Phoenix Sub Zero

Kane heard the echoes of his voice being broadcast to the ocean, bouncing off the bottom of the sea. Sanderson turned up the gain-knob on the panel, the speaker rasping the sounds of the ocean around them into the control room.

They listened. Thirty seconds, a minute. Kane put the microphone up and sat down at one of the control chairs of the attack center. No one wanted to speak. Then, through the speakers, came the sound of two booming clunks. They had heard! Kane hurried back up to the conn and grabbed the microphone.

“AFT COMPARTMENT, THIS IS THE CAPTAIN. IS THE EPM OPERATIONAL? KNOCK TWO TIMES FOR YES.”

Again two clunks came over the speaker.

“AFT COMPARTMENT, IN TWO MINUTES WE WILL FLOOD DEPTH CONTROL TO GET US DOWN. TAKE LOCAL CONTROL OF THE RUDDER AND STERNPLANES. PUT THE RUDDER OVER TWENTY DEGREES RIGHT AND PREPARE TO PUT ONE THIRD AHEAD TURNS ON THE EPM.”

“Where’s Houser? XO, get depth-control one and two flooded quick as you can.”

After hurrying out and back in, Mcdonne picked up a phone from the ballast-control panel, where he could talk to Houser, who was in the lower level machinery space. Mcdonne watched the tank levels rise, took a look at the depth meter at the ship-control panel and spoke again to Houser.

Finally the depth gauge started to move, the depth increasing from 160 feet to 180, then 200. Mcdonne nodded to Kane.

“AFT COMPARTMENT, CAPTAIN, ALL AHEAD ONE THIRD ON THE EPM, RIGHT TWENTY DEGREES RUDDER. USE THE STERNPLANES AS NEEDED TO LEVEL THE SHIP.”

Mcdonne watched the ship-control panel indication as the ship turned, waiting for the compass to come around to the south. It took a long time but eventually the gyro read 180 degrees.

“I’m gonna take a peek out the type twenty,” Kane said, raising the periscope. “It’ll be dawn soon. Maybe I’ll be able to tell when we’ve got open water overhead.”

“Let’s hope we see it before the battery runs dry,” Mcdonne said. “We didn’t have much juice when that Nagasaki hit us, unless the Eng had some power up his sleeve.”

The next batch seemed to go fast. Too fast. The crew in the space was thinning quickly. There were only twenty-four men left in the Seawolf’s engineroom. Another two batches through the trunk and it would be Pacino’s turn.

He paced the aft compartment, knowing this would be the last time he’d see it. He plugged into a connection, took a breath and disconnected his hose, walked to the next station until he was far aft in the maneuvering space. The modem electronics were all dark, the space deserted and quiet. He sank in the control chair of the engineering officer of the watch and shut his eyes for a moment.

“Sir?” Vaughn’s mask-distorted voice said at the door.

“I’m here, XO.”

“Last batch. Captain. We’re ready to go. The airbanks are down, sir. We might not even get this last group out. Once this batch goes, there won’t be any air left. We have to go now, sir.”

Pacino felt like telling Vaughn he would stay anyway. The walk felt like a stroll to the gallows. Not a praying man, Pacino managed a few silent words, not wanting to go into the trunk.

“We’re the last. Captain,” Vaughn said, pointing up the ladder.

“Maybe you should go on ahead …”

“Skipper, I read you, but we’re going to live, you’ve got to believe that …”

“Lube Oil. Jack. I appreciate what you’re trying to do, but—”

“Sir … Patch, listen to me.”

Vaughn had never called him that before, Pacino thought.

“Have you thought about the men upstairs, trying to survive, floating in those rafts? What do I tell them? What the hell do I tell themt That he was a cop-out, Pacino thought. A bullshit captain afraid to cast his lot with theirs. Maybe they would die up there but at least they deserved to die with their commanding officer. And he with them.

“Okay, XO. You first.”

Vaughn climbed up, discarding his mask and tossing it to the deck. Pacino did the same as he climbed the ladder and looked below at the battle-lantern-lit engineroom one last time. He climbed into the tight escape trunk, got out of the way of the hatch and shut it, the metal of it making a loud clunk against the steel of the hull.

Chapter 36 Saturday, 4 January

LABRADOR SEA

Kane could see the ice cover overhead, not with normal vision but with the low-light enhancer. The ice overhead looked thick.

Back aft at the electric plant-control panel, the amp-hours clicked away, the battery moving closer to exhaustion with every turn of the screw.

* * *

Pacino took the plastic Steinke hood handed him by Vaughn and stood with the other men while Vaughn opened the valve to flood the trunk. The trunk was about ten feet in diameter, about ten feet tall, with a steel wall separating the upper portion from the approach to the upper hatch. The wall came down only a few feet, ending at chest level.

Vaughn had his head inside the partitioned area as he operated the valves.