Chp. 41: Shooting Stars

December 6, 2049

Erusean Submarine "Jestra"

"Conn, Sonar had detected the screws of a surface combatant…the system has identified it as an Osean Constellation-class frigate. He's in passive mode, same as us."

Commandant Duras Graovac sat back in his chair and looked at the array of displays before him as he responded.

"Do you have a range and bearing?" He demanded.

"Bearing 235, 170 Kilometers and closing. Its current heading is 351." his Tactical Officer replied from across the confines of the command compartment.

"Understood…Navigator!"

"Yes sir!" A man behind him replied sharply.

"Plot a course for a target at Bearing 235, 170 Kilometers and closing. I want an estimated time of intercept as soon as possible."

"Yes sir."

"Sonar, Conn, remain passive until we get closer."

Graovac hung up and ordered his vessel to battle stations. The submarine stayed on its straight-and-level path for another minute or so before the navigator ordered the helmsman to dive to the bottom of the thermocline and turn towards several unnamed rises in the seafloor. Despite the shift in mood, it was all done as quietly as possible to maintain a stealthy profile. Graovac turned to his chart table and traced a line in his head from their position to the contact. By now, it was far less exciting than it'd been a few weeks ago. Jestra had been one of the grim reapers for Chakari's small navy. She'd also made plenty of runs against Osean and Lenish shipping. Although, Graovac mused, this time also seemed like an opportune moment for vengeance. For the loss of his friend, Dren, and the submarine Cekicem. The red light above his handset flashed once more; he grabbed it without even thinking.

"This is the Conn." He grunted.

"Conn this is Munitions, request permission to flood our vertical launch tubes in preparation for an attack. Do we have a target, sir?" His Munitions Officer explained.

"Standby for firing solution. I'll send the sonar contact now; that's your target for the time being. Keep the tubes unflooded until we have a permanent solution."

"Yes sir."

Graovac hung up as his navigation officer walked up and placed a finger atop a bowl-shaped depression.

"Referencing our intel, sir, this frigate could very well be a part of one of the Osean carrier battlegroups in the area. The Stejra's last position is here. While risky, I suggest we contact her with our findings so we can coordinate an attack. If we send a message just before slipping into this canyon here, we should be able to avoid the Oseans if they detect the transmission. We'll remain quiet until they turn to head south again, then move in and attack."

"According to that same intel, the Oseans have one, possibly two, of their own Oseana-class attack submarines. What about them?"

"Their last known location is further southeast, closer to the spearhead of the formation. When they turn to engage, we'll either be ready to meet them or slip away towards the coast. If they pursue, they'll be facing two submarines hiding in heavy terrain. I would advise that we also retreat towards the patrol stations of the Krajna and Hvolvarth."

Graovac had been weighing the risks and benefits the last few days. Their ultimate target was one of the Osean carriers. It would be a huge prize to claim, and the laurels that would come with it were nothing short of mythical. The first Erusean submarine to sink an enemy aircraft carrier. It weighed on Graovac's mind, but for now he was more concerned with getting past the enemy's outer perimeter. A coordinated attack would double their chances.

"Very well, you're cleared to execute that plan. I'll be holding you responsible for this, Commander."

"I won't let you down, sir."

The sleek vessel dipped down from the thermocline for just a second on his command. An encrypted signal was sent out in the direction of her sister ship. The helmsman increased his speed in increments. It was all about sound control, delaying the inevitable, getting a shot off before the defenses picked them up. Far above the water's surface, the opposite end of the spectrum was hard at work…


"TACCO, we've got something."

The Tactical Coordinator on the other side of the S-4's rear cabin looked at the Sensor Operator (SENSO) and switched his screen to see what the woman was talking about. Lieutenant (Junior Grade) Monica Collein's Magnetic Anomaly Detector (MAD) had picked up a change in the depths. It could be a number of things, but no one wanted to be the one that ignored a submarine that could slip past the outer defenses.

"I picked up what might;ve been a transmission, too. Electronic, possibly between subs." She added.

That settled it for the senior man. The TACCO, Lieutenant Commander Ken Hanja, cleared his throat and whistled to the pilot of Jacko 714.

"Mixer, Wakeboard's got something on the MAD. Possibly some radio traffic, too. Turn to 009 and get us some space to drop a ring of buoys." He instructed.

"How far out are we talking?" The pilot replied.

"80 Miles northeast of our current position." Monica answered.

"Gotcha Wakeboard. Alright we're gonna come around from the inside of this track; what kind of pattern are you wanting?"

"We'll let you know once we get a better idea of what we've got."

Up front, Lieutenant Max Shaw adjusted the throttles while his co-pilot put the position provided by their backseaters. He glanced at his GPS with apprehension and switched one of his displays to the defensive suite's status. He went back to the previous setting and keyed his radio as the blood started to flow at a faster rate. His eyes took a look at his charts while he did.

"Jockey this is Jacko 1-3, we've got a possible subsurface contact 80 miles northeast of our current position. We're moving to drop some sonar buoys; how much longer can Skull 2 hang around that sector?"

"Standby…okay, they've got about twenty minutes. We're launching the Alert Five to back you up. You want the Roberts to back you up?" The E-12 on station radioed.

"Have them launch their LAMPS helos, at least."

"Gotcha."

"MAD's got another reading in the same area; definitely something out there!" the SENSO called.

"Jockey be advised, we've got another hit. Same area." Mixer relayed.

"Copy that."

From the cockpit of her F-24, Annie looked at Glue's jet as the two passed each other and keyed her radio.

"Glue, I'm going to stay on my current heading. Break from station and form back on me. Two-mile separation for now." She instructed.

"Understood, Tsun-Tsun." Nathan replied crisply.

Annie switched on her radar and selected her Marlins, then checked her fuel state. On the bow cats of the Icarus, Jed and Cyborg were in the final seconds before launch. Jed lifted the briefest of salutes to the #2 Cat Officer and pushed himself back in his seat. The two Hellcats went into super cruise the second they were clear of the ship.

"Skull 3 is airborne and turning towards Skull's AO at this time. ETA is five minutes. Bronco, take it to wall formation and keep a spread of three miles. Watch for pop-up contacts" Cyborg reported.

"Copy that, Skipper."

Fleet defense, he thought, the bread and butter of Grumman cats. The kind of thing he'd read in a dozen technothrillers and in just about every book about the F-14. Launch, scream across the 400 miles to the bombers as fast as you could, and zap them before they launched. He dipped to the left and turned on his radar. While his hands kept the F-24 exactly where it should be, he looked over the canopy rails, searching for any sign of…well, anything shaped like a cruise missile. Behind him, the S-4s that'd been sitting around as spares were being readied as quickly as the 62s not tapped to play guard helo.

"Skull 2, what're things looking like on your end?" Cyborg asked.

"We're staying with Jacko, no signs of any launches yet. Jacko is about two minutes from where they want to drop sonar buoys." Annie replied.

All the adrenaline of the scramble dropped down in bursts until it reached a steady simmer. Jed clicked on his radio as the tension became fully understood.

"Skipper, request permission to drop down a few thousand feet and start weaving. Try and cover some more ground with the radar." He asked.

"Negative, Bronco; Skull 2 needs us on station. Let the inner zone guys take care of their sector."

"Understood."

Jed mumbled at himself for getting maybe a little too overeager. He stayed glued off his CO's wing as they passed through the clouds. Up there, in that moment, Jed decided to take a chance to look up into the reaches of the sky. Enjoy the sky he raced through so often, and maybe thank the big man upstairs for giving him a chance to not be an idiot with his personal life. Swear Ah'll protect her, just…please be patient with me He thought. His eyes lowered from the breathtaking view to his radar and GPS. Friendly dots appeared on the very top of the latter.

"Skull 3 this is Alpha-Charlie, be advised that the Budd Roberts and Glenn Caleb have their LAMPS birds airborne. Hardeck for all fixed-wing birds is Angels 2 until I say otherwise, how copy?" The battlegroup's Air Warfare Commander spoke up.

"Skull 3 acknowledges, moving to take up station south east of the search pattern." Cyborg replied.

The two F-24s banked to the right, giving the slower aircraft a wide berth both vertically and horizontally. The nearby cruiser, OFS Joseph Griffin (CG-82), was still moving in the same direction as the rest of the group, covering the smaller frigates as they split off to hunt with the ASW birds. The S-4 dropped down as it reached the piece of ocean it had its eyes on and went into a lazy turn to the east.

"Jacko is at IP, dropping sonar buoys."...


"Sonar reports objects hitting the water, sir…it appears to be sonar buoys." One of the men listening to the sensors reported.

"Does the system have a type, yet?" Graovac replied.

"Sonar has not detected any sounds consistent with a helicopter; it's most likely an anti-submarine aircraft."

"Disregard, we do have the faint sound of rotors moving above the water."

The Commandant looked back at his charts as the position of the devices was passed along to his station. The Jestra was currently crawling along a depression, still far from where they intended to be. He looked at the position of the Stejra some 120 kilometers away as more and more buoys sent off pings. The pattern was just to the south of them; the Oseans had likely gotten spooked by their transmission to their fellow sub. Graovac was unbothered by the consequences of the gamble; they still hadn't found his vessel.

"We've detected multiple contacts approaching from the same direction as those two frigates, sir. Computer has classified them as AQS-26 dipping sonars. Current beading is 256, moving eastwards. At their current heading one of them will reach our position in approximately seven minutes. We'll be within detection range in three." The head sonar operator reported.

"How much of a chance do they have of detecting us?" Graovac demanded.

"A 67% chance, but they'll likely change their patterns after this. It may render us unable to attack from this direction."

Graovac knew that the whole fleet would be alerted. It could be a long time before they got another chance to engage. He grabbed his handset to talk to the munitions section.

"Do we have a firing solution on the Osean ships?" He demanded.

"Only on the surface combatants."

"Flood all vertical launch tubes and standby to follow up with torpedo tubes."

"Yes sir."

The eight vertical launch tubes on the spine of the Stuka-class sub filled with water. After that all bets were off; the buoys dropped by the Wraith no doubt picked up the sound. Graovac looked towards the front of the command space at a man watching blank screens.

"Ready the M03s…Helmsman! Bring us around in the direction of those dipping sonars! Be ready to turn and crash dive as soon as we launch on the helicopters."

"Yes sir!"

Graovac tuned his ears to the sounds from the sonar as their movements inevitably made more noise. Their sister ship did the same only seconds later, then sent a message to the Jestra.

"Sir, the Stejra reports her missiles are ready to fire!" The Communications Officer declared from his corner. Graovac responded by squeezing his handset.

"Fire vertical tubes one through eight!"...


One, then two, and then three. All in the span of a few seconds. Geysers of water shot up, revealing the sleek lines of missiles. Radar picked them up until they left behind their shells and the disturbances they'd created.

"Launches, launches! Multiple launches, Skull 3's three low, just shy of the horizon!" Jed called.

"Copy on launches. Jockey, do you have them on radar?" Cyborg interjected.

"Contacts are intermittent, but we've got them."

"Griffin also has the contacts on radar, stronger lock. Skull, standby for datalink. Turn towards contacts and go nose up."

The two pairs of fighters began their ascent, going back and forth every second to make sure that they weren't about to collide with one-another. Jed watched the altimeter become a blur as he put the throttles into afterburner. The phrase "Speed is life" felt like it had a fresh new meaning now.

"Jockey, do you have an estimate on how long we have to intercept these missiles?" Annie spoke up.

"About a minute, Skull 2-1." The AWACS replied flatly.

"Griffith has additional launches, Heading 003 at 270 miles. Skull, we're gonna shift the first launches fully to you and the frigates, how copy?" The AWC added.

"Skull copies all. Bronco, you're cleared to break and line up a second shot after your first. Fire at will." Cyborg assured.

The second part was little more than a formality for the record. By now they were passing 40,000 Feet. Jed's radar picked out two missiles, KR-220s. The threats would go another 80,000 Feet or so, then nose over. By then, they'd be moving towards Mach 7. The second he had a lock, he tapped the launch button twice.

"Skull 210, Fox 3 Fox 3." He radioed.

Cyborg fired an instant later, and Jed banked to the right and pulled back on the throttles. The two Marlins screamed away, quickly approaching the same speed that the KR-220s were due to hit when they nosed over. The AIM-152s became specks against the darkened atmosphere as they raced through what was knife-fighting distance for weapons like this. He rolled and dove a few thousand feet to see if there were any more launches, then turned back towards his foremost concern. Annie and Nathan had fired off their Marlins and turned towards the second barrage from the other sub. Annie caught sight of the OFS Bud Roberts (FFG-208) and Glenn Caleb (FFG-219) as they launched a dozen RIM-176 surface-to-air missiles. The two ships then split and deployed countermeasures.

"Glue, stay on my wing." Annie instructed, wheels in her mind turning.

"Two." He replied quickly.

She glanced at her fuel gauge and adjusted the throttles to make a short snap to the left.

"Alpha-Charlie, Skull 1-3 and 1-4 are going to circle around and come at the vampires from those frigates' seven. Confirm that they won't engage us." She added.

"Skull 1-3, move to higher altitude and remain clear of their firing arc. Keep that piece of sky clear." The AWC insisted.

"We're moving to their six, then."

"Copy."

The ships fired another salvo, which banked to a shallower angle. Annie and Nathan came back to the right and very carefully picked their way around the space the friendly missiles were passing through. A few of the contacts had disappeared, bringing the total number to about ten missiles. Almost all of them had reached their terminal phase; Annie fired again when she had a solid lock.

"Skull 208 Fox 3, Fox 3."

Nathan didn't have the same amount of luck, but he stayed the course. Annie nosed up and gave him as much room as she could as he adjusted to get a second shot. In the meantime, Jed and Cyborg were staying high and trying to remain in front of the other missiles as they came down. Jed started accelerating again as he had to constantly try to get a lead on two of the missiles. He had a good lock, but he wanted a good angle. A good angle was not in his cards, though. The hell with it! He thought.

"Skull 210, Fox 3 Fox 3."

He immediately switched to his AMRAAMs as the last two Marlins got on their way. He nosed up and plotted out a route to get behind the bandits. Cyborg was still going her own way, mindful of him but exploiting the lack of an air-to-air threat to its fullest. The remaining six missiles were still coming, and they were just about on top of the ships. Jed watched as the two frigates tossed up clouds of chaff and started to speed broke in the direction of the initial launches and stood by while it was down to the ships and their defenses. Bud Roberts turned hard right into the missile's path, but couldn't escape two of the hypersonic weapons. The four aviators watched with anger as an explosion washed up and over the forward superstructure. The second struck near the waterline amidships. There was barely any time to react before the Caleb was hit between her superstructures.

"Alpha-Charlie, Alpha-Charlie, be advised that the Caleb and Roberts have both been hit. Roberts is severely damaged, it doesn't look good from here." Annie reported.

"Copy! Maintain CAP and watch for more launches. Alpha-Charlie is moving to assist friendly ships." the AWC replied, keeping an air of calm in play.

Jed circled over the ships as they were wrapped in ugly masses of black smoke. He nosed down and slowed very carefully before making his way to just above the hard deckset by the AWC. As Cyborg hailed him, he passed by the ships and waggled his wings. Morale support, he told his conscience.

"Bronco, form back on me. Tsun-Tsun, how much time on station do you and Glue have left?" Cyborg commanded.

"Five minutes, maybe. It depends on if we have to do any more maneuvering." Annie sighed.

"We've got two aircraft from VF-168 inbound to take over. Jacko, what's the status of those subs?" The E-12 spoke up.

"We're narrowing it down. Bozo 1 this is Jacko 1-3, do you still have a fix on that first sub?"

"It's weak; I think he went into the thermocline! Wait, no we've got him! He's heading towards the surface. Another launch tube is filling up."

"Just one?"

"Two, we've got two…okay, Bozo 1-4, slow down and keep your sonar down. Preacher and Two-Dee, get a firing solution. Light the fucker up the second you have him."

"Jacko 1-3 is moving to engage that second sub…Jacko 1-6, what's your position?"

"Entering the AO now, Mixer. We're going off your buoy data; need us to drop more?"

"Move in with us; the helos got that first sub."

The F-24s settled into new CAP stations while one of the SH-62s slowed to a hover and dipped its sonar beneath the waves. The other two circled around and settled into different angles for their attacks. As if responding, two much smaller geysers erupted from the water.

"SAM, SAM! Break and deploy fl-"

Bozo 1-4 had barely begun to tilt to the left when it was skewered by one of the missiles. The second flew towards the flight lead and sheared off its tail. One of the SH-62s making an attack run pulled away, but the other dropped a pair of Mk.58 torpedoes.

"Bozo 10, Torpedos away!" Its pilot barked…


"We've just detected a splashdown…screws! Two torpedoes in the water."

Graovac kept his wits about him as he looked at the sonar operator who'd made the call.

"Bearing and range?" He asked.

"Bearing 001, range is five kilometers. Torpedo is active, and has acquired us."

"Launch countermeasures; Right 30!"

Maybe there would be something to be looked back on. Something he could've done better. The frigate and two helicopters made the risk worth it; they just needed to create some more chaos and slip away. The senior man pushed himself back into his seat a little more and got to work defeating the two passed by the first set of countermeasures like they hadn't even existed.

"Navigator, what's the nearest feature we can slip into?" He asked.

"Helmsman, take us down 20 degrees! Maintain rudder setting!" The man replied.

"Sonar has detected another dipping sonar; they've spotted us!" One of his Lieutenants reported.

"Commandant, 45 seconds to thermocline." The Navigator chimed in.

"Launch a second wave of countermeasures!" Graovac commanded.

Two more of the canisters burst into the water as the torpedoes closed. To be safe, Graovac ordered the submarine to reverse course and stay unpredictable. The sonar continued to ping as the Osean helicopter was staying on station to find them. Graovac considered circling around to fire his second pair of M03s, but escape took priority.

"First torpedo has fallen for the countermeasures; second torpedo is 38 seconds behind us and closing." The Lieutenant said, tension slipping into his words.

"Increase speed to two thirds." Graovac growled.

"Two thirds aye!"

The submarine spiraled down, the second torpedo's view of it becoming shaky. Graovac figured they just might make it when a fresh ping was heard on the sonar.

"Two new torpedoes! Bearing 358, range 2 kilometers!" The Sonarman called.

Graovac looked at their heading and saw that the weapons had been fired almost head-on.

"What about that other torpedo?" He demanded.

"We've lost it, sir…one more torpedo in the water! Bearing 260, range 700 meters and closing fast!"

"Left 40 and up 20! Ready third set of countermeasures on my command!"

"First two torpedoes are 15 seconds from impact. Third is twenty seconds!"

"Sound collision alarm!"

Graovac's grip on his seat arms became hard enough that his knuckles turned white. The third set of countermeasures went out as soon as the vessel began her next maneuver. The Jestra nosed up as fast as it could as the seconds ticked by.

"Ten seconds!"

"Left full rudder! Flank speed!"

"Left full aye! Flank speed aye!"

"Seven seconds…five…"

Graovac kept his eyes open the entire time. The two Osean torpedoes, though exhausted from the chase, glided down onto the back half of the Jestra in near-unison. Their 97-pound warheads broke through the hull with ease, leading to a gruesome chain of events throughout the innards of the ship. From above, the crew of Bozo 10 listened as the submarine fell into the freezing abyss. They listened as the hull began to break up, which signaled the end of its war. As well as payback for their frigate.

"Suck my dick, you oversized sardine." The pilot growled as he turned to switch to a search and rescue role.