“Can you guys hear anything?” Jake asked.
Remy and his apprentice shook their heads.
“The San Juan’s commander is cool,” Remy said. “He appears to have slowed to his quiet crawling speed. He knows that whoever shot at him still has a large area of ocean to cover to find him again.”
“But we know where he is.”
“The upside for us is that he cannot move rapidly away from us,” Remy said. “We are surely closing in on him.”
When he thought nobody was watching him, Jake braved a rare trip to the ship’s control station and tapped Henri on the shoulder. The Frenchman glanced up from his seat.
“Thank you,” Jake said.
“Of course.”
Jake returned behind his sonar team.
“At eight knots,” Remy said, “we hold an acoustic advantage over the San Juan, no matter what speed it’s moving.”
“As long as my sonar operators are superior to his,” Jake said.
“That’s the least of your concerns,” Remy said, “as long as you stop bothering them with needless chitchat.”
The clock ticked away minutes as Jake maintained his patience. When the solution showed seven miles of distance, Remy curled forward.
“I’ve got blade rate correlating to five knots,” he said. “This tracks with the system’s solution.”
“Does your apprentice concur?” Jake asked.
“I didn’t think to listen for it,” Kang said. “But now that you mention it, I do.”
“Henri, left ten-degrees rudder, steady course zero-two-zero,” Jake said. “I’m putting us on a lag line of sight for the shot.”
Jake exercised more patience, and the solution showed six miles of distance.
“Shoot tube one,” he said.
After his ears popped, Jake heard the normal announcements of a flawless launch.
“Henri, left ten-degrees rudder, steady course three-five-zero. Time to open distance.”
Two minutes passed, and Kang announced the limpet weapon’s status.
“Our weapon is in active search mode,” he said. “It has acquired the San Juan! It’s two miles away and accelerating to closing speed!”
“Excellent shot, Jake,” Henri said.
“Thanks, but everyone stay focused. Listen for what’s going on out there.”
“The San Juan is accelerating,” Remy said. “Heavy flow noise, cavitating screws, too many propulsion plant machinery noises to count.”
The report seemed expected, but it lacked elements that irked Jake. He ran down his mental checklist seeking omissions.
“Any countermeasures from the San Juan?” he asked.
“None,” Remy said. “But it may have expended them all against the Ambush.”
“Is it turning? Rudder noises? Down-Doppler?”
“It’s too loud to tell rudder noises,” Remy said. “It sounds just like flow noise. Petty Officer Kang was tracking the electric plant at fifty hertz.”
Jake looked to the youngster, who appeared perplexed.
“I’m sure I’m right,” he said. “But it can’t be.”
“Spit it out, Kang,” Jake said. “No secrets.”
“Up-Doppler on the fifty hertz.”
“Impossible,” Remy said. “Let me listen.”
The Frenchman clasped his hands over his toad ears and closed his eyes.
“He’s right, Jake. The San Juan accelerated toward our torpedo.”
Jake pondered the news as he walked to his chair on the conning platform.
“Holy shit,” he said. “That ballsy bastard figured it out. He realized that he just evaded a British submarine only to get punched in the face by me. But he’s banking that my weapon is a limpet.”
“I would call that stupid,” Henri said. “We must be wrong. We must be missing something.”
“Our weapon is range gating,” Kang said.
“Very well, Kang. How long until detonation?”
“Fifteen seconds.”
“Well, Henri. In fifteen seconds, he’s going to believe that he’s a genius.”
“Should we evade his possible counterattack?” Henri asked.
“No way,” Jake said. “We’re on the best geometry and driving away. The only thing we could consider is to speed up, but I don’t want to announce our location. Right now, he can only guess within about a hundred and twenty degrees of arc.”
“You could speed up slightly.”
“I would, except that he has his sonar team listening for just that. Our best bet is to stick with eight knots, until he fires back, if he even does.”
Jake glanced to his monitor and saw the limpet weapon converge on the San Juan.
“Detonation has taken place,” Remy said. “Limpets deploying.”
“Count how many attach to its hull.”
“Limpets are attaching and going active,” Remy said. “Most of them have attached.”
“At least we have the San Juan tagged,” Jake said.
“Launch transients!” Remy said. “Torpedo in the water! Now another. Then another. It’s a ripple launch. I’m sure it’s a spread.”
Jake sprang from his chair and pounced on his sonar operators.
“Stay calm,” he said. “Identify the ones with high bearing rate from the ones that are a concern.”
“We’ll sort them out,” Remy said. “I know what to do.”
“I’m waiting until you’ve identified them all before I speed up. I don’t want to drive us into one by accident.”
“Good idea. Give me thirty seconds,” Remy said.
Jake watched Remy and Kang communicate in shorthanded English, gestures, and nods that revealed the fruits of an outstanding teacher-apprentice relationship. With astounding speed, the duo made sense of chaos.
“The San Juan has six torpedo tubes,” Remy said. “I assume it launched one torpedo at the Ambush and had five available for us.”
“How many did it fire at us?”
“Five.”
“And?”
“Four of them are drifting behind us. The fifth is a concern, though. You need to evade.”
“Henri, all ahead flank, as fast as you can! Cavitate!”
The Specter shook.
“Can you still hear the incoming torpedo?” Jake asked.
“No,” Remy said. “We won’t until it enters active search mode while we’re at flank speed.”
“Henri, deploy two active countermeasures!”
Deep popping sounds resonated around Jake as bubble makers shot from the Specter’s hull.
“I hear those,” Remy said. “Our countermeasures are active.”
Jake turned and leaned over the navigation plot.
“Assume a search speed of sixty-five knots for the torpedo, and give me your best estimate of its path.”
As the San Juan’s threatening weapon appeared on the chart, Jake tapped the screen and commanded a calculation that showed three and a half minutes until impact.
His heart sank as he realized his desperation. He looked to Henri and gestured him to approach and join him. The Frenchman’s face revealed the same mortal fear that he felt. Jake kept his voice low.
“Shit, Henri. I don’t know what else to do.”
“Neither do I. We must trust the countermeasures.”
“How did that guy get off such a lucky shot?”
“Fate? Karma? I have no answer.”
Jake’s desperation became anger.
“Well fuck him. Get tube five warmed up to send him to hell. Have it home passively on the limpets.”
Thirty seconds later, tube five thrust Jake’s vengeance into the ocean.
“Incoming weapon has entered active search mode,” Remy said. “Bearing one-six-two.”
Right in our fucking baffles, Jake thought. Perfect shot. Lucky Shot. If you’re there, God, why are you doing this? I tried to end this peacefully.