“You know you’re officially the senior officer aboard this vessel now, right?”
A mix of bravado and respect for danger placed a glint in the man’s eyes and hardened his features. His jaws looked ready to snap his teeth, and Jake liked the man’s balance of fear and self-control.
“I understand,” he said.
Jake smiled and hoped to establish a quick rapport.
“You remind me of myself when I was in the service,” he said. “You look scared, but the right amount of scared.”
“My men need to see someone in a Philippine uniform keeping the right perspective.”
“That statement alone is enough for me to know that you can handle this. Flores wasn’t handling it. I have him sedated and under guard in the wardroom.”
“I assumed you did something like that,” Santos said. “I thought you handled it well. I’ve been concerned about him since we began our training.”
“Really?”
“We all have. He’s known for being a capable mariner, but every training scenario we went through that put us in tight spaces made him uneasy. I suspect he may be claustrophobic.”
“Whatever it is, he’s not cut out for this. Regardless, you’re the man now. Are you ready to manage the tactical picture for me?”
“What about the drones? I’m managing one of them for Durand.”
“I’m going to cut one soon. I need a second pair of eyes monitoring my quartermaster, watching the movements of hostile assets, and recommending adjustments to the torpedoes I shoot. Are you the man for the job?”
“Heck, yes! I can handle it.”
“Great. Hold on.”
Jake looked at Remy.
“Antoine, can you track the Shang without drone two?”
“With those limpets on it, I could track it by sticking my ear against our hull.”
“Very well,” Jake said. “Attention everyone! I’m stationing Lieutenant Santos as the tactical coordinator.”
“Noted in the deck log,” Henri said.
“Lieutenant Santos,” Jake said, “you have thirty seconds to give me a recommendation about what to do with drone two before I release it.”
“Yes, Jake!”
The officer turned to the navigation chart and studied the moving chess pieces.
“Set it in decoy mode?” he asked.
“That’s a good start. Make it broadcast noises that mimic our submarine to fool our adversaries. But what course, what speed, what volume level?”
The youngster leaned over the chart and walked dividers between varied points, playing an enthusiastic what-if game.
“Northwest,” he said. “Maximum speed, maximum volume. That will make it appear like it’s a submarine attempting to get between the eastern frigate and eastern corvette. It’s going to run out of battery fast, but it should get there in time to create a distraction.”
“Perfect,” Jake said. “Durand, send drone two on course three-four-zero, maximum speed. Shift it to decoy mode, maximum power.”
The former French sailor tapped buttons, working through control menus with impressive speed.
“Drone two is on course three-four-zero at ten knots. It’s in decoy mode, broadcasting at maximum power.”
“Very well,” Jake said. “Release drone two. Henri, reload tube six with a slow-kill weapon.”
On his way to Jake, Henri offered a congratulatory smile to Santos, who beamed with pride.
“Are you sure you want a slow-kill weapon in tube six?” the Frenchman asked. “You’re proving the weapon against the Shang, and you’ll have your proof of its design in less than three minutes. Shouldn’t you use a conventional torpedo for the surface targets?”
“I see no need for needless killing.”
Henri’s look straddled the line between questioning and defiance, but Jake held his ground, and the Frenchman returned to his station to carry out the order.
“Reload tube six with a slow-kill weapon, aye, sir,” he said.
Remy called out that the Shang turned west in an attempt to escape the Wraith’s torpedo. Countermeasures threatened to confuse the weapon.
“Guide our torpedo through the countermeasures,” Jake said. “Drive it right through. Ignore false noises.”
“Our torpedo is through the countermeasure field,” Remy said. “Fifty seconds to detonation.”
Jake watched his display and noticed that the data had gone stale. While the Wraith moved, it dragged the communications buoy underwater and severed the data link. But he had the front row seat to the intersection of his torpedo with the Shang.
As their icons merged, Remy announced pending victory.
“Our torpedo is range-gating,” he said. “Detonation!”
“Count the warheads,” Jake said. “Make sure you hear them attach.”
“At least three already!” Remy said.
“It doesn’t take many for this to work,” Jake said.
“I’m losing count,” Remy said. “At least twelve have attached to the Shang’s hull. One of them is surely to be from the first group. Submunition detonation is imminent.”
Seconds ticked away in Jake’s head as he awaited the results of his brainchild’s first field test. Limpets were drifting upward and magnetically clamping to his victim. But instead of wailing electronic tracking frequencies, these parasites carried small explosives.
“Detonations!” Remy said. “Four submunitions!”
Four six-inch holes punctured the Shang. In two minutes, any submunition that had found its way to its hull from the second group would explode, followed by the third and then final group of six small warheads.
“If it’s in their engine room, that’s enough damage,” Jake said. “If it’s someplace else, they may need to see a couple more explode before they realize they need to surface.”
“High-pressure air!” Remy said. “Hull popping! The Shang is emergency blowing.”
“Yes!” Jake said.
“Backhaul tube one,” he said. “Reload tube one with a slow-kill weapon.”
He met Henri’s glare from across the room. The Frenchman’s face portrayed his disagreement and his preference to have a full-sized heavyweight warhead readied for the surface ships. After a silent moment, his expression changed to reveal his deference to Jake’s judgment.
“Reloading tube one with a slow-kill weapon,” Henri said.
“Lieutenant Santos,” Jake said. “Recommend the final deployment of drone one in decoy mode.”
“Half speed, maximum power, course two-eight-zero,” Santos said. “Half speed is preferred since we want the decoy to remain between us and the nearest corvette.”
“Right again,” Jake said. “Durand, send drone one on course two-eight-zero, half speed. Shift it to decoy mode, maximum power.”
The young Frenchman tapped buttons with practiced speed.
“Drone one is on course two-eight-zero at five knots. It’s in decoy mode, broadcasting at maximum power.”
“Very well,” Jake said. “Release drone one. Henri, reload tube five with a slow-kill weapon.”
“I’ve ordered tube five reloaded with a slow-kill weapon. You have only one slow-kill weapon remaining in the racks after tube five is loaded,” Henri said.
Jake suspected that chaos reigned on the surface. A Chinese submarine had blown to safety, and, after what he considered a fair chance to abandon ship, more exploding submunitions would assure the Shang’s final descent.
Two drones were emanating sounds of a Scorpène-class submarine, deceiving both surface vessels and helicopters. Philippine gun boats were close enough to harass incoming combatants, and railgun rounds became increasingly accurate as the battle approached its crescendo.