“It’s far away,” he said. “Its signal strength is hardly above background noise. I barely hear it from drone one.”
“Put a line of bearing in Subtics,” Jake said.
“Done!” Remy said.
Jake’s screen showed the torpedo sounds coming from the west, suggesting that an adversarial vessel had started to circle around the back of the Second Thomas Shoal.
“I lost it!” Remy said. “It must have passed through an acoustic layer. Its sound isn’t reaching us anymore.”
“Are you sure it was distant?”
“Positive, Jake. No cause for alarm.”
Lieutenant Commander Flores moved below Jake, his fingers trembling.
“What are you going to do?” he asked.
“Nothing. Calm down.”
“What do you mean, nothing? There’s a torpedo out there!”
Jake leaned forward.
“This doesn’t change my tactics. For all I know, that could be a frigate or helicopter dropping a weapon on a ghost, or God forbid, on the Rankin. But it doesn’t affect me. I’m going to reposition to the south to protect the module from gunfire at its damaged armor.”
“What if it’s the Shang shooting at the Rankin?”
“Then I pity our Australian friends,” Jake said.
“You have to do something!”
The man’s instability crossed the line. Jake decided to remove the potential disruption, and he formulated a lie to distract him.
“Yes, actually,” he said. “I see your point. I’ll need to talk to Claude about my plans before I strain the battery. I want to make sure we have enough power remaining for what I plan to do.”
“And what’s that? What do you plan to do?”
“If you’ll give me a minute, I’ll let you know. But let me discuss the maneuver with Claude first.”
Jake ignored Flores’ nervous hand wringing and hailed LaFontaine on a sound-powered phone. With the Philippine officer on the edge of sanity, he risked switching to a foreign language.
“Claude,” he said in French. “Listen carefully. Send the corpsman with sedatives and two men with small arms to the control room. I want our guest crew’s senior officer taken to the wardroom, sedated, and held under guard.”
“You’re joking,” LaFontaine said.
“No. He’s about to lose control.”
“That will create an uncomfortable scene. The Philippine crewmen may not like it. You need to be delicate.”
Jake considered his engineer’s advice.
“Good point,” he said. “Slight change of plans. Send the three men to the wardroom instead. Then have one of them leave his arms with the corpsman, head to the control room, and invite the senior officer to the engineering spaces. He’ll say that you need his help in engineering. But, of course, divert him to the wardroom.”
“Will he believe such a silly ruse?”
“He might. If not, I’ll drag him to the wardroom myself. I’ll set up the trick by mentioning that you’re having trouble analyzing something back there.”
LaFontaine sounded indignant.
“What might I have trouble analyzing? I’ve been operating this technology for more than twenty years!”
“Just go with it, for God’s sake.”
“Fine, Jake. Give it five minutes.”
“Make it three.”
Jake jammed the phone back into its cradle.
“What did he say?” Flores asked.
“He’s not sure if the battery has enough power left in it for what I’m planning.”
“What are you planning?”
“Excellent question,” Jake said. “Let’s review it at the navigation plot. Henri, join us.”
The Frenchman nodded, stood, and walked to the chart. Jake stepped down from the conning platform and huddled beside him.
“We need to reposition ourselves,” he said.
“I was afraid you’d say that,” Henri said. “If you mean to protect the damaged side of the module, we need to make haste.”
“You’re not going to risk making noise by moving now, are you?” Flores asked.
Henri glared at the officer and opened his mouth to launch a counterargument, but Jake snapped a rapid order under his breath in French while kicking his mechanic’s leg.
“Shut up.”
The Frenchman cleared his throat.
“Good point, Commander Flores,” Jake said. “In fact, what I meant was that we could use the prevailing currents to achieve our goals without so much as making a peep. Don’t you think that’s an excellent idea?”
The Philippine officer’s glistening forehead reflected the room’s red light. He appeared captured in thought, pondering Jake’s absurd suggestion as a possibility. His face scrunched in disbelief but then relaxed in foolish hope.
“I think it’s possible,” he said.
“Of course,” Jake said. “In fact, I’d like you to pull up the ocean currents on the chart and verify the plan for me. I’d hate to screw this up because I miscalculated.”
“Okay,” Flores said.
While the spooked officer fumbled with the chart’s controls, Jake lowered his head and voice and continued his chat in Henri’s native language.
“I think he’s in shock,” he said.
“I can see that,” Henri said. “Not that either of us are doctors, but we need to make a rapid diagnosis and take action.”
“It’s already in progress,” Jake said. “Just wait.”
“We don’t have forever. That torpedo out there may mean nothing, but it could mean that hell is about to rain down on us.”
“You sound as nervous as he does.”
“You know me better than that.”
“Then shut up. I think we’re making him more nervous by running our mouths in a language he doesn’t understand.”
As the Frenchman grunted, Flores looked up from the screen.
“The currents won’t help us,” he said. “They’re going in the wrong direction.
Jake straightened his back and welcomed the relief as one of LaFontaine’s engineering technicians entered from the aft door.
“Jake,” he said. “Claude wants help with some battery calculations in the engine room.”
“I need to stay here,” Jake said. “But Commander Flores should be able to help.”
Flores offered Jake a blank face.
“Go ahead, Commander Flores. Claude needs you.”
“Okay, Jake.”
As the officer lumbered away behind the technician, Jake closed the door behind him and returned to Henri. He tapped his finger on the chart on a position protecting the stronghold’s broken exposure.
“Get with Durand and figure out a movement plan to get us here,” Jake said.
“To better protect the module’s damaged flank.”
“Right. But I want to move the drones, too, so that we can still listen for the Shang. So it will be a series of walking and drifting, for the Wraith and the drones, to listen for the Shang. Get me a plan in three minutes.”
“I will see it done, Jake.”
Seconds later, Remy’s voice filled the compartment.
“I’ve regained the torpedo! Terminal homing!”
Jake’s heart sank as he accepted that the Australian commander and crew he just befriended would die. He returned to the conning platform, donned the headset, and hailed Renard.
“Are you getting this?” he asked.
“All of it, sadly,” the Frenchman said. “I told Cahill to stay out of this. Damn him!”
“I know, Pierre. It’s not your fault.”
For a rare moment, Renard had nothing to say. In the silence, Jake watched the tactical scene unfold. The torpedo’s trajectory, as best Remy could approximate it with guesses of its speed and distance from the Wraith, originated from an invisible source and sought an invisible target.
“Pierre?” he asked.