'That's us,' Sessions told her as he forced a smile. 'The reactor coolant check valves just slammed into their recesses.'
'Chief of the Watch, flood negative,' Wilson said. 'Add some weight to pick up speed.' The ship continued diving. Ilse eyed her screens. Fifty-one knots downhill through the water. Fifty-two. The ride was rough.
'Sonar,' Wilson said, 'did we get those two 212 boats?'
'Can't tell yet, sir. No flooding or implosion sounds were heard above the blast.'
'Captain,' Jeffrey said, 'recommend we go active, search for metallicity inside the bubble cloud.'
Wilson nodded. 'One ping, maximum power. The whole sector knows we're here.' Ilse heard a double buzz, and several crewmen held their ears. Then there was a sharp and high-pitched eeeee, deafening, not at all what she expected. Yet the sonarmen in headphones once again seemed unconcerned. Automatic amplitude filters?
The echoes came back in several seconds. Sessions put the data through his signal algorithms. 'Commander Fuller! We have two distinct clouds of falling matter, diffuse, well separate from each other. I assess both targets as destroyed!'
'Status of incoming torpedo?' Jeffrey said.
'Range twelve thousand yards, depth decreased but now it's diving again…It went right past the latest decoy.'
'The blue-green laser target discriminator,' Jeffrey said. 'It's even better than we thought.'
'Concur, sir,' Sessions said. 'Axis hardware's good.'
'And we can't use our antitorpedo rockets this far down,' Wilson said. 'We could go the rest of the way to the bottom, try to twist and turn inside the canyons, and risk being buried alive when the warhead blows. Or we could head up toward the surface, shoot some underwater rockets, and gamble the depleted uranium buckshot'll have the range.'
'Commander,' Sessions shouted, 'the torpedo's going active…It's in range-gate mode!'
'Put it on the speakers,' Jeffrey said, 'and filter out our flow noise.' Ilse heard a hard and eerie dingggg, above a constant whining.
'Depth of the weapon?' Wilson said.
'Steady at three thousand feet.'
'That must be its limit,' Jeffrey said, 'or its preset floor.' The dingggg repeated, slightly louder.
Wilson frowned. 'Can't we actively suppress?' Sessions hesitated. 'It's not working, sir.'
'We must have damage to our aft transducers,' Jeffrey said, 'and we're so deep the piezo-rubber hull coating won't function from the pressure.'
'Torpedo booster rocket's firing,' Sessions shouted as a not-so-distant rumbling came over the speakers. 'It's gone to supercavitating speed inside the vacuum bubble!…One hundred knots and accelerating!'
Jeffrey eyed the sonar console. 'Can we outdistance the weapon's final sprint?'
'Negative, sir,' Sessions said. 'We'll be in lethal radius when the warhead blows at endof-run.'
'And we can't hit something that small with an AD-CAP,' Jeffrey said. 'Captain, recommend we fight fire with fire.'
'Concur,' Wilson said. 'Load tube eight with another Mark 88. Set it for low, repeat low, yield, dot zero one KT, a snap shot on the incoming torpedo's bearing.' Ilse watched as Jeffrey watched his console screens. Again lights blinked as he replayed his special weapons litany. 'Security alarm!'
'Handling authorized,' Wilson snapped.
'Armed guard is in position,' Jeffrey said, talking faster and faster. 'Electronic locks are bypassed, mechanical locks are broken. Weapon loaded in tube eight. A-wire is connected, special weapons enabler tool connected.'
'I've relayed the PAL code,' Wilson said.
'Green light!' Jeffrey said. 'Breach door closed! Recommend a preset running depth three thousand feet.'
'Concur,' Wilson said. 'We'll command-detonate through the fiber-optic cable.'
'Sir,' Jeffrey said, 'we'd better launch bows-on. We can't afford to lose the wire.'
'Concur,' Wilson said. 'Cut the wire, tube seven. Close muzzle doors and drain the tubes, tubes one through seven. Shore up the inner door tube eight.' Jeffrey confirmed and then relayed the instructions, his voice clinical and clear. 'Sonar, we need your absolute best estimate of that torpedo's range and speed. This is going to be close.'
'I'm passing them to Combat Systems now, sir,' Sessions said, 'but that thing's hard to model. It's still accelerating, now two hundred knots!'
Wilson grabbed the 7MC. 'Maneuvering, Conn. Stand by for severe control surface movements. Lock down the hydraulic ram relief valves.' Wilson paused for the acknowledgment. 'Expect a sudden back flank engine order. When it comes, give me everything you've got, but for God's sake don't trigger a reactor scram.' He paused again. 'Yeah, that's good, take it to a hundred eight percent.' Wilson hung up the mike. 'Helm, hard right rudder, make your course zero two zero. Make your depth three thousand feet smartly.'
Challenger pitched up and banked into the turn, trading velocity for altitude. Ilse was pressed into her seat. Her console showed their speed was dropping fast, as their heading swung through 180 degrees. The visceral rumbling from aft got louder. The rumbling over the speakers got louder too, as did the awful dings. A relentless robot's coming for us, Ilse told herself. Those men we killed are reaching from beyond the grave.
'How many?' she said out loud.
'What?' Sessions said.
'How many did we kill?'
'Two dozen on each boat.'
'XO,' Wilson said, 'when should we fire?'
'The sooner the better, Captain,' Jeffrey said. 'The Mark 88s are rated to our test depth.'
'We can't risk a failure,' Wilson said.
'Six thousand feet, then, sir?'
'Four thousand,' Wilson said. 'Let's make really sure.' Wilson glanced at a depth gauge.
'Chief of the Watch, pump negative. Pump variable ballast to bring the boat up faster.' Ilse felt a repetitive labored clunking from below. Their rate of climb increased but only slightly.
'Sir,' Jeffrey said, 'recommend retract the foreplanes — they might snap off or jam from shock.'
'Helm,' Wilson said, 'retract the foreplanes.'
'Recommend we level off at three thousand feet before our weapon detonates,' Jeffrey said. 'It's best to take the blast bows-on, show a minimum profile, protect our side arrays and pump-jet.'
'Concur,' Wilson said.
'Three thousand's the depth of minimum danger this close in,' Jeffrey said, 'the tight part of the hourglass. Higher up the blast cone spreads as it lifts the surface; deeper down the counterpressure widens as it hammers toward the bottom.'
'Concur,' Wilson said.
'Depth six thousand feet,' Meltzer said. Ilse looked at a pressure gauge: a metric ton for each square inch of hull.
'Range to the incoming torpedo?' Jeffrey said.
'Five thousand yards,' Sessions said. 'Too close,' Ilse heard him mumble.
'If it's got a proximity fuze,' Jeffrey said, 'it's set real tight.'
'Back full,' Wilson said.
'Back full, aye,' Meltzer said. 'Maneuvering acknowledges back full.'
'Watch the trim as we slow down!' Wilson said. 'The blast catches us from off the level, we'll be knocked out of control.'
'Adjusting the trim, aye,' COB said. Ilse heard pumps gently whirring.
'Back flank,' Wilson said.
'Back flank, aye,' Meltzer said. 'Maneuvering acknowledges back flank.' Ilse watched their speed mount up again as they fled in reverse from the enemy torpedo. Meltzer was sweating in concentration, his fingers bloodless white as he worked the control wheel.
'Make tube eight ready in all respects,' Wilson said, 'including valve lineup for a punchout with a water slug.
