“I estimate it would be a cleaner cut than bullets. And the sizes of the holes the mercenary bomblets create are comparable to that of the starboard engine room.”
“But the hole’s located on the bottom of the compartment.”
“That only matters if you plan on surfacing, although it will have an effect on sea pressure when cycling the door for entry.”
As the decision weighed on him, the colonel sensed time ticking against his mission. Renard had to be plotting his next move.
The sergeant added needed encouragement. “We’ve all trusted you this far, sir. The men will follow whatever you choose.”
The colonel laughed at himself as he remembered a nearly forgotten impasse. “Did you ever move any of our rebreathers to the port side?”
The sergeant scoffed. “No, sir. I guess you have your answer.”
“We enter the starboard engine room. Make the preparations and contact me before entry.”
A terrible metallic bang, like Thor’s hammer tolling a colossal gong, rang with impossible power. Losing his sense of time and space, the deafened colonel cringed and covered his ears while the ringing fury resonated through water and steel before receding. Regaining his awareness, he stood and heard an annoying, rumbling, grinding clamor. “What the hell’s going on?”
Even the stalwart sergeant seemed disoriented. “I don’t know.”
“Lights! Lights!”
Whiteness bathed the back of the submerged beast, and the colonel disbelieved his eyes.
Halfway down the port hull, an anchor chain hung from the back of an oblong shape suspended above the Goliath. The large links grated the steel cylinder and fell behind its outer side.
The colonel watched in anxious wonder until he recognized the Specter, backlit by the rising sun’s rays, and surmised the adversary crew’s intent. “They’re trying to grab us with their anchor.”
“Maybe. But if they are, they missed.”
The chain tilted forward and scraped the port hull’s outer curves, competing with the bridge’s overhead speakers in carrying the commander’s voice to the colonel’s ear. “Bridge, control room. I’m watching through the cameras. The Specter just hit us with its anchor chain.”
“And its anchor, too. What sort of madmen are driving that thing?”
“Bold ones.”
The scraping stopped, and the chain floated forward, blending into the bluish blackness ahead of the drifting Goliath.
The colonel aimed his voice upward. “If this isn’t an attempt to snag us, what else might it have been?”
“I can only speculate.”
“Might that have been a call to surrender?”
The commander’s tone was dismissive. “One of the vessels surrounding us would have just called us on a sonar phone, like the Specter and Wraith have been using instead.”
“They wouldn’t know what language to use.”
“That may be true. But it wasn’t a warning. We hear the Specter circling around to try it again.”
The colonel realized he’d become a prized marlin to the adversary submarine’s oversized fishing hook. “Damn. Can this be stopped if we come shallower?”
“No, we’d expose our railguns, and the patrol boats would blow them off. We’d then be prevented from submerging again.”
“What of the outboards? Can’t they be used to rotate us and make us uncatchable?”
“Perhaps, but what of it? If you try that, you lose what little progress we’re making towards Iran and bind us to an endless game caught in a stalemate. You may as well accept being towed.”
As the submarine commander’s opinions wearied him, the colonel groped for something positive. “Can you not think of anything we can do?”
“We can contact them. Instead of silly games, we’ve reached a point where a proper line of communication could serve us.”
“I hope you don’t mean to use the radio?”
“Perhaps in later discussions I’d risk the mast, but to start a conversation, we can use the unencrypted underwater telephone.”
“Like the Specter and the Wraith used, only using my voice instead of encrypted tones?”
“Correct.”
“Very well, then. Line me up so I can talk from here.”
“Give me a moment, while I work the menus.”
The bulldog pointed towards the after port-side windows. “If you have something to say, sir, you’d better hurry.”
Again, the colonel disbelieved his eyes. The sharp edges of the Specter’s anchor avulsed a hydraulic arm while tolling the bell of the port hull a second time. Despite his bulldog’s warning, he cringed with the rasping ringing and watched the plummeting bulk topple towards the cargo bed. “They had better luck with their aim this time.”
The sergeant’s nod was stoic acceptance. “Agreed, sir. That’s going to catch.”
Loud links grating over steel snapped taut under the Specter, turning the anchor into a pendulum that swung its chain forward to destroy a second hydraulic arm.
The commander updated the colonel with an option. “The underwater telephone’s ready now. If you want to negotiate, now’s a good time.”
The colonel sought something suitable to say to the mercenary fleet but found nothing. He instead aimed his voice upward to query his submarine commander. “I have nothing to say them, and I have no intention of flinching and requesting a negotiation. Tell me, how do you expect Renard to retrieve this ship without sinking it?”
His angst clear over the loudspeaker, the commander became defiant. “We have no propulsion, and we’re a whisker away from losing our depth control. Don’t you understand that you’re one flooded compartment away from dying? If the shoring gives in MESMA plant five, that alone may be enough to kill us.”
“That’s not an answer.”
“You’re a pompous ass.”
The colonel touched an icon to mute his microphone and spoke in privacy to his bulldog. “Can you think of a reason why I shouldn’t walk downstairs and snap his neck?”
“When I get into the engine room and give you back your propulsion, he’ll be useful again. And you’re not the type of man to kill a loyal colleague.”
“I’ve given him too much leeway already.”
“You’ve coaxed a competent performance out of him.”
With thoughts buzzing about his submarine commander’s insubordination, the colonel watched the Specter accelerate forward and drag its anchor chain against the Goliath’s port hull. Links skidded across steel, snapping a series of hydraulic rams from their mounts.
Then the chain reached a crossbeam, jerked it, and then released it as its lengths ran up and over the metal bar.
The anchor rose into view and snagged the beam. Then, with excessive scraping and groaning, the Goliath accelerated under the Specter’s power.
The sergeant remained stoic. “And now we’re being towed.”
“I might have hoped the anchor chain would interfere with the Specter’s propeller, but apparently not.”
“This situation appears helpless, but somehow I know it’s not. It just makes me want to fight back harder. Let me enter the engine room and give us the propulsion we need to snap this anchor chain.”
The colonel found his colleague’s optimism inspiring. “Yes. Make the preparations, and contact me when you’re ready. When it’s time, I’ll help you get in.”
The sergeant darted down the stairs, leaving his leader alone.
Screeching a ferrous cacophony, the anchor scraped across the beam and dragged two entangling nets into the central cargo bed. The Goliath rolled into a right turn, and the colonel turned from the metallic tether to watch digital dials.