Chapter 320

Chapter 320: Armed Escort

The Los Angeles-class attack submarine was America’s main weapon, and agreeing to the Chinese terms was already a reluctant concession.

Captain Smith believed that during their surfacing, many secret devices aboard the submarine would inevitably come into the sight of the Chinese. He would bet that within 24 hours, the Hampton had been scanned from various distances at least a hundred times by different equipment.

However, compared to the possibility of a nuclear submarine being towed back to China for dismantling and reverse engineering, this was the best choice they had.

Inviting the wolf into the house was a choice of necessity.

With the night stretching on, the Americans had little patience to prolong discussions with the Chinese, who often indulged in lengthy negotiations. Therefore, they quickly finalized their terms.

As a defeated commander, Captain Smith felt no pride of a military power within him; he sighed deeply and turned back to the Hampton.

A high-capacity solid-state drive with a five-proof level copied the designated information from the submarine.

As an officer following orders from his superiors and responsible for the lives of all 130 crew members, Captain Smith watched as the sailors of the Hampton performed the erasure operations, but not without some flexibility. Some critical data were printed out instead.

There was simply no other choice; they feared that the Chinese would hack into the submarine’s computer system, especially since the Shilang was too close and they were not allowed to shut down the radio system. There would always be someone more capable; who knew if there were such experts? According to confidentiality protocols, they had to proceed this way.

The American submarine’s technical officer, with a pained expression, manually reset the Hampton’s computer system to factory settings. All devices reverted to the original settings, meaning it would take at least 24 hours to restart and reconfigure this Los Angeles-class attack submarine.

While it was uncertain whether the Americans would hold back some information, that was no longer a concern.

To prevent Captain Smith from ordering the premature destruction of important intelligence, the Chinese had very kindly conveyed orders to the Hampton at the very beginning: unless absolutely necessary, most crew members had to return to their quarters and were prohibited from operating the submarine or destroying confidential information.

Had Smith attempted to destroy the information early, the Chinese navy would have sealed the torpedo launchers with metal tape, tied fishing line around the submarine’s propellers, and welded shut the submarine’s outer hatches, turning all 130 American sailors into unfortunate victims.

This nuclear submarine was not the EP-3E reconnaissance aircraft that had to land at Hainan Lingshui Airport; they could neither smash equipment nor throw hard drives overboard. If any damage were to occur to this valuable and precise submarine, it would mean it could become the most expensive coffin he would ever sleep in, all due to his foolishness.

This situation was indeed the best descriptor of self-inflicted doom.

Smith saved himself and his crew, and the Chinese got what they wanted.

Twenty-four hours later, on the fourth day since the Hampton’s capture, under the armed escort of two frigates, the submarine began to turn south toward Kota Kinabalu port military base in Malaysia.

The engine roared with full speed at 30 knots, propelling the Hampton away from the location of the Chinese aircraft carrier task force, and all American crew members couldn’t help but let out a subdued cheer. This lovely nuclear submarine had finally not become a living coffin.

“Smith, what do you plan to do after this?”

Several officers from the Hampton stood on the outer deck, riding the soon-to-be-surface vessel as they headed south.

“Dear Morlenk, I plan to go back and become a lawyer. John, the lawyer in Manhattan, was my high school classmate, and we lived in the same neighborhood. I think I can land a job with him.” Captain Smith spoke with a wistful tone, despite the absence of new orders from their superiors; their fate was all but sealed.

“I envy you for having such a good classmate to support you. I suppose I will return to my hometown in Ohio and help my father run our family farm. Our cabbage is delicious, and we have tender lamb chops. If you ever have the chance to come, you should.”

Lieutenant Morlenk’s eyes misted as he stared blankly at the endless horizon where sea met sky.

“Damn it! Captain, why can’t we fight back?”

The voice belonged to Zack Lev, the communications officer, who spoke with red eyes, having gone three days without sleep. Unlike usual, the Hampton’s beds were empty.

Two lines of tears rolled down his cheeks.

“Be quiet, Zack. Do you want all of us to face God for this impulsive thought? Here, we are not just comrades; we are fathers, sons, and husbands. Do you want to make their families heartbroken?”

Captain Smith rarely reprimanded the tall communications officer in such a stern manner.

“No, no, that’s not what I mean! I hate myself! We are the pride of the Navy, with the most advanced Los Angeles-class attack submarine. We have torpedoes, and we can fight! Why were we captured without a shot fired? Why? Why? I simply cannot accept it!”

As he spoke, the communications officer covered his face and cried out loud like a child who had been wronged.

The lightly salty tears overflowed from his fingers and fell onto the outer deck, mixing with a little patch of seawater, indistinguishable.

Other submarine officers were equally moved, their eyes reddened.

“Zack, Zack!” Smith gently patted the communications officer as an older brother would, lowering his voice. “While we could fight, we face an entire aircraft carrier task force. They can drop a deluge of depth bombs on our sea space in an instant and can even toss sonars into our submarine. Against an enemy we cannot defeat, it isn’t disgraceful; we need to live to protect our families. No one will look down on us. We can’t match the speed of carrier-based aircraft or the depth of depth bombs and torpedoes.”

Recalling the sonar buoy that had almost knocked him out, Captain Smith wasn’t sure if he was comforting Zack or finding an excuse to ease his own heart.

“Alas! Once we get back, we’ll probably be blamed and retired. It’s such a pity. This beautiful ocean—who knows how long we’ll see it?” Lieutenant Morlenk extended his hand, as if to touch the ocean, the sky, this world.

As officers on the submarine, they all loved their jobs and this vessel.

In the iron-willed military, only the passionate would tolerate being on this submarine full of combat spirit, while the madmen would not stand a chance.

“What are those Americans doing?”

Two J-15 "Dark Sabre" fighters flew through the sky, with one pilot on the radio’s public channel commenting,

“The Americans on the Hampton are venting their frustrations. It’s not like they’re going to be thrilled celebrating on deck after we finally caught them!”

The public channel was not entirely open; all devices received it, but sectors needed to be divided into formation public channels, aviation crew public channels, and flight deck public channels. Almost all communications were monitored by the Shilang’s command center communication crew.

“’Catfish,’ they are venting their outrage! They are the ones responsible for capturing the Hampton. The Dragon Knight Lin Mo is leading the team to monitor this Los Angeles-class attack submarine as it heads south.”

This was a standard escort operation.

If Captain Smith and his crew aboard the Hampton realized that one of the pilots in the two "Dark Sabre" fighters overhead was the one who discovered them, they might be tempted to shoot him down even at the cost of being sunk themselves.

In outer space, military satellites from both China and America hovered, while "Dark Sabre" carrier-based aircraft, armed with anti-submarine missiles and depth bombs, patrolled the skies. Meanwhile, a Z-9 helicopter carrying anti-submarine torpedoes operated in the air, and the Haijiao and Pocha frigates moved on the nearby surface at the same speed, all while the Jing Ke submarine lurked far behind.

This was an impressively layered escort operation.

Even the Americans’ Sea Wolf-class and Virginia-class submarines would find it equally impossible to escape.

“Haha, Dragon Knight, you crack me up!” the trainee “Catfish” Cao Yang chuckled lightly. “What a pity! It would be great if we could keep this submarine!”

“I have to add!” Suddenly, a voice from the communication group of the Shilang’s command center interrupted, “That’s impossible! Due to the unspoken rules between the Chinese and American parties, once such a strategic combat weapon is detained, it could lead to a small-scale local war. We are merely a training ship, not a formal combat unit. There is a significant difference from a complete American task force. If it comes to a fight, aside from you aviators, we would all sink to the ocean floor. I warn you all, do not act on your own. Especially you, Dragon Knight! Do not aim sonar at their submarine. That’s taxpayer money! I have noticed that your aviation tactical helmet has locked onto the Hampton several times.”

Thankfully, the sonar buoy Lin Mo had thrown was the only one returned; it could be sent back for a battery replacement and still be used for a while. It was crucial to save every cent since it belonged to the common people.

“Alright, alright, I promise!” Lin Mo could only chuckle helplessly. He was the only one on the entire aviation crew properly equipped with the TS-091 "Dragon Eye" aviation tactical helmet. Surely, the locking action caused anxiety for both the Hampton and the command center personnel of the Shilang aircraft carrier.

No one liked having their actions monitored through a gun sight, and the aviation tactical helmet was linked to the fire control radar. In an instant, Lin Mo’s eyes locked onto the target, a sight that would undoubtedly startle anyone.