“Admiral, the Americans have succeeded in opening up one side of the box. There’s no doubt that Imperator could escape now—”
“Sergoff,” the admiral interrupted, his eyes opening slightly to irritated slits, “where is Imperator now?”
“She has turned toward Tambov and Orel.”
Danilov’s head nodded imperceptibly as he murmured, more to himself, “They are fast and tough. Let’s see what this Imperator can do in such a situation.” To Lozak he said sincerely, “I understand your enthusiasm, Captain. It’s not time yet for us to interfere. Be patient… please be patient and you will learn.”
Snow was perched like a vulture on the edge of a stool, elbows on his knees, hands dangling as he studied the motion of the little submarines on the imager. It was a projection of what existed according to Caesar’s analysis of sonar rather than an exact picture. It could not depict the destruction of the Russian submarine by Houston. The image of that Alfa simply winked out soon after the computer indicated that it had been destroyed. And then there were seven, Snow mused. Although that was correct according to the imager, it was also incorrect. There were four Russians — he was closing two and there were two others on his starboard quarter. Then there were Houston, Olympia, and Imperator. But there was one more—Seratov! Once she’d gone silent, there was no way Caesar could account for that one. So the man, not the computer, knew there were eight.
The two ahead of him began to split to either side. That was normal. He would have done the same. It seemed like an out-of-body experience to see the larger craft within the image approaching the Sierra and Akula as they spread out on either bow. Imperator dominated that three-dimensional image and Snow could almost pinpoint where he now sat, staring into this holographic world. He knew that if he could open the hatch in the sail and look straight up through the frigid water, he would see the exact ice formation above that now appeared in the imager over Imperator.
The Akula appeared to be closing more rapidly. Snow surprised some of those near him as he thought out loud, “We’ll take the one to port first. I’ll use Caesar for the attack, but”—he grinned, biting his lower lip—“I can’t imagine how that goddamn computer can do every last little thing.” Then, unaware his inner thoughts had been heard through the control room, he said to the XO, “I want the torpedomen to recheck all the tubes and all the loads. Can you imagine what Andy Reed would say if I told him I missed a shot because the torpedo that Caesar said was in perfect order was a dud?”
“All tubes, Captain?” It seemed so unnecessary. They’d been tested less than twelve hours before.
“Right… just one more time. And make sure they check those reserve fish. We may have to use everything we’ve got.”
The XO peered at the imager, as fascinated with the reality of the picture as Snow. He pointed at the closer submarine, his finger seeming to touch the image. “Are you planning to back up with the battle stations party?” he asked diplomatically.
“No doubt about it. They’re going to run exactly the same sequence… just in case.”
Snow remained lost in his own thoughts until sonar reported, “The Akula was pinging, Captain… three of.them… he’s reaching for us.”
“Has he got a range on us?”
“Absolutely… found us on the first. The second and third were just to make sure he wasn’t fooling himself… and to get a firm aspect on us.”
“Since he knows that we’ve got him, too, he’s going to start on the decoys, and keep up with them until he improves his range.” Let him get as close as he wants, Snow reminded himself. Don’t play games.
He straightened his back and stretched before he was aware of someone behind him. “Just kibitzing.” Carol Petersen smiled as he turned nervously. “Before they complete another one of these monsters, we ought to point out that a terminal should be right next to the imager.”
“You’re within shouting distance over there,” Snow remarked irritably.
“Fine for you. You can see and give orders. I can’t see and I have to take them.”
“Drag a stool over if you want.”
“I will, right after Caesar goes through the precheck—”
“I’m having it done now.”
“I know. It came up on the screen. If you think it’s a good idea to back up the computer, I guess it’s just as good an exercise for the torpedomen.”
“I can go along with that.” Snow’s mouth spread in a smile, but the expression in his eyes never changed. “What kind of range do we have now?”
“About forty thousand… closing. He’s not going to fire for a while and he’s probably going to try to get lost in the ice… confuse your torpedoes.”
“That’ll be interesting.”
“You’ve got longer range in your fish… lots faster… definite advantage.”
“As far as I’m concerned.” Snow answered dryly, “I’ve got all the advantage. I’m going to let him fire first unless he’s still holding at twenty thousand.”
Aboard Orel, a fast, sophisticated Akula-class, the captain was ill at ease. No one had ever run an attack on this monster before. He had no intention of taking any chances. He would use two tubes and had two more ready. He’d checked and rechecked his equipment relentlessly… until his own crew was as nervous as he.
Orel didn’t possess all of the advantages of her quarry, though she was one of the most advanced Soviet attack submarines. Her listening gear was more sophisticated and her speed and maneuverability were superb. Even the creature comforts, of little concern in Soviet ships of the past, had been improved. But her listening devices lacked the range and efficiency of the Americans, and her torpedoes were just a bit slower and less reliable. The Russians had sacrificed silence for speed and a defensive double hull, so it was no surprise when Orel was forced to activate her sonar to locate a quarry that had been silently tracking her for quite some time.
Her pinging had been tentative, and Orel’s captain knew Imperator would alter course and depth immediately, but at least he knew where she had been. Presets were entered in the torpedoes. Each process was approved by the captain before it was carried out, then reported back to him when it was completed.
At a predetermined time, he estimated where Imperator might now be in relation to his own position, conned his submarine to the estimated angle for firing, and activated his sonar again.
Snow heard the ping through the speaker in sonar before the report could be made verbally. “Range?” he called out.
“Ping steal range — nineteen thousand.”
Orel’s captain had guessed incorrectly. He was turning slightly to improve his angle of attack.
“Give Caesar control of the attack,” Snow ordered.
The Akula in the imager was still altering course. Snow studied the movement of the two submarines, the Russian as her captain sought the proper alignment, Imperator as the computer aligned for a technically perfect shot.
There was no sensation as two torpedoes departed Imperator, nothing other than the acknowledgment from Carol Petersen that Caesar had fired. Then they appeared minutely in the imager as they were tracked by sonar. Two torpedoes appeared simultaneously moving through space toward Imperator, followed by two more thirty seconds later.