Deep Sound Channel

by Joe Buff

  "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 conventional 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 culde-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 h
is 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 contact 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-ofseafloor 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."

  "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 punchout 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 water 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 ove
r. "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.