“Yes, Jake?”
“Can you drive a torpedo with the precision of a drone?”
The Taiwanese would-be X-Games athlete rendered a quizzical look.
“It depends what you need. A torpedo moves faster and can’t make the turns as tight, but the controls are similar. Of course, you always run the risk of the wire breaking because of the speed, and you also will eventually run out of fuel since the wire is just a control wire and not an electronic power supply.”
“Good assessment. I want a torpedo positioned as close to drone one as humanly possible and then shut down to drift with the cable still intact so that I can command it to attack the Ambush from there. Can you do that?”
Kang furrowed his eyebrows.
“I can do it. The hard part will be turning the torpedo around to point at us. There’s the chance of cutting the wire with such a move.”
“And the weapon will start a countdown to shut itself off if it believes it’s circling back on us. Just leave it pointing away from us. It can maneuver itself through any necessary turns for chasing after the Ambush.”
“Sure, Jake. That’s easy. I can do it.”
“Henri,” Jake said. “Warm up tube one to run at slowest search speed, passive search mode. I don’t want this thing making any noise other than swimming.”
“Are you not concerned about this noise, Jake?”
“I am. That’s why I’m doing this. Let’s make the noise now, while we’re still far away from the Ambush and with the San Juan between us. If the sound reaches them, they’ll think it’s the San Juan, which might jeopardize the mission but at least keep us from being detected.”
Henri acknowledged and obeyed.
“Tube one is ready,” he said.
Jake looked to a Taiwanese sailor seated beside Remy.
“Enter drone one’s position as the target destination.”
The sailor acknowledged the order and carried it out.
“Shoot tube one,” Jake said.
As air-driven high-velocity water pushed the torpedo into the ocean, Jake’s ears popped, and the flushing whine of the impulse launch system filled the Specter.
“Tube one, normal launch,” Henri said. “Wire guidance engaged.”
“Transfer control to Petty Officer Kang,” Jake said.
“I’ve got it,” Kang said.
“Wiggle it left and right to be sure.”
The youngster verified control of the weapon. Jake again looked to the man beside Remy, the one who supervised everyone except Remy on the team that listened to the numerous hydrophones at their disposal.
“Make sure someone is listening to what the torpedo hears. It may be our bluntest listening tool, but it’s another set of hydrophones.”
Jake watched the inverted triangle of the torpedo slide across the screen from the Specter toward the first drone. As it reached a mile from its destination, he stood.
“That’s good enough,” he said. “Let it coast to a stop.”
He suspected his timing to secure the weapon was perfect as his sonar guru pressed his headset against his wide skull. Remy curled in his ritual of thought and listening, and Jake held his breath.
“I’ve got a contact on the towed array sonar,” Remy said.
“What is it?” Jake asked.
“Low-speed screws,” Remy said. “Clean, cut by precision machinery. It’s the Santa Cruz. Based upon revolutions per minute, I calculate six knots, as expected.”
Jake raised his voice to fill the control room.
“Attention, everyone. We’ve got the Santa Cruz on the towed array sonar,” he said. “Check the bearing on your monitors and look for it on our other sensors, including the torpedo. Just like last time on the San Juan. Tighten up your targeting skills. Get on it!”
During the next twenty minutes, the Santa Cruz’s sounds filled the ears of the Specter’s sonar team and illuminated its Subtics tactical system monitors.
“Okay,” he said. “The Santa Cruz just passed between us and drone one and our torpedo. It’s passing over drone two. Expect the Ambush to be in hearing range soon. Shift your focus from the Santa Cruz to five miles behind it. Listen for the Ambush. You know what frequencies to listen for.”
Seconds ticked like months as Jake’s eyes burned on Remy. He blinked, and the Frenchman’s finger rose.
Jake froze as his sonar expert’s body again began to curl. Then he sprang to the conning platform’s polished rail and stared. The control room fell silent, and everyone stared at Remy.
As his breathing returned, Jake kept his eyes on his hunched sonar guru while half-whispering an instinctive order. In the silence, a half-whisper sufficed.
“Henri, warm up the weapon in tube two.”
His order acknowledged, Jake felt his heart leap into his throat as Remy faced him.
“Reactor coolant pumps.”
“Bearing? Bearing rate?” Jake asked.
“Bearing three-three-eight. Bearing rate, I need more time to get you something reliable.”
“You’ve got two minutes.”
“Drone one has it now,” Kang said. “They must be close to the drone.”
On the monitor beside Jake, a hyperbolic line representing the arc of hearing from the Specter’s towed sonar array cut across the ocean. Then a straight line from its drone intersected it.
“Nailed,” Jake said. “Don’t need bearing rate. That’s the Ambush, right at the intersection of those two bearings. Enter a course of zero-eight-five, speed of six knots. Now!”
“Done, Jake,” Remy said.
“Petty Officer Kang, send the solution to your torpedo.”
“The solution is entered, Jake,” Kang said.
“Engage your torpedo, maximum speed, active search.”
“Torpedo is engaged, Jake.”
“I hear high-speed screws and cavitation from our torpedo, Jake,” Remy said. “And there’s the active search. It’s using the preprogrammed Argentine sonar frequency.”
Jake swallowed as he considered the terror shooting through the hearts of each British sailor aboard the Ambush.
“Petty Officer Kang,” he said. “Transmit active from drone two, simulate Argentine sonar frequency. Increase transmitted frequency from base frequency to account for Doppler effect of a fifty-five-knot search speed pointing directly at the Ambush.”
“Done, Jake,” Kang said. “Twenty-two-point-three kilohertz transmitting from drone two.”
“Good,” Jake said. “Increase sound volume ten percent every thirty seconds and keep the drone pointed at the Ambush.”
“It’s a turkey shoot, Jake!” Remy said. “Our torpedo has the Ambush dead to rights. Two miles and closing. Drone number two is transmitting, mimicking the sounds of a second torpedo. The Ambush has deployed gaseous countermeasures and active transmission countermeasures. The Ambush is cavitating, accelerating to flank speed.”
“What else? Have they launched a retaliatory weapon?”
“Not yet, but wait… outer doors are opening. Two of them… one weapon away, and now another.”
“Bearing rates to both torpedoes?” Jake asked
“Calculating!”
“Are they going the ways we want? On the right, drawing right fast and on the left drawing left fast?”
“Yes, Jake. Torpedoes from the Ambush are moving away from us. I suspect they are shooting exactly where we would hope.”
“They’ve shot back at submarines that aren’t there,” Jake said. “That’s all they could do. They don’t hear us, and they shot at our drones.”