The Lotus Eaters

SdL Megalodon, Shimmering Sea

Meg still tracked Charlemagne, which tracking was pulling them further and further from Orca's lonely ordeal. Fortunately, the carrier was both slow moving and zigzagging. On the screen, and barring only the carrier and some of the torpedoes that were still hunting and which, therefore, still had fresh tracks, the other icons had taken on a faded aspect, indicating the lesser degree of certainty as to their locations and other aspects.

Chu shook his head and said, 'Okay, enough is enough. We've proved we can get at the best the Taurans have to offer and track them at will without them having a clue. That mission's over. Helm?'

'Aye, skipper.'

'Bring us around one eighty, drop below the layer, and head for the last known position for Orca. Make your speed six knots. Maybe we can get there in time to make a difference.'

Chu's exec leaned over and whispered to him, 'If they do take out Orca, it might be nice to toast that carrier in revenge.'

'It's tempting, I agree,' Chu answered. 'Sadly, it's not our mission. No, that's not strong enough. It would be a violation of our mission.'

Chu's exec scowled.

'I couldn't agree more,' said the captain. 'Even so, we can't do it.'

'We're not supposed to do it. Remember what they say about forgiveness and permission.'

SdL Orca, Shimmering Sea

Whether the torpedoes were out of juice or had simply gone inactive as a power saving measure until their passive sensors picked up something interesting, neither Quijana nor Yermo knew. They did know that there were currently no torpedoes in the area actively moving or tracking. Even torpedo two, which had never reacquired the sub, was so far down they considered it more likely than not it was lost.

On the screen, both surface ships and torpedoes had faded almost out of view. Even the sonobuoys dropped by helicopter and fixed wing craft had gone silent and began to fade. Given the ocean currents and the surface winds, Quijana wouldn't have bet a bottle of not very good beer as to where any of them were now.

'You know, skipper,' Garcia suggested, in a confidential whisper, 'we could shut off the clicker and just move off.'

'Against orders,' Quijana said.

'Maybe not. We proved to them we could be found if we use our engines. They've probably figured out we're using buoyancy differential to glide. We sail off. They sit up there for a week or two and, when they never get our signal, assume we glided away.'

Quijana chewed his lower lip uncertainly. 'I've got to admit; it's tempting.'

'Four knots, skipper, and we're out of their search area in an hour and a quarter. We can always re-establish our presence by clicking once we get to where we met up with Meg, or—better—where Chu shut his clicker off.'

It is tempting, Quijana thought. Let me think about the bigger picture. They probably know we had two subs out. They'd have stopped paying attention to Meg when it was out on its 'test dive' pretending to be the new sub. So they think there's only one here. Does that make sense? Yes it does; because if they thought there were two of us they wouldn't act so confident once we took out that Amethyst Class. No, they'd be shitting bricks right about now. That carrier would have turned away long since.

We've got the layer between us and them. They're not going to hear the propulsor jets from up there. Hell, at four knots, they might not hear them if they were down here with us.

'All right, XO; leave the clicker off. Four knots, due east. But keep us bobbing and weaving as if we were gliding just in case they spot us.'

D 466 Portzmoguer, Gallic Navy, Shimmering Sea

Mortain looked embarrassed. 'Mon capitaine, I am sorry, but I can't be more exact than to say that the dive planes are probably both big and fairly thick in cross section. At least, without my books I can't be more exact than that. We might pick them up on active pinging, depending on how they're oriented when we ping. Or . . . well . . . we might not.'

'We have no 'mon capitaine' in the Gallic Navy,' Casabianca corrected. 'We have 'my ass' and 'my God,' but no 'my captain.' '

Mortain looked sheepish. 'Yes, sir. Sorry, sir.'

The captain rubbed a sweating forehead for a moment, then said, 'Get me the admiral and the other frigate captains on the horn.' Turning to Mortain, he pointed a finger and added, 'And you go figure a pattern for four frigates to best blanket an area with active sonar, knowing what we know about the enemy.'

Chapter Twenty-five

We must distinguish between such a system and what at first glance would appear to be its antecedents on Old Earth. True, whether in ancient Athens or ancient republican Rome, there appears to have been a close correlation between military service and political power.

That appearance, however, is somewhat deceptive. The true correlation was between wealth and political