The similarity in attacks ceased at that point, for the Russian had overreacted. Realizing that it had also been fired upon, the Soviet submarine had snapped off the second two torpedoes, then broken all four wires as she automatically altered course, speed, and depth, and discharged decoys. Imperator did nothing of the sort. Rather than evade, she adjusted her direction toward the Akula, commencing a stern chase that would soon astound the Russian. Imperator’s speed increased to compensate for the rapid acceleration of the Russian.
“Well, if Caesar picks now for a casualty, we are in deep, deep shit I would say.” Snow’s attempt at humor failed. His voice was as serious as before.
Imperator’s noisemakers traveled at a higher speed than any known previously. One of the Soviet torpedoes was drawn away by a perfect imitation of Imperator’s signature, but the other three bore down on their target. The tiny underwater missiles (ATMs) that Caesar discharged next were invisible on the imager but there was no doubt among the sonarmen that they were underway. Their tiny, high-speed propellers emitted an ear-piercing screech as they raced out at a tremendous speed. Homing rapidly, they impacted two of the Soviet torpedoes, detonating the warheads harmlessly at four thousand yards.
The final Russian torpedo was now bearing down on Imperator. Although sonar reported it now in the final homing mode, Caesar relentlessly drove Imperator closer to the fleeing Orel.
One of Snow’s torpedoes was drawn away by a noise-maker, exploding well away from the Akula. The second continued to close, but the race seemed to benefit the Russian. On the imager, it appeared as if Imperator were actually moving as fast as its own torpedo.
As the last Soviet torpedo bore down on the huge submarine, a tiny light flared in Imperator’s bow. It winked once… then again… then one more time. While the power of a laser was severely attenuated underwater, the beam controlled by the computer was aimed directly into the intricate guidance mechanism in the warhead. It was a last-ditch defense, one that had been designed to destroy a torpedo far enough from the submarine to avoid any damage. The warhead, thinking it had impacted a target, detonated harmlessly ahead of them. Imperator raced through the roiling water of the blast.
Orel’s captain reacted with astonishment when sonar insisted the American sub was bearing down on them. The blasts from their torpedoes had been heard in the control room — yet there was no change in sonar’s reports. The unmistakable whoosh of Imperator’s propulsor was clear. There had been no change in pitch. She had been unaffected by the three torpedoes that appeared to have been homing directly on her. Perhaps two of them, the captain admitted, could have been destroyed by some kind of new weapon. A shrill squeal had come through clearly. But the fourth — there had been no indication whatsoever that it had been fooled by a decoy, nor that it had done anything other than impact the target. Yet Imperator was closing the distance between them.
As his eyes met those of his other officers, he recognized the same fear that was surging through his own body. This wasn’t submarine warfare — it was a dogfight! It was as if they were two fighter planes screaming high above the earth, jockeying for that one shot to destroy the other. Yet Orel was not jockeying for anything. She was racing away as fast as her engines would take her — and this monster was closing the gap.
The captain was no longer concerned with Imperator’s second torpedo. Somewhere in the recesses of his mind he knew that his weapons officer had discharged additional decoys, and he was positive sonar reported that the torpedo had detonated behind them. Had he recognized the explosion? Or had it been his imagination?
Orel continued on without interruption and he acknowledged to himself that she was still unhurt… but a voice also nagged at him that his time on this earth was fast coming to a close. He was momentarily blinded by a deep sense of impending doom before he was aware of the political officer shaking him roughly. The captain stared about his control room. Every eye was on him, fear replacing the trust that had been there since the day he took command.
The captain heard himself shouting orders instinctively — the same he would give if he was evading a torpedo. Yet there were none in the water. He was running from a great monster intent on swallowing Orel. They dived steeply. Any change of the planes at that speed brought an instant reaction from the submarine. His rudder was over sharply. The Akula banked at a steep angle.
“The planes… the planes…“the voice came from the political officer. “You’re going too fast for a full dive.” Then he lost his footing, dragging the captain down with him.
“Up angle… up…” His words were drowned out by the shouts of the diving officer, frantically yanking at the controls. As the planes eased back, he wheeled about to open the valves that would blow his ballast. Orel continued to careen downward, speed and gravity pulling against the up angle of the planes.
“Rudder amidships.” The captain’s mind was strangely rational once he accepted the fate they were nearing. The ship was his responsibility… he had to save the ship. His eyes searched out the depth gauge — almost seven hundred meters! They were beyond test depth and still going down.
“Torpedoes!” A voice from sonar repeated over and over, but the words seemed to blend into one with a new awareness — they had yet to control their own ship while this Imperator chasing them had fired more torpedoes!
With the roar of high-pressure air entering the ballast tanks and the shrill voice of the diving officer repeating depths in a frenzied cadence, they plummeted toward the bottom.
What was that other noise? the captain wondered. Recognition came slowly — it was Orel’s engines backing. Someone had ordered the engines reversed to stop their dive. Had he done that? He didn’t remember.
The last fact that registered in his mind was the depth gauge — the dial was well into the red at eight hundred meters. Screams of terror were the last sounds that came to him as the torpedo struck Orel just outside the control room. The blast, magnified by the tremendous pressure, crushed Orel like an egg. Exploding inward, she rolled end over end toward the bottom of the Arctic Ocean.
Snow held Imperator at twenty-one hundred feet as he listened to the death throes of the Akula. Her shell had fractured with a sickening tearing and crunching. The silence that had followed, punctuated only by the bubbles rising to the surface, was as shocking as the rending of Orel’s hull.
He looked over to the imager out of curiosity, noting that the Akula had already disappeared. Whether or not she had yet reached the bottom, Caesar’s efficient brain had removed her as an entity.
Caesar, the computer… Caesar, the brain… Caesar, the instrument programmed by man to assure Imperator’s survival, had done a thorough job. Like a mad dog, he had chased down his enemy, hounding it until nothing remained. He was a superb killer.
“The Sierra,” Snow inquired without looking at the imager. “Where’s the Sierra now?”
“Hiding, I think,” whispered Carol Petersen, still in awe of Caesar’s efficiency.
“Or waiting for us to come looking for him,” countered the XO. “She’s back near the ice… snug in among some pressure ridges.” He indicated a series of ice formations plotted earlier. “Must be a lot of motion on the surface. The ice is moving together, creating a lot of little pockets. It’s a hell of a maze where that Sierra is now.”