A world that railgun rounds, flowing water, and animated conversation had ruled gave way to the gentle hums of the bridge’s circuitry.
“I don’t get it,” Walker said.
“A torpedo in the water doesn’t mean it’s coming for us,” Cahill said. “Especially not one that was dropped that far away and searches in a circle.”
Walker remained stone, revealing his discomfort with subsurface warfare, but his stiff frame slumped with the announcement from the sonar team.
“The torpedo is going in circles. No threat to us.”
“Very well,” Cahill said.
The dull roar of a turbo fan reverberated through the bridge, and the Goliath’s sonar leader announced the obvious.
“The first Kh-35 missile has passed overhead. I hear another one arriving, but I won’t be able to hear them all. It will depend how close they get.”
“Very well,” Cahill said.
“That’s it, then?” Walker asked.
“Did you expect more, mate?”
“No. Just impressed with how quietly you can resolve things underwater.”
“Keep learning,” Cahill said. “You may have to make a decision underwater someday.”
“I’m far from being able to do that.”
“Regardless, keep learning. And draft a note to Pierre.”
“Draft a note? Why not just talk to him when we surface?”
“I’m afraid that in me present frame of mind, I’ll use an inappropriate tone with me boss.”
“Got it. I’m listening.”
“Tell him that the commander of the Goliath highly recommends an investment in point-defense missiles prior to the next mission, no matter what modifications are required. I have no intention of going through this again.”
CHAPTER 13
Jake sensed his anger spiraling.
“I’m going to find that submarine and jam a torpedo up its ass.”
“There’s no time,” Cahill said.
Wondering if ire tainted his perspective, he noticed that his Australian colleague’s face seemed ugly in the display. His hair appeared dry, his jaw too wide, his skin rough, and his eyes beady.
“I’ll be quick,” Jake said.
“Quick means dead. You know better than that. Whatever submarine shot those CY-2s has the advantage. It’s either long gone or waiting for you. You’d be at a tactical disadvantage, and sprinting towards it won’t help anything.”
“I’m better than the guy commanding that piece of shit.”
The words sounded arrogant as they escaped him.
“I’m sure of that,” Cahill said. “But that’s not the point. Hunting down a submarine is outside our mission parameters.”
“I’ll use a slow-kill weapon.”
Jake thought that using the special weapons designed for his mercenary work in Pierre Renard’s fleet might placate his colleague. The slow-kill torpedo released small charges that clamped against a target’s hull and then detonated in sequence, forcing the victim to emergency blow to the surface. The special weapons of Renard’s fleet had helped him win battles while sparing lives.
“That’s not what I meant,” Cahill said. “I don’t give a damn if those mongrels die. I mean we don’t have the time, and we can’t take the risk. This mission is about saving the Kim—not taking revenge on someone who almost killed us but didn’t.”
Jake stewed in silence and then looked to Henri. The Frenchman’s purposeful disinterest in the conversation conveyed his disagreement.
Despite his team’s resistance, he considered satiating his anger and giving the order to attack. For a decade, Renard had trusted him to lead his teams, and instincts played a key role in that trust.
His instincts craved aggression.
“If I give the order,” he said, “we’re going after that damned submarine.”
“You’re in command, Jake,” Cahill said. “I know how to follow orders.”
“Damned right,” Jake said.
He wrestled with his demons, the call to violence dripping from his tongue. But a final glance at Henri, disgust casting shadows on the Frenchman’s face, halted him.
“Wait,” he said. “Hold on.”
He extinguished the communications link to the Goliath.
“Henri!” he said.
The Frenchman crossed the Specter’s control room and stood below Jake.
“Yes, my captain?”
“Why did you just call me your captain?”
“Because it is true. You are my captain. You have been so for me and my colleagues for many years and missions. Pierre may be our founder and grand patriarch, but you are our leader at sea.”
“You’re stating the obvious.”
“Indeed I am. And I ask you to consider what other obvious facts I may be omitting.”
“I didn’t call you here to play semantics games.”
“Then why did you call me here?”
A tide of understanding, carrying shame and humility, flowed through Jake, and he realized why his subconscious mind had compelled him to summon his wise colleague. He glanced at the deck plates, stepped backward, and fell back into his captain’s chair.
He lowered his elbows to his knees and cradled his cheeks in his palms.
“Jake?” Henri asked.
“Yes, my friend?”
“Why did you just call me your friend?”
“Because it is true,” Jake said. “And I needed a friend to set me straight, by highlighting the obvious.”
“You see my point, then?”
“Yeah. Your captain is letting his anger cloud his judgment, and everyone except your captain could see it.”
“The obvious.”
“Right, the obvious.”
“I’m always willing to help, Jake. Do I have my captain back?”
“Yes, you do. Now go back to your station and let me wallow in my shame.”
“Don’t wallow for long, Jake. Terry awaits your command.”
Jake tapped his screen, invoking Cahill’s image.
“Yes, Jake?”
“Forget the damned submarine. Let’s get back to saving the Kim. We’ve got sixty miles to get there, and the closer we get, the more crap is going to get in our way. We’ve got some planning to do.”
“I know, Jake. Let’s think this through. We’re only fifteen miles farther away than we had hoped to drop you off. I think you should stay attached at least for another ten to twenty miles.”
He sensed Cahill’s open-ended comment about distance as an invitation to continue calming himself by focusing on tactics. He deemed the Australian skilled at navigating the subtleties that dialed down his stress levels.
“We’ll have the benefit of real-time secure communications until you drop me, which favors staying mated longer,” Jake said. “But I’m more effective when I’m detached from you and separated from your ship’s noise. No offense, but the Goliath isn’t optimized for sound quieting like a true submarine.”
“No offense taken. I still love me new ship, ugly and loud as it is. It’s still quiet enough when slow.”
“A Harley-Davidson is quiet enough when it’s slow. My point still stands.”
“So what’s your decision, mate?”
“We’ll detach me in ten miles. If there’s a submerged welcoming party, it could be anywhere, and I don’t want to push our luck. I need to be detached from you before we get detected.”
“Course two-eight-one, speed eight knots?” Cahill asked.
“Perfect,” Jake said. “And shift your mindset back to undersea warfare. We’ve already been surprised once by a submarine. One more time, and we may not make it home.”
“Agreed. I’ll deploy me towed array sonar line and feed you the data, as long as we’re mated.”