“Perhaps,” Floros said. “Perhaps he’s just shifting the odds in his favor, or is he doing something cleverer.”
The officer stared through the bridge windows at the clear sunny seas while calculating odds. Then his face flushed.
“Maybe, sir. There’s a fundamental difference between a bow-mounted sonar system and towed systems.”
“Yes,” Floros said. “He can shoot holes in one kind and not the other, as he’s proving on his third frigate now.”
“Not just that, sir. The bow-mounted systems must search in the shallow surface channels because that’s where they’re located. If I were him, and I just deafened the task force in the surface channel, that’s where I’d evade.”
“Shallow. Where he can also surface rapidly and shoot down helicopters if needed, or shoot at our cannons or propulsion systems or missiles or any other accursed target he wants.”
“Yes, sir. I think he’s going to try to evade in the surface channel, just beneath the waves.”
Floros recognized his opportunity to outthink his enemy.
“We’ll have to keep our helicopter dipping systems and trailed sonar systems in the surface channel to find him. Get this advice to all undersea assets.”
As he issued the order, the Hydra’s Phalanx system protested the Goliath’s incoming shots, and sonic cracks pounded the bridge windows. Floros held a railing as the seasoned ship-handling lieutenant barked orders to wiggle the frigate out of the way of projectiles that slipped by the close-in weapon system, but a projectile found its way into the bow.
Screeching metal howled.
“That took out fifteen percent of our bow-mounted sonar system’s hydrophone,” the Hydra’s commander said. “Shall I generate a smoke screen and attempt to circle back, sir?”
“No,” Floros said. “Grant him the inevitable. The bow-mounted sonar systems will soon be useless, but we know what he’s doing, and we’re twenty-five minutes from having him blanketed with gunfire coverage.”
The radar return from the combat transport ship disappeared, and its icon shifted to a submerged target.
“The Goliath just dove below the three Harpoons, sir.”
“Slowed. Silenced. Disadvantaged. Have all ships move in at flank speed.”
The Hydra’s commander tapped a command into the display, sending the order through a tactical data system. Floros watched his eyes flit across the screen absorbing incoming reports.
“All commanders acknowledge the order of flank speed, sir. We’ll have two ships within gunfire range in twenty-two minutes.”
“Good. Let us turn this unprovoked attack against our homeland into our glory. Let us be the nation that silences this international menace.”
Floros realized the absurdity of events that had started with his defense of an oil rig but had seen hostile vandalism transform him into an instrument of vengeance. He thought he’d slipped beyond the bounds of reality, watching some other man in his captain’s uniform lead his nation’s hunt.
As airborne graphics of anti-ship missiles traced arcs around the dive point of the now-hated vessel, the radar return came back, signifying his adversary’s skill in timing his exposure above the waves.
“He’s taken down two Harpoons already,” the Hydra’s commander said. “And he has a broadside shot at the third. He’s using his Phalanx system and railguns well, sir.”
“I can see that. This challenges my working theory that he intends to evade in the surface channel. Send three more Harpoons at him, this time one each from the south, west, and east, timed for simultaneous arrival. Make sure he follows his own damned plan and keeps his damned railguns submerged while we move into gunfire range.”
As the Hydra’s commander extended his fingers towards the display to coordinate the strike, a bridge officer scurried to his side. Animated, the man shouted his news, and Floros overheard it.
The Goliath was hailing him.
“In Greek?” Floros asked.
“Yes, sir! A translator I assume. Perfect Greek. He’s speaking on high-frequency voice.”
“Is he still on the line?”
“Yes, sir!”
“Put him on the speaker.”
He raised his nose upward towards a microphone and projected his voice.
“This is Captain Nicos Floros of the Hellenic Navy. I’m the commander of the Hellenic task force you’ve been illegally attacking. With whom am I speaking?”
“Through a translator, you are speaking with the commanding officer of the combat transport ship, Goliath.”
The Hydra’s commander stepped in Floros’ view and begat a low-volume discussion.
“Should I launch the Harpoons, sir?”
“No, not yet. Stand by.”
Floros raised his voice again.
“You claim no country’s flag? Then you admit to your piracy? You also demonstrate your cowardice by withholding your personal name.”
“Both omissions are matters of practicality for my mission. Another matter of practicality, your safety and that of your sailors, is the reason I contacted you.”
“You have great audacity to think that I’d even speak to you,” Floros said.
“But you’ve proven yourself wise enough to listen. I offer you a truce. I will withhold my weapons and drive away in peace if you withhold yours, and you will never again have to deal with me in your waters.”
“You call that a truce?” Floros asked. “You skulk into my homeland, attack my people’s energy infrastructure, kill innocent people, and expect me to let you go? You are truly insane.”
“I have six torpedoes targeted at your four largest ships and two other ships of my random choosing. By my reckoning, that includes the one you’re standing on. Note that I don’t have the luxury of humane warheads like my colleagues. All my weapons are heavyweight torpedoes that will crack six keels and vaporize flesh. I wish I could offer you a less violent threat, but such are my constraints.”
Unsure why, the verbal exchange shifted Floros’ thought patterns about how he would finish the Goliath. He redefined the enigma hybrid catamaran as a classical submarine for the duration of the battle and drew conclusions based upon this epiphany.
Knowing he would have the support of his vice admiral, he expected to take control of the Greek submarines that patrolled nearby. A Scorpène-class vessel had broken their wall, and he would transform the broken screen into hunters of the inferior submarine, Goliath. Including the Pipinos, which had forced the Goliath to flee from its well-placed torpedo, he would dedicate four submarines to chasing the wounded combat transport ship.
He recognized the folly of expecting four submarines to hunt as a unit, but he could commit three to setting up a perimeter around the Goliath while the fourth hunted. The surface combatants and helicopters would also join the perimeter, which they had drawn during their efforts to encircle their adversary.
In a flash of awareness, he stood in mesmerized awe of the simplicity of his decision. Having feared railguns, he’d countered with missiles and cannons. But the enemy sought to intimidate with torpedoes, and Floros would retaliate within the realm his nemesis had declared as the new battlespace.
But first, he wanted to challenge his enemy’s bluff.
“Six torpedoes?” he asked. “I notice that you took damage to your port bow, right where your port torpedo nest is located. Why should I believe you have six torpedoes when I suspect you have only three?”