Phoenix Sub Zero

Pacino waited, again finding himself impatient. He looked up into the overhead at the repeater display for the spherical array’s broadband, watching the waterfall display cascade down, but other than the blotch to the north from the torpedoes, could distinguish nothing.

“Officer of the Deck, keep an eye on our position. I don’t want to run aground on that ridge.”

“Aye, sir.”

Before his eyes, a twin trace distinguished itself at the center of the short-time display of the waterfall. Something to the north. The Destiny? Why would it be so loud with a twin trace? Pacino had a bad feeling about it and was about to key his mike to call Holt in sonar to see what the strange noises were when Holt’s voice came over his earphones.

“Conn, sonar, two torpedoes in the water, bearing zero zero one and three five eight, pump-jet propulsors at what looks like high speed.”

“All ahead flank,” Pacino ordered, suddenly feeling like he had been there before and made the same order, seen the same double-trace on the waterfall screen. The chart appeared in his mind, the shallows approaching as he continued to drive to the west. Suddenly he knew what he was about to do, and realized that the biggest problem with his plan would be getting the crew to understand and obey it.

Dimly, in the background, he heard Holt declare the incoming torpedoes to be Nagasaki models, as Pacino had known instinctively. He barely paid attention, feeling a sudden nausea.

“Captain,” Vaughn said, “we’re getting too close to the ridge, we need to turn to the south. Those are Nagasakis—”

“No, we won’t be turning to the south.” When Pacino looked Vaughn in the eyes, he was startled to see a hardness in his executive officer’s face, as if the XO were examining him to determine if he were fit for command. Pacino chose his next words carefully. “We can’t outrun a Nagasaki torpedo, XO. Much less a pair of them. They go seventy knots. They’ll pursue for an hour, maybe more. Even if they were fired from 50,000 yards, they’d catch us well before the hour expired and I’ve got a feeling these were launched from a lot closer, like 25,000 yards. That would put them thirty minutes away if we ran at flank, fifteen minutes if we continue west. That’s fifteen minutes to get off their track, or ten miles, maybe twelve. We might get out of the search cone completely if they have an enable point like our Mark 50s. It’s worth a shot.”

Vaughn’s expression softened for a moment.

“Okay, you’re the boss.”

“Don’t worry, XO,” Pacino said quietly so that only he could hear. “I have every intention of living through this.

Call maneuvering and tell them to load and launch the slot buoy labeled number two.”

Vaughn relayed the order, giving a sidelong glance at Pacino as he did.

Pacino wondered what he’d do with the next order.

USS PHOENIX

“Conn, sonar,” Sanderson said. “I have four torpedo tracks on the spherical array bearing north to north-northeast. At least those four have gone by us.”

“Any change in their speed. Senior Chief?” Kane wondered if the weapons would slow down and circle back if they saw no target.

“No, sir. They’re sill at max speed heading north. I’ve got another one going by, make that two.”

Mcdonne’s big face filled up with a toothy grin. “You did it, sir. Well done.”

“Thank Houser,” Kane said. “I think I will. Thanks, Vie.”

“Conn, sonar, three more past and heading north.”

Kane almost smiled. They’d finally gotten a break. He actually began studying the chart, planning the track back south. To Norfolk. Home.

CNFS HEGIRA

“Insert another one-point-five g-turn, ship control,” Tawkidi ordered.

The deck again tilted and trembled as the ship did a rapid high-speed circle. When the ship steadied on its previous northern course the officers studied the Second Captain screens.

“Commodore, the weapons are shutting down,” Tawkidi announced. “Five of them so far! We only have seven left incoming, and by the analysis they are fading astern. It’s working, sir. We may be restarting the missile countdown in another ten or twenty minutes.”

Sharef did not smile. He kept looking at the panel where Sublieutenant Rouni worked, analyzing the data that had come in. Rouni’s face clouded but he said nothing.

“What is it. Sublieutenant?”

“There was something to the southwest as we went through the turn. I’m not certain, but the analysis is very strange.”

“Go on.”

“Sir, I’d swear this noise interception is from machinery, specifically steam-propulsion machinery, but it changed as we picked it up. We should have held it through a third of the maneuver, but right here, the noise level dropped to nothing, down to ambient levels, it went invisible. I don’t understand it.”

Tawkidi frowned as he looked at the data.

“Commodore, it’s not the proper bearing of the launch platform for the twelve torpedoes.”