by Joe Buff
"What's target depth?"
"Near the bottom, Captain. Her sink rate now just equals how the floor drops off."
"If they did a blow, it isn't working. . . . Any return fire?"
"Negative, Captain," Van Gelder said.
Ter Horst smiled. "Stealth fish, Gunther, works every time. They're clueless where we are."
"They may catch echoes off our hull with all this bubble noise and reverb, sir, more than we can cancel with our out-of-phase emissions. Or they may just take a snap shot up the corridor."
"Too true," ter Horst said, "so we'll use the bubbles for concealment. Helm, starboard thirty rudder, then port thirty rudder, then steady as you go. Take us to the inshore edge of the safety lane and keep the dispersing blast area between us and the target."
The helmsman acknowledged and the boat banked steeply to starboard, then to port, then leveled off. "My head is two zero five, sir."
"We'll turn to port where they did, Gunther," ter Horst said, "and follow them in trail.
That way we'll be out of line of a snap shot and we can use them as a minesweeper. Arm the antitorpedo rockets just in case."
"Arm the antitorpedo rockets, aye," Van Gelder said.
"Target speed?" ter Horst said.
"Tonals show her still accelerating," Van Gelder said. "TMA team working now."
Known range and course and bearing rate gave the unknown variable. "Captain, she's topping thirty-five knots."
"Let's see how long that lasts. Number One, retrieve the UUV."
"No contact with the UUV," Van Gelder said. "Assess the vehicle destroyed."
"Not surprising," ter Horst said. "Very well, reload tube eight with a nuclear torpedo.
Helm, ahead full, do not cavitate."
"Ahead full, do not cavitate, aye aye," the helmsman said. "Turbine room answers steam throttles moving to ahead full, sir."
"Sonar confirms no cavitation," Van Gelder said.
"We can't let the Sea-wolf draw too far ahead," ter Horst said. "If we give them any separation, they may go for a nuclear snap shot."
"They might regardless, Captain," Van Gelder said.
"If they know they're doomed, they've nothing to lose. They'll try to take us with them."
"I wish you hadn't said that, Gunther. Very well, prepare to fire tube two. We'll use one of our Russian 65-series conventional heavyweights this time. The target's close, preset attack speed fifty knots. I know, that'll drag it out a bit—I want to make them shit their pants."
Van Gelder blinked. "Tube two, aye, preset attack speed fifty knots."
Ter Horst smirked. "Nine hundred kilograms of good German high explosives ought to finish them off. That's three times the wallop of their puny ADCAPs."
"Make tube five ready in all respects," Jeffrey said, "including valve lineup for punch-out with a water slug." The tube five door was already open. "Firing point procedures, tube five, snap shot on own ship's course. Shoot."
"Set," Lieutenant Bell said over the sound-powered phone. "Stand by. Fire. . . . Tube five fired electrically." "Unit is running normally," Sessions said.
"Weps," Jeffrey said, one eye on the tactical display, "what height off the floor gives us the best area effect on bottom mines?"
"You mean like with an airburst from an A-bomb, sir?"
"Yeah."
"I'd need to run a calculation."
"Decide right now."
"Urn, uh, try one five zero feet, sir."
"Pass control of the unit to me," Jeffrey said. He worked his joy stick. He steered the ADCAP over a mine and commanded the warhead to blow. Challenger shook from the string of sympathetic blasts, then shimmied as she passed through churning water.
"Make tube three ready in all respects including a wa-
ter slug," Jeffrey said. "Helm, thirty degrees down angle as we cross the continental shelf. When we're well below the crest, turn hard to port. We need to get away from the fiber-optic line to the LMRS or we'll lose it for sure with the next explosion."
"Multiple detonations on target bearing!" Van Gelder said, raising his voice above the noise.
"The first one sounded different," ter Horst said.
Van Gelder studied the sonar screens. "Confirmed! Captain, initial blast had power spectrum of a Mark 48. Others were our CAPTORs, no arming runs."
"Did the Americans fire at the Daphne and have a premature?"
"Sir," Van Gelder said, "they may be trying to blow a pathway through the mines."
"Cheeky," ter Horst said. "It's a shame their CO has to die. Do we know which boat it is?"
"Propulsion tonals extremely faint," Van Gelder said, "cannot determine hull number."
"We'll find out soon enough, during the salvage operation."
"Target depression angle rate is positive, sir," Van Gelder said. "They're past the continental shelf, their depth increasing fast."
"Flooding noise?"
"Impossible to tell."
"Hull-popping sounds?"
"Nothing, Captain," Van Gelder said.
"Interesting," ter Horst said. "Los Angeles– class boats and the Virginias start popping at three hundred meters. Seawolf hulls have stronger steel, thick HY 100, but they'll reach their crush depth soon if this keeps up."
"Sir," Van Gelder said, "we're coming to the shelf escarpment now."
"Helm," ter Horst said, "thirty degrees down angle as we near the cliff. Take us to the deeper bottom smartly."
"Thirty degrees down angle, aye aye, sir," the helmsman said.
Van Gelder braced himself as Voortrekker nosed over. "Captain, we lost the contact.
They may have made a knuckle while masked from us by the shelf edge."
"Very well," ter Horst said, "time to launch another 65. Number One, make tube two ready in all respects including opening outer door. Tube two, firing point procedures, generated bearings on the Seawolf."
"Torpedo room is ready," Van Gelder said.
"Enable active search three thousand meters from target," ter Horst said. "Shoot."
"Torpedo in the water!" Sessions shouted. "Bearing two two zero relative!"
"Sir," COB said, "we're about to hit live mines."
Jeffrey hesitated, for just a moment. "Maintain course and speed! Tube three open the outer door! Firing point procedures on tube three, snap shot own ship's course!"
"Sir," Sessions said, "if we keep ignoring Master 27, they'll continue firing at us."
"We can't afford to turn and fight them now," Jeffrey said, "much as I would like to. Our rate of fire's too low." Challenger's damaged weapons compartment was down to World War II reloading technology, and as good as Kerr and Scutaro were, they weren't the first team—the boat's best torpedomen were on eternal patrol in the meat locker.
"Tube three shoot!" Jeffrey ordered.
"Set," Bell reported over the sound-powered phone. "Stand by. Fire. . . . Tube three fired electrically."
"Unit is running normally," Sessions said. "Sir, incoming torpedo has gone active!"
"Range and range rate?" Jeffrey said as he launched more countermeasures.
"Twelve hundred yards and gaining on us ten yards every second!"
"Classification?" Jeffrey said.
"Strong 1420 tonal," Sessions said, "gas turbine powered. . . . It's a German-licensed Russian series-65!"
"Weps," Jeffrey said, "on the AT rocket battery, target incoming torpedo. At one-second intervals, fire a salvo of three."
"Antitorpedo rocket noises!" Van Gelder said, watching the sonar screens and the live feed from the torpedo's fiber-optic wire. "Unit from two tube has been destroyed!" The blast wave struck, deafening through the hull and sonar speakers. Voortrekker seemed to stagger for a moment on her course.
"Torpedo in the water!" the sonar chief shouted. "Closed-cycle Rankine steam turbine, a Mark 48 Improved ADCAP, range from us increasing." Another blast, followed by a series of crackling explosions.
"What a waste of mines," ter Horst said. "Very well, prepare to fire tube one, a
nother 65.
This time use maximum attack speed."
"Tube one, aye aye," Van Gelder said, "maximum attack speed."
"Make tube seven ready in all respects including a water slug," Jeffrey said. "Open the outer door. Ignore ISLMM way-point presets, pass weapon control to me."
"Aye aye," Lieutenant Bell said.
"Firing point procedures on tube seven, snap shot own ship's course, shoot."
"Set," Bell said. "Stand by. Fire. . . . Tube seven fired electrically."
"Unit is running normally," Sessions said.
Jeffrey watched the tactical display. The ISLMM moved forward slowly, its speed at first— even with the water slug—barely more than Challenger's. Then it accelerated away. Jeffrey brought the unit to 400 feet from the bottom. He programmed the first mine to detonate ten seconds after jettison, then commanded the ISLMM to drop the warhead. It should go off at about 150 feet. He brought the ISLMM itself down to 150. It was moving even faster now with the weight of just one warhead. On his ten count Jeffrey fired the second warhead. The resulting concussions once more jarred his bones.
"Loud explosions bearing zero nine zero!" Sessions said. "Both ISLMM warheads and seven enemy bottom mines!"
"Very well, Sonar," Jeffrey said.
"Torpedo in the water!" Sessions said. "In our baffles, another 65!"
"Weps," Jeffrey said, "stand by on the AT rockets."
"Second torpedo in the water!" Sessions shouted. "Relative bearing two six five. Otto fuel closed-cycle engine, wide-field hydrophone effects—a CAPTOR'S after us!"
"Keep your voice down, Sonar," Jeffrey said, "you'll get hoarse. . . . Weps, take out the CAPTOR."
There was a roaring sound, diminishing quickly, then a dreadful double crack.
"Incoming CAPTOR-fish destroyed," Sessions said.
"Good shooting, Weps," Jeffrey said, but the AT rocket supply was running low. "Helm, hard right rudder, make your course zero nine zero."
"Hard right rudder, make my course zero nine zero, aye," Meltzer said. The boat banked into the turn.
"Sir," COB said, "more live mines are dead ahead."
Jeffrey glanced at his weapons board—all tubes were empty.
"Weps, how much longer to reload an ADCAP?" Bell paused. "Thirty seconds, sir."
Too damn long. "COB and Sonar," Jeffrey said, "the LMRS probe—we're catching up with it now. Any sign of Master 26?"
"Nothing, Commander," Sessions said.
"Negative contact," COB said. "If she's smart, that diesel's clearing datum fast."
"Sonar," Jeffrey said, "get the LMRS specs from Weps. We'll try to use its active sonar as transducers, send a signal through the fiber-optic wire and put out a signature like Seawolf."
"Aye aye, sir," Sessions said. "Second 65 still gaining on us fast."
Jeffrey fired more noisemakers as Challenger rushed past its own probe. "COB, put the LMRS on a reciprocal course, make noises like a Seawolf—now."
"Unit from tube one has passive lock on target," Van Gelder said, "depth six hundred meters. . . . Sonar re-ports target reversing course!"
"So he's turned to fight at last," ter Horst said, "or he's hoping to bottom in shallower water. Tube two status?"
"Tube two reloaded with another high-explosive series-65."
"Tube two, target the Seawolf. Program maximum attack speed and fire on generated bearings."
"Torpedo room is ready," Van Gelder said.
"Shoot," ter Horst said.
"Target is reversing course again!"
"Hah!" ter Horst said. "We've got them on the run. Her captain's lost it, Gunther. It's almost over now."
"Helm," Jeffrey said, "all stop."
"All stop, aye," Meltzer said. "Maneuvering acknowledges all stop."
"Another torpedo in the water!" Sessions said. "Another 65 incoming in our baffles!"
Challenger began to coast. Jeffrey fired more noisemakers—he had few left, he needed to parcel them more carefully, and this deep they didn't work well from the pressure.
"COB," Jeffrey said, "bring the LMRS back to us and then lead it around to port and out in front." "Understood," COB said.
"Sonar," Jeffrey said, "increase probe's active signal intensity by three decibels now."
"Doubling signal intensity, aye," Sessions said. "Status of incoming torpedoes?"
"Sir, the first one's tracking the LMRS—it's got passive lock. The second one's in passive search, coming in our direction."
"COB," Jeffrey said, "the 65s are biggies. Put the LMRS three hundred yards off the bow, hold it there at two five zero feet up from the bottom."
"Understood."
"First incoming torpedo passing down our port side now," Sessions said. "Torpedo speed is seventy-five knots."
Jeffrey heard its awful scream first swell and then diminish, the whining of the gas turbine and counterrotating screw props.
"Weps," Jeffrey said, "stand by on the AT rockets. Target the second torpedo."
"On the AT battery," Bell responded, "target the second torpedo, aye."
A huge eruption shook the boat. Mines went off like strings of firecrackers—in front of Challenger, then to the sides, even back behind her.
"First 65 has detonated!" Sessions yelled. "LMRS destroyed!"
Jeffrey smiled. "Helm, ahead flank smartly."
"Unit from tube one has detonated on target," Van Gelder shouted. "Impact on the Seawolf at a depth of eight hundred meters!" There was a noise like rolling thunder, and endless concussions pounded the hull. "Multiple secondary explosions from bottom mines as well!"
"Finally" ter Horst said. "No one could live through that."
"Concur," Van Gelder said as surface reflections echoed and Voortrekker rocked. He glanced at his tactical displays. "Captain, recommend we command-detonate the unit from tube two, to avoid endangering the Daphne and nearby surface craft."
"Concur. Self-destruct the weapon."
Van Gelder passed the order to the torpedo room. In moments the fiber-optic feed showed DETONATED and the other data ceased. The noise and buffeting hit, then more shivering bubble pulses and echoes from the surface.
"Sir," Van Gelder shouted as he gripped his handrests, "we're picking up target propulsion transients!"
"That's impossible!" ter Horst said.
"Captain, our sonar algorithms confirm the target not destroyed! Intermittent ambient sonar contact on her hull!" "Target depth?"
"Now well past one thousand meters! . . . Passive sonar contact lost, course unknown, no bulkhead ruptures or implosion sounds."
"Are you sure?"
"Sir," Van Gelder said, "the explosive rebound psheew of a steel sub past its crush depth is impossible to miss!"
"Challenger," ter Horst gasped. "We've found her, Gunther, yes! Warm up the nuclear-tipped 65s in tubes seven and eight."
"Sir," Sessions said, "high-frequency mine-avoidance sonar indicates we're now clear of the minefield. Second incoming torpedo has detonated prematurely."
"Very well," Jeffrey said. "Probably a self-destruct before they lost the wire from all the turbulence out there. How's our bow cap doing?"
"Real banged-up now, sir. Self-noise from boundary-layer flow is up by four more decibels."
"Helm," Jeffrey said, "slow to ahead two thirds, make turns for twenty-six knots."
"Ahead two thirds, make turns for twenty-six knots, aye," Meltzer said. "Maneuvering acknowledges ahead two thirds, making turns for twenty-six knots, sir."
"I want to put some bearing separation between our attacker and the stirred-up water, throw Master 27 off our trail and let them think we're dead from progressive flooding.
Helm, make your course one three seven. That'll also unmask our starboard wide-aperture array."
"Make my course one three seven, aye," Meltzer said.
"At this point," Jeffrey said, "the best strategy's to head for deeper water at top quiet speed, dive beneath whatever limit Axis fish can handle. This course'll take us to the
thousand-fathom curve a little faster, then we use full nap-of-seafloor cruising mode."
"Our depth is three eight zero zero feet now, sir," COB said.
"Very well, Chief of the Watch," Jeffrey said. "If Intel's right, we're more or less safe now, at least from nonnuclear devices, and A-bombs probably won't catch us so long as we don't give Hans another datum once we're well offshore of the latest one. At twenty-six knots and with the stormy seas up there we can outrun any surface ships they have, and conditions aren't good for airborne dipping sonars either."
"Captain," Sessions said, using Jeffrey's formal acting title, "intermittent passive sonar contact bearing two
eight four on Master 27, reflections off her sail and bow sphere using reverb from the last torpedo detonation."
"Range?" Jeffrey said, turning to face Sessions, who was busy eyeing data from his staff.
Jeffrey almost started when he saw Ilse sitting there—somehow he'd forgotten all about her.
Jeffrey glanced aft. Captain Wilson and Morse were gone and the senior corpsman was working hard on Monaghan, now wearing a neck brace with his head taped to a backboard. The corpsman paused from giving artificial respiration to put a defibrillator to the navigator's chest.
"Clear!" he said, his forehead damp with sweat. Jeffrey realized he'd already done this several times—he smelled burned skin and hair. Tunnel vision, Jeffrey told himself. I got so fixated on the battle I forgot about my crew. I can't afford to do that.
"Captain," Sessions said, "contact bearing too far sternward to triangulate or range-gate by wide-aperture array, and no surface bounce range possible. Ambient sonar signal strength puts distance to Master 27 at roughly fifteen thousand yards. Cannot classify the contact based on ambient signature alone."
"Very well," Jeffrey said.
"Sir," Sessions said, "recommend another turn to starboard for a better wide-array incidence angle, a tighter estimate of contact range and possible capture of tonals."
"Negative," Jeffrey said. "That would bring the contact's bearing closer to our beam, make us a bigger apparent target and also expose the starboard maximum in our radial self-noise profile."
"Understood, sir," Sessions said.
Jeffrey read his TMA display. The latest datum showed Master 27's course unchanged, still zero nine zero true.
