“Lowering the cannons,” Cahill said.
He tapped icons and waited for a red ring around his weapons bay hatch symbols to signal their closure.
“Diving to thirty meters,” he said. “Coming to twelve knots.”
The Goliath’s automated ease allowed him quick finger strokes on a capacitive touchscreen to maneuver its mass, and the ship steadied on its undersea evasion.
Once concealed below the waves, he tapped another icon to invoke preset coordinates for his next launch point, twenty-one miles away, and the ship glided through a gentle southerly turn while angling downward to fifty meters.
“Just under two hours until we can attack the Revythousa re-gasification terminal,” he said. “That’s a long time.”
“Half the fleet is chasing Jake, except for that small task force that’s defending the oil rig,” Walker said. “What’s left won’t be able to reach us before we’ve unloaded and are long gone.”
“True, for the ships we can see. But there are submarines out there that worry me, and there must be extra helicopters getting ready to search for us after what we just did.”
“Technically, we haven’t done it yet.”
Cahill looked at the display that showed the estimated flights of his railguns’ shells arcing towards the Greek pipeline.
“I assume the Greeks will notice projectiles moving at Mach 7 on someone’s radar.”
“Probably,” Walker said. “But their air force is still on strike. It would have to be a naval system.”
“The ships protecting the oil rig near Lesbos will notice. Keep watchful of Pierre’s incoming feed for their movement, or movement of assets from the shore. I’m sure we were noticed.”
“Will do, Terry. Nothing yet, though.”
The trickle of characters on Cahill’s screen changed as Renard’s feed offered a simple update.
He had destroyed the pipeline — many times over, across a mile of its length, condemning any future repair crew to weeks of effort to reinstate the flow.
“The first target is destroyed,” he said.
“Roger that, mate,” Walker said.
“Spread the word to the crew, quietly. No loudspeakers. Let them know we’ve already accomplished half our mission.”
“Will do, Terry.”
Walker lifted a sound-powered phone to his cheek and updated several men with instructions to pass the word to all compartments.
Cahill’s satisfaction in his success waned as time eroded his patience approaching his second target. As he hoped he might continue his assault unnoticed, Renard’s update highlighted two helicopters leaving the Greek mainland and heading towards his last surfaced location. Then the coordinates came, and automated updates generated figures on his chart.
“Just two,” Cahill said. “Maybe this is our lucky day.”
“They appear to be flying behind us, if we can trust the data,” Walker said. “It’s stale before it reaches us, at this baud rate.”
“But useful. I think they’re going to start where we were and expand their search from there.”
“I’m sure they’ll figure out that we’re running to the south. It’s not like we could run to the north, unless we intended to ground ourselves on the Greek shoreline and surrender.”
“Good point, mate,” Cahill said. “I have an idea.”
“I’m listening.”
“Load five splintering rounds into each cannon followed by ten explosive rounds.”
“Right. I see your point.”
Walker lifted the sound-powered phone again and relayed the command to the weapons bays.
“Five splintering rounds are loaded in each cannon followed by ten explosive rounds each,” he said.
“Very well.”
“When do you want to attack the helicopters?” Walker asked.
“I’m not sure I want to.”
“But you’ve just committed the rounds.”
“If we’re lucky enough that they don’t become an issue, I’ll decide what to do with the rounds when we attack Revythousa.”
Below Cahill’s chin, Renard’s data shifted, giving him faster updates on the helicopters’ positions in exchange for lagging data on the rest of the Aegean Sea’s activity.
Standing beside him, Walker scanned similar news.
“There’s one getting close to us.”
“Close, yes,” Cahill said. “But no worries yet, mate.”
He sighed in relief as the helicopter veered to the west, but then its partner leapfrogged ahead of the Goliath’s track.
“Damn,” he said.
“Fight or flight,” Walker said.
“Flight. We’re too far from our launch point to get distracted in a battle. Coming right to course two-two-five.”
He tapped keys, and while the deck angled into the turn, his sonar supervisor’s voice issued from a loudspeaker.
“Dipping sonar. Less than fifty percent chance of detection.”
Cahill raised his voice towards a microphone.
“Less than fifty percent even while showing our broadsides?”
“Yes, sir. It’s a low signal strength.”
“Very well.”
Renard’s data showed the airborne threat moving away.
“Coming left to course one-eight-zero,” Cahill said.
“How long do you expect our luck to last?” Walker asked.
“I never expect luck,” Cahill said. “I hope for the best and prepare for the worst.”
The executive officer’s voice rose half an octave.
“Here’s the worst of it, mate.”
“Shit,” Cahill said. “Coming to all stop. Ascending to minimum cannon depth.”
He tapped a key that set the Goliath into its automated rise routine. The deck tilted downward to raise the weapons bays.
“The weapons bays report being clear to raise the cannons.”
“Very well,” Cahill said. “Raising the cannons.”
“Cannons are raised,” Walker said.
“Bringing the phased array radar online.”
Cahill touched an icon that energized the elements spread across the flat, exterior edges of his sterns’ twin elevated superstructures.
“Phased array shows online,” Walker said. “We have the closest helicopter on radar.”
“Prepare to shoot five rounds from each cannon, target the closest helicopter.”
Walker touched keys at his console.
“Closest helicopter is targeted.”
“Fire.”
Sonic booms reverberated in the hull and echoed through the water. Twenty seconds later, the airborne threat disappeared from the screen.
“Hit!” Walker said.
“Cease fire.” Cahill said.
He watched Walker tap his screen and silence the railguns with five total splintering rounds remaining.
The sonar supervisor offered an enthusiastic report.
“The helicopter has splashed!”
“I can’t find the other helicopter,” Walker said. “It’s beyond the horizon. We’re too low in the water.”
“Damn it. I’m surfacing the ship.”
Cahill tapped an icon commanding pumps to spew water from the Goliath’s trim tanks to the sea, and the combat transport ship became a cork.
Seconds later, radar energy painted the other airborne threat.
“I got it, Terry.”
“Fire.”
The railguns expelled their combined five rounds.
“It’s a hit!” Walker said. “The helicopter’s losing altitude and slipping laterally.”
“Very well. I’m taking us down. Coming to thirty meters.”
He tapped keys to secure the radar, lower the railguns, and inhale water into the Goliath’s tanks.
“That was close,” Walker said.
“Too close. Let’s get to our launch point and get out of here without further drama.”
After an uninterrupted submerged transit to his launch point against the solitary regasification plant that could convert incoming cooled liquid into compressed natural gas for dissemination to the Greek economy, Cahill slowed his ship and ascended to the minimum cannon depth.