McIver was grumpy this morning. He had only a few hours sleep the night before. Then during breakfast he discovered that the Captain had altered the plans they had agreed earlier. Who the hell is running this show? he asked himself. He ought to give that man a dressing down and order him to revert to the original plan.
McIver was tempted but once he talked to him he saw the sense in what the man was trying to do. By extending the line out towards the east, Armstrong hoped to cover off the possibility of the sub out-flanking their welcome party and slip past using the greater ocean depths away from the continental shelf.
‘I’m sorry about the change of plan Jock. I didn’t tell you because I thought you needed the sleep’ said Armstrong quietly, hoping to ward off the worst of the man’s ire.
In the light of day McIver conceded that the man did have a point. It would be tragic if the sub choose that route and they had no assets out there to intercept.
‘We’re also close enough now to patch into the Carl Vincent group’ said Armstrong.
‘Good. Let’s get some air cover from them — we could do with some air patrols equipped with anti-submarine weapons.’ McIver considered what he required. ‘No nuclear depth bombs or weapons though. We don’t want to start World War III’.
‘Very good sir.’ said Armstrong firmly.
‘OK Jim.’ McIver turned to look through the bridge window. ‘Sorry I jumped down your throat earlier.’
‘That’s alright Jock’ Armstrong replied quietly.
‘Time to get moving’ said McIver.
‘Commander!’ Armstrong called for his officer.
Commander Briggs sighed. At least you always knew where you were with the Captain, even if the Admiral was still an unknown quantity. Pity the enemy though, thought Briggs. He would hate to be on the other side of such relentless warriors.
‘I want to send a message — a taste of things to come.’
‘Yes sir. What do you suggest?’
‘How many Mk41’s do we have?’
‘Thirty ready for firing in the cells Captain. And more on each frigate.’
‘OK Commander. Tell your Surface Warfare Officer I want his best guess at the point of firing. Then add 200 yards for the first, subtract 200 yards for the second and again for the third. Is that clear?’
‘Yes sir. You want a pattern of three Mk41’s landing successively closer to the target from the north, from each frigate.’
McIver interrupted. ‘I also want a pattern of four depth charges, one every hundred yards. Each frigate should lay the depth charges perpendicular to the estimated direction of the sub.’
Like beaters driving game, McIver planned to herd Cetus along the axis. Sitting like a spider in a web, McIver had positioned his ship at the centre of the arc of steel — if you didn’t count Armstrong’s fine-tuning.
Satisfied the orders were received correctly, McIver stepped out onto the bridge wing to oversee the launch of the Mk41’s via the Vertical Launch System cells on deck.
He watched as the first missiles ‘hot launched’ and rose straight up into the air from their tubes. They quickly cleared the ship and turned on course. McIver waited for the strike and through binoculars saw the first pattern of spray spring up some 5km away. He had no idea at what depth to set them and didn’t even know what the operational depth for the miniature submarine was. Certainly no more than 500 metres he thought.
‘Make sure those helicopters dunk on the flanks only and co-ordinate with the mine laying.’ McIver directed. If Cetus was near, its most likely route of escape was towards the two Frigates Armstrong had thought to deploy to the east.
‘If anyone gets wind of the sub they are to fire immediately — you hear? Do not wait for my order.’
Unable to sleep, Captain Sheering rolled onto his side and opened his eyes. He could see his old fashioned alarm clock, phosphor arms pointing to 2:14 am. Next to his clock was the empty cup of cocoa he always took before sleeping.
The Captain commanded the Los Angeles class submarine the USS Cheyenne, patrolling at the furthest reach of McIver’s Anti Submarine Warfare group.
The spoon on the saucer was rattling with the vibration of the sub and Captain Sheering realised this was the noise that had woken him. As he watched the spoon buzzed with increased energy, leaping up and down until it fell onto the bedclothes.
The Captain had given strict orders for quiet running. Nothing on or within his submarine should making so much noise.
Curiously the Captain picked up the spoon and dropped it quickly — it was hot! As he reached for the communicator above his bed, it pinged. He picked it up.
‘What the hell is happening?’ he enquired. ‘I ordered full quiet — where is that noise coming from?’
‘We don’t know skipper’ replied the Executive Officer. ‘But it’s not coming from inside the boat.’
Captain Sheering’s blood ran cold. From that moment there was no doubt in his mind that his ship was under attack from Cetus.
When he had received a detailed briefing about the rogue sub he had considered what countermeasures he should deploy against such an attack. Unfortunately when discussing these with McIver he received only the vaguest comments about their effectiveness. It seemed no-one was sure what the submarine’s capabilities were.
Still, all was not lost. Captain Sheering had been busy while waiting for Cetus and had made a study of the surrounding currents.
‘Take us up to 300 metres — I want to be in the middle of the thermal incline above us. I also want to be facing the oncoming current — steer three hundred and forty degrees. Just make enough turns to keep us stationary. Is that understood?’
‘Yes sir.’
Sound battle stations and get all department heads together in the ward room. I will speak to them in two minutes. Try and get a fix on that blasted machine and maintain full quiet.’
‘Yes sir.’
Sheering padded to the ward room. While he was waiting for the last of his department heads to file into the cramped space, he could hear the vibration increase in intensity.
‘Well men, this is it’. Captain Sheering looked around at the familiar faces. ‘I have to tell you that we are under attack by a very advanced enemy submarine. The next twenty minutes will determine whether we live or die.’
The men looked at each other, taken aback by the directness of the speech.
‘You all know as much as I do about our attacker — which isn’t much. Just let’s say we have a fight on our hands.’
Captain Sheering grasped the back of a chair and leaned forward. ‘In the next twenty minutes I am likely to give you some strange orders — don’t question them — just act on them immediately. Your lives might depend on it.’
He looked round around for the last time. ‘Now get to your stations!’
Chapter 22
Time was running out and Lomax couldn’t wait for Sean to return. He stomped into the kid’s bedroom and found him asleep in front of a computer screen. Lomax shook him roughly and went back out to make a cup of coffee. He placed the steaming mug on the table.
‘Listen DD, we need to go back.’
‘What do you mean, go back?’
‘Back to the company. We need the information as soon as possible. There’s only one way to get it — we have to break in.’
‘Break in?’
‘Don’t keep repeating everything I say’ said Lomax testily. ‘We need to go back, break into their computer room, and trace this guy Schaeffer. Are you up for it?’
‘Hang on’, said DD. ‘We’ve been there before and now they’ve discovered the bug they’ll be ready for us. How do you expect to get away with it?’