His only other choice would be to do what he was sure Danilov was intent upon as they charged toward Imperator moments before — ram? Who was he responsible to? He looked again at Abe Danilov, the finest man in the Soviet Navy.
“Captain, we have contact with the American… quite clearly. She seems to be close aboard… port bow. She must be near the same depth… maneuvering very slowly.”
He knew exactly what Danilov would do.
The Soviet torpedo had opened a large hole low in Imperator’s port quarter. With no computer to automatically seal damaged compartments, seawater flooded the engineering spaces until it lapped at the main switchboard. The blast that followed touched off an electrical fire creating a dense pall of smoke. Under emergency lighting, the damage control parties finally closed off much of the port quarter spaces. Steering had also been lost instantly. The submarine was now maneuvering under an emergency system that left Imperator wallowing grotesquely.
Pumps were unable to keep up with the water. Without the computer, much of the damage control had fallen to a small party of men incapable of managing the valves and watertight doors that had once been under electronic control.
As Snow watched the XO manually list the compartments now sealed off, he asked quietly, “The computer areas — did they receive any further damage? Carol Petersen…” It seemed to Snow that he was floating… transported to a place beyond his body where substance seemed unimportant.
The XO looked up gravely from his list. “All the spaces in the computer complex were just sealed off, Captain. Bulkheads were collapsing.” He looked back down at his list. “DC Central said no one was able to get in to see if there were any survivors. The entire space is flooded now,” he added softly.
“Very well.” Snow turned away, biting his lip involuntarily before he felt the pain. Carol Petersen — he was sure he’d made a friend. There hadn’t been many over the last few years. And she had made an effort to be nice to him… “Very well,” he muttered again. It was requiring all his effort to maintain his mind within his body, almost as if the emotional part of his being — was that what some called the soul? — would soon depart forever.
“Captain, sonar’s back on-line again. That Russian’s awfully damn close… not more than seven or eight hundred yards away…”
But Snow found himself unable to concentrate. There was an emptiness he could not explain. His mighty vessel, the invincible Imperator… controlled by a computer that made her superior to all comers… was severely damaged. The one new friend he thought he’d made in so many years was dead, probably floating against the overhead in a space cluttered with icy seawater and debris. ‘ Somehow, he found the battle over. At least… his own battle was over.
“Hal… Hal…” Someone was coming through the forward hatch.
The voice was familiar. At first it seemed a long distance away. Then it was by his ear. “Hal… are you all right?” A hand grasped his shoulder.
Snow turned to look into Andy Reed’s eyes staring back from a haggard face. “Andy… I thought they’d socked you away into a bunk somewhere.”
“Never got me there. Not now — not a tough old bird like me. When I got some strength back, I managed to talk my way down to the wardroom for some hot coffee.
Then…”He studied the XO’s long list of damaged spaces. “Then we were hit. I’ve been fighting my way through watertight doors. There was no alarm when I opened them. ”
“There’s no computer, Andy, and no power.” Snow’s eyes had a faraway look, the look of a man who no longer cared. “But we’ll survive… Imperator’s tough.”
“Seratov?” Reed snapped anxiously.
Snow’s eyes turned to a point on the bulkhead and he pointed slowly. “She’s out there about eight hundred yards away, getting ready to sink, I guess.” It occurred to Snow that sonar had regained contact when Reed entered the control room and they had reported Seratov out of control. “Status on the Russian?” he called out.
“Badly damaged. Moving again… very slowly. Sounds like she’s trying to surface. We can hear a hell of a lot there, Captain. She’s fighting a losing battle.”
“Can you ping on her?” Reed asked, noting the faraway cast to Snow’s eyes.
“Sure can.” There was a moment of silence as the weapons officer spoke into his mike, and then, “She’s at about seven hundred yards, sir… what’s that?” he inquired into his mike. “She seems to be turning toward us… she’s closing. Got no speed to speak of, but she’s creeping in our direction.”
“I know Danilov,” Reed said. “That son of a bitch is going to try to ram us if it’s the last thing he does. Get out of here, Hal. Crank it up.”
“All ahead one third,” Snow ordered. To his XO, he added mechanically, “Inform DC Central that we’re underway… emergency… we need steering bad.” His voice was a monotone now. Snow was following orders, instinctively directing his ship, but his emotion was drained.
“Range?”
“About four five zero yards. Sounds like she’s had her front end opened up, Captain. I doubt she can keep up for long. We can identify interior bulkheads collapsing.”
“DC Central says we have sporadic flooding aft. We can’t control it while we’re moving,” the XO reported. Snow was staring at the control panel as if he were about to give another order. His mouth dropped open but there were no words. Then he closed it, his eyes still fixed on the panel.
“Come on, Hal… we’re moving with Danilov.” Reed’s voice was a whisper just to one side of Snow’s ear. “Turn… you’ve got to put your rudder over.”
Snow turned his head slightly to stare at Reed. The admiral knew his words had failed to register, Reed had no other choice.
“This is Admiral Reed… I have the conn. Tell damage control I need starboard rudder — instantly. Tell them if they give me enough rudder they might live to see the surface again.”
The wait seemed to last forever before the report came back from damage control that the rudder had been jacked to starboard.
“We seem to be opening range slightly.” The voice from sonar was animated. “Up to five hundred yards now.”
Reed turned to study Snow, Imperator’s captain remained in the same position, his eyes still fixed on the control panel. This time, when his mouth opened, the words came slowly, so much so that Reed had to lean near to hear them. “I really didn’t know what I lost, Andy…” His voice trailed off as he turned his gaze on Reed. “I gotta get off this thing, Andy. I’m not fit to—” His words were drowned out by another report from sonar.
“Five five zero yards… opening slightly…”
Somehow, staring despairingly at Snow, Reed understood that his sixth sense had been correct when he insisted on heading for Imperator’s control room. As cold and miserable as he was, his instinct had told him that there was trouble. He had come to warn Snow that Danilov would do anything to destroy Imperator as long as there was a breath left in him. Abe Danilov was an old-school type — he thrived on stubbornness. He wouldn’t be finished until his submarine lay on the bottom.
“Russian seems to be losing the bubble!” The excitement in the voice from sonar spread a hush over the control room. “Sounds like he’s coming apart.”
Sonar detailed the sounds of the last minutes of the Russian submarine. Andy Reed was able to contain his joy only because he saw that Snow heard nothing. When he finally returned to Washington, he knew he would have to review all of the profiles again — he would have to find out what element had slipped by the experts… and what it was that might have triggered this reaction.