Crush Depth cjf-3

by Joe Buff

  As Challenger drew closer to the position where the Orion had gone down, Jeffrey altered his tactics.

  "Helm, ahead two-thirds, make turns for twenty knots. Right ten degrees rudder, make your course two seven zero." Due west.

  Meltzer acknowledged. A steady twenty knots would keep the ship on the move but allow good sonar sensitivity — and stealth.

  "New passive sonar contacts," Kathy said a few minutes later. "Aircraft-engine noises, approaching from northeast and northwest."

  "Very well, Sonar… Messenger of the Watch, request the commodore in Control."

  Wilson was there in seconds.

  The aircraft flew overhead. Three passive sonobuoys dropped nearby, evenly spaced so their water impacts signaled "dot dot dot," the Morse code letter S, for submarine. The planes were clandestinely saying hello.

  "Friendly aircraft are two Orions and two Vikings," Kathy announced.

  "Release the radio buoy," Jeffrey ordered. The buoy was programmed with a recognition password, plus instructions for the planes. Challenger had completed her quiet, prearranged link-up with the supporting aircraft.

  The planes began to scour the area with their sensors. They used a wide variety of search patterns, from racetrack-shaped oval orbits to S-curve back-and-forth sweeps to lad-derlike snaking zigzags.

  They were acting outwardly as if Challenger weren't there. But in each aircraft's flight plan was an overall course to match Challenger's, and an underlying trend beneath their other maneuvers to move westward at twenty knots — matching Challenger's tactical speed.

  This way, with Challenger's four working tubes augmented by air-dropped torpedoes on several long-endurance antisubmarine planes, Voortrekker could be killed by overwhelming pulses of atomic firepower.

  Jeffrey felt slightly disappointed. He had hoped for better than four planes. This meant he needed to plan ahead more cautiously than he'd wanted to.

  Between them, the Orions and Vikings would have twelve fish, though they couldn't drop them all at once or the weapons, lacking guidance wires, would interfere with each other.

  If each plane dropped half its torpedoes in a salvo, and Challenger fired all her tubes, then Jeffrey's ship and the planes could between them shoot ten torpedoes — six plus four — compared to Voortrekker's eight. This was the advantage Jeffrey wanted, but with just a dozen fish on the planes, he could only count on two such ten-versus-eight salvo exchanges. Those two salvoes had better really smash home, because after them the planes would be out of ammo and Challenger would once more be outgunned.

  Time passed as Challenger moved west. Kathy's people, and the aircraft, searched the entire location where that Orion had been shot down. There were no signs of survivors, or of Voortrekker.

  The search went on. Jeffrey's whole world contracted to the control room — to this dimly lit space enclosed on all sides by hard metal walls and hard deck, hemmed in by the low metal overhead heavy with stark-naked pipes and purposeful rivers of wires. This box within Challenger's hull, this constricted compartment stuffed with people and electronic gear, became Jeffrey's entire universe.

  A frustrating two hours later Bell said, "We've been all over the area, Captain. Nothing:'

  "Why hasn't ter Horst attacked?" Wilson said.

  "I don't know," Jeffrey said.

  "He has to be aware we're here by now. He can hear the aircraft circling just as well as we can."

  Jeffrey nodded. "Maybe he hears them, Commodore, but doesn't know we've arrived, or he thinks we aren't coming."

  "Sir," Bell said, "we could do two things at once if we ping. Be absolutely sure the whole world knows where we are, and maybe have a better chance of picking him up on active search."

  "Commodore?" Jeffrey asked.

  "I concur."

  Pinging here was very dangerous for Challenger. But Jeffrey simply needed to take the chance. The Orions and Vikings were useless if they had nothing to shoot at, and Voortrekker, one way or another, had to be found.

  "Sonar," Jeffrey ordered, "go active."

  Kathy acknowledged crisply. The rest of the crew seemed eager more than nervous, as if they wanted to just get on with the fight and get it done.

  Jeffrey was pleased. He'd noticed that — since explaining to the crew about CINCPACFLT's orders that, in extremis, they were expendable in an even exchange with the Boer sub — they'd all become a bit cocky, and morale had risen a notch. It was as if CINCPACFLT had made everyone on Challenger feel very special and needed.

  Good. Courage — like fear — is contagious. Let my people sense my own eagerness to conclude this grudge match with ter Horst. Let that feistiness, this desire for a hard scrap with the enemy, make the rounds of my ship and infect everybody aboard.

  The bow sphere emitted a deafening high-pitched screech. The sonarmen worked their consoles.

  "No new contacts," Kathy reported.

  Jeffrey held his breath. That ping would have given Voortrekker a foolproof firing solution on Challenger, wherever ter Horst was hiding. Everyone waited and waited.

  There were no enemy torpedoes in the water.

  "Sonar, go active again. Use low frequency."

  Again the bow sphere pinged, a deep and powerful rumble that made everything in the control room shake. Time passed. Nothing.

  "He's not here," Wilson eventually stated, carefully expressionless.

  Crap. Jeffrey realized now that Voortrekker shooting down the Orion had been another of ter Horst's tricks. CINCPACFLT, Wilson, Jeffrey, Bell, all of them had fallen for it.

  Jeffrey and Bell made eye contact, and again they seemed to read each other's minds: We were supposed to think the shoot-down was a lure for Challenger. We were supposed to think Voortrekker was running south and baiting us. We were supposed to rush this way.

  All the while, Voortrekker was sneaking back northeast, with her nuclear torpedoes and her Kampfschwimmer team and her supersonic antiship cruise missiles. Toward the USS John C. Stennis. Toward the vulnerable U.S. Navy bases in Hawaii and San Diego and Guam. Toward America's vital shipping lanes to the whole Pacific Rim. And toward more pseudo-neutral clandestine tender ships, with lots more torpedoes and missiles, not to mention naval mines.

  "God damn it," Jeffrey said out loud.

  Wilson had Jeffrey launch another message buoy. It sent a warning to the Stennis.

  It told the Vikings and Orions to depart and try to close the gap left in the anti-Voortrekker cordon near the line of sea mounts where the Collins boat had gone down — and where Challenger had left unguarded her former hiding place in the sinkhole. Kathy reported as the aircraft-engine noises receded into the distance.

  "Helm," Jeffrey ordered, "make your course zero six zero." East-northeast. "Ahead flank." Meltzer acknowledged.

  Challenger accelerated. The shaking that always occurred at flank speed began again.

  Mike cords and light fixtures on the overhead jiggled. Consoles squeaked gently in their shock-absorbing mounts. Crewmen gulped down mugs of coffee so they wouldn't splash.

  Jeffrey knew the crew around him felt glum. Jan ter Horst had outwitted them again. To himself, Jeffrey had visions of Voortrekker running rampant, sinking carriers and tankers and troopships right and left. Nuking Pearl Harbor. Sending Kampfschwimmer to commit more atrocities in San Francisco and Los Angeles. Allied forces would be drawn to protect the U.S. homeland's western front, away from the Battle of the Atlantic, forces badly needed there to keep Great Britain in the war.

  "Captain," Kathy said, "request alter course thirty degrees to starboard and reduce speed. We have an anomalous reading on the starboard wide aperture array."

  Jeffrey perked up. Could it be we've found ter Horst after all? "Helm, make your course zero nine zero. Slow to ahead one-third."

  Challenger turned; Meltzer's rudder application helped the ship slow down.

  Kathy jolted. "Torpedoes in the water! Bearing two five zero, range ten thousand yards, four torpedoes closing!" Five miles distant, west-southw
est.

  "Did an aircraft drop by mistake?' Wilson said. "Negative! Definite Sea Lion torpedo-engine noises!" As one, the crew were alarmed and electrified by the news.

  "Helm," Jeffrey ordered, "ahead flank. Make a knuckle. Make your course zero three zero?' Jeffrey would run from the inbound weapons at an angle, to force their seeker heads to lead the target.

  "Captain," Bell said, "inbound weapons were well dispersed when first detected. Assess weapons were swum out by Voortrekker at torpedo stealth speed several minutes ago."

  Meltzer jerked his rudder wheel back and forth, to make the distracting knuckle in Challenger's wake. Jeffrey felt the ship bank hard to port and then to starboard. She leveled off. "Steady on zero three zero, sir."

  Jeffrey's heart was racing now. "Fire control, launch noisemakers and jammers." Bell acknowledged.

  "He was here the whole time:' Wilson said dryly. "He was waiting for us to second-guess ourselves and send the aircraft away."

  "We need to call them back."

  "Do it."

  Jeffrey ordered Bell to send off a message buoy, but this would take precious time. Well, 1 got my wish. Voortrekker launched an attack

  1 should have known that sending the aircraft away would make us vulnerable… Did my unconscious mind want this to happen?

  I can't wait for the planes to return. I've got to retake the initiative.

  Jeffrey stood up, and rocked on the balls of his feet from excitement. With his left hand he gripped a stanchion on the overhead. With his right he pointed to Bell.

  "Fire Control, range to incoming torpedoes?"

  "Range now eight thousand yards. Closing by one thousand yards per minute."

  And when they reach four thousand yards — in only four minutes — those one-kiloton warheads will be in lethal range. Jeffrey had to do something in self-defense.

  "Fire Control, tubes one, three, five, and seven. Snap shots, target the incoming torpedoes."

  "Four tubes fired electrically!"

  "Reload, more Eighty-eights!"

  "Captain," Kathy said, "friendly aircraft are returning:' But the message buoy wasn't ready yet.

  They must have heard the ruckus over their radio link to the sonobuoys… Of course, I knew they would. I think I planned this all along, without even knowing it — luring Voortrekker into the open by sending the planes away, and having the planes come back on their own when ter Horst did break cover.

  But Jeffrey's satisfaction with himself evaporated fast. Voortrekker could surely hear Challenger's noises as Jeffrey's ship made flank speed to evade the incoming Sea Lions.

  Ter Horst would pursue to close the range, to make Jeffrey's counterfire less effective.

  We're in a chase with Voortrekker, and we're the leading ship. I told the Orions and Vikings to attack the leading ship…

  Ter Horst is a fucking genius. He figured out my rules of engagement. He's turned our own planes against me.

  "Helm, hard left rudder! Make your course two five zero?'

  Challenger banked violently to port. Meltzer fought to hold her nose up and avoid a snap roll. The ship lost speed from the turn, then accelerated again toward fifty-plus knots.

  "All tubes reloaded!" Bell called. They armed the warheads.

  Something else tickled the back of Jeffrey's mind. Why did ter Horst fire only four torpedoes? When's the next group coming?

  The initiative. You must take back the initiative, any way you can. Half blind at flank speed, Jeffrey still had no detection on Voortrekker herself.

  "Sonar, go active, high frequency."

  There was a deafening screech from the bow sphere.

  "New active sonar contact!" Kathy yelled. "Designate the contact Master One. Contact depth and speed confirm it's Voortrekker!"

  Voortrekker must have been hiding in a fold in the bottom terrain. Now she was coming at Challenger, just as Jeffrey had guessed. Kathy relayed the data to Bell. Bell worked out a firing solution.

  Suddenly there were four atomic blasts in the distance. Kathy said they were Sea Lion warheads, going off on the surface. Jeffrey realized ter Horst had made a big electromagnetic pulse in order to jam the Orions' and Vikings' reception from sonobuoys or radio buoys. Now Jeffrey was out of touch and couldn't change the ROEs.

  "Fire Control," Jeffrey ordered. "Make tubes one, three, five, and seven ready in all respects including opening outer doors. Firing point procedures, all tubes at five-second intervals. On Master One, match sonar bearings and shoot!"

  "Four tubes fired electrically!"

  "All units running normally?'

  "Spread the weapons out under wire-guided control. Keep them well away from our units intercepting the inbound Sea Lions. Reload!"

  Bell acknowledged. Jeffrey had never before expended atomic torpedoes at such a prodigious rate. Given his orders and the tactical picture he had no choice. Jeffrey could easily lose this fight.

  The double-edged swords of those aircraft were drawing nearer.

  "Fire Control, Navigator, work up an intercept course on Master One, smartly."

  Bell and Sessions did. Jeffrey gave the helm orders. Challenger banked into another turn and charged at Voortrekker, following in the wake of Jeffrey's torpedoes.

  "What are you doing?" Wilson said.

  "Forcing Voortrekker to run. I'll ram him if I have to."

  On Voortrekker

  Gunther Van Gelder listened on the sonar speakers, and studied his tactical plot. His ears still rang from Challenger's latest ping.

  "Aspect change on enemy contact," the sonar chief reported. "Enemy turning rapidly to port."

  "He's coming back at us," ter Horst said. "Good. Helm; steer one eight zero." South, away from Challenger. "Flank speed ahead."

  Voortrekker was struck by four vicious thunderclaps, none of them far off. The sonar speakers cut their volume automatically, but even so the ocean roared, and everything in the control room shook. Van Gelder's skeleton rattled inside his body, and his head rang like a bell. He forced himself to concentrate, to eye his weapons-status screen. "Our four torpedoes aimed at Challenger all intercepted and destroyed!"

  "Four more torpedoes in the water," the sonar chief yelled above the noise. "American Mark 88s, constant bearing, closing fast!"

  "Number One, launch counterfire."

  Van Gelder fired a Sea Lion at each of the inbound Mark 88s. The weapons dashed from the tubes, and turned, and ran back at the pursuing enemy weapons. The tubes were empty now.

  "Reload," ter Horst ordered. "Snap shots, all eight tubes, target is Challenger, maximum yield:' Ter Horst and Van Gelder rushed to arm the warheads.

  "Shoot!"

  "All tubes fired."

  "Units are operating properly," the sonar chief reported. Then, "Aircraft signatures.

  Multiple inbound aircraft." "Aircraft type?" Van Gelder demanded.

  "Multiple types. Twin turbofans… and quadruple props."

  "Vikings and Orions, Captain. They're back, as you predicted."

  On Challenger, minutes later

  Jeffrey was impressed by the pilot commanding the foursome of friendly aircraft. In smooth coordination, they used their superior speed to fly wide of the surface mushroom clouds, then dropped more sonobuoys on the far side of ter Horst's low-altitude electromagnetic pulse.

  Jeffrey watched impatiently, on tenterhooks, as Kathy's people tracked the planes' maneuvers and Bell's men updated the tactical plot — as best as they could through the harsh acoustic sea state of kiloton-class detonations. Challenger had very advanced signal processors, which to some degree could cut through the disturbances of a nuclear blast — the algorithms focused the hydrophones tightly in one direction, and tuned out all but selected sound frequencies, to ignore distracting noise from somewhere else.

  Soon, the Orions and Vikings flew past Challenger along her port and starboard sides.

  Ahead of the ship, they launched their first salvo of Mark 54 lightweight atomic fish. As the weapons descended on para
chutes, the pilots turned away hard.

  Jeffrey knew the aircraft crews would be wearing uncomfortable protective suits. The planes would try to avoid the fallout plumes from the Sea Lions and Mark 88s that had already gone off on the surface or deep in the sea. Now, the Vikings and Orions fought for distance from the impending effects of their Mark 54s.

  Jeffrey heard a smack on the sonar speakers as each of the six Mark 54 torpedoes hit the water. Then he heard their engine sounds above the noise of other torpedoes and countermeasures and roaring nuclear bubble clouds. He heard the plops as more sonobuoys rained down. Some began to ping, and others were passive, but their capabilities compared to Challenger's were limited — and ter Horst could always try to create more electromagnetic jamming. At best, this engagement would be total, violent chaos, and there was now a real risk that Challenger could be sunk by a Mark 54.

  The 54s began to ping. Kathy and Bell reported Voortrekker turning from south to west, to jink out of the airdropped torpedoes' active sonar search cones. Jeffrey had no choice but to follow. He ordered Bell to fire four more Mark 88s at Master One on her new course. Ter Horst was hugging the bottom, at fifteen thousand feet, to exploit every possible layer of temperature and salinity and biologics to separate Voortrekker from the Allied planes. Jeffrey told Bell to run his Mark 88s a thousand feet above the sea floor.

  "We have to force ter Horst to stay deep. If he can get shallow enough, he'll launch antiaircraft missiles."

  "Understood," Bell said.

  Jeffrey and Bell ran through their litany of arming procedures and firing commands.

  Four Mark 88s dashed through the sea. Now ten atomic torpedoes all together were chasing Voortrekker, or trying to. Some of the air-dropped Mark Ms lost their target when Voortrekker turned. Ter Horst launched another salvo of counterfire, escalating the contest another notch.

  Some of the Allied torpedoes homed in on each other in the confusion, and blew. Then Voortrekker's counterfire torpedoes began to detonate. The ocean was ripped apart by a solid wall of underwater shock waves and unbearable noise.

  Million-degree pulsating fireballs plunged for the surface. A local part of the ocean entered a state of searing disruption, never seen in nature short of impact by an asteroid.