Attack of the Seawolf

“Helm, all ahead flank, steer course one two zero,” Murphy ordered.

The deck began to tremble as the huge twin steam propulsion turbines aft came up to full revolutions, blasting the Tampa through the water at one hundred percent reactor power. The needle on the speed indicator climbed off the zero peg and rotated upward, fifteen, twenty, twenty-five, thirty knots.

A few moments later the ship was doing forty knots and heading toward the mouth of the bay and away from the surface task force.

“Cut the wires on tubes one and two and shut the outer doors,” Murphy ordered Griffin.

“Line up for tubes three and four.”

A distant rumbling explosion sounded, coming from astern. A second explosion.

“Conn, Sonar, we have two explosions from the bearing to Target One. Also secondary explosions … hull break-up noises. Target One.”

Tarkowski said, grinning, “We got two hits, Captain.”

“Sonar, Captain, any other activity out of the surface force?”

“No.”

“Maybe they’ll break off the attack, Skipper.”

“We’ll see.” Murphy addressed the entire room:

“Attention in the firecontrol party. Firing Point Procedures, tubes three and four, horizontal salvo. Targets Two, Three and Four.”

“Ship ready.”

“Solution ready.”

“Weapon ready.”

“Tube three, shoot on generated—” “Conn, Sonar, we’ve got two — no, three — rocket launch transients from Target Two … correction, four launches, sir. Probable SS-N-14 depth charges.”

Murphy’s jaw clenched. With four depth charges coming in by solid-rocket booster there was nothing he could do to evade, at least not until sonar reported the bearings to the splashes. After the last impacts four of the depth charges were sure to do greater damage, particularly if they all got close.

“Tube three, shoot on generated bearing!” Murphy ordered, his voice loud to overcome the inertia of the near-paralyzed watch standers

“Set ” “Standby.”

“Shoot.”

“Fire.”

The crash of the torpedo leaving tube three slammed the eardrums of the crew a half-second before a violent splash sounded in the water above, followed by three more. Murphy waited for the report to come from sonar on the bearings. No report. Either sonar was slow to report or time had again slowed to an adrenaline-induced crawl.

“Sonar, Captain, report bearings to the splashes!”

“Splashes in the water bear zero one five, one two zero, two six five, and one astern in the baffles.” The sonar chief’s voice sounded distorted by stress. The depth charges had entered the water in a perfect pattern, surrounding the ship. The worst was the one at bearing one two zero dead ahead.

“Left five degrees rudder,” Murphy ordered, “steady course zero seven zero.”

At least that course, he figured, would bring the ship between the splash to the north and the one ahead. Not that that was much comfort.

With the first detonation the ship rolled hard to starboard, throwing Murphy into the conn handrail.

The second explosion came a fraction of a second later, blowing the ship back over to port. The lights in the overhead flickered, the firecontrol console screens winked out, the green glow replaced by dull-dark glass. The sonar repeater likewise blacked out. Murphy looked over at the ship-control panel, where the bowplanesman, sternplanesman and Diving Officer struggled with depth-control, fighting to keep the ship level. The speed-indicator needle was dropping fast.

Maybe the damn reactor had scrammed again.

And the third explosion came, a ripping sound following.

“CONN, MANEUVERING,” the Engineer’s tight voice said, the speaker of the PA. Circuit Seven crackling in the overhead.

“MAJOR STEAM LEAK REACTOR SCRAM …” Vaughn’s voice faded for a moment, the circuit clicking. The connection returned but Vaughn was no longer talking to the control room. Murphy strained to hear Vaughn’s voice shouting an order with a rushing sound coming over in the background.

“Shut MS-Two … load the TG’s and depressurize the steam headers…”

Jesus, Murphy thought, not just a reactor scram but a fucking steam leak — a ruptured main steam line had enough energy to roast everyone in the aft compartment.

It was probably a miracle that Vaughn had survived long enough to try to isolate the steam-headers.

But a steam leak meant more than just the possibility of roasting the crew — it meant the reactor, their ticket out of the Chinese bay, was dying. Murphy’s worries over the engineering compartment were interrupted by the fourth explosion, which seemed to come from the very deck beneath his feet, launching him and the other watch standers into the room’s overhead piping and valves and cables and hoop frames. This time the lights went out completely, all except the gages on the ship-control panel, which continued to glow eerily in the cavern like darkness of the room.

Murphy had been tossed up into the periscope hydraulic-control ring. He collapsed to the deck of the periscope stand.