Thunder In The Deep (02) (43 page)

"Open outer doors," Eberhard said, "tubes two and four."

"Doors open," Beck acknowledged.

Coomans had Deutschland nestled behind the destroyer beautifully now. Its gravitational and magnetic effects—and flow noise in the gentle bottom current—ought to hide Deutschland well. Beck listened to the sonar speakers for a moment. The wreck was old: no settling noises, no seeping fuel or air, no loose parts clanking. He checked the tactical plot.

"Challenger maintaining course zero three zero, Captain. Maintaining flank speed."

"Einzvo, stand by to fire tubes two and four, maximum yield, one kiloton." Ilse watched her gravimeter and nav display as Challenger charged at the ridge. Slightly to left of the ship's projected track lay an old wreck, plotted on the chart.

"Fire Control, report," Jeffrey said.

"Master One maintaining course zero three zero, sin Maintaining flank speed." Challenger topped the rise. The bow sphere regained direct-path contact with Deutschland—she still made 53.3. knots.

"We'll reach the coastal islands in twenty minutes, sir," Sessions said.

"Very well, Nam"

Ilse watched her screens again as the wreck went by. Wait a minute. . . .

"Captain. Wreck was anomalous on gravimeter." "It looks normal to me," Jeffrey said.

"When we were closer, the sharper resolution . . ." Jeffrey hesitated. "Helm, hard left rudder!"

Ilse was thrown against the back of her seat as the ship turned violently to port. Challenger banked into the turn so hard the centrifugal force kept her mug in its holder from spilling.

"The mass-con," Ilse said. "Look." It rippled and shrank.

"Mechanical transient," Kathy shouted. "Directly to port, near-field effects! Reactor check valve transient."

"True contact Master One is accelerating," Bell said. "New course zero four five." Northeast. Eberhard's trick had been foiled, but Deutschland was getting away; her decoy sped into the distance.

"Chief of the Watch," Jeffrey ordered, "use auxiliary propulsors to put us in a sharper turn."

COB acknowledged. The g-force got even stronger. "Master One is turning onto course zero three zero." "Helm, as we come through the turn, make your course zero three zero."

Meltzer acknowledged. Challenger turned and turned. COB and Meltzer struggled to keep her from going into a snap roll, especially with the added weight of the flooded sail trunk high off the center of gravity.

Ilse saw something on the rear photonics imagery; she stiffened. A cylindrical object, sixty feet long, crossed Challenger's stern. A German minisub? Then Ilse saw the tenta-cles, and a humongous eye. A giant squid, the first sighting ever in its natural habitat here! Till now there'd been only dead ones found, washed up on the Norwegian shore. Ilse's heart ached to linger and study it. . . .

The ship leveled off. "My course is zero three zero,"

Meltzer said. Challenger chased Deutschland again. "Fire Control," Jeffrey snapped. " Separation?" "Thirty-four hundred yards." Less than before but not by much.

Ilse forced down her frustration: Eberhard had grabbed the initiative, again.

"That should keep him off balance nicely," Eberhard said. "Now for phase two of your plan, Einzvo. . . . It had better work this time. They've narrowed the separation by two hours' worth of pursuit."

"Understood." Beck knew it probably wouldn't be that easy. So far had just been the setup, to plant the seed of fatal doubt in Fuller's mind.

"Another ridge is coming up," Bell said. "There's another wreck behind it."

"I know," Jeffrey said.

"Think he'll play the same trick, sir?"

"He'll try something. This time the question'll be, which is his ship and which is the decoy?"

"We can use the gravimeter again," Ilse said. "Can't we?" Beck watched the next rise coming up. It was higher than the first one, and the back side dropped more steeply.

"Pilot," Eberhard said, "starboard ten rudder, steer zero four five."

"Zero four five, jawohl," Coomans said.

"There's the other wreck on the chart," Jeffrey said. "This one's supposed to be a Royal Navy destroyer from World War One."

"Master One aspect change!" Kathy said. "Master One turning to starboard."

"New course is zero four five," Bell said.

"Helm, make your course zero four five."

"Sir," Ilse said. "That takes Deutschland further from the upcoming wreck."

"Concur," Bell said. "Our gravimeter resolution will not discriminate targets quickly enough this time."

"I know, XO. I'm sure that's what Eberhard plans."

"Captain, if he can gain adequate separation, he can hit us with a nuclear torpedo. The nearest Swedish border is over three hundred miles away, protected by tall mountains in Norway."

"I know, XO. We have a fifty-fifty chance of guessing right: Is it Deutschland at the wreck, or is it the decoy?"

Both ships were very close to Bergen now. The wind was blowing east. East of Bergen was Oslo, Norway's capital, twice as large.

"Brilliant decoys loaded in tubes six and eight," Beck said. "Flank speed, and courses, preset."

"Very well, Einzvo."

Beck watched his screens once more. The ridge approached quickly. Deutschland topped the rise.

"Open outer doors, tubes six and eight. . . . Tube six, los. Tube eight, los."

"Both tubes fired."

"Pilot, port thirty rudder."

Coomans acknowledged, even more confident than last time, almost cocky. Deutschland banked very hard.

"Both decoys operating properly," Haffner called. "Running steady at fifty-three point three knots, and emulating Deutschland's flank speed noises." Deutschland herself lost way. Eberhard ordered the ship to stop and hide against the wreck.

"Captain," Kathy said. "Master One appears to have launched a decoy. Contact has split in two."

"Confirmed," Bell said. "One contact maintaining flank speed on course three five zero. The other also maintaining flank speed, on zero four five."

"So he didn't use the wreck at all this time." Again Jeffrey thought of Bergen and Oslo. He thought of Challenger's crew and priceless intelligence payload, and the fact his ship was not expendable. Which sonar contact should we follow?

"Which one do we follow, sir?" Bell said.

Jeffrey hesitated, agonized.

"Captain?" Meltzer said.

Jeffrey decided to punt. "We'll split the difference, folks. Helm, head down the middle. Make your course zero two three."

Meltzer acknowledged; Bell nodded—he concurred. "Fire Control, snap shot, ADCAP in tube one. Onto course three five zero, shoot."

"Set. Stand by. Fire."

"Snap shot, tube three, zero four five, shoot!"

"Set. Stand by. Fire."

"Both units running normally," Kathy said.

"Sir," Bell said. "You said before this is pointless. He'll stop them with antitorpedo rockets."

"I know." Jeffrey smiled. "The ADCAPs are twenty knots faster than us. They'll run ahead and tell us what to do.... Decoys don't have AT rockets, XO. Eberhard has to shoot. Whichever contact shoots, that's Eberhard."

"Captain," Beck said. "Challenger has fired a Mark forty-eight Improved ADCAP at each of our decoys. Weapons are overtaking the decoys. Challenger maintaining flank speed on course zero two three."

"Perfect, Einzvo. Perfect."

"What's he waiting for?" Jeffrey said. "Our ADCAPs are getting too close."

"Both ADCAPs still chasing the decoys, sir," Beck said. "Challenger still making flank speed on zero two three. . . . Separation from Deutschland increasing rapidly."

"We're in Fuller's baffles now. He'll never hear our eels, till it's too late." Tubes two and four were reloaded with Sea Lions, with maximum yields preset. The sonar time delay off the left wall of the Trough and back was almost sixty seconds now.

"Open the outer doors, tubes two and four."

Beck relayed the commands. "Separation approaching six thousand meters, still increasing rapidly."

"Tube two, los! Tube four, los!"

"The ADCAPs are in easy range of his AT rockets now. What is he waiting for?"

"Captain," Bell said. "What if neither one is Deutschland?" Jeffrey swallowed. "Helm, hard left rudder!" Challenger swung to port. The blind spot in her baffles swung to starboard, away from the wreck.

"Torpedoes in the water!" Kathy shouted. "Two Sea Lions, one nine zero, closing speed seven five knots!"

"COB, use the side thrusters! Meltzer, get our bow left fast!" The fates of a million civilians in Norway hinge on the rate of this turn.

"Challenger turning hard left," Beck shouted. "Challenger closing the range to Deutschland rapidly."

Eberhard cursed, then ordered Coomans to get underway to increase the separation. Beck watched the plot as the Sea Lions both chased Challenger, and she led the eels round to the left, trying to catch up with Deutschland. The Sea Lions weren't in lethal range of the target yet, but the separation from Deutschland was still adequate. . . . It wasn't too late to end this all right here, just as Beck had intended: Kill Challenger and Jeffrey Fuller and God knows how many innocent people on land.

Ilse gripped her armrests as Challenger tore in a circle at flank speed—Eberhard got in the first shot, after all.

The bank of the turn was so steep, Challenger's rudder began to act like stern-planes on full dive. Meltzer tried to pull up.

"We're in a snap roll!" Meltzer shouted; Challenger was out of control. The master ship control display showed the bow aim at the seafloor. The rear photonics sensor showed the pump jet churn up the bottom muck. The two atomic Sea Lions gained on Challenger'

s tail by the second. Both Sea Lions went active.

Beck watched the tactical plot in morbid fascination: Challenger's in-extremis turning radius, versus Deutschland's acceleration and the kill zone of the eels. Which outcome meant that Beck would win, and which that he would lose? What did he want endangered more, his body or his soul? "Separation now inadequate for nuclear weapons!"

"Einzvo, safe the warheads! Sever the wires! Pilot, maintain flank speed! Port thirty rudder, cut across Challenger's wake as she turns! Make your course three three zero." Toward the left side of the Trough.

Beck safed the weapons. He felt relief, then felt doubled inner shame, both for what he'

d tried to do and for

his gladness that it failed—but throughout, he'd done his duty.

"We're inside Deutschland's self-kill zone!" Bell shouted. "His weapons have to be safed!" COB and Meltzer had barely recovered from the snap roll; the most immediate crisis had passed.

"Sorry, Captain," Meltzer said.

"Jesus," COB said, "that was close."

"Master One separation now forty-six hundred yards," Bell said.

"He-regained his lead and then some," Jeffrey said. "He's also learned his turning radius is better than ours."

"We're all out of conventional torpedoes, too. Eberhard has to know that, sir—else you'd'

ve launched a third one at the wreck along with the other two chasing those decoys." Bell was smart, and fast—Jeffrey hadn't seen that last point quite as quickly; he drew some comfort from Bell's capable backstopping. We've come a long way together since that argument we had.

"Concur, XO, and we're much too close to Norway to use any nuclear fish. . . . Eberhard holds all the cards. Our options just keep getting narrower and narrower." SIX HOURS LATER.

At the command console, Jeffrey belched. He'd eaten lunch too fast, and gotten acid stomach. His bruised chest and his old leg wound still ached, and his face still hurt from the burns received in the Sound.

Good. The last thing he wanted to be was relaxed. The discomfort kept him on edge, kept him focused.

Ilse had grabbed another catnap, then eaten with Jeffrey, alone in the wardroom together. Now she was back at her console, too. The sexual tension between them during the meal—their first private time since they had both believed they'd die on the missile lab raid—had been electric, unspoken but unmistakable. Mutual desire and anticipation for the future, though intangible, seemed very real. For this, too, Jeffrey was glad. It helped him stay wide awake, and reminded him he had something to live for. Could Ilse become the soul mate he'd never before thought he might have, a fellow warrior of the opposite gender, the two of them a couple who braved the fires of battle side by side?

Now, in public, he and Ilse were strictly business—a

lot had to happen before they could get back to such daydreams. Jeffrey pondered his screens; the relentless stern chase continued. As he watched, Deutschland and then Challenger dashed out of the north end of the Norwegian Trough. Both ships still hugged the bottom, in water thirty-three hundred feet deep. They were down in the Shetland Channel now, entering the Norwegian Sea, forced to head north-northeast at this point by a line of ancient volcanic ridges to port. Eberhard was undoubtedly using echoes off the closest ridge to keep tabs on Jeffrey behind him.

Over the last few hours, Deutschland had slowly widened her lead to six thousand yards. Jeffrey eyed the on-line nautical chart. This was the moment he'd waited for. The gale above now blew northwest, toward the ice cap and northernmost Greenland. The surface currents here formed a slow counterclockwise gyre. Airborne fallout would blow to a desolate wilderness. Seaborne fission waste would circulate with the gyre, as lighter elements floated and aged and heavy ones fell to the seafloor.

"Captain," Sessions called from the nay console. "Advise we are now two hundred nautical miles from Norway, the nearest friendly or occupied land."

"Captain," Bell recited formally, "advise rules of engagement now leave us weapons free with atomic warheads."

"Very well, Nay. Very well, Fire Control." Jeffrey and Bell went through the procedures to arm tactical nuclear Mark 88's and have them loaded in all four working torpedo tubes, the starboard-side tubes, odd numbers one through seven.

"Preset warhead yields, all weapons, to maximum yield." Bell acknowledged and relayed commands.

"Make tubes one, three, five, and seven ready in all respects." Jeffrey decided to wait. Much as he wanted to get in the first salvo, he also wanted just a bit more target separation. He was very far from home, and any further damage to his battered ship could well mean total ruin.