“I think I understand,” he said. “It would reveal our position with the exhaust plume visually, and it would expose us to radar.”
“Correct. Like a tracer bullet working backwards. Now why didn’t I just eject it? It would save me time in reloading if I did so.”
The young officer frowned with thought.
“I really don’t know. I hadn’t considered that. Ejecting weapons isn’t something we do in the surface fleet, unless the weapon has malfunctioned and become a threat to the host ship.”
“It was a trick question. The correct answer is that it depends. When you’re commanding your own ship without regard to cost, you might have ejected it for the speed of reloading the tube. Keep that in mind for reference. You’ll probably never have to do it, but if seconds count for a reload, it’s a hastening technique. As for me, I’m a mercenary and have to think in terms of cost. Since I believe I have enough time to reload all my tubes, I kept my million-dollar missile.”
“I understand.”
“What about the other five tubes. Why did I cut the wires and backhaul them? Why not keep the wires and guide them in?”
“I’m not sure you care which targets you hit. They’re all grouping together and each one is a threat to us.”
“True, but I want to hit the destroyer.”
“I think, if I understand sonar system accuracy, you can’t distinguish one ship from another from sonar alone, if they are as close together as we expect them to be.”
“Correct. It’s going to be chaos. It’s possible to steer torpedoes after the first detonation and the ships start running and separating, but you could pull a torpedo off a legitimate target and send it into oblivion by accident. May as well let the torpedoes determine their own fates.”
The student nodded.
“But there’s no harm in keeping wires attached, is there?” Jake asked. “So why did I cut them?”
“To reload faster.”
“Not just faster, but to make all my reloading noises now while the targets are still too far away to hear. Speaking of which, they’re getting close enough to sniff our radio.”
Jake slid the headset over his ear.
“Pierre?”
“Still here. I see the torpedoes from your Subtics system, but I’m afraid this is where the luxury of our communications ends. The task force approaches. You need to lower your buoy and go dark.”
“Yeah, it’s time, Pierre. Wish me luck.”
“I would, except that you don’t need it. I trust that you are still charmed and that you will protect all my investments, including yourself.”
CHAPTER 19
“What’s going on out there, Antoine?”
“It’s becoming terribly repetitive,” Remy said. “Every ten seconds, I hear close-in weapon systems firing. They sound like chainsaws coming in rapid bursts from multiple ships. Then I hear a railgun shell hit the water, unless it’s a hit.”
“There’s only been four damned hits in the last five minutes! On this bow-on aspect, you’d hope that a hit would cut through one of these ships lengthwise and wreak havoc, but so far, nothing has slowed them down.”
Jake looked to the display and counted three minutes before his first torpedo would reach its target. The warships had deviated from his expectation of their movement, but they would remain within the wide acoustic cones of his weapons’ seekers.
“Hit!” Remy said.
“Which ship?”
“Either the frigate or the corvette on the right. It’s impossible to tell which one.”
“Let’s hope it means something,” Jake said.
Remy’s body curled forward with intense listening.
“The screw of the frigate to the right is slowing. It’s losing speed. The last shell must have damaged its propulsion train.”
“It probably took out a diesel,” Jake said. “Good.”
Henri looked up from his console.
“All tubes are reloaded,” he said.
“Very well, Henri. Antoine, how long until my first weapon detonates?”
“Approximately ninety seconds.”
“Very well, Antoine. Lieutenant Santos, ready tubes one and two for the destroyer. Durand, help him.”
Hands flew across vertical touchscreens of the Subtics tactical system.
“Tubes one and two are ready,” Santos said. “Targeted at the destroyer.”
“I’ll wait until our first salvo detonates before firing,” Jake said. “I want to see where our victims run before shooting. Remy, when the chaos starts, do whatever you can to keep track of that destroyer. Don’t lose it in the mess.”
“I’ll do what I can. I’m good, but the laws of physics still apply.”
“You know what I mean,” Jake said. “How long until my first weapon goes active?”
“Twenty seconds.”
Jake rose from his foldout chair and braced himself against the polished rail.
“Get ready, everyone. Hell is about to break loose.”
Hell burst forth with a deceiving whimper.
“Our first weapon has detonated. Submunitions are deploying,” Remy said. “Many of them are attaching. I’ve lost count.”
“Very well, Antoine.”
“Explosions! Rippling across the hull of the target!”
“Can you tell which one?”
“No, not yet. But the second weapon is range-gating on its target, and the third is entering terminal homing.”
“Henri!” Jake said.
“Yes?”
“You were wondering about the benefits of slow-kill weapons against surface targets?”
“Not in so many words.”
“Our second weapon has detonated!” Remy said. “Submunitions are attaching!”
“Very well, Antoine,” Jake said.
“You were saying?” Henri asked.
“I think we just stumbled upon a hidden benefit of the slow-kill weapon. The damage is invisible above the waterline. The other ships don’t know to run yet. Heck, even the ships that have been hit don’t know why they’re flooding.”
“They’ll figure it out,” Henri said.
“Eventually,” Jake said.
“Ripple explosions from the second target!” Remy said. “Our third weapon has detonated! Submunitions are attaching! Targets are zigging. They’re turning in different directions.”
Jake studied the scene on the navigation table. Acoustic lines of bearing fanned out as the smaller ships turned, but the destroyer appeared to stay on course, barreling down on the Wraith.
“Why isn’t the destroyer changing course?” he asked.
“I have no idea,” Remy said. “I don’t think we hit it.”
“What do you mean, ‘you think’? How do you not know?”
“Hold on! Our heavyweight torpedo just exploded. I believe it hit the damaged frigate that was already slowed. That’s a confirmed kill. The keel is cracked.”
A mixture of relief and repulsion filled Jake. He had reduced the number of lethal weapon platforms that hunted him from five to four, but he had condemned one hundred and sixty souls to death by drowning, burning, shock blast, head wounds, lacerations, internal hemorrhaging, and vaporization.
The few Chinese sailors who might survive the devastation would endure permanent physical and psychological scars. He swallowed the guilt and slid it to the backburner of his conscience, along with hundreds of prior victims, for future processing.
“Very well, Antoine. The northern frigate is sunk. What about the rest? What weapons hit which ships, and why the hell is that destroyer acting like Satan himself is willing it forward?”
“The ships have deployed decoys. They’ve launched countermeasures. They’re churning wakes all over the place. Their sonar systems are blaring at maximum power. Helicopter dipping sonars are transmitting. Philippine gunboats are still circling and trying to harass them. It’s complete chaos!”