knew the Calais tidal range was large, ten meters or more, forcing Deutschland toward mid-Channel, closer to the surface fight.
'COB,' Jeffrey said, 'put out a magnetic field like an Akula Two, smartly.' COB acknowledged.
Jeffrey hoped the mines, friendly and enemy alike, would all be programmed to ignore a Russian submarine. COB finished as the German mines landed on the bottom. None exploded, at least so far.
A quintuplet of Class 130's crossed Challenger's bow, and there were many more splashes. One of the 130's blew up just to port. Jeffrey heard the noises as its hull broke into pieces. Air boiled to the surface as the pieces tumbled down, and water roared, the ocean flooding in. The pieces thumped to the sand. Something set off a mine. Jeffrey was torn whether to recover the precious LMRS. It was probably safer where it was. If they lost the fiber- optic wire, they could retrieve it by acoustic link. Two hydrofoils exploded a thousand yards ahead. Their pieces pelted the bottom. More mines exploded, and the fiber optic broke.
The surviving German corvettes began to withdraw, still lobbing Harpoons at the Royal Navy frigates. The frigates answered blow for blow. Their 114mm Vickers dual-purpose guns went into action.
One frigate roared by directly overhead. Jeffrey thought he heard the whine of turrettraversing gear, the clanking of its autoloading ammo train. The big gun fired. In the CACC, mike cords and lighting fixtures jiggled, and too late Jeffrey held his ears. Another Class 130 was hit off Challenger's port bow, but she barely slowed. She was hit again, and Jeffrey heard secondary explosions. The corvette started sinking, still moving at fifteen knots, right toward Challenger. Jeffrey had to move. He dared not go forward or to port because of German mines. He could back up in the safety corridor, completely blind, or take shelter to starboard amid the British mines and German wreckage. With the LMRS cut off, he ordered COB and Meltzer to raise the boat off the bottom and go to back one third.
The bow sphere had a perfect view of the latest 130's death throes. Jeffrey heard the roar of flooding again, the sharper roars and cracks and bangs of the frigid sea on red-hot engine blocks. Added was the screech of tortured steel. Things inside the 130 still exploded as she hit the bottom hard, blocking Challenger's pathway forward decisively. Another German ship crossed Challenger's stern, disappearing for a moment in the sonar blind spot. Did she drop more mines? Jeffrey ordered all stop.
Kathy announced the Cornwalls were launching torpedoes. A dozen lightweight Sting Ray fish dashed at the Class 130's from the flank. Some scored hits, loud metallic whangs, followed by more sounds of disemboweled hulls dragged down by gravity. Other fish rushed for the Calais coast, looking for a target, any target.
'Torpedoes in the water!' Haffner shouted. 'Bearing two seven zero, range eleven thousand meters. Sting Rays, attack speed forty-five knots!'
'If we fire antitorpedo rockets,' Eberhard said, 'we'll give ourselves away. Achtung, Einzvo, decoy in tube eight. Program it to sound like a Class two-twelve with a damaged screw and bilge pumps running.'
'Understood.'
'Los!'
Beck watched the decoy's track. The Sting Rays picked it up. Not wire guided, they mindlessly converged. One Sting Ray won the race, and set off all the others sympathetically. Deutschland vibrated sharply from the multiple concussions. She rolled to port as the shock wave echoed off the Calais shore.
'Captain,' Kathy said, 'loud explosion bearing zero nine zero, range twenty thousand yards.'
'The Sting Rays?' Jeffrey said.
'Confirmed…. Sir, we have an ambient and hole-inocean submerged contact near the Calais coast, based on echoes from the Sting Ray warheads.'
'Is it something on the chart?'
'Negative, sir.'
'Size of contact?'
'Wait, please…. Appears to be beam on, length approximately three hundred feet.'
'Must be a dead Axis corvette,' Jeffrey said, 'lost in some recent action like this one.' Beck listened as the hydrofoils and hovercraft wove in and out, and the corvettes and frigates thrust and counterthrust. One big ship, which side's Haffner couldn't tell, went down; her magazines exploded underwater.
'Ambient and hole-in-ocean submerged contact,' Haffner said, 'backlit against the Goodwin Sands.' 'Size of contact?' Beck said.
'Appears to be beam on, length one hundred meters.'
'A Cornwall,' Eberhard said, 'or a piece of one.' Beck watched the tactical plot, frigates chasing corvettes east. 'They're coming in our direction, Captain.'
'First Watch Officer,' Haffner shouted, 'new passive sonar contact to starboard! Many inbound aircraft, fast movers bearing one three five! They sound like our Tornado fighter-bombers!'
'Let's get out of here while we still can,' Eberhard said. 'Pilot, go to one-third speed ahead, RPM's for ten knots.'
'Sir,' Kathy said, 'new passive sonar contact to port. More inbound aircraft, this time from the west. They sound like Royal Navy Sea Harriers.'
'We have to get out of here;' Bell said. 'This skirmish is getting out of hand.' Jeffrey thought hard:-'Sonar, is the acoustic sea state high enough you can spot wrecks and mines on the wide arrays in ambient passive mode?'
'Affirmative, sir! Engine noises providing good illumination.'
'Chief of the Watch, recall the LMRS. Bring it back to one hundred yards off the bow.'
— 'Recall the LMRS, aye,' COB said.
'Helm, on auxiliary maneuvering units, stand by to slide to starboard into the British mine field.' It was the least-bad choice; with the map they'd been given, and with luck, the mine field could be negotiated.
'Understood,' Meltzer said.
'Captain,' Bell said, 'the seas up there will be chaotic for a while. No one will see our surface hump.'
'Concur. Helm, as soon as we bypass the new German, mines and fresh wrecks, bring us back to the safety corridor. Then go to ahead one third, turns for ten knots.'
'Sir.' Sessions. 'Advise the tide has turned.'
'Sir,' Meltzer said, 'we're drifting backward and our stern is being swung to starboard.'
'Captain,' Bell urged as he pointed to his screen, 'there's a British mine too close. It's right near our pump- jet.'
'Helm,' Jeffrey snapped, 'pivot us the other way using the forward auxiliary thruster only.'
Meltzer acknowledged, his voice an octave higher than before; they dared not use the aft thruster so close to the mine, and they dared not use the pump-jet. Challenger's heading changed, but she kept drifting crabwise toward the mine. Crewmen shifted nervously in their seats, and glanced at each other wide-eyed.
'There's nothing more we can do but ride it out,' Jeffrey said. The forward thruster alone just wasn't strong enough to hold them against the shifting tide. Besides, any other course not blocked by wreckage would take them over a German mine.
Jeffrey watched his screens. Challenger kept drifting. Jeffrey felt everyone's blood pressure rising higher by the second. As the surface battle roared on in the distance — and downed aircraft and ejection seats and spent shell casings hit the sea — the British mine, sitting on the bottom, passed right under Jeffrey's feet. He stared down at the deck, not daring to breathe, wanting to scream. He waited for the mine to blow and snap the ship in two and kill his crew and ruin everything.
Nothing happened.
Soon Challenger was on the move again.
IN THE NORTH SEA
Two hours later, that surface-and-air skirmish left behind and the LMRS probe recovered for a battery charge, Ilse was helping refine Challenger's plan for crossing the southern North Sea.
Bell came over and told her to go see the captain. Bell sounded grim. Ilse went aft and knocked on Jeffrey's door. What did I do now?
