That left only two SEALs — Harrison and Stone — plus Brackman. Christine’s eyes went to Harrison as his gaze shifted from Oliver to her. “Okay,” he said. “Take Kratovil’s MP7 and take position on this side of the decompression chambers.”
Christine scrambled across the snow and retrieved Kratovil’s MP7, then hurried down the side of the LARS. After working her way through the gap between the habitrail and the decompression chambers, she reached the other side of the submarine rescue equipment, across from the Spetsnaz. Tarbottom was sprawled facedown in the snow. She lay on her stomach beside him and checked for a pulse, but found none.
She remained prone, using Tarbottom as a shield. Spetsnaz were partially hidden behind the corners of the huts, firing at Brackman, Stone, and Harrison. Propping the MP7 on Tarbottom’s body, she aimed at the nearest Spetsnaz.
79
“Captain. One thousand meters to the explosion point.”
Baczewski acknowledged the Electric Navigating Party Leader. They were closing rapidly on the spot their torpedo had detonated, with Vepr still at ahead full.
“Steersman, ahead two-thirds.” Baczewski checked the nearest depth gage. They were at one hundred meters. If their adversary was hiding behind an ice keel, he needed to go deeper, to expose the American submarine sooner.
“Diving Officer. Make your depth one hundred seventy meters.”
Vepr tilted down as it slowed, leveling off as it approached the explosion point.
Baczewski spoke into the microphone, “Hydroacoustic, Command Post. Do you have a regain of Hydroacoustic two-five?”
“Conn, Sonar. Hold a new contact on the spherical array, designated Sierra eight-six, bearing three-five-seven. Most likely a regain of Sierra eight-five. Analyzing.”
Wilson didn’t wait for Sonar’s analysis. “XO, set range to Sierra eight-six at two thousand yards, course zero-nine-zero. Speed ten.”
The range to the Akula was firm. The course and speed were guesses, but at this range, anything close would work.
Wilson followed up, “Firing Point Procedures, Sierra eight-six, tube One. Select short-range under-ice tactics. Set Enable Run to minimum.” With the last order, the torpedo would go active as soon as possible.
The watchstanders carried out their tasks, and the expected reports followed.
“Solution ready.”
“Weapon ready.”
“Ship ready.”
Wilson called out, “Match sonar bearings and shoot!”
“Command Post, Hydroacoustic. Torpedo launch transients, bearing one-eight-zero!”
Before Baczewski could react, Hydroacoustic called out, “Torpedo in the water, bearing one-eight-zero!”
Baczewski spun toward the hydroacoustic display. A bright white trace was burning in on their starboard beam. Based on the intensity of the trace, the torpedo was close.
“Steersman, ahead flank!”
As the steersman rang up maximum propulsion, Baczewski evaluated the evasion course. He decided to place the torpedo aft of the beam, so his submarine could open range while evading.
“Steersman, left full rudder, steady course zero-six-zero. Launch torpedo decoy!”
Vepr swung around quickly and a decoy was launched, which gave Baczewski hope until Hydroacoustic’s next report. “Torpedo has gone active!”
The torpedo going active so soon told Baczewski it had been fired from close range, which meant it would lock on to Vepr before the submarine could open distance from its decoy. It would also catch up to Vepr soon. He had to get a torpedo out quickly.
“Counterfire, bearing one-eight-zero, tube Three! Set short-range tactics.”
A target solution would not be sent to the torpedo. Instead, it would be fired down the bearing of the torpedo launch.
“Torpedo is homing!”
Baczewski remained focused on preparing their torpedo for firing. The torpedo tube was flooded and muzzle door open. All that remained was the torpedo accepting the course and preset commands.
He checked the nearest clock. He figured they had fifteen seconds left, and he turned toward his Weapons Officer, hunched over the Weapon Launch Console. Baczewski refrained from requesting a status. Forcing the Weapons Officer to reply would only waste precious time.
Ten seconds left.
The Weapons Officer finally called out, “Torpedo ready, tube Three!”
Five seconds left.
Baczewski gave the order. “Fire tube Three!”
The sound of their torpedo being impulsed from its tube greeted Baczewski’s ears, followed immediately by the deafening sound of an explosion. Vepr jolted forward violently, knocking Baczewski to the deck. As he pulled himself to his feet, the flooding alarm sounded from Compartments Eight and Nine. The normal white lighting in the Command Post extinguished a moment later, replaced by yellow emergency lighting. Baczewski felt his submarine slow and tilt upward, as the ocean poured into the aft compartments. With two compartments flooded, not even an Emergency Blow could keep them afloat.
Vepr was going to the bottom.
Sonar made two reports over the 27-MC. The first one announced the explosion, which Wilson and his crew not only heard, but felt. As the sound of the explosion died down, a second report emanated from the speakers in Control.
“Torpedo in the water, bearing zero-five-zero!”
Wilson had already ordered Michigan to ahead flank and the optimal evasion course to the southeast. He ordered a countermeasure launched, then monitored the torpedo bearings. They moved steadily aft, which told Wilson the torpedo had been fired on a line-of-bearing solution, toward where Michigan was when Wilson fired. The bearings continued drawing aft as Michigan opened range, and Wilson let out a sigh of relief as the torpedo passed behind them. Then his thoughts turned to Ice Station Nautilus.
He stopped by the navigation plot and ordered, “Plot a course to the ice hole.” Petty Officer Leenstra complied, quickly determining the bearing.
“Helm, left full rudder, steady course three-four-zero.”
80
Under normal circumstances, Christine was an excellent shot. But that was while firing a pistol at a stationary target, at a range of twenty-five feet or less. And sober. She had never fired an MP7 before, or an assault rifle of any type. Still, she figured the principles were the same. She wrapped her index finger around the trigger and placed her eye against the sight. She examined the berthing hut to her right, where a Spetsnaz in his white Arctic gear was partially hidden around the corner of the hut, firing his assault rifle. Christine took aim, let out a slow breath, and was about to squeeze the trigger when she felt another tremor through the ice. Michigan must have survived the first torpedo explosion and was dueling with the Akula.
She hoped luck was with Wilson and his crew as she focused again through the MP7 sight, exhaled slowly, and squeezed the trigger. A chunk of plywood splintered from the corner of the hut just above the Spetsnaz’s head. He pulled back, out of sight. A few seconds later he peered around the corner again and Christine compensated her aim, bringing it down and to the right slightly, and squeezed off another round. A puff of snow flew up at the man’s feet. Christine adjusted her aim again and was about to shoot when a barrage of bullets pinged against the side of the decompression chamber, and two bullets thudded into Tarbottom’s body, only an inch below her face.