Deep Sound Channel (01)

by Joe Buff

  "Captain," Jeffrey said, "I'm setting the mine software to wait twelve hours before arming, to give us a good chance to escape."

  "Concur," Wilson said.

  "I'll program them to detonate for submerged nuclear-powered contacts only. At our present depth, four hundred ninety feet, we're too far down for surface targets anyway. I'

  m giving them the acoustic signature of the Rubis-class SSNs the Axis captured from France. I'm also downloading Russian machine noise characteristics, since we know the Axis bought some compact mobile reactor plants and other main components. I'm entering our best guess at the German modifications."

  "Concur," Wilson said.

  Jeffrey finished entering the presets on his console. He relayed the information to the weapons officer, Lieutenant Bell, Lieutenant Jackson Jefferson Bellthird-generation navy, first-generation commissioned officer, two battle Es on his ribbons.

  "Close the outer door, tube seven," Wilson said. "Drain tube seven and remove the Mark 88—we can't really use it at short range anyway. Load the first ISLMM into tube seven.

  We'll launch the second one from there as well."

  Jeffrey passed the orders, then watched the changes in the weapons status window on his console. Tube seven's door icon switched closed and the tube icon changed from green to red. The indicators changed

  from FLOODED and EQUALIZED to NOT FLOODED. Then the

  inner door emblem popped open, and the nuclear torpedo icon vanished.

  The screen told Jeffrey what he already knew. Tube one was busy with the LMRS, tube three was loaded with the other LMRS and flooded, and tube five—also flooded—held a Mark 48 conventional ADCAP whose gyros were spun up. All the port-side even-numbered tubes were unavailable from battle damage. The hydraulic autoloading gear on all tubes was unavailable; the operating mode was shown as MANUAL.

  "Captain," Jeffrey said, "recommend we place a third ISLMM in tube seven once we fire the first two, as a backup in case of any failures. The units were pretty beat up by the weapons compartment flooding, even if they check out okay now."

  "Concur, Fire Control," Wilson said.

  "Captain, once we're through the bastion, should we engage Master 26?"

  "Let's talk about that," Wilson said. "Leaving a silent calling card, the mines, to support our cover story's one thing. A flaming datum while we're here is something else. We have to get our prisoner back to base for interrogation. Since they destroyed so much of the lab notes, us putting the written records through a scanner, downloading their diskettes, and sending off a microburst once we get out to blue water like we originally planned just isn't an option. If we're prevented from reaching the Cape Verdes physically ourselves, our side loses all the intel, which was half our cause for coming here."

  "And if we're sunk too near this coast," Morse said, "not only are we a treasure trove for the other people, but when they explore the wreck, they'll find Otto's body."

  "Mine too, sirs, respectfully," Ilse said. To Jeffrey she looked slightly pale at the thought, even in the reddish light. "If the fish find us before they do, they'll still have dental charts."

  Jeffrey shivered. "That would ruin everything."

  "Cheer up, XO," Wilson said. "That's also part of the job sometimes, passing up a lesser target in favor of a greater one."

  "Yes, sir," Jeffrey said.

  "Commander," Sessions called, "no new sonar contacts."

  "Very well," Jeffrey said. "Captain, our baffles are clear."

  "Very well," Wilson said. "Helm, make your course two zero five, ahead one third, make turns for four knots."

  Meltzer acknowledged.

  Jeffrey fidgeted. It seemed forever before the torpedomen could get the first ISLMM

  cranked into the tube.

  ABOARD VOORTREKKER

  "Sir," Van Gelder said, "Sonar has detected a mechanical transient dead ahead, close to the bottom." "Range?" ter Horst said.

  "Difficult to say. The signal strength was weak." "Educated guess?"

  "It could be distant, or it could be close but with an unfavorable contact aspect angle."

  "What did it sound like?"

  "A clunk, sir. A torpedo being loaded, maybe."

  "Probably some kind of sound short on that Daphne," ter Horst said. "Those boats are ancient, and even with the prewar modernization refit by our German friends, their crew training standards aren't up to yours and mine."

  Van Gelder nodded. "We're close enough to home it doesn't matter. Still, they ought to be more careful."

  ABOARD CHALLENGER

  "Make tube seven ready in all respects," Wilson said. "Tube seven, firing point procedures, improved sub-launched mobile mine."

  "Solution ready," Jeffrey said. "Ship ready. Weapon ready."

  "Very well," Wilson said. "Open the outer door tube seven, and shoot."

  "Unit from tube seven fired electrically," Jeffrey said. "Unit swimming out."

  "Unit is running normally," Sessions said.

  ABOARD VOORTREKKER

  "Hydrophone effects!" Van Gelder shouted.

  "What?" ter Horst said.

  "Torpedo in the water bearing zero zero four! Torpedo is drawing left to right, range increasing!"

  "Torpedo type?" ter Horst snapped.

  Van Gelder turned to the sonar chief.

  "Open-cycle axial piston engine," the chief called out. "Harmonics of sixty hertz plus strong lines at 750 and 1725."

  "Captain," Van Gelder said, "it's a modified American Mark 48, one of their piggyback mine-deploying weapons."

  "Here?"

  "Yes, sir," Van Gelder said.

  "Any contact on the sub? Acoustics, wake turbulence, anything?"

  "Not since that mechanical transient," Van Gelder said. "Seawolfs and Virginias are very quiet, sir, and pump-jets don't leave much wake."

  "I know. That transient must have been them loading the torpedo tube."

  "Torpedo bearing rate and speed guesstimate put its launch point five thousand yards from us," Van Gelder said.

  "We'll use that for the sub," ter Horst said. "Begin a target-motion plot. I'll bet it's a Sea-

  wolf on a mining mission. They make bigger targets than Virginias, but they have a bigger weapons load-out too."

  "Torpedo changing course," Van Gelder said. "Constant bearing now, signal strength increasing. It's aimed right at us!"

  "Not at us, Gunther," ter Horst said. "At the bottom somewhere on our course. Somewhere in the safety lane." "Concur, sir," Van Gelder said, slightly embarrassed. "Time to sidestep," ter Horst said. "Helm, port thirty rudder, steer zero nine zero."

  "Aye aye, sir," the helmsman acknowledged smartly.

  "Good thing it's not an ADCAP," Van Gelder said. "We're badly boxed in by the coastline and the sloping continental shelf and by the limits of the safety corridor."

  "I know," ter Horst said. "It would be hard for us to run. . . . But the same thing holds for them, only more so, though I'd rather not find out for sure if the active mines outside the corridor ignore us."

  "They won't ignore the Sea-wolf," Van Gelder said. Ter Horst smiled. "We know they're there, but they don't know we're here."

  "We have the advantage acoustically, sir, at least for now."

  "That's right, with both of us so near the bottom. They're downhill from Voortrekker, so in looking at each other they have the upslope in their face while we have a clean field of view. They're in the sweet spot of our bow sphere while we know they haven't deployed a towed array—we'd hear it dragging intermittently."

  "We have the weather gauge, so to speak," Van Gelder said.

  "Leave the clever puns to me, Number One." "Yes, Captain."

  "I bet they're distracted by that Daphne."

  "The Americans may plan to take her out once they reach deeper water," Van Gelder said.

  "We'll just see about that," ter Horst said. "Rig for ultraquiet, rig for depth charge. Go to action stations and close up for attack."

  "Recommend we use con
ventional warheads," Van Gelder said, "given our location."

  "Concur," ter Horst said. "Warm up the weapons, tubes one through four. We'll start with one of our slower-running stealthy fish, set to home on wake and flow noise once we have a better TMA. We'll go active with it only if we miss and need a reattack."

  "Sir, that warhead's fairly small."

  "It's a trade-off, Gunther. I'd rather have the first shot be a total surprise. It'll do real damage, and then we finish them off with something bigger. Who knows, maybe they'll be forced to the bottom from flooding or have a mobility kill. We could capture all their crypto gear, even take some crewmen alive for a thorough interrogation." Ter Horst smiled sadistically.

  "Er, concur, Captain," Van Gelder said.

  "Sir," the sonar chief said, "torpedo has gone past our baffles, receding off the port quarter now."

  "Very well, Sonar," Van Gelder said.

  "Helm, steady as you go," ter Horst said. "That

  ISLMM may have another way point up its sleeve." "My head is zero nine zero, sir," the helmsman said. "Captain," Van Gelder said, "we should preset a range limit on our unit, to protect the Daphne."

  "Yes, do it, and program the unit to detonate under target's hull. Warm up the decoys in tubes five and six as well. No point in being foolhardy— our friends out there have eight big tubes themselves."

  "Captain," Van Gelder said, "enemy torpedo has changed course again, zero nine zero true. Doppler shows it still receding. . . . Torpedo engine noise has ceased. Both mines must have been planted."

  "Helm," ter Horst said, "starboard thirty rudder. Steer two six five, put us back on track. .

  . . Number One, mark the mines' position, then deploy a message buoy with a warning smartly, Flash Double Zed priority."

  "Aye aye, sir," Van Gelder said, "radio room is working. . . . Second torpedo in the water!"

  "Shit," ter Horst said. "Starboard thirty rudder, steer three zero zero."

  "Sir," Van Gelder said, "it's another mobile mine. It's drawing right to left this time."

  "Ah, not a problem, then. . . . It's going to turn back soon."

  "You're right, Captain. Here it comes."

  "The Americans are so predictable." Ter Horst laughed. "Helm, return us to dead center in the outbound safety lane. Port thirty rudder, steer two zero five."

  "Port thirty rudder, aye aye, sir. Steer two zero five, aye aye."

  "Number One, prepare to launch an unmanned undersea vehicle probe. Use tube eight. I'

  m going to play doctor with that Seawolf."

  "Captain?"

  "The UUV's my proctoscope."

  Van Gelder worked his panel. "UUV away."

  "Now, Gunther," ter Horst said, "once our probe visually identifies the target, what do you think about shooting while we're all still in the safety lane?"

  CHALLENGER

  "Sir," COB said, "I've lost contact with that Daphne class, Master 26."

  "What happened?" Jeffrey said.

  "They just topped an outcropping south of the Umkomaas River outflow gully and the broken terrain beyond is making too much current turbulence."

  "Very well, Chief of the Watch," Jeffrey said. "Start a snake pattern with the LMRS, try to recover the

  trail. . . . Captain, in the meantime we can probably find the rest of the no-fire corridor by avoiding any CAPTORs."

  "Concur, Fire Control," Wilson said. "Helm, steady as you go."

  "My course is two zero five, sir," Meltzer said. "Sir," COB said, "still no sign of Master 26."

  "Very well," Jeffrey said. "Make the LMRS follow a

  balloon track instead, take a good look at the minefield

  to our front."

  For a few minutes no one spoke.

  "Commander," COB said, Ì'm getting two possible routes for the safety lane based on CAPTOR locations versus fixed-emplacement bottom mines."

  "I see what you mean," Jeffrey said, studying the data. "One of the routes may be a cul-de-sac, a trap."

  "But which is which?" Wilson said. "Do we take the straight path or the turn to port?"

  "If I were an Axis coastal defense commander," Commodore Morse said, "I'd do the opposite of what I thought the Allies would expect me to do."

  "Yes?" Wilson said. "Or would you? Mightn't you also take account of that, and then do what the Allies do expect you to do, to psych them out?"

  "We could flip a coin," Jeffrey said. "That's probably what they did."

  "Still no sign of Master 26," COB said.

  "Very well," Wilson said. "Helm, all stop, hover on manual."

  "All stop, aye, sir," Meltzer said. "Maneuvering acknowledges."

  "Now," Wilson said, "one thing the Axis will do is try to rush our thinking. Instead we'll just sit tight while Lieutenant Monaghan and I study the bottom charts. . . . Helm, rotate sixty degrees to starboard on auxiliary propulsors. It's time to check our baffles again.

  I don't want us rear-ended by the next enemy boat that passes through. If one does sortie soon, we'll get in trail and follow them. . . . XO, take the deck and the conn."

  "This is the XO," Jeffrey said. "I have the deck and the conn."

  "Aye aye," the watch standers said.

  Jeffrey kept his eyes moving between the different screens. Wilson walked back to confer with Monaghan at the navigation table. Morse sat down next to Jeffrey at the command console, got comfortable, and opened his mouth to say something.

  "Hydrophone effects!" Sessions shouted. "Coming from our baffles!"

  "Range and classification?" Jeffrey said, calling up the starboard wide-aperture array displays.

  "Torpedo in the water!" Sessions screamed. "Sub-launched, not a CAPTOR! Wide-field effects, it's right on top of us!"

  The ocean roared and Challenger bucked upward hard. The shock blurred Jeffrey's vision as his seat pounded his buttocks—only the seat belt kept him from flying. Nearby mine warheads detonated sympathetically, sharp rumbling blams that forced the boat to port and then to starboard. The accelerometers built into the wide arrays showed the whole hull flexing nightmarishly, Challenger's bow and stern ends whipping up and down.

  Jeffrey turned aft quickly. Monaghan and Wilson were lying in a heap. Monaghan's neck looked broken and Wilson was unconscious. There was blood on the flameproof linoleum under Wilson's head.

  "Helm," Jeffrey shouted, "ahead flank smartly!" "Ahead flank smartly, aye!"

  "Fire Control is firing noisemakers and jammers!" Jeffrey punched his console keys to launch the countermeasures.

  "Maneuvering acknowledges ahead flank smartly!"

  "Hard left rudder," Jeffrey said, "make a knuckle, make your course one zero five. We'll assume the jog to port's the safety lane and not a trap and make a run for deeper water."

  "Hard left rudder, aye," Meltzer said. "Make my course one zero five, aye."

  "Sonar," Jeffrey said, "designate our attacker Master 27. Gimme a bearing for a snap shot."

  "Negative!" Sessions said. "No data on torpedo's inbound course!"

  "Sir," COB said, watching his nav display, "the LMRS only works so fast. We'll run too near a mine soon, trip a CAPTOR for sure."

  Jeffrey reached for a spare sound-powered phone. "Weapons, Control, this is the XO."

  "Control, Weapons Officer," Lieutenant Bell's voice said.

  "Arm all antitorpedo rockets."

  "Arm all AT rockets, aye."

  "Engineering, Control," Jeffrey said. "Gimme a damage control report."

  "Control, wait one, Lieutenant Willey broke a leg."

  Jeffrey eyed his screens impatiently. Challenger's speed was mounting, and so far she was holding depth and trim. Damage data popped onto his status board—minor fires under control and leaky fittings quickly patched or isolated.

  Jeffrey glanced at the small crowd gathered round the fallen men. A first-aid tech was giving CPR to Monaghan while trying to hold his head straight. Commodore Morse looked up from tending Wilson, who moved slightly and groaned. Morse made eye co
ntact with Jeffrey. "I think he's got a fractured skull."

  Jeffrey started toward them.

  "Forget him!" Morse shouted. "She's yours now, fight the ship!"

  Jeffrey turned in a circle, torn between two duties.

  He limped back to his console. "Weps, warm up the units in tubes three and five. Once we fire, reload both tubes with ADCAPs, secure from ultraquiet if it helps speed up the work."

  "Understood," Bell said.

  "Helm," Jeffrey ordered, "follow the bottom, minimum clearance, modified nap-of-seafloor mode."

  "Modified nap-of-seafloor, aye," Meltzer said.

  "COB, trail three hundred feet of the fat-line towed array. We've got to have some baffles coverage."

  "Trail three hundred feet of the TB-16, aye."

  Jeffrey read the nav plot. Challenger was topping thirty knots. They were overtaking the LMRS fast, coming up on mines there wasn't time to classify

  "Sonar, stand by on the sail- and chin-mounted active HF mine-avoidance systems."

  "Acknowledged," Sessions said. He cleared his throat.

  Jeffrey launched more noisemakers and jammers, then glanced aft. "What's taking him so long? Phone Talker, call the senior corpsman to the CACC stat."

  "Sir," COB said, "you need to—"

  "Yes," Jeffrey said. "Phone Talker, pass to all compartments. Captain's down, XO's in command of Challenger."

  "A direct hit, Captain," Van Gelder said, "and three secondary explosions from mines in target proximity."

  "Good," ter Horst said, "that should break her back quite nicely."

  "Sir," Van Gelder shouted, "reactor check valve transients, the Seawolf's running at flank speed! She's altered course, near one zero zero true!"

  "That's straight into the active minefield," ter Horst said. "Hah! She must be flooding, trying to plane up to the surface. Any ballast blowing sounds?"

  "None detected, Captain."

  "Good. Her hydraulics may be down, no valve control or steering."

  "Sir," Van Gelder said, "we might have missed the EMBT blow with the explosions.

  They have an emergency system like ours that's independent of power."