In the control room, heads shook and shoulders shrugged.
The American offered his boss a veto. “What’s your opinion, Pierre?”
“It’s cruder than I might have hoped, but I can see no better options. I agree.”
“That’s a plan, then. Terry, do us the honors and draw up the details.”
CHAPTER 19
Under the dome, the colonel’s world crumbled. “The Iranians won’t help us.”
The sergeant’s pained face revealed betrayal. “They’re out there, some of them only ten miles away, and they won’t help?”
“They can’t be implicated. That was part of the bargain.”
“Two of their submarines were already hit and forced to surface.”
“But that doesn’t prove their involvement, nor does it force their retaliation.”
The sergeant shook his head. “I don’t understand. Where’s the loyalty?”
“There is none. This was a transaction. If I can’t sell them the Goliath, there’s nothing to transact. All they could do now is blow up Renard’s fleet at great risk to their own safety for no gain.”
“How can they stand by idly?”
The colonel grew weary of his partner’s commentary. “They have no obligation to help us, written, verbal, implicit or otherwise.”
“Then I question their courage.”
“You’re also forgetting the American submarine. How many Iranian weapons do you think its captain needs to hear before he would launch a counterattack?”
“I expected more from the Iranians.”
Consoling his colleague helped the colonel address his own sense of distress. “Do you think anyone’s more disappointed than I am about this mission’s possible failure?”
“You’re giving up?”
The loss of the second propeller hurt, but the colonel blocked failure from his mind. “By no means. I have more options than just running, but I do want to continue moving north, however slow it may be.”
He tapped an icon to open the private conversation to his submarine commander. “Control room, bridge. Over.”
“Bridge, control room. Over.”
“Deploy the outboard motors and give me your best speed.”
The commander hesitated.
“Did you hear me?”
“Yes, colonel. It’s just… that’s desperate.”
“I see that you fully grasp the situation. It’s indeed dire. Now make yourself useful and follow my order.”
“I’m deploying the outboards.”
The colonel watched pixelated numbers showing the Goliath’s speed creeping upwards.
“Colonel, I should also mention that we hear the Specter getting closer to us.”
“How close, and what does that mean?”
“Very close. Unless we’re about to be rammed, there’s no tactical advantage the Specter’s crew gains by being any closer.”
“So be it. We have graver issues to consider.”
The bulldog looked at his display and grunted. “One point two knots. This will take forever.”
“It will take us all day, literally, to reach Iranian waters. But what can Renard do about it?”
“He can send divers again, sir. This time, we won’t have the speed to shake them off.”
“But we can surface and shoot them.”
“And then the patrol craft will shoot us.”
“At least we’re moving in the right direction again, and the next move is Renard’s. If he does nothing, we’ll salvage this mission.”
A technician’s voice rang from the overhead speakers. “Bridge, MESMA plant two. Over.”
The colonel tapped an icon to respond. “Go ahead MESMA plant two.”
“I’m going to shut down MESMA plant two along with plant four. With the port engine room lost, we’re just dumping steam into the condensers. I’ll keep plant six up to run electrical loads. I suggest you keep a plant running on your side, too.”
“I thought we were sharing electrical loads between port and starboard?”
“We are. The insulation around our cables through the tunnel is holding, but I want one plant running in each hull for redundancy.”
“Very well. We’ll run on two MESMA plants, one per side. I’ll trust you to coordinate it.” The colonel found his technician’s focus admirable while facing the grave reality of mission failure, and he realized he needed to keep his men occupied. Purpose would keep them sane, and he risked a new idea with his sergeant. “Can you get a man into the starboard engine room to repair the hull breach from the inside?”
“The welding equipment supports underwater welding. And we have enough rebreather oxygen sources to last me. I’d have to cut off some jagged edges, but there’s a lot of flat pieces of metal I can choose from to plug the hole.”
“It doesn’t have to be perfect. The pumps can almost keep pace now, if dedicated to the engine room. And I’ve been assured that power can be rerouted to the propulsion motor.”
“But the hard part’s getting into the compartment.”
The colonel realized he was plotting beyond his naval knowledge and aimed his voice upward to the submarine commander. “Control room, bridge. Over.”
“Bridge, control room. Over.”
“I’m considering entry into the starboard engine room for repairs. Is such entry possible while remaining submerged?”
“It’s too dangerous. It would be suicide. You’d be unable to close the door against the water pressure, and you’d flood the adjacent MESMA plant. The ship would sink, guaranteed, and we’d be caught in a tomb.”
A pit formed in the colonel’s stomach, cautioning him to honor the submarine commander’s pessimism. His technician’s driving focus on the MESMA plants contrasted the stubborn tone of his undersea tactics master, who oozed futility. Though withholding overt judgment, the colonel sensed his commander had given up. “Counting myself, you have three soldiers in this half of the ship. Are you saying it’s impossible for us to manhandle the door?”
“Yes, that’s what I’m saying.”
“Based upon what?”
“Based upon my desire to stay alive.”
“That’s hardly scientific.”
“I could estimate the sea pressure and the area of the door and then tell you how much force you need to cycle the door open and shut again. But what of it? It would be a battle of wills against you and the sea, and I already know you’re the type of man to accept the challenge. So why bother asking me?”
Agreeing with the submarine commander’s assessment, the colonel shifted his approach. “Let me rephrase the question. How can I optimize my odds of success to access the engine room?”
“You shouldn’t try it. You’ll kill us all.”
“I am going to try it, whether you advise me or not. So, I suggest that you advise me.”
The commander’s extended sigh hung in the air as he responded. “You’d want to be as shallow as possible and pumping from the compartment to minimize backpressure. If you really want to do this, you could also bleed high-pressure air into MESMA plant five to attempt to equalize pressure with the engine room, but I fear the high-pressure banks on this ship are inadequate to bring plant five equal to sea pressure.”
The colonel looked to his bulldog for feedback. The sergeant nodded and seemed upbeat about tackling the problem, adding confidence to his leader’s voice. “That all sounds plausible.”
“You may want to consider accessing the port engine room instead. Your technical experts are there to give us the best chance of a speedy recovery of propulsion.”
Inhaling deeply, the colonel sought to clear his mind. He trusted himself to handle the challenge personally on the starboard side with his bulldog as his champion, but he saw merit with the submarine commander’s suggestion. “True, but the extent of the damage on the port side is unknown.”