rjlee
Posts: 37
Joined: 9/28/2013 Status: offline
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The Soviet Navy, and then to a lesser extent the Russian Navy, has always had a fascination with combat systems automation. There has never been a shortage of clever computers installed on the bridges of Russian warships to "help" human commanders respond more wisely and more quickly. Unfortunately, these marvelous devices have never quite functioned in the way they were designed. And so it was that when young Lieutenant Usenkov ordered that the surface contact known to the computers as "SKUNK 6" be marked as hostile for purposes of clarifying the plot, the eager computers went a step further. Well, several steps further. First, the computers decide that if SKUNK 6 was hostile, then all of the other contacts on the same side as SKUNK 6 must logically also be hostile. And while they don't know for sure who exactly that is, it can take a pretty good guess. We watch, open-mouthed, as five contacts go from neutral to hostile on the flag plot. Next, the computers decide that since we are on an anti-surface mission, these contacts are hostile, and they are now within range of our primary antiship batteries, we will attack these contacts. In a millisecond the combat systems allocate our Oniks missiles to targets, download radar data into the missile computers, and begin firing salvoes. Finally, the computers aboard my flagship reach out via secure tactical datalink to the Nanuchka group, inform them of the latest gossip, and direct them to allocate and fire as well. So, thirty miles away, two very astonished fast missile boat crews watch as their missile canisters shift into firing position and begin launching SS-N-9 missiles. "Usenkov," I inquire conversationally, "what did you do?" Lieutenant Usenkov opens and closes his mouth like an enormous fish in uniform. But there is really nothing to do but watch. The P-800 missiles are fast and unforgiving. And even the older SS-N-9 Sirens make quick work of the NATO missile craft, stealthy hulls or no. We watch in amazed silence as two, then three, then four contacts wink out of existence on the plot. The Helix overhead confirms the destruction of the Norwegians. Finally, the only contacts left are the salvo of P-800s allocated to the Nansen, far to the south. We watch impatiently as the missile symbols crawl over the miles. Then, curiously, one of the missile symbols just disappears. And then another. I frown. Usenkov has an answer. "It is the Aegis system aboard the Nansen. It's shooting them down." Of course. The combat systems computers did not account for this. As fast as the P-800 missiles are, there is no chance that four of them will penetrate an Aegis shield. I start to curse, then stop. There is something else that is wrong. "Lieutenant," I say slowly, not quite grasping what is going on. "Why are the missiles just disappearing?" "It is the Aegis," he responds with some impatience. "They are shooting them down." "But with what?" We stare at each other. There are no hostile missiles on the plot at all. Even at this distance, we should have picked up vampires with the air surveillance radar. And then the terrible truth dawns. We are in a tight EMCON state. We are relying on the Helix for early warning. And the Ka-27 Helix does not carry an air search radar. My deputy responds first. "Radars active!" he shouts, lunging for the console. Right at that moment a lookout screams something unintelligible. [Continued...]
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