He laughed instead. “The only thing that computer can think about for me is where the hell that Seratov is hiding.” He pondered his situation for a moment before adding, “We’ll reverse course toward those two astern.” Then, with a coarse, almost unpleasant laugh, he asked.
“Which one should I take out first… in Caesar’s opinion?”
Carol knitted her brows as the response finally appeared on the screen. “Hard to tell, Captain, They’re both new and reasonably fast — not as fast as an Alfa, Both the same size… both equally dangerous. If we didn’t have that ice above us, the Sierra might be a bigger problem. But there’s nothing she can do with her cruise missiles down here.”
“We’ll take the first that comes in range. Sooner or later, they’ve got to go active on their sonar to find us. They know we’re within certain coordinates. All they’re going to be looking for is enough data for a firing solution.”
“Captain!” Snow’s XO was indicating the holographic imager, “Look at the one near Houston. She’s turning out to attack.”
“Alfa’s turning, Captain.”
“Range?” Ross glanced toward Andy Reed, who was engaged in conversation with the chief of the watch. “Thirty-eight thousand… closing at about thirty knots.”
“Torpedo status?”
“Tubes one, two, three, and four warmed and flooded.”
“Firing point procedures tube one.”
“The ship is ready, Captain.”
“The solution is ready.”
“Presets entered… she’s right at the edge of the envelope. Captain.” The target was barely within a realistic range of the torpedo.
“Doesn’t matter. Open the muzzle door tube one.”
“The door is open, Captain… weapon is ready…”
“Shoot on generated bearings.”
“Unit is running. Wire continuity is good.” The enabling run was high speed.
The captain nodded to the OOD as soon as the torpedo was far enough away. “Left full rudder… tell engineering I want maximum speed. Chief,” he called to the diving officer. “Take her down according to the admiral’s instructions.”
“Twenty degree down angle,” the chief ordered quietly.
Houston’s deck canted down and to port as she responded to the orders. Hands reached out for support as she dived away from her target.
“Wire’s broken,” the weapons officer called out.
“Torpedo’s running normally.”
Reed established the mental picture in his mind. The Alfa turned toward them on an intercept course. Houston had fired soon after that, and her torpedo would be leading the Russian submarine. Once the torpedo’s course was evident, logic and doctrine called for the Russian to turn away to starboard and dive at high speed. At that range, the Alfa would outrun the torpedo. But if Houston imitated the same evolution to port, the Russian would be coming directly toward Houston if she completed a three-quarter circle.
“Alfa’s aspect is changing rapidly.”
The chief studied the depth gauge closely. They were coming up on a thousand feet. “Ease back on your planes… slowly now… slowly.” Houston passed twelve hundred feet. “Zero bubble…”
The chief was trimming for neutral buoyancy at the new depth. He closed the valves as she settled close to 1,250 feet. Reed had indicated he wasn’t as concerned about the exact depth as long as they reached it fast — and they had.
The OOD was also meeting his rudder. They had come around 270 degrees. By the time Houston settled on her new course, the engines had been stopped. She was as silent then as she had been noisy a few minutes before.
While they were maneuvering, the captain had muzzle doors opened on tubes three and four. Houston lay ready, coasting to a dead stop at thirteen hundred feet.
“Captain, the Alfa’s evaded beautifully. That fish is somewhere off in the boonies.”
Neither Reed nor the captain had ever expected that first one to succeed. Now, as they listened to the sonar reports, the Russian came out of her turn at flank speed. Her emergency maneuver completed, she was on a course that would have her pass off Houston’s bow at about three thousand yards.
“She’s cutting speed. Captain.”
Just as Reed hoped, the Alfa had come out of the maneuver looking for her attacker. Though she had heard Houston move away at high speed after firing, there was no indication of the American’s position now. The only solution was to go silent herself and listen.
“She’s almost dead in the water.”
“Last range?”
“Seven thousand.”
Reed was beside the captain now and smiling. “Beautiful job, Ross. He’s right where you want him.”
“He’s about four thousand yards away from where you wanted him.”
“Doesn’t matter. You got a solution?” Reed glanced over to the fire control coordinator.
“Yes, sir.” He reported his current solution on the target.
“By the time we settled down snug right here, we had a bead on him,” the captain said with confidence.
“Go ahead. Ross. Don’t let me get in your way.”
The procedures were the same as for their first shot. Ross’s voice echoed through the control room as the reports of weapon ready for tubes three and four came to him: “Shoot on generated bearings!”
There was an unnaturally long pause between sonar’s confirmation that both torpedoes were running normally and the report that the Alfa had suddenly come to life and was evading. At seven thousand yards, it would take the torpedoes less than three minutes to reach their target. The dead time between recognizing the threat and commencing evasion cut maneuvering time to even less than that.
The Alfa did turn, accelerating when they realized she had been attacked head on at close range, but there wasn’t enough time to outrun a torpedo closing so quickly. Nor could she dive a great deal more. Sonar reported decoys in the water. But that was too little, too late. Reed’s concept had been remarkably accurate. Two torpedoes barreled into the submarine within seconds of each other. However she had been hit, sonar reported that there was no chance of survival. After the impact, there was never a sound from her engineering plant, and the pitiful echo of collapsing bulkheads came to them as the Alfa dropped like a rock.
Abe Danilov’s eyes were shut tight. He was concentrating, willing himself to run Anna’s letters back through his mind — but they remained hazy. One might swim into focus, then wash out just as quickly, as if a receding wave had pulled it away from him. He knew Sergoff and Lozak were alert to every development even though Seratov remained an integral part of the immense ice ridge. While he should have been able to rest for a few moments, discipline would not allow it. He’d been straining mentally, almost willing himself into another dimension when…
“There’s no way she can escape… not with two torpedoes…”
Then the sound of two distinct blasts rumbled across the frozen depths. Danilov’s eyes did not have to open to know that Stevan Lozak was approaching or that Sergoff was close behind, having failed to dissuade Seratov’s captain.