He asked.
"Ten miles." SRO said.
"Come on, you bitches." Edwards muttered.
"MSS, Gun, when they start firing on us, you will engage them with everything at your disposal. We'll have to take hits but if we can knock them out then it will be worth it in the long run. NBC sprayers to maximum, deploy smoke once they start shooting." Edwards said, trying to instill confidence in the crew.
A series of sprinklers meant to clean the ship off in case of chemical or nuclear attack turned on, filling the air around the Evans in a mist of water with rivulets running down the side of the ship. It wouldn't be much, but it would help wick away heat and dissipate the lasers.
Suddenly one of their port thermals winked out, having been overloaded and damage control reported, "Hit port side, superficial damage. Ablative holding."
The carbon fiber composite that formed the skin of the destroyer pulled double duty. It reduced the radar cross-section of it by a considerable margin, but the composite acted as a very effective ablative material, the carbon foaming and in concert with the sprayers, localizing damage to the very outer skin of the ship.
"DEPLOYING SMOKE!"
"FIRING!"
Smoke grenades fanned out as they were propelled from their canisters, creating an instantaneous cloud that was relatively opaque to the Siren lasers. Automatic grenade launchers shot more ahead of the ship, extending their protective screen.
More lasers lanced towards the ship, scratching the paint but nothing more.
At the same time, the CLGG opened up again, sending its rounds downrange. Edwards watched the rounds progress, some being intercepted but more getting close to the targets. The ammunition count steadily lowered 80… 75… 70…
The whole ship shuddered and bucked from an explosion on it.
"DAMAGE REPORT!" Edwards demanded.
"Losing power from aft turbine. I'm not getting any response from engineering." Damage control said, voice quavering. The ship slowed dramatically, its power cut in half.
Guess this was it. Well, at least they went down fighting.
"Radar. Range to targets?" Edwards ordered, the calm of tacit acceptance falling over him.
"Range 8.9 miles." The SRO said.
"MSS, launch JAGMs." Edwards ordered.
From pods on the superstructure, dozens of the radar guided surface-to-surface missiles flashed out, lofting high into the air to gain range before they set a glide course to their target.
Fire momentarily shifted to the new missiles, and in doing so, the HVPs were neglected. One of the targets winked out as the trio bore in on the hapless destroyer.
Edwards blinked, and a savage grin sprouted on his face.
"We-we got one!" The SRO said, failing to hide his excitement.
"Confirmed. Single target destroyed MSS re-task missiles." Edwards ordered.
The relative angle between the two remaining Sirens was growing, making it harder for them to cover each other. The gunners were focusing on the one further to port when a laser swept across both superstructures, burning the radars mounted high on the ship.
"Lost radars, no longer have a solution!" SRO said.
"Gun switch to local control!" Edwards ordered. The radar mounted on the CLGG itself for its secondary role as a CIWS was unmasked and picked up tracking one of the Sirens at a range of seven miles. If they could just get a few more rounds off…
Another explosion rocked the ship, throwing Edwards onto the floor. The lights winked out for a second before they turned back on, many of the systems of the ship no longer responding. They had lost almost all their power save for backup generators.
"Forward turbine hit! Taking on water!" Damage control said.
"This is Edwards! Abandon ship!" Edwards yelled. Maybe, just maybe, some of them would survive.
"ALL HANDS! ALL HANDS! ABANDON SHIP!" The PA read as the alarm began blaring.
Edwards walked over to the gun fire-control station, taking the seat from the Gunnery Officer who had just vacated it.
"W-What are you doing, sir?" The man asked.
"Providing cover. Get everyone to safety." Edwards ordered. He flipped the gun to optical tracking mode and began slewing it as he sought out the Siren Kansen. Edwards prided himself on knowing everything he could about his ship, how to operate its systems, and the capabilities of those systems by heart. His death was inevitable. He had nothing to fear, but he still had purpose. Get his crew to safety.
"Sir, then I'm staying too!" The man declared.
Edwards eyed him. "Goo-" He never finished what he was saying.
As the sirens closed, their lasers gained more effect. One such blast was directed to the forward CLGG magazine. It exploded in a conglomeration of hydrogen, oxygen, and high explosive. Metal fragments shredded the bridge, killing every person there and scything through the crew members on the deck that were preparing to abandon ship. The forward fifth of the ship simply ceased to exist as twisted metal spiraled hundreds of feet into the air.
Edwards awoke to a world of pain. Everything hurt. He rolled over to his side, only to find a piece of metal protruding from his chest. He tried to get to his feet and his eyes fell on the gunnery officer. Jonas. The two of them hadn't been close, but Jonas had done well and it was a waste to see him in this state.
The man had no head, evidently having lost it to shrapnel. Edwards could taste the aroma of burning flesh on his tongue, even through his Nomex mask.
He tried to breathe but everything hurt and a sucking sensation let him know that the shrapnel splinter had penetrated a lung and he gave up on trying to rise.
"Fuck." he wheezed, trying to orient himself.
He wasn't going to live for more than another twenty minutes, by his best guess. Already he had tunnel vision and even then it was difficult to focus on what was directly in-front of him. Hypoxia? Shock? It didn't matter, really.
Almost on a whim, he wanted to go to his quarters just to see something one last time. To call his movement crawling would be an insult to toddlers the world over. He more dragged himself along down the hall from the CIC. The Abandon Ship Siren was still blaring with no-one save himself to listen. Maybe his crew had gotten out?
He got to the ladder down to the deck below.
Going feet-first, he slowly let himself down, using his right arm to lower himself. The process was, but he managed, biting back the pain.
Reaching the bottom, he crawled to his in-port cabin, having to drag himself painfully over a couple door sills. Thankfully, the doors themselves had been left open in the rush to escape. Propping his back against the bulkhead next to the door, he fumbled with his keys, unlocking the door with some effort. He dropped the item. It wasn't like he would need them anymore.
The floor was covered in bed rolls from the Kansen and some of their other belongings. He looked past them. There. His desk.
Pushing the soft fabric aside, he moved on, inch-by-inch towards what he was after.
Reaching the back of the desk, he found his safe. He quickly inputted the code, the door swinging free. Inside was a small cube, glowing a soft sapphire blue.
He carefully cradled the thing to his chest.
"Guess just you and me?" He said, talking to himself. He didn't know exactly why, but if he was going to die, he might as well die with something that might remember him. He didn't want to admit it but dying alone scared him on a deeply primal level.
He swore it pulsed in response, though that could've been his oxygen deprived mind making things up.
"Heh. Sorry you won't get to be some carrier or something. You probably won't die, but I don't know if they'll come looking for you just yet. It might be a while." He rasped, coughing up a lot of blood.
It let out a long pulse.
"I know. It's the end of the line for me." He said, staring up at the ceiling, mouth going slack after another bout of coughing.
The list to port was growing more dramatic, and he slid against the bulkhead, crying out in pain.
Various objects rained down on him, striking the hard metal all around with a resounding crash. The desk groaned and broke free, Edwards rolling out of the way just in time to avoid being crushed.
The move took its toll and his extremities felt numb.
"Between the two of us." He mumbled to the cube, taking a gasping breath. "Make sure the boys and girls can go home." He took another gasping breath. "So… when you are… argh… summoned… honor a dying man's request." He sighed, relaxing now that he had said what he wanted to say.
God, he felt so cold. Water rushed in through the open door around his shoes, then back, then he was submerged, floating weightless.
Edwards floated for what felt like an eternity, the blue glow of the cube casting an alien scene on his submerged room. Then he let out his last breath, bubbles rising to the small air pocket in the room. His mind briefly considered swimming up, but he was just too tired. It was fine. He could just float like this. Just like that, he was dead, falling to the bottom in a 13,000 ton coffin with 106 of his comrades in arms.
…
…
…
Alone, the cube pondered the words of the dying man. It wasn't exactly thinking, more dreaming in the ebb and flow of the human subconscious. It had felt those words with greater clarity than most, the sharp cracks of the emotion laced within them radiating through the miasma of nothingness, like the report of a gun. The cube's dreams coalesced into one coherent thought as it pondered the words.
Protect the fleet.
And with thought, it gained form.
Hood walked among the stretchers, offering an outstretched hand or word of encouragement to the men on her decks.
Many were injured, some mortally. She winced as she saw a woman with half her face swaddled in bandages, choking on her blood while some of the less injured crew tried to save her.
She hated this. She hated the war. She hated that she hadn't been able to protect the men and women of the two destroyers that had made up the crewed portion of the escort force.
She stopped at a tall African American man who had the remnants of his right hand bandaged with a tourniquet around his upper arm.
"Hood." Lieutenant Commander Walker said tiredly.
She bent down, placing her hand on his forehead. His breathing seemed to ease as he relaxed a bit.
"Edwards?" He asked.
She shook her head slowly.
"Fuck." Walker swore, then he laughed a bit.
Hood raised her eyebrows in concern.
"Sentimental bastard." He said, taking a deep breath. "Went down with his ship."
"Indeed, he did." Hood said, stroking the man's hair. Truth be told, she was having trouble keeping herself composed. Already she had excused herself twice so she could weep out of sight of the crews. She had seen death before, but it never got easier to bear.
"Hood. I know that look. My husband does it all the time. It's okay. You can cry." Walker said reassuringly.
Hood smiled and let it out.
"I'm sorry." She said quietly, "I failed you."
Walker's intact hand rested on her shoulder.
"You failed no-one. You saved us, Hood. Take pride in that." He said.
"I could… if we were just earl- "
Walker cut her off sharply. "No, you couldn't have. Edwards knew the risk and he wanted you to focus on the drone ships. What if you had gone after us and the Sirens attacked the transports? What then?"
She was quiet and Walker said, voice hardening, "You did your job. You did what I ordered you to do. Don't try to take the responsibility off of others."
His grip shifted to her arm. "Get some rest. You've done enough." He said, conviction in his eyes.
Hood nodded and departed without another word.