'What is it?'
'Deutschland's up to something, sir. They've turned toward the middle of the Trough. New course zero three zero.'
'I have the conn.'
'You have the conn.'
'This is the captain. I have the conn.'
'Aye, aye,' Ilse said, along with the watchstanders. 'I don't like this, sir,' Bell said.
'I know. They may have guessed we're favoring our left side for a reason.' The damaged port wide-aperture array. 'If we get in a turning dogfight we'll be at a sonar disadvantage. We're less maneuverable, too, with the top of our rudder shot up.'
'Herd them back with another ADCAP?'
'With just two remaining, there's no point. He fires more AT rockets, and they're wasted. Worse, we'll telegraph we're low on conventional ammo, when we have to cease fire.'
'So what do we do, sir? Keep following?'
'We have no choice. What's the separation now?' 'Almost four thousand yards.'
'Two nautical miles… Far enough apart he may pull something nasty among the coastal islands.'
'Think he'll try to lose us and make a getaway? Hide up a fjord, or put in at Bergen?'
'Heck, no. Not Eberhard. He'll try to lose us and get off a nuclear snap shot.'
'Challenger has followed our. turn,' Beck reported. 'Separation now thirty-six hundred meters, Captain.' Two sea miles. Enough.
'Good,' Eberhard said.
Beck studied his nav chart and gravimeter. Half an hour ahead on this course lay the rugged islands lining the coast of Norway. That's what Fuller was supposed to see, supposed to be thinking about.
'Brilliant decoy in tube eight is preset as ordered, Captain.'
'Make tube eight ready in all respects, but do not open outer door.' Beck relayed commands. He watched the low terrain ridge on the bottom come at him rapidly. He activated the laser line-scan cameras on Deutschland's stern and sail and bow. He called up the imagery.
The seafloor rushed by below. Beck saw mud, and
rocks, and caught a glimpse of a rusted oil drum, and a discarded liquor bottle. Then he saw a 150mm gun turret, lying on its side.
'Pilot,' Eberhard said, 'stand by for hard turn to port.' Jawohl,' Jakob Coomans said.
'Einzvo, stand by to launch the decoy in tube eight. Set valve lineup for silent punch-out with an elastomer membrane water slug.'
'Jawohi.' The membrane stored the force of ambient sea pressure; the weapon launch would be much quieter than with a water turbine or compressed air.
'Stand by to launch with same valve settings, torpedo tubes two and four.' Beck thought again of the people in Bergen, Norway. Tubes two and four each held a nuclear Sea Lion eel, armed and ready to fire.
'He's going to top that ridge in a minute, sir,' Bell said. Jeffrey nodded. 'The time lag of echoes off the left wall of the Trough is less than twenty seconds here. Our bow sphere will cover to port…. We won't lose him.' Beck watched the gravimeter closely as Deutschland topped the ridge. He was so close to it now, the gradiometers clearly resolved the sunken mass to port. It was a hundred and fifty meters long, widest in the middle, narrowing at both ends, sitting flat on the bottom. Now or never, Beck told himself. Would his idea work, or backfire?
'Tube eight,' Eberhard ordered, 'open outer door…. Decoy los.'
'Tube eight fired,' Beck said. Now came the tricky part. 'Pilot,' Eberhard said, 'override flank speed rudder safeties.'
Coomans acknowledged, his voice especially tough and confident now — no one knew better than Coomans how difficult this next maneuver would be.
'Port thirty rudder,' Eberhard ordered.
Coomans acknowledged; the ship banked hard and hugged the terrain. Beck held tight to his armrests, and Coomans to his wheel — Deutschland weighed nine thousand metric tons submerged, a huge dead weight to try to turn so tightly at high speed. Coomans had to cut in the auxiliary thrusters to help. The copilot had to cut in on the stern-planes, to help Coomans maintain depth control.
'Decoy is operating properly,' Haffner reported from Sonar.
'Stop the propulsion shaft,' Eberhard ordered coldly as the g-force of the turn pressed Beck into his seat. 'Full speed astern.'
Deutschland shivered, strained, vibrated as she tried to slow. Beck tensed: Would Challenger hear? A red light flashed on Coomans's panel — the stresses on the rudder threatened serious, permanent damage.
Deutschland's way came off quickly. The red light ceased. Beck breathed again.
'All stop,' Eberhard ordered. 'Autohover.' Coomans acknowledged once more. Beck detected the subtlest tone that Coomans was pleased with himself, at how well he'd handled the ship. But had Jeffrey Fuller heard?
'Shut down turbogenerators,' Eberhard said. 'Run essential systems off batteries.' The copilot relayed commands. The air circulation fans ceased.
'Decoy is on course zero three zero,' Beck reported. 'Speed fifty-three point three knots.' He was sweating; the air already felt stale.
'Challenger tops the rise in ninety seconds,' Eberhard stated. He gave Beck a piercing look. 'Now we see if your idea works.'Beck swallowed and studied his screens — there was little time to fine-tune Deutschland's position. 'Sir, recommend rotate ship on auxiliary propulsors onto bearing zero four five, and translate fifty yards to starboard.' Eberhard gave the piloting orders.
Beck watched the photonics imagery screen. The mass on the bottom loomed out of the darkness. Deutschland's bow was near its stern, her stern next to its bow. It was a sunken World War II German destroyer — Hitler's Kriegsmarine lost many in the opening battle for Norway. This one's bow was smashed — from a bomb or torpedo or mine, a collision at sea, or from impact with the bottom? Beck couldn't tell. The superstructure was mangled. The masts and funnels lay every which way.
'Open outer doors,' Eberhard said, 'tubes two and four.'
'Doors open,' Beck acknowledged.
Coomans had Deutschland nestled behind the destroyer beautifully now. Its gravitational and magnetic effects — and flow noise in the gentle bottom current — ought to hide Deutschland well. Beck listened to the sonar speakers for a moment. The wreck was old: no settling noises, no seeping fuel or air, no loose parts clanking. He checked the tactical plot.
'Challenger maintaining course zero three zero, Captain. Maintaining flank speed.'
'Einzvo, stand by to fire tubes two and four, maximum yield, one kiloton.' Ilse watched her gravimeter and nav display as Challenger charged at the ridge. Slightly to left of the ship's projected track lay an old wreck, plotted on the chart.
'Fire Control, report,' Jeffrey said.
'Master One maintaining course zero three zero, sin Maintaining flank speed.' Challenger topped the rise. The bow sphere regained direct-path contact with Deutschland — she still made 53.3. knots.
'We'll reach the coastal islands in twenty minutes, sir,' Sessions said.
'Very well, Nam'
Ilse watched her screens again as the wreck went by. Wait a minute….
'Captain. Wreck was anomalous on gravimeter.' 'It looks normal to me,' Jeffrey said.
'When we were closer, the sharper resolution…' Jeffrey hesitated. 'Helm, hard left rudder!'
Ilse was thrown against the back of her seat as the ship turned violently to port. Challenger banked into the turn so hard the centrifugal force kept her mug in its holder from spilling.
'The mass-con,' Ilse said. 'Look.' It rippled and shrank.
'Mechanical transient,' Kathy shouted. 'Directly to port, near-field effects! Reactor check valve transient.'
'True contact Master One is accelerating,' Bell said. 'New course zero four five.' Northeast. Eberhard's trick had been foiled, but Deutschland was getting away; her decoy sped into the distance.
'Chief of the Watch,' Jeffrey ordered, 'use auxiliary propulsors to put us in a sharper turn.'
