Disliking the tone of anxiety that validated the bulldog’s report of fear and frustration, the colonel interjected his concerns. “What’s taking so long?”
“We’re installing our homegrown step-up circuit to convert the main battery’s two hundred and seventy volts of direct current to one thousand volts. If we go any faster, we’ll blow up our equipment, or worse.”
“But there must be a faster way than taking three hours.”
“Not unless you want an undercharged capacitor.”
“What’s so bad about that?”
The pause suggested he’d asked either a foolish question or a great one. After a moment, the technician answered. “If you run the firing capacitors off the battery, you’d get much less power from the gun.”
“Can it fire with less power?”
“I’m sure it can.”
“How much less power are we talking about?”
Again, a pause while the technician calculated. “The energy in a capacitor is proportional to the voltage squared. We’re guessing these capacitors run on one thousand volts. So, charging directly off the battery gives roughly one fourth the voltage, or one sixteenth the energy.”
“What’s that mean in terms of muzzle velocity and range?”
Another pause and a background conversation while two technicians verified the answer. “The energy of the bullet is also proportional to the muzzle velocity squared. So, one fourth.”
“One forth the muzzle speed?”
“Yes, sir.”
“That still gives us almost Mach two?”
“Right, sir. Mach one point seven five, based upon our assumption of a nominal Mach seven.”
“That’s good enough to take down a helicopter at short range. How fast can you modify the railgun to run straight off the battery?”
“Faster, for certain. I’m not sure, but it might even be a standard backup operating mode to charge the capacitor banks off the battery. We’ll figure it out.”
“Is everything else ready to fire the weapon?”
“Probably, but we won’t know until we run a live test.”
“How much do you know, and what’s still unknown?”
The technician paused again before sharing his thoughts. “Hydraulics work. We lifted the gun about half a meter and lowered it again. Manual loading is tested — of course, we can’t load automatically with the Subtics system lockout. We can run cooling pumps, both fast and slow speed. We can also aim the gun vertically and in azimuth with manual control of the steering motors, but that’s a lot of slow hand cranking.”
A second voice the colonel recognized as belonging to his gas turbine expert interrupted the conversation. With the ship submerged, the turbine technician had become useful applying his knowledge to diverse engineering problems.
When the side chatter ended, the first technician, the team’s Scorpène engine room expert, reported. “He reminded me we can also set each round to break into smaller pieces prior to impact. It appears that Subtics normally does this for rounds in the muzzle queue, but we found switches on each round we can twist with a screwdriver.”
The colonel appreciated the workaround that suggested his men were finding ways to dictate their own fate. “Excellent. My intelligence suggested that Renard’s fleet uses this mode against surface targets. I’m certain they use this mode against aircraft, too. That’s what we’ll do.”
In the loudspeaker’s background noise, the colonel heard the two technicians breaking into an argument about waterproofed cables, followed by indistinct talk. Then the engine room expert returned to the main conversation. “He also thinks we can bring up the starboard gun, but I’m not in complete agreement.”
“How? The starboard engine room’s isolated from the rest of the ship’s electrical grid. There’s no way to get power to the starboard railgun.”
“In theory he’s right that we can route waterproofed power cables to the gun, but I’m not sure I trust the ship’s cabling.”
“Why not?”
“Because I haven’t tested it, and the electrical grounds failed when the starboard engine room flooded. That doesn’t give me confidence in the insulation.”
“Forget the starboard gun for now. I only need one gun against the helicopter. Get the port railgun ready to fire, and get me an update in thirty minutes.”
The colonel waved his hand.
Obeying his leader’s gesture, the bulldog terminated the communication connection. “I didn’t want to challenge you with the men listening, but you do understand that attacking the helicopter can create more problems than it solves.”
“I disagree. Explain yourself.”
“If you remove the helicopters, you’ll force the submarines to get nasty.”
“I would agree except for one vital fact. Renard is far too arrogant to admit defeat until it hits him in his smug French face.”
“You’re the boss. I’ve trusted you this far.”
“This is a just mission, and justice must be rendered.”
“We all agree with that. None of us is here for the money alone. We want to right the wrongs that were done.”
The colonel wondered if he’d pushed too far. He questioned if he’d been arrogant thinking he could inflict retribution upon the guilty Frenchman. Then he realized that moving forward required stifling all doubts, beginning with his. He stuffed every impulse causing him to hesitate behind iron doors and turned himself into an engine of action. “But fear and futility are challenging that desire.”
“Yes, sir. Couldn’t you hear it in their voices, even over the loudspeaker?”
“Of course, I did. But did you notice how they focused when I asked them pointed questions? If I can keep each man concentrated on his duties, thinking ahead, we can overcome this.”
“Fair enough, sir.”
“That’s where I need you.”
“I’m your man. What’s your plan?”
The colonel reflected. “I’m going to recover our morale by creating the option to fight. We’re going to get the men ready to take down the helicopter.”
“The option, but not the commitment?”
“Right.”
“I see where you’re going, sir. Nobody has to know if you really intend to take on a helicopter again, but the purpose and possibility of controlling our fates will help matters.”
“You’re wise and insightful, for an old dog.”
“You’ve got this old dog motivated again. You should let me get to my job of rallying the troops.”
“Not alone. I’m coming with you. This walk through the ship will require both of us.”
“Lead on, sir.”
Upon the colonel and sergeant’s arrival in the control room, the submarine commander stood, revealing his lean frame. “Good morning.”
“Huh. You’re right. It’s already after three o’clock, isn’t it?”
“Three hours to sunrise, colonel.”
“Does daylight work for me or against me if I surface and send Stinger teams topside against a helicopter?”
“In a normal situation, I’d say against. But this isn’t normal, now is it? The helicopter knows exactly where we are. So, I’ll say that daylight works in your favor.”
The colonel looked to his silent bulldog, who nodded his concurrence. “Agreed. If I order the attack, it will be after sunrise. But let’s keep this a secret within this room.”
The sergeant leaned into him. “To keep the sense of urgency on getting the railgun ready?”
Looking at each man in the room, the colonel made eye contact with the translators first. The academics, one fluent in English and French, the other in Farsi and Arabic, nodded emphatic agreement. As he continued scanning faces, his warfare experts offered rote gestures of approval. “Yes. To keep the urgency on the railgun.”
The commander raised an eyebrow. “You’re readying the railgun? It’s a noteworthy tactic, but I wouldn’t take a single railgun against a helicopter at this range. Our shots are too infrequent, and the target can reposition too quickly. And the aircrew can walk in their rapid-fire rounds to our railgun. We’d be too susceptible.”