“What about you, sir?”
“When we’re far enough from shore, I’ll head to the engineering spaces and secure propulsion so that the ship drifts to stop. I don’t want it doubling back toward land or heading God knows where without any man aboard.”
“How far from shore is far enough, sir?”
“I’ve no idea. I assume that I’ll know the appropriate time and place when I get there.”
“Are you sure you don’t want volunteers to attempt entry into the vertical launch chamber? There are still enough men back here to fight.”
“Negative, lieutenant. Opening the door may accelerate the burning, and there’s no amount of water that can help in this situation. Get off this ship now.”
“Aye, aye, sir. How do you expect us to evacuate?”
“Shore authorities have scrambled a helicopter. I expect arrival in less than five minutes. I can’t verify, though, since our radars are off. You’ll have you use your eyes to verify its presence.”
“We don’t have a helicopter handling team, sir. I don’t see them landing while we’re at flank speed.”
Realizing he hadn’t considered that, Gray improvised.
“I expect that you’ll have to jump.”
Gray noticed a pause in the response.
“I will have the team jump, sir. We’re abandoning the engineering spaces. We’re abandoning ship. Good luck to you, sir.”
“Good luck to you.”
A light on the navigation system pulsated, its inertial guidance algorithm claiming a trajectory toward concealed rocks. Gray shifted the rudder again, and as the ship rolled away from the turn, he abandoned the helm and walked about the bridge, energizing its radar systems.
Fuzzy images of electromagnetic signals reflected from the skins of commercial ships appeared on a screen as the surface navigation radar system awoke. His three-dimensional view of objects in the sky awaited the calibration procedures of the Dragon’s Sampson active electronically scanned array.
He redialed Renard and lifted his phone to his cheek.
“What’s the status, my friend?” Renard asked.
“It’s done. I’m heading to open ocean with a ship that’s all but abandoned. There may be stragglers, but not enough to matter.”
“Excellent! The assault team is en route. Are your combat systems ready?”
“Not yet, but they will be,” Gray said.
“You will let me know, of course, once they are. This is an essential part of our mission.”
“I understand. If you can wait a few moments, I may be able to update you in real time.”
“Safer to hang up and reconnect when you are ready to make your next report. I trust my cellular encryption scheme, but always best to speak in short bursts.”
As Gray lowered the phone, flickering text on a console announced the illumination of the Sampson system. A swipe of his finger invoked a three-dimensional rendering of the sky around his warship.
He turned and walked away from the console with the intent of heading to the combat operations room. He paused and curled his lips, recalling his radar-panoramic view of the sky around him.
The sky around him, he commanded.
CHAPTER 10
Jake rose from a fitful sleep. Four hours of dreamlessness offered him a brief reprise from exhaustion, leaving him alert but tired. Every breath he took aboard the Specter reminded him of the encroaching danger of the British submarine, preventing complete relaxation at all levels of consciousness.
After brushing his teeth, he poked his arms through his undershirt and cinched his belt around his khakis. Tucking in his white dress shirt as he closed his stateroom door, he squinted in the passageway’s bright lighting. The short walk to the control room left him in a trancelike state, and he welcomed the steaming cup of coffee that awaited him at the navigation table.
In the room’s center, Jake converged with Henri, Remy, and Kang to review the springing of their trap on the Ambush. Three-dimensional renderings of submarines, drones, and ships glowed on the table’s flat screen, but Jake tapped a section of glass to transform the world into his preferred classic view of simple color-coded shapes.
“The San Juan should be thirty miles away by now, to the east by northeast,” Jake said. “It’s going to wait until we delouse the Santa Cruz before snorkeling, but that’s just a safety precaution. It’s far enough away that it can make all the noise it wants and no longer be a factor.”
“I lost sound of it at about ten miles,” Remy said. “It’s been over three hours.”
“I understand,” Jake said. “But I’ll trust it’s staying true to the plan and positioning itself where it should be.”
“What about the Dauntless?” Kang asked.
Jake tapped the screen to enlarge its scale and bring a red icon onto the edge of vision.
“Per our latest update from our source in the British fleet, it’s three days away at its best speed,” he said. “It’s not a factor either.”
After tapping the screen again, Jake shrank the view of the world around the Specter.
“We’re here, drone one is still to the north, and drone two is still to the east,” he said. “The geometry is the same as when we deloused the San Juan, thanks to some delicate drone control by Petty Officer Kang.”
“You wanted the best, Jake. I make it look easy,” Kang said.
Jake had grown accustomed to the youngster’s bravado.
“Keep it up,” he said. “I’m going to need you alert and perfect when we hear the Ambush. I may need you to maneuver them. I may need you to transmit active sonar from them. You’ll have to hear exactly what I say and get it right under pressure.”
“No problem, Jake. I’m your man.”
Jake nodded and changed the subject.
“The outer doors to tubes one and two are still open, right Henri?”
“Correct. There was no reason to close them while we drifted silently. I repositioned us only once while you were asleep to account for the ocean current. I assumed it would be quieter to just keep them open.”
“Good move,” Jake said. “Keep them open. Now let’s talk power. The MESMA system has handled our needs while we’ve drifted. That leaves us at eighty-two percent battery charge. Enough to sprint from a torpedo if needed.”
“Yes, Jake,” Henri said. “Power is not a problem.”
“So this is an exact repeat of what we just did with the San Juan,” Jake said. “And we hope that when the Santa Cruz goes by, the Ambush reveals itself trailing it. The odds strongly favor it since it didn’t show up trailing the San Juan.”
He looked to a digital clock read out.
“We’ve got forty minutes until the Santa Cruz is scheduled to arrive,” he said. “Take your places.”
He reached his chair on the conning platform and eyed Remy at his sonar station. With the sound-nullifying headset over his ears and his hunched back, the Frenchman assumed his toad-like pose.
Jake leaned his elbow against a console and rested his jaw in his palm. Reflecting that the worst part about combat was waiting for it, he strained his mind for an insight — any last-second idea he had overlooked.
The finality of the pending encounter with the Santa Cruz weighed on him. He would either find the Ambush, or his mission would fail. In ninety minutes, he’d have his resolution.
He realized he could risk wasting a weapon.
“Petty Officer Kang,” he said.