“May I enter, Sir,” Adams asked softly. Jacobs motioned him in and closed the door behind him. Adams stood while Jacobs took a wet washcloth and wiped his face and then sat on his bed. “I’m just here to listen, Sir, nothing more.”
Jacobs sat staring at the floor. Several minutes passed before he spoke. When he did his voice was soft and clearly shaken. “Twenty-two years,” Jacobs said. Adams sat on the one chair in the Captain’s cabin. “I’ve been in the Navy for twenty-two years. I’ve been through hundreds of exercises, drills, war games and simulations.” Adams nodded. Jacobs looked up, making eye contact. “In twenty-two years I’ve never had to kill anyone. Twenty-two years.” Adams sat quietly, apparently to let Jacobs work it out for himself. “The ghost sub is clearly on a time table. They aren’t stopping to clear baffles, which is a critical mistake. I am convinced that they are planting some kind of explosive device. That is an act of war, and we must respond accordingly.”
Jacobs slowly stood, tossed the washcloth next to the sink. “Our only choice is to kill the son of a bitch.” He rinsed his face with cold water, dried off with a towel, and turned toward Adams. A firm resolve had replaced the unsteadiness in his chest, the quivering and shaking had stopped. He was ready.
Jacobs strode confidently into the control center of the Massachusetts and looked around.
“Range 18,000 yards,” Stephanos reported.
“Fire Control, are the Mark 48’s in tubes one and two online?” Jacobs asked.
“Yes, Sir.”
“Program both torpedoes to home in on the ghost sub’s screw signature, silent approach, active ping and high speed attack from 200 yards, spread tube one to the left of target and tube two to the right of target 500 yards apart. Tell me when you’re ready.”
The ADCAP, or advanced capability, torpedoes had both propellers and pulsejet propulsor drives. This enabled the torpedo to approach its target silently, but at a slower speed, using the pulsejet. Once the torpedo reached the designated distance from its target, the twin high speed screws, or propellers, would kick in, and accelerate the weapon to its maximum speed.
The torpedoes also had a sophisticated sonar system built into them, allowing them to track a target in passive sonar mode, listening, essentially, and then go to active sonar mode, using sonar pings to positively locate the target, assess its size, and select the best place to strike.
“Why active pinging and high speed screws at 200 yards and not the usual 500 yards for the torpedoes?” Silverton asked.
“The Alfas can go from a dead stop to sixty knots in ninety seconds. The top speed on our torpedoes is fifty-eight knots. If we give them enough time, they can out-run the torpedoes. Two hundred yards and they can’t respond fast enough to get away.”
“Got it,” Silverton replied.
“Firing solution ready,” Fire Control said.
“Fire tubes one and two,” Jacobs ordered.
“Tubes one and two fired, Sir,” Fire Control replied.
“Helm, come to course 120, speed sixteen knots,” Jacobs ordered.
“Course 120 degrees, speed sixteen knots, aye-aye, Sir,” the helmsman answered.
“Why not 180 degrees?” Silverton asked.
Jacobs turned to face him. “First, we need our flank-mounted hydrophones to monitor what happens when our torpedoes go active, we don’t want that event in our baffles, and second, if someone discovers where our torpedoes came from, we don’t want to still be in line with that direction.”
Silverton smiled. “Lesson learned, Sir.”
Jacobs hit the intercom button, “Torpedo room, con, Lieutenant Grimes, load two more Mark 48, Mod 7 torpedoes in tubes one and two.”
She repeated the order ending with, “Aye-aye, Sir.”
“Time to get the hell out of here,” Jacobs said. He checked the tactical display. The run time showed 78 minutes in silent mode. Jacobs checked the time on his watch and made a mental note of when the torpedoes would go active. Sneaking up on the target was critical so the enemy would be caught by surprise when the torpedoes went active. Once that happened, though, your presence was no longer a secret, which made sneaking away even more critical. It was hard to know exactly when you were safe. Maybe you never were.
Tiffany led her crew in loading two more Mark 48, Mod 7 torpedoes into the bottom tubes. Through days of intense practice her crew had gotten the load time down under 10 minutes, but it still needed to be faster. She kept close track of the time. In the beginning, she had to remind members of her crew of what task came next. Now it was a silent ritual as each member went through the exacting steps. She took pride in their growing efficiency and skills, just as if they were her own family.
CHAPTER 48
Guang Xi woke to the sound of alarms screeching.
“What’s going on?” he shouted above the din.
“Enemy torpedoes,” the tech shouted. “We have to get our torpedoes into the water before it’s too late!” The tech opened the first torpedo tube door and plugged in the programming cord. He ran toward the programming console but never made it. The first explosion rocked the sub, knocking Guang Xi to the side of the torpedo room. One of the storage racks still full of mini-nuke mines broke loose from both the deck and the ceiling, falling sideways onto the downed torpedo tech, crushing him. The second explosion came from the other side, slamming Guang Xi against the other side of the torpedo room.
Sea water began spraying into the torpedo room from broken pipes, cracked seams and the open torpedo tube door. The sub tipped toward the back end and Guang Xi felt the sub moving down. Air pressure inside the sub was increasing rapidly, hurting his ears. There was still one mini-nuke mine that was not being sprayed with sea water. Guang Xi grabbed his programming panel and plugged it into the interface connector on the mine. The lights in the sub flickered and then went out, plunging him into total darkness. He screamed as his eardrums ruptured under the pressure as sea water began pouring in through the doorway that led to the rest of the sub. The only light was the display panel on his programming panel. He entered the activation code that armed the mine. The rising sea water swirled around him, lifting him up and away from the mine. He swam back to the mine which was about to disappear under the water. He ran a quick calculation for the timer in his mind, punched in the numbers and hit the button to start the countdown.
The rushing water washed him away from the mini-nuke mine and lifted him to the ceiling of the torpedo room. He gasped for the last remaining air in a gap in the overhead. First, loud groaning sounds wracked into his head and then extreme cracking and banging sounds. The pressure suddenly spiked, forcing out what little remaining air he had in his lungs. The last thing he felt was the metal structure of the sub suddenly squashing him.
CHAPTER 49
Meanwhile, Captain Paul Jacobs stood in the control center of the Massachusetts.
“Torpedoes are actively pinging,” Stephanos said. “High speed torpedo screws.”
The torpedoes were closing in for the kill. “How long?” Jacobs asked.
“Eight seconds,” Stephanos replied. “Cavitation from the Alfa’s screws. They’re trying to run. Noise makers deployed.”
Jacobs looked at the tactical display. Noise makers aren’t going to work. The advanced capability of the torpedoes will filter out all of the distracting sounds.