Terminal Run

“Cyclops, power up torpedoes in tubes one through four,” Dixon ordered, concentrating on the submerged firecontrol three-dimensional display. “Dive, all ahead one-third. Attention in the firecontrol party. We have a slight emergency. The Julang-class SSN — designated Target Three Zero — has crashed our party. We need to deal with him right now, because if he detects us he will either counterfire or blast to periscope depth and alert the second surface force, and both actions will ruin our day. My intention is to perform a rapid target-motion-analysis maneuver on him starting now, and maneuver across the line-of-sight and get a rough range, then shoot a snapshot Mark 58 at him selected to high-speed transit —”

“Captain,” Phillips interrupted, “I recommend you launch a Vortex at the contact. It’ll be much faster, and the transit time to the target will be cut in a sixth. And we can clear datum by keeping the Vortex wake between us and the target and withdraw. Once he sinks, we can continue the Vortex battery launch.”

Dixon was about to countermand her recommendation, but forced himself to think about what she was saying. The Vortex would be much quicker to the target, and its bubble-filled wake would blue-out the Julang’s sonar all along the bearings to the Vortex. He might have their launching position, but shooting it would be futile since Leopard would withdraw at full speed.

“Attention in the firecontrol party. Correction, we will be launching Vortex unit one at Target Three Zero and charting our withdrawal to the east, keeping the Vortex wake between us and the target. Carry on. Weapons Officer, make Vortex tube one ready in all respects and open missile door. Coordinator, let’s call this a leg on the target and maneuver now across the line-of-sight. Dive, left full rudder, steady course west. Sonar, Captain, coming to the west to maneuver on Target Three Zero.”

“Captain, Coordinator, possible target zig, Target Three Zero.” The firecontrol solution to the Julang had just blown up. He was maneuvering, throwing off their computations.

“Conn, Sonar, Three Zero may be speeding up. We now have a faint turn count on him. Target Three Zero is making one five zero RPM on one seven-bladed screw.”

“Sonar, Captain, can you call an aspect change?” Did he turn, Dixon wondered.

“Conn, Sonar, no.”

“Coordinator, confirm target zig. What’s he doing?”

Phillips’s voice was calm. “He’s speeding up, Captain. Must have been doing a sprint-and-drift, and he’s got to speed back up to cover ground to expand his search for us. And since he sped up, we can assume he didn’t hear us.”

“Coordinator, have you a new first leg on the target after his speed increase?”

Phillips nodded her head inside her helmet, her dark eyes wide in the display window. “One more minute, then turn to the east, sir, but do the second leg at ten knots.”

“I’ll give you eight, XO.” Dixon waited, the tension making him twitch inside his gloves.

“Leg one complete, Captain.”

“Dive, left full rudder, steady course east, all ahead two thirds, turns for eight knots. Sonar, Captain, coming left to zero nine zero for leg two.”

The watch standers acknowledged and the ship turned to the east. Dixon waited, his teeth chattering from adrenaline. He clamped his jaw in annoyance.

“Sir, steady course east, ship is making turns for eight knots,” the diving officer called.

“Go, Coordinator,” Dixon said. “Get me a solution. Weps, check your Vortex status.”

“Aye, Captain, Vortex is on internal power, signal wire continuity is on, waiting for a solution—”

“Captain, Target Three Zero at range twenty-four thousand yards, bearing one seven eight, course zero one zero, speed two zero knots. We have a firing solution!”

“Cyclops and firecontrol party, firing point procedures Vortex unit one, Target Three Zero,” Dixon shouted, realizing in detachment that his voice was too loud.

“Ship ready,” Kingman said.

“Weapon ready,” Taussig snapped.

“Solution ready,” Phillips said.

“Cyclops ready.”

“Shoot on programmed bearing.”

The deck jumped slightly as Vortex unit one left the vertical tube. The tube barked as the gas generator pumped out the weapon, but the sound was not nearly as violent as a torpedo launch. The Vortex’s first stage was a small torpedo-type propulsion unit to carry it safely away from its own ship before it fired the solid rocket fuel. After thirty seconds on torpedo propulsion, the first unit’s missile engine lit off. A loud crashing roar filled the control room as the rocket motor fired and the Vortex sped up to three hundred knots on its way to the Julang submarine.

“Dive, all ahead flank and cavitate! Make your depth thirteen hundred feet smartly! Weps, make Vortex tube two ready in all respects with the exception of opening the missile door. Attention in the firecontrol party, be alert for a torpedo in the water from Target Three Zero, and be prepared for an emergency flank bell.”