The coke tin reached the last step and skittered along the deck. This was not like any other vibration Louis had experienced from ship’s engines — this was a much more penetrating frequency.
Louis began a halting run towards the operations room. On the way he grabbed the nearest engineer’s shoulder and motioned him to be quiet and listen. Both men stood transfixed. Just as the engineer started to pull away from Louis’ grasp they both heard a high keening sound which appeared to come from the depths of the ship.
There was no longer any doubt. ‘Goddammit!’ gasped Louis as the full realisation dawned. He dashed for the stairway, barging into crew members in his way. As he yanked the door open he felt the strange high pitched vibration fill the large room. Several of the engineers were holding hands to their ears to block out the noise.
Louis flew to his work bay and stared at the main console. The display showed that the sub was armed.
‘Impossible’ he seethed. Frantically he keyed in the instructions to load diagnostic programs to check the validity of the data and at the same time shouted across to the DARPA team for help. The section looked puzzled but did not seem unduly alarmed. Louis’ patience snapped at their lack of understanding.
‘The bastard is making an attack run — on us!’ he screamed.
The fear which now gripped him was something he had never experienced before. And along with the fear came the dreadful thought that he would die at sea — the worst way to go he could imagine.
The display did not lie. All the diagnostic programs were complete and all showed that the sub had become armed. Louis thought it was impossible but the programs showed something else too — the sub had started an attack run on their own ship.
Engineers around Louis clutched their ears as the pounding vibrations increased in volume.
He snapped out of his reverie. There was a way to turn off the attack; one slight chance that they might all survive.
Louis gave his computer systems a last despairing look to see if there was any change. There was none. Louis used the keyboard to start the self-destruct sequence.
He unlatched the cover over the red switch on his desk. Memories raced through his mind of the last two years he had devoted to the project. The waste of all that effort caused him to hesitate, finger poised above the red button.
One of the monitors in another bay imploded from the escalating volume of the vibrations. Fragments of glass shattered and flew in all directions. One sliver caught him on the chin and a drop of his own blood fell to the desk.
Galvanised, Louis jabbed the button.
A few seconds later he realised the dreadful truth. The increasing noise and vibration in the floor plate beneath his feet told its own story — the self-destruct signal had failed and the most powerful underwater weapon of modern times was no longer under his control.
Chapter 7
Louis grabbed a nearby microphone. ‘Captain, the sub is making an attack!’ he yelled. ‘Give the order to abandon ship. Repeat, you must abandon ship.’ He threw the microphone down and yelled the same message to colleagues nearby. No-one seemed to grasp the idea because most were holding their ears in an effort to exclude the intense high pitched sound. He ran to a nearby technician and pulled his arms away.
‘Abandon ship’ he shouted in his ear.
The man immediately clapped his hands back over his ears but made no move to go.
‘Follow me’ Louis shouted pulling him along.
The ship’s alarm bells started to ring adding to the clamour. One or two others took the hint and stumbled after him up the stairway. When they reached the deck the vibration was so intense it completely drowned out the Captain’s announcement. Louis saw some crew manning the lifeboat davits, presumably because they realised that it would be better to escape with their lives than to try and save their unprotected ears.
At that moment the vibration stopped. Louis glanced around to see the reaction of the men. One or two started back to the operations room.
‘Don’t stop!’ he yelled. ‘We have to abandon ship.’
As if on cue the vibrations began again but this time at a much lower frequency. Louis could hardly hear it but he could sense it through the soles of his feet. The deck plates began to vibrate with a kind of rippling effect. Louis looked at them, finding it difficult to keep his balance. When he looked up he saw several of the men on the far side begin to dance a horrible gig as the deck trembled and shook. Some had blood streaming from their ears and one tripped over the railing and fell like a stone into the sea.
The ship began to list to port. Louis presumed that a section of the hull nearest Cetus had vibrated so intensely that the welds had started to come apart. He knew it would just be a matter of time before pressure from the sea water flooded the front compartments.
The tilt of the deck worked against the thirty or so seamen and technicians struggling to make their escape on the starboard side. The lifeboats scraped along the side of the hull and in one case a lifeboat tipped right over, spilling people and contents into the sea below.
Senior members of the crew quickly began to establish discipline above the panic and technicians and sailors obediently donned their life jackets. Parties were assigned to help launch the lifeboats on the port side. A rating thrust a life jacket at Louis before hurrying away. Louis tied it on quickly and was immediately ordered into one of the remaining lifeboats. He saw Long John in the same boat and raised a hand in recognition.
By this time the list to port was much more pronounced. The ship literally shuddered as deep pulsing beats pounded the hull. The downward journey of the lifeboat stopped suddenly as the pulley jammed. Louis knew then that they had run out of time. Their only chance would be to detach the lines from the lifeboat before the ship sank and dragged them under. He shouted across to Long John and they took up stations at the stem and stern. The moment the lifeboat was level Louis and Long John released the davit lines and the boat fell the last few feet into the water. For a few seconds it rocked dangerously then it settled down. Immediately four of the crew unshipped the oars and began rowing like fury.
Two minutes later they were fifty metres from the ship. Louis turned back to watch the ocean washing over the Mosquito’s deck.
Natasha stared at her screen, then jabbed at a few keys. She lost patience with it.
‘Stan’ my PC has frozen again.’
When there was no reply she looked over to where Stan sat hunched over his own computer. He appeared not to have noticed.
She had decided to come in to work today and try to put Ben’s death to the back of her mind. Now she wished she had stayed at home. Of course Stan was only a nickname. Everyone had given up trying to pronounce his full Polish name and it was quickly shortened to just plain Stan. It was unlike him to ignore a question from one of the staff. Maybe she complained too often she thought. But it wasn’t her fault that she had been supplied with a PC that seemed to work only part time.
‘Stan, my screen is kaput’ she said, louder this time. Stan took no notice. Natasha walked to his desk to peer over his shoulder. ‘What’s the problem?’
At last Stan looked at her. His normally pleasant face looked grim. He started to say something, stopped then started again.
‘Our comms link to the Mosquito is down.’
‘Well can’t we use the backup?’
‘No’. Stan shook his head. ‘You don’t understand — the link is down and there’s no way we can get it back.’
‘Why ever not?’ Natasha was exasperated with his terse reply. Why did senior managers find it so difficult to give full information?
‘Just a minute.’ Stan checked his computer monitor and shouted over to the nearby desk of software engineers.