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Though he sensed his enemy’s confusion, he desired to confirm his opinion and find a way to act upon it. The surface combatants remained outside his hearing, and he wanted a snapshot of their activity.

“All stop,” he said.

As the Wraith drifted, Remy startled him.

“Active sonar!”

“Whose? There’s nothing out there?”

“Helicopter! Bearing three-five-five!”

“Shit! Signal strength?”

“Moderate, but I don’t like it,” Remy said. “It’s close enough for our hull to give a return.”

Expecting no mercy like he had shown his enemy, Jake’s thoughts turned to death — his. Realizing that detection by a helicopter equated to helplessness, he let awareness of his mortality paralyze him.

“Jake!” Henri said.

“What?”

“I just asked you what we should do.”

“Sorry. I didn’t hear you. All ahead one third. Rig the ship for ultra-quiet. Everyone who’s not keeping the ship operating goes straight to their racks. Let’s not give the helicopter transient noises.”

“I will see to it,” Henri said. “Is there anything else we should do? We don’t have a helicopter evasion plan.”

“That’s because there is no such thing, except maybe for asking for help from above.”

Henri offered a rare quizzical expression.

“Do you mean for us to pray?”

For a moment, Jake wished he had someone to pray to. He imagined it would bring an otherwise elusive peace. If there existed a recipient of human prayers, he hoped that such a power would deliver him from the helicopter.

“I don’t suppose it could hurt,” Jake said. “But that’s not what I meant.”

“Then what?”

“Prepare a message in a one-way transmission buoy for Pierre. Give him our coordinates and ask for gunfire support, whether he can hit the helicopter or not. He needs to at least harass it to get it off our backs.”

“I understand,” Henri said. “Help from above. I’m preparing the buoy now.”

“God knows how long we have,” Jake said. “Get it launched ASAP.”

CHAPTER 18

“Loud splash in the water, bearing zero-two-five.”

“Splash? Like a railgun shell?” Jake asked.

“No, not as clean,” Remy said. “I don’t know how to describe it, but it’s a lot more chaotic. And gentler.”

“Gentler? Like a crashing feather? Just tell me what the heck you think it is.”

“I think it was a crashing helicopter. It didn’t hit too hard because it was probably fighting on the way down.”

“That would be good news,” Jake said. “But wouldn’t you hear the shell hit the helicopter first?”

“Not if it was at high enough altitude. I also hear buckling metal now on the bearing of the splash, but it’s light metal. Not a lot of mass. It’s a sinking helicopter.”

Jake exhaled and tried to turn his attention towards surface combatants, but Remy made another announcement.

“The final group of submunitions just exploded on the Shang,” he said. “We’ll need to review the audio playback for final judgment, but I count that seventeen of twenty-four submunitions attached and exploded.”

“Excellent!” Jake said. “Is the Shang sinking yet?”

“Not yet, but it’s only a matter of time for a ship with so few compartments.”

“Then that’s it for the Shang, and the helicopters would need brass balls to chase us down now,” Jake said. “It’s us versus five surface combatants, and we know where they’re going.”

“We’ll need to accelerate to get between the railguns and the task force before it arrives,” Santos said. “We need to get there in under twelve minutes.”

“Very well, Lieutenant Santos. Henri, all ahead two-thirds.”

Jake stepped down from the conning platform and bent over the navigation chart.

“Draw a red arc twenty miles from the edge of the railgun module,” he said.

Santos obeyed, and the curve appeared.

“Now draw a line from the center of the module out on a bearing of three-five-five.”

As the line cut across the arc, Jake tapped the intersection.

“This is the farthest away that I expect the destroyer to start shooting,” Jake said. “Now draw an arc ten miles from the edge of the module.”

“Done.”

“That’s where the module’s radar will have a line of sight to guide rounds and protect us,” Jake said. “I’ll assume that’s our safe zone where our enemy won’t go.”

“This looks favorable, Jake,” Santos said. “We can be in the safe zone while our torpedoes reach the target.”

“Barely, and we need perfect targeting with perfect timing. We’ll need to have our tactical data feed.”

“We can do that once we reach our loiter position.”

“You’re getting the hang of this,” Jake said. “Our tubes will also be reloaded by then. When you’re commanding your own submarine someday, you’ll have to keep in mind how long and how loud torpedo loading is. On this class of submarine, I have an automated torpedo room. You may not, and it adds variance, unpredictability, and noise risk.”

“I was promoted to lieutenant only a year ago. I’m only supposed to be the executive officer of our first submarine.”

“I think you just got bumped to the head of the line for command, at least if my recommendation carries any weight.”

Jake walked back to the conning platform and flopped onto his foldout chair.

“Surface explosions!” Remy said. “Missiles have hit a target behind us.”

“The Pilar?” Jake asked.

“I’m afraid so.”

“How bad? How many?”

“Two explosions. The Pilar has stopped its screws and is drifting, probably to avoid fanning the flames.”

“Most of them may have survived.”

Jake clasped his hands, pressed his elbows into his thighs, and cleared his mind. Henri’s pant legs crossed in front of him.

“What can I do for you?”

“I thought I would take advantage of a quiet moment to render my candid opinion.”

“I thought you were always candid with me.”

“I’ve made you change your mind once, and that’s only because I was one hundred percent certain that following your advice was going to end my life. But in this case, I don’t have as strong a position.”

“So you didn’t defy me in front of the crew.”

Henri leaned his buttocks against the polished rail.

“Correct,” he said.

“Thanks.”

“But I still think you’re wrong.”

“About the slow-kill weapons?”

“Yes, of course. Understand that I have the utmost respect for your abilities. I’ve never said this before, and I may never again, but I think you’re even more gifted than Pierre in commanding a submarine.”

“Can I stop you there? I’d like to savor the moment before you say ‘however’.”

Henri crossed his arms and legs.

“However, you’re taking your experiment or your statement or whatever you wish to call it regarding your slow-kill weapon to an extreme. You’ve just enjoyed a resounding success against the Shang. Why don’t you arm us with the heavyweight torpedoes that are guaranteed to accomplish our mission?”

“Slow-kill weapons will accomplish the mission, even on surface vessels. That’s why they have a surface mode where all twenty-four submunitions explode without delay. I know it’s a novel idea, but I don’t see why I can’t sink a warship without killing everyone on it.”

“That’s my concern. I fear that you’ll be offering second chances where second chances may prove fatal — to us.”