Deep Sound Channel (33 page)

"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.

"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 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?"

"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 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 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."