“Right turn coming up.”
“Planesman, ready.”
“Turn now, sir.”
“Do as he says, Planesman.”
The boat leaned to the right and pulled Gs as the crew held on to rails or hand holds; some wore harness restraints. Nikki looked at him, stressed.
“As far as the fish is concerned, we’ll have disappeared, Nik.”
“Left turn coming up, sir.”
“Call it, Planesman. Listen to Benson; turn on his command.”
“Sir.”
The seconds ran by. Benson waited, listening to the underwater world, his home.
“Turn, now.”
The boat heeled to the left and the crew held on.
“Nathan,” said Nikki, “it may be time we put Lucy on the job. Maybe she can whisper sweet nothings to the fish.”
Nathan smiled and nodded. “Benson, stream the tail. Let Lucy out.”
Benson deployed the towed array sonar.
The towed array sonar, nicknamed Lucy Lure, was towed kilometres behind the boat. The high priests of underwater deception, L-3 Chesapeake Sciences Corp, had produced a secret device so covert that not even the Captain or any of the crew knew just how it worked. They were simply under instruction to feed it with power, connect it to the CRAY sensor computer, then listen to what it told them.
It will listen, jam, and lure enemy torpedoes. The sonar community was in awe of Lucy.
Nathan knew they’d have to leave the canyon at some point, and Lucy would vastly improve their detection ability. She could act as a lure and jammer.
USS Stonewall Jackson now raced down the canyon with the lure trailing behind her. With any luck the Yasen would have lost her in here.
“Shit, shit,” said Benson. “The fish has turned into the canyon. It’s still after us.”
The Weapons Officer thought the situation through. “Sir, we could use Lucy to make him think we’re much further behind than we are, then eject the countermeasures. The Type 53 has a proximity fuse. It may think it’s very close with the countermeasures going off, and pull the towed array in quickly, so it doesn’t get damaged.”
Nikki shook her head. “We’d have to do it exactly right or we’d lose the lure.”
“Better the lure than us, sir.”
“Yes, Weaps, but I don’t like it. Better to get very close to one wall and eject countermeasures to the opposite side.”
Nathan wasn’t happy with either solution, but maybe that’s all they had. Then…
“Weaps? What mines do we have aboard?”
“CAPTOR mines, just four of them.”
Nathan smirked. This might be it. “No. What about those Japanese mines the JSDF gave us?”
Weaps thought for a while. “You mean those oscillating mines, the CM7s? We used one during trials, we’ve one left. But they’re years old. They were a drift mine, not tethered, hydrostatically-controlled to maintain a pre-set depth. But they were set up so that they’d explode due to a quick change in depth; it might mean a passing ship.”
“So what if we lay one behind us? What would a passing submarine do to the hydrostatic pressure?”
“Jeez, we’d need to be lucky. Maybe not, though; we are in a confined space. Yes, sir, it might work, but they’re old. They’re 1960s Japanese Self Defence Force.”
Blake knew it was worth a try. “It’s a chance. Get one in tube five, set for our current depth and deploy.”
Weaps smiled. “I hope it goes off. It’s old.”
“And, Weaps, get Lucy wound back in.”
The mine was dug out from the rear of the weapons store and loaded into tube five.
Benson called out, “Fish gaining, Type 53 now 0.6 miles behind and gaining.”
“Mine ready, sir.”
“Deploy it, Weaps.”
Weaps flooded the tube, opened the doors and ejected the mine. There was a clunk on the hull as the mine made contact. The room looked around nervously as there was another clunk further aft.
“Jesus H Christ,” said the Chief.
“It’s pressure activated,” said Weaps. “Relax.”
A minute passed by.
“Lucy is now rewound and safe.”
“Fish, 0.25 miles from the mine. Closing.”
Nathan decided he’d assume that it wouldn’t work. “Ready countermeasures starboard side. Come 100 meters to port.”
The boat moved up to the canyon’s left-hand side. The ice wall sped past, alarmingly close.
“Fish 300 meters to the mine, 200, 100.”
There was a pause and then the rear of the boat was pushed up like a toy. There was a hull-shaking boom and the sea boiled.
The boat was thrown around the boiling, churning sea. Crew were thrown across the room. The cabin lights blacked out and then the auto red night lights came on. Gradually the boat settled.
“Damage control report, Chief,” barked Nathan.
“Sir.” The Chief disappeared back aft.
“Benson, the fish?”
“No contact, sir.” He grinned. “I think we got it. Goddamn it, we got it.” Benson laughed.
The crew breathed again with relief.
Nikki smiled across the room at Nathan. “You lucky bastard, sir.”
Nathan grinned at her. He knew it wasn’t over yet.
“Weaps, stream the lure. Get Lucy out there and sniffing. Planesman, down bubble 20, trim for descent, make your depth 700 feet, come about to 280 degrees.” Nathan fixed his team one by one with a hard stare. “People, we still have a Yasen class out there.” Nathan walked over to the Weapon Officer’s station. “I want four Mk48s in tubes. Do we still have contact with Deputy Dawg?”
The main lighting came back on.
“Yes, we do, sir. I don’t know how the hell we have. The control computer on the Pointer does receive positional information from us; it must have kept Deputy Dawg close enough. We are still linked by the wire.”
“Benson, what’s the Yasen up to?”
Benson ran his finger over the controls and studied his dripping oil screen. “Nothing, sir, it’s quiet out there. Lucy and the Dawg aren’t picking anything up either.”
He walked over to the XO’s station.
“This stinks, Nikki. He hasn’t just disappeared.”
She leaned close. “He could have gone deep. Or just done an all stop and could be nearby waiting for us. Holy shit, he could have decided to back off and plan his next attack more carefully. I just don’t know. I’m useless.”
“No, Nikki, you’re not. We just don’t know. It’s like a dark room with a chessboard lit by a desk lamp in the middle. You want to stop your opponent playing. If you see his arm reach out to the board making a move you can slice it off with your sword; he can do the same to you. You both must play the game, and distraction is possible. You can guess where he is, but it’s just a guess. If you reach out to play, will he slice your arm off? Can you slice his off?”
She nodded. “That’s about it. Where did you learn that?”
“His name was Captain Franks, USS NYC.”
Nathan thought it through. The Yasen was probably stopped somewhere, listening, hoping to detect them. How can I flush him out? Vodka might do it, but that’s not an op…
“Sir, I heard a venting and flooding of ballast tanks from the north. I think it’s him, he’s coming down from the icecap.”
“Weaps, get a firing solution on him.”
“Shit,” said Benson, taking off his headphones. “Loud bastard, he just pinged us.”
“Solution laid in.”
“Flood tube, open doors, fire when ready.”
The Weapons Officer set up his controls. He didn’t have to wait long. “Launch tube two, fish running and hungry.”
“Planesman, vent for rapid ascent. Go.”
Nathan had to get the boat up into the canyon again and hide; let the fish seek out the enemy. USS Stonewall Jackson rose up into the canyon and held her position. She was hiding and facing west, the seaward entrance was about half a mile down the canyon to the west.