The toad head shook.
“Shit,” Jake said. “Can you recommend a direction for me to drive bearing separation so you can hear them?”
“No. You can try whichever direction you’d like, but there’s a surface ship making noise on every bearing around them.”
Jake’s head drooped and twisted towards Henri, who grasped his commander’s body language and stepped to the table.
“I’m no expert in tactics, but I’m no dunce either. I recognize the difficulty.”
“Is that your way of saying we’re screwed?” Jake asked.
The French mechanic’s tone became paternal.
“We’ve seen much worse situations, but this situation’s frustrating because we’re surrounded by things we can’t shoot at. You’re personally frustrated because you want to shoot your way out, but you can’t.”
The words stung and reinvigorated. Jake sneered.
“Your psychotherapy’s gnat’s-ass accurate as usual. It’s a good point, but what do I do about it?”
“You use finesse over brute force,” Henri said.
“I was actually considering using heavyweights against those damned Seagulls.”
“Don’t. You’d risk blowing up civilians.”
Jake’s first instinct to the Frenchman’s warning was to voice a callous and uncaring opinion about strangers’ lives, but he overrode his irritation with the forced virtue of compassion.
“You’re right. That’s the whole point of the slow-kills.”
“You invented them to preserve human life,” Henri said. “Don’t deviate from your principles out of desperation.”
“I don’t like running face-first into this shit, but I have no choice. I need to clear the way for Terry.”
“Then do what you must to clear the way for Terry.”
Jake nodded and accepted the risks.
“Okay,” he said. “We’re going shallow. I’m going to use the periscope and the radio mast to get some tight data from Pierre — whatever it takes to make sense of this.”
Henri returned to his control station.
“I understand. I’m ready.”
“Make your depth thirty meters.”
The deck rose as Henri compelled the Specter upward.
“Can you hear any better?” Jake asked.
“No,” Remy said. “We didn’t cross an acoustic layer. And I still hear too much and can’t make out the Seagulls.”
“I’m coming shallow, Antoine. Forget the Seagulls for a minute and make sure I don’t run into anything. What’s on the right moving left and vice versa?”
The toad-head twisted as the ace conversed with his sonar technician colleagues.
“We’re tracking seven contacts with troublesome bearing rates, but only two have sound power levels strong enough to be interferers. Triangulation supports only two of them being close.”
Jake looked to his chart and saw two nearby vessels. Lines of bearing from the bow array and the towed array fixed them in space, but the steep angles created positioning inaccuracies. The contacts range estimates varied from two to five miles away.
“It’s the best we’re going to get. I’m taking my chances. Henri, get a message ready for Pierre giving him our location and requesting optimized data feeds for all warships within twenty miles and all other vessels within five miles.”
The Frenchman tapped keys.
“Twenty miles and five miles. Got it,” he said. “The message is ready in our transmission queue.
“Very well, take us to periscope depth.”
After a gentle ascent, the deck rocked as Henri raised the radio mast.
“I’ve connected us with the satellite and have transmitted our message,” he said. “Receipt is acknowledged.”
“Very well,” Jake said. “Pierre should be transmitting.”
“Here it comes.”
As the icons of the contacts around him shifted to their updated locations, Jake dedicated a side window in the central table for his boss’ face. The Frenchman appeared but remained silent.
“Pierre’s not talking,” Jake said. “There’s nothing for him to say unless we start talking to him. Lower the radio mast.”
“Are you going to risk more transmissions?” Henri asked.
“Not in this environment. I don’t want to guess how many ships out there have radio-sniffing equipment aimed at us.”
Jake stepped to his seat on the conn as Renard’s image disappeared, and he sent the periscope up for its panoramic sweep. As the optics descended, he looked at images spread across three screens showing the world above.
“Nothing within visible range,” he said.
“The height of eye of the optics is too low,” Henri said.
“That’s fine,” Jake said. “I’ve got what I need from Pierre. Take us back down to thirty meters.”
The deck dipped and leveled.
“Steady on depth thirty meters,” Henri said.
“Very well,” Jake said. “I intend to shoot the nearest Seagulls. I need to take care of them now.”
“With their high speeds and unknown patterns, they’ll drive by at least three other vessels that may attract our weapon,” Remy said. “Maybe more.”
“That’s why we have a wire. And if that fails, that’s why I’m using a slow-kill. Two, actually. I need to sink both Seagulls. I’m not leaving one to hunt us.”
Jake looked again at the tactical data.
“The other Seagull pairs are far enough away to ignore. Assign tubes one and two to the closest Seagull pair.”
“The Seagulls are so close together that I have only one solution for the pair, and I still don’t hear them. I’m using just Pierre’s data,” Remy said.
“I’ll manage it with a staggered launches and wires.”
The guru tapped keys.
“Tubes one and two are assigned to the Seagulls.”
“Very well,” Jake said. “Shoot tube one.”
“Seriously?” Remy asked.
“Excuse me?” Jake asked.
“You don’t sound serious.”
Jake lifted his eyebrows and looked to Henri. The French mechanic shrugged.
“You do seem rather distant,” Henri said. “Your command almost sounded like a question.”
“Yeah, I get it. I’m shooting at robots I can’t hear so that a bunch of other strange shit can happen. So forgive me if I seem a bit distracted. But, yes, I’m serious. Antoine, shoot tube one.”
The soft whine and pressure change hit his ears as the Specter spat its torpedo. After the sonar ace verified control of the weapon, Jake crouched by his seat.
“Antoine, I’m still serious,” he said. “Shoot tube two.”
Jake saw the toad face blushing as the second abrupt barometric shift impacted the compartment.
“I’m passing wire control of both weapons to my staff,” Remy said. “I’ll keep listening for the Seagulls.”
Jake patted him on the back.
“Good idea. You do that.”
Ten minutes later, Jake grew impatient with his guru’s inability to hear the robotic hunters.
“Henri, take us to periscope depth.”
As the floor leveled and bobbed, Jake ordered the radio mast upward. With the Subtics tactical system linked to Renard’s update, the robots’ new locations and speeds appeared.
“Lower the radio mast,” Jake said.
“The radio mast is lowered,” Henri said.
“You see the new Seagulls’ locations, Antoine?” Jake asked.
“Got it. Listening. Yes, I’m listening down their updated bearing, and I finally hear their screws.”
“I’m comparing them against our torpedoes,” Jake said. “Give each weapon a twenty-degree steer to the left.”
“The weapons have accepted the steers.”
Jake watched the velocity vectors of his torpedoes shift to a new intercept course against the hunters. As he entertained thoughts of ridding himself of the robots and turning his attention towards the Crocodile, he sent the periscope up for its panorama.