“You’re a natural Veyron, I can sense it already.”
“Matthew?” the commander continued.
“All good sir. Plenty of power and she’s a lot more responsive at this speed.”
“Just don’t rip the bowfins off of her and we’ll be fine.”
“Aye sir, I’ll baby her all the way.”
“Good man.”
Commander Bower leaned in toward Sam’s station with a hand on the back of his chair. “Hell of a team you got here, Mr. Reilly, hell of a team.”
Chapter Fifty-Five
James Halifax looked around the deck of the Arkhangelsk.
It was a Russian-built behemoth of a craft, 574 feet in length with a massive beam of 75 feet. A nuclear submarine, built as a launch platform for the now extinct ‘Sturgeon’ Submarine Launched Ballistic Missiles.
His financiers had purchased her at a steal from the shipyard Colonel in Severodvinsk. If you call fifty million U.S. dollars a steal, that is. She came equipped with twelve Type-53 torpedoes, which have always been in his opinion, some of the most effective ever produced. However, there were no cruise missiles, no SLBM’s, no mines, nothing else. He was depending on his torpedo man all the way. So far, it was close — but no cigar. He cursed the United States’ development of the CAT system — he should have the USS Omega Deep in his grasp already.
James Halifax looked around the control deck and smiled.
He marveled at how much technology the Typhoon class shared with the United States Ohio class submarines that he had served on, all those years ago. Crewed by Russians, and one of the safest war subs ever conceived, this ship ran as smoothly as anything he had commanded, and was a good deal wider in beam, which had its comfort advantages.
Out-of-work Russian ex-submariners were not in short supply, and these staff had been discarded like so many micro-fiche operators when the subsequent Borei class was commissioned. They chatted among themselves, light-hearted and obviously glad to be back in the saddle one last time.
He went across the pressure hull divide into the sonar room and leaned in.
“How are we looking for the next torpedo?”
The pasty, gaunt, heavily bespectacled Russian replied in a thick Georgian accent. “They’re still within range of the fifty-threes, but since we only have eleven of them left I’d like to be a little closer before we engage again. They’re pulling away quickly, but the torpedo is much faster than they are.”
“Lock one on as best as you can. I’d like to take the rear end off that thing and sink it to the bottom before they make the edge of the continental shelf and dive.”
“They’re already diving hard.”
“So, hurry up God-damn it!”
The sonar operator lifted a microphone handset and passed the message in Russian, including co-ordinates for the programming of the torpedo. The scratchy voice on the other end came back, arguing with the sonar man. The conversation ended abruptly, and the sound of the torpedo launch bay doors rang through the hull as another Type 53 was issued.
The sonar man tracked the torpedo as it settled into the groove of wake left by the Omega Deep. It sensed turbulence in the water and snaked back and forth across the disturbed water layers that defined the previous location of its intended target. This time, however, it appeared that his enemy was waiting for him and the torpedo was destroyed by another CAT, this time at a range of 350 feet from the Omega Deep.
“God-damn it all!” the tall man barked at the screen.
The Russian sonar operator said nothing and stared at the green waterfall-style sonar monitor.
“Let me know when we’re closer!” he yelled at the skinny submariner.
“Yes, commander,” he replied without moving a muscle.
Halifax stormed off, returning to the bridge and berating the men with orders to speed the ship up, seek out, and disable that damned submarine.
The sonar room light started flashing at the copilot’s control station, and his phone rang. A moment later the proximity alarm began flashing silent bright red light through the command center.
After answering the phone in Russian, the copilot lifted the handset above his shoulder and looked to the tall man. “It’s for you.”
The sonar operator said, “We’ve got an incoming torpedo. It’s running hot!”
“A torpedo?” Halifax replied. “Where the hell did Bower get a crew to fire a damned torpedo? Evasive maneuvers! Countermeasures, fire!”
Chapter Fifty-Six
Sam glanced over Svetlana’s shoulder at the sonar monitor.
Their Mark-48 torpedo raced toward the enemy submarine. He found himself unintentionally holding his breath, as the 650-pound warhead raced through the water at a speed of 55 knots. Two interceptor CATs were fired from the enemy submarine.
The first one failed to make contact, but the second one struck their Mark-48, causing it to detonate instantly.
The subsequent shockwave rocked the Omega Deep.
Sam met Commander Bower’s hardened stare. “How long to load and fire another torpedo?”
“Too long, I’m afraid,” the commander replied. “The enemy ship has a full complement, which means they’ll be able to get off multiple shots for every one of ours. We can’t keep this up. Our best bet is to break free of these shallow waters, and dive.”
“Could we fire multiple torpedoes at once?” Sam asked.
“Afraid not. If we had a full team, we might be able to shift them quickly, but with our skeleton crew, it would be impossible. Our only hope is that we can reach the open ocean, dive beyond their crush depth.”
Sam said, “I have a better idea.”
“I’m listening.”
Sam pointed to the navigation table. “Can you take us into this narrow valley?”
Commander Bower raised a thick eyebrow. “Anywhere, in particular, you want to go?”
Sam pointed at a small grotto about half a mile in. “Right there.”
“No way the Omega Deep’s going to enter that cave.”
“I don’t plan for it to.” Sam said, “The question is, can the Omega Deep be piloted into the valley?”
The commander inputted the route into the digital route-planner. “It will be a tight squeeze, and we’ll need to slow right down, but it can be done.”
“Good. Let’s do it!”
“We’d be nuts to go in there. We’re lining ourselves up to get trapped. This valley zigzags wildly. It will be hard for them to target us, but harder still for us to get a shot off.”
“That’s okay,” Sam said. “I’ve got no intention of firing another shot.”
Commander Bower’s lips curled in a wry smile. “What are you thinking of?”
Sam stood up and started to don his scuba gear. “Letting the USS Gerald R. Ford do the job for us.”
Chapter Fifty-Seven
The USS Omega Deep tacked hard to the starboard side, entering the narrow valley.
Inside the dark confines of the lockout escape trunk, Sam felt the inertial shift of the monstrous submarine to the side. He imagined the massive predator, racing through the narrow straits like a race car. A rally to the death, the modified Russian Typhoon class nuclear submarine was hard on their tail.