"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-of-seafloor 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 Seawolf 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."