compartment forward. Meltzer joined the chief, taking the other position. Jeffrey and Ilse followed Clayton aft, into the transport compartment. Clayton's five shooters were all sitting there, dressed in black, pumped up and excited.
'We saved the two front seats for you,' Clayton said. 'Terrific,' Jeffrey said. 'I hate bulkhead seats.'
'If you get seasick,' Clayton said, 'just keep facing forward.'
Jeffrey chuckled. Ilse made a face.
'Now,' Clayton said, 'let's think about this. I'm in tactical command of the mission, Meltzer's in charge of the ASDS, and you're senior officer present afloat, except we aren't afloat yet. Then there's Captain Wilson. So who gives whom permission to get under way?'
'We should go through proper channels,' Jeffrey said.
'Um, yeah,' Clayton said. 'But from the top down, or vice versa?'
'Maybe we should form a committee,' Ilse said from across the narrow aisle. 'You know, to study the question.' She made eye contact with Jeffrey, and he thought she looked very beautiful. The black hood she'd pulled up really did something for her.
'Is ten a quorum?' Jeffrey said. 'You can be chairwoman, tie breaker.' Easy, Jeffrey told himself. We could all be dead in an hour or two. That's no reason to flirt. There was a dull thump from forward, another from aft. Then Meltzer's voice came over the intercom. 'Hatch secured, swimmer delivery vehicles secured, SDV tow bridle in place. We have a window in the threat TMA, Challenger now popping up.'
'I don't feel anything,' Jeffrey said a little later. 'Do you?'
'No,' Clayton said. 'You don't if everything works right.' Meltzer came back on. 'We're at two hundred fifty feet. Ocean Interface conformal hangar is flooded and equalized, Challenger's pressure-proof bay doors are open. ASDS ready to disembark.'
Jeffrey picked up a mike. 'We're all set back here.' 'That was all so quiet,' Ilse said.
'That's the idea,' Jeffrey said. He fastened his seat belt and Ilse did the same.
'They should put pictures up or something,' Ilse said. 'It's like a subway without windows in here.'
'Travel posters,' Jeffrey said, smiling at her again. The ASDS lurched, shimmied, rose, and moved forward.
'We're under way,' Meltzer said. 'Challenger's dropping down.'
'Any sign we've been spotted?' Jeffrey said into the mike. After a pause Meltzer answered. 'Negative. I'll turn on the data repeater, you can watch.' An LCD screen lit up: depth, course and speed, a nay chart, a sonar display. Jeffrey couldn't help but study the data. He reminded himself he should trust Meltzer — the kid was very well trained. So was the SEAL, in effect now chief of the boat. But Jeffrey couldn't help it. 'Pilot, can you give us the last tactical picture they downlinked from Challenger?' 'One sec, Commander,' Meltzer said. More info appeared on the screen, a slightly stale snapshot from Challenger's powerful sensors. Jeffrey examined the picture: the seamounts, the plateau, the coast. Red diamonds were everywhere, surface ship contacts. Their speed vectors ran through his head. He tried to relax, just a passenger now, but he simply couldn't help it. Another voice came on the intercom, the SEAL chief copilot. 'We're rounding Mount 183. Commencing approach to the objective. We're starting a tape to put through our transducers. Do you want to hear it back there?'
Jeffrey palmed the mike again. 'Yeah, play us some slow dancing.' That might calm him down. A whale song filled the compartment.
'Briefing folders, everybody,' Clayton said, handing them out. 'Last chance for any questions, and your bright ideas.'
The ASDS put on some up-bubble, heading toward shallower depth. Nearer the surface the sub surged and heaved, too small to escape the wave action of the manmade hurricane topside.
'Hang on,' the SEAL copilot said. 'It's rough out there with the storm.' The ASDS pitched and rolled even harder. Jeffrey saw the depth gauge fluctuate as each wave propagated past, piling on pressure in turn, the wave height aggravated by conflict between the Antarctic swells from one direction and the high winds from the other. Abruptly the minisub aimed sharply upward, leveled off, and there was a loud fluting sound from the overhead.
'Compressed air venting,' Meltzer's voice said as they dived back down. 'We'll do that again in another few minutes. Real whales stay under awhile, Ilse said.' Jeffrey turned in his seat. 'Can you tell from the recording, Ilse? Are we a boy whale or a girl whale?'
'Commander Fuller,' Meltzer's voice said a few minutes later. 'Can you come forward, please? We may have a problem.'
Jeffrey got up and went through the lockout chamber into the control compartment. He had to bend his head — the ASDS was only eight feet high on the outside. The miniCACC was cramped, switch banks and monitors everywhere, dominated by the four 21inch LCDs and big joy stick of the integrated control and display system.
'What's up?' Jeffrey said.
Meltzer pointed to the broadband sonar, the tonals, the TMA plot. 'This new contact, Master 18. It's been acting like it's following us.'
'Hmmm,' Jeffrey said. He looked at the traces on the tactical picture, then examined the bottom chart. 'We're paralleling the two-hundred-fathom curve now, the south edge of that big plateau. Could be he is too, part of his patrol routine.'
'But he changed speed — he's closing the range. And on this course, two five five true, he's pooped constantly by the waves.'
'No one would do that by choice,' Jeffrey said. 'What kind of ship?'
'A Warrior-class patrol craft, sir, just four hundred tons.'
'They're not meant for ASW,' Jeffrey said. 'Last we knew they just had cannon, machine guns, and antiaircraft missiles…But they can do thirty-five knots. They outmaneuver us even in this weather, even when we're well submerged…So let's see what he's up to. I'll stay.'
'Hello,' the SEAL copilot said a little later. 'More company. Designate this Master 19.' A new line was descending his waterfall. The SEAL began running a new TMA. Soon Jeffrey saw another red diamond pop onto the tactical screen. 'Classification?' Jeffrey said.
'Sachsen-class destroyer,' Meltzer said. 'By Blohm and Voss, no more than two years old.'
'This one's our worst nightmare,' Jeffrey said, 'with all the latest antisubmarine toys.'
'Six thousand tons full-load displacement,' Meltzer said.
'Yup,' Jeffrey said. 'Complete with active towed array, six torpedo tubes, state-of-theart variable-frequency sonar, and depth-charge racks. Plus two Super Lynx helos with dipping sonar, sonobuoys, and MU-90 lightweight fish.'
'And we're a lightweight submarine,' the SEAL chief said. Jeffrey nodded. 'Just thought I'd tell you what we're up against.'
'She's changing course,' Meltzer said.
Jeffrey saw the lengthening dot stack veer off from the vertical. 'Update the tracking solution,' he said. 'I can't call it the firing solution, the ASDS is unarmed.'
'Here we go,' Meltzer said. 'Constant bearing, sir, and signal strength is increasing.'
'She's on an intercept course,' Jeffrey said.
'Speed's higher too, sir,' Meltzer said. 'Twenty-nine knots.' Jeffrey frowned. 'That Warrior class called for help.' 'What do we do?' Meltzer said.
'They may depth-charge us on general principle,' Jeffrey said, 'whale antics or no.'
'Or just for sport if they're bored,' the SEAL chief said.
'And if they find out what we really are,' Jeffrey said, 'from the wreckage, they'll know our mother sub is nearby too…Get Ilse in here.'
Ilse jumped when the intercom called. Jeffrey was forward a while, Meltzer's voice sounded worried, and now they needed her up front. She and Clayton traded nervous glances, then she went through the lockout vestibule.
In the little CACC she wedged herself into a corner, hip-to-hip with Jeffrey. Whatever else was going on, his closeness made her feel better. The top of her head just touched the overhead when she stood up straight. She noticed the copilot was juggling the trim — her shifting weight was enough to be felt. She looked at Jeffrey.
'They're suspicious,' he said.
'The Boer patrols?'
