“Our gunners are going to have to be perfect,” Walker said.
“The Mark 45 cannon is a big target, and it’s sitting right there on the forecastle in plain sight. Even if they hit low, they’ll hit the magazine or its loading and maneuvering components. As a system, it’s a big and complex target with moving parts, and one well-placed splintering round can take it down.”
“Or it could take ten rounds or more, in which case, it’ll have time to spit hell back on us from point-blank range.”
“But we’ll have the element of surprise and be attacking from point-blank range as well. And I’m also going to place us on the side so the cannon would have to rotate a good forty-five degrees to target us. That would give us an extra volley.”
As Walker stepped away, placed his hands on a railing, and tensed his shoulders, Cahill braced for more objections. Knowing the crew trusted his executive officer’s opinion, he needed his agreement for the risky plan.
“What about the close-in weapon systems?” Walker asked. “There’s two on that ship, and that’s three thousand holes in us.”
“We’ll take them out after we hit the cannon.”
“Why not before the cannon? They could cripple our cannons before we take them out.”
“You’re discounting the element of surprise.”
“And I have to be honest that I think you’ve placed an undue premium on the element of surprise,” Walker said. “This is an alerted crew.”
Cahill reconsidered.
“Very well. You make a good point. They can react much faster than the cannon. We’ll take out the Phalanxes first.”
Walker shook his head.
“Why all this fuss about how to outgun the Hydra? Why not continue north beyond it and try to escape to Turkish water?”
“Renard took that option off the table while the new prime minister is negotiating the oil rig’s future with the Turks. We can’t risk putting pressure on Turkish diplomacy by being found in Turkish water, or we’d screw over one of our major supporters. That would ruin everything we’ve been working for. But don’t worry, I’ll get us out of here in style with the Hydra’s help.”
“Then we’ve got nothing left to do but deftly move ourselves into spitting range of it.”
“And then surface just our cannons, of course, and win a punching match.”
“According to Pierre’s data, we’ve got about forty minutes.”
“Agreed. Get our best two gunners into the tactical control room with our A-team sonar techs for a briefing.”
Thirty minutes later, his team knew their roles, and his gunners knew the vulnerable locations of the American-made Greek weapons to aim for.
As Cahill watched the sounds of the Hydra grow in strength, Renard’s feed verified the proximity of his target.
“Five miles,” he said.
The deck rolled and pitched in the shallows, and a report from the sonar supervisor brought a surprise.
“The Hydra’s variable-depth sonar is now in the surface channel. I recommend going deep to avoid counter-detection.”
“Very well,” Cahill said. “Taking us to seventy meters.”
He tapped several icons, ordering the Goliath deeper while maintaining the fifteen-degree up angle to combat the damage.
“Even with an up angle, we can descend smartly,” he said. “I thought Pierre had overdone the size on the pumps, but the water management on this beast is amazing.”
“Going deep makes it harder to surface at the right spot for our attack,” Walker said. “Maybe we should delay our approach a bit and make sure we’re dead ahead of the Hydra. That’ll give us more time to maneuver, and it’ll make us harder to be detected on the sonar, with a bow-on aspect.”
“Now you’re thinking like a submarine officer. We’ll do it. Coming right to course zero-eight-zero. Slowing to four knots. Time to intercept is now fifteen minutes.”
Cahill watched the crosshair of the Goliath reach the future track of the Hydra.
“Bringing the rudder to left full to point at the Hydra,” he said. “I’m also reversing our angle to fifteen degrees down to elevate the cannons.”
As the deck brought him steady and then rolled him forwards, he pressed an icon to hail his gunners.
“You ready, boys?”
Two voices responded over the loudspeaker.
“Sure, Terry.”
“Damned right we are.”
“Given our new position in front of the Hydra, you won’t see the rear Phalanx when you hit the surface. Your firing order will be the forward Phalanx, then the cannon, then the rear Phalanx.”
“Got it.”
“Yeah, we both got it.”
“If you can’t see the cannon clearly, shoot through the bow. There’s enough working parts to that thing below the forecastle that you can damage it without even seeing it.”
“I’m ready.”
“Me, too.”
“Keep the communication line open, boys. It’s all up to you now. I’m giving you both manual fire control. Raise your cannons when you’re at minimum depth to do so, and start shooting the instant you’re clear. Don’t wait for me.”
As he looked back to his display, he noticed the Hydra remained on course two miles away. He tapped graphics to give his ship a gentle rise in depth and to accelerate.
“I’m staging us shallow at fifteen meters,” he said. “Bringing us up slowly. I’m also going to force this to happen a little to the right to give us a better field of fire and to give us maneuverability at three knots.”
Daylight illuminated the bluish water above the dome.
“One mile,” Cahill said.
“You’re tempted to go early?” Walker asked.
“Yes, but I won’t. Remember the torpedoes.”
He tapped a key to bring the weapons bay camera images onto his monitors. They each showed dark blue murkiness.
“Sixteen hundred yards,” he said.
“We’re technically inside the minimum range of a Mark 46 torpedo now,” Walker said.
“Agreed, but consider how fast that ship can maneuver beyond that minimum range and then launch at us. That’s a good reminder for me to assign torpedoes to the Hydra, though.”
Cahill tapped several graphics to open the outer doors to his surviving torpedoes and to set their aim at the frigate.
“Our weapons are ready,” he said. “Twelve hundred yards.”
“It’s time, Terry.”
“Get the translator up here while I raise the stern sections.”
The monitors showed the sky as the weapons bays breached the surface. After a second, his eyes focused on the approaching frigate, and a pair of sonic booms told him his gunners were obeying his orders to fire when possible.
The warship appeared unaffected as the second pair of cracks echoed over Cahill’s head, but then he saw smoke rising from the white dome of the Hydra’s forward Phalanx system as another pair of booms raced by.
Unsure if the Phalanx could return fire, he hedged his bet.
“Port gunner, shift to the main cannon!” he said. “Starboard gunner stay on the Phalanx!”
With rounds covering the distance in less than half a second, Cahill’s gunners proved capable at hitting their marks. Though the shots had little time to splinter, their small diameters of buckshot bore holes where needed.
The forward Phalanx looked like a used small arms target, and pockmarks riddled the cannon, but intelligent movement of the frigate exposed its rear Phalanx.
“Port gunner, stay on the main cannon!” he said. “Starboard gunner move to the after Phalanx!”