Three technicians seated side by side updated their screens in unison and then shared their statuses with Remy, who relayed the confirmation to Jake. “We’ve set the weapons to run at sixty knots for five hundred yards and then slow to twenty knots.”
“Very well, Antoine. Shoot tube one.”
The pneumatic impulsion system beyond sight in the forward compartment thrust a weapon into the sea while sucking air into its piping. The rapid pressure change popped Jake’s ears.
“Tube one indicates normal launch. I have wire control. I hear its propeller.”
“Henri, start a forty-second countdown to the next weapon’s launch. Notify me at ten seconds.”
The Frenchman grabbed his personal phone and tapped its screen. “A forty-second countdown’s in progress.”
Thankful to have a commanding officer’s talent working the central table, Jake stayed standing above his team and watched Cahill zoom the chart to a one-mile-square resolution.
With the huge zoom, a large torpedo icon appeared, flashed, and settled into its trek with a speed vector extending beyond the chart.
Lines of bearing to the noises from the limpets dotting the Goliath’s hull formed from the icon of the Specter’s torpedo. Crossed with lines from the submarine’s bow array, hull array, and towed array, the geometric intersections modeled a legion of limpets clamped against the transport ship.
Sonic acuity separated the port noisemakers from the starboard, but ambiguity of limpet placement over the long ship’s length complicated placing the torpedo under the engine room.
As informational overload created a tangled sonic web, the Australian wiggled furious fingers over pixelated buttons to tame the tactical representation. Colored pixels receded into darkness, yielding a calmer view. When finished, Cahill looked up at Jake. “I picked the four limpets closest to the Goliath’s four corners to track our weapon.”
“Not bad, Terry. Good thinking.”
Remy share his update. “The first weapon has reached five hundred yards and is slowing.”
“Got it, Antoine.”
Henri updated the countdown. “Ten seconds left of your forty-seconds, Jake.”
“Got it, Henri. Status of our second weapon, Julien?”
“The second weapon is ready, Jake.”
Jake counted the final seconds silently. “Shoot tube two.” The impulsion system whined and popped his ears.
Julien gave his update. “Tube two indicates normal launch. I have wire control and hear the propeller.”
“Henri, start another forty-second countdown and notify me at ten seconds.”
“The second countdown’s in progress.”
Jake watched the Australian repeat his artistry on the display, cleaning the view of the second weapon, and he heard Julien’s report about the second weapon slowing to twenty knots, followed by another ten-second countdown reminder from his mechanic. “Got it, Henri. Status of our third weapon, Noah?”
“It’s ready.”
Jake counted silently again. “Shoot tube three.”
The Specter’s barometric pressure fell a third time as the third technician launched the third weapon, giving birth to a third icon behind the first torpedoes that became the vertex of a sonic web.
Again, the Australian cleaned the view. “The first weapon has pulled even with the Goliath’s stern.”
“Got it, Terry. Antoine, give me an eighty-degree steer to the right.”
“My weapon’s turning right eighty degrees.”
“Energize the influence field.”
“The influence field is energized.”
The Australian commander’s participation became vital as he announced his observation of the overhead visual scene. “The first weapon’s passing behind the Goliath.”
Hoping the weapon’s upward-looking magnetic influence field sensed the disturbance by the port hull’s ferrous metal, Jake watched his sonar ace’s body language but found disappointment.
The toad-head shook. “No detection.”
“Very well, Antoine. Steer the first weapon left eighty degrees.”
“My weapon’s turning left eighty degrees.”
Cahill shared the visual perspective. “It’s passing behind again.”
Again, the toad-head shook. “Nothing. No detection.”
“Steer weapon one right eighty degrees.”
“My weapon’s turning right eighty degrees.”
More from the Australian. “The second weapon’s even with the Goliath.”
“Steer weapon two right eighty degrees.”
Julien nodded. “Weapon two is turning right eighty degrees.”
Remy raised his hand. “Influence field detection!”
Fearing sensory overload if he tried to micromanage two torpedoes, Jake took his first shot. “Detonate weapon one!”
“Detonating!”
“Did it attach?”
The toad-head nodded. “Yes! Waiting… and, yes! Explosion. Flooding… That was too fast. That was the railgun magazine. We hit too far aft.”
“Shit. Terry, can I still flood the engine room without sinking the ship?”
“Yes. I think so. I mean, yes.”
From the computer screen, Renard broke his silence. “I concur. The burden of this decision rests upon me. Continue your attack.”
Jake glanced at the chart and noticed the second torpedo farther right than he’d wanted. “Steer weapon two left seventy degrees.”
Tapping icons, Julien obeyed. “Weapon two is turning left seventy degrees.” As the weapon veered back on target, the young sonar technician half-stood in his seat. “Influence field detection!”
“Wait, Julien! Let it pass through.”
Cahill updated Jake’s visual image of the scenario. “The third weapon is even with the Goliath.”
“Got it, Terry. Noah, steer weapon three right eighty degrees.”
“Weapon three is turning right eighty degrees.”
Amid the chaos, Remy curled forward with thick fingers pressing speakers against his ears. The toad-head swiveled, allowing Remy to aim his voice towards his commander. “Torpedo in the water. American ADCAP Mod Seven.”
The announcement stung Jake. “Shit. Terry, you’re playing defense for me. Make sure the ADCAP isn’t coming for us. If it is, find a way to make it hit the Goliath and not us.”
“I’m on it, mate.”
“Julien, steer weapon two right eighty degrees. Noah, steer weapon three left eighty degrees.”
The young Frenchmen obeyed, and Julien lifted his buttocks from his seat while curling forward into his console. “Influence field detection!”
“Detonate weapon two!”
“Detonating!”
“What’s going on, Julien? Talk to me.”
“Nothing. It’s a miss! My bomblet missed!”
To avoid dismay, Jake reminded himself each bomblet had a historical sixty-five percent chance of attaching. Odds favored the third weapon bailing him out. “Let’s make the last one count. It’s up to you, Noah.”
“Understood, Jake. I have influence field detection!”
“Let it pass through.”
Cahill stood from Remy’s side. “The American torpedo is aimed at the Goliath. At least that’s the educated guess. We’re too close to the Goliath to tell if the Americans are aiming at us or them, with the margin of error in the tracking.”
“Any idea of range?”
“It’s still at least a few miles off.”
Recalling his boss telling him about the U.S. Fifth Fleet’s ultimatum, Jake checked a timer ticking in the tactical chart’s corner coinciding with the ten-mile buffer from Iranian waters. “Solve the American weapon’s range to coincide with detonation under the Goliath in eight minutes.”