In the control room of the Prospect, Percy heard the detonation of Hemi’s device, stripped of all but the lowest frequencies as the sound passed through miles of water and refracted through her boat’s hull.
“Cassandra!” Percy shouted down to the sonar compartment. “Tell me what just happened!”
Cassandra nervously fumbled with the directional control wheel for the sonar mics and flipped filter switches on and off. “There was an explosion…”
Percy sighed. “I know that, Cassandra. But did the explosion hit the Grackle? Is there even the smallest possible chance that ugly boat is going down right now?”
“I…I can’t tell. There’s nothing but silence at the moment.”
“Figure it out Cassandra! I’m depending on you here.”
“The explosion definitely came from the pursuing sub — I’d say they hit Hemi’s device. But…”
A full minute passed.
“But what, Cassandra? I need to know what’s happening!”
Cassandra sighed. “I can hear them now. The Grackle is still after us. It is definitely not sinking. As far as I can tell, it isn’t even damaged.”
Percy spat and lit a cheroot. “It sounded so good. I thought we’d at least have taken a bit of wind out of their sails.” This, mostly to herself.
“Captain Percy!” Cassandra was shouting now. “There’s a torpedo in the water! They’ve fired at us!”
“Stay calm, Cassandra.” Percy kept her voice even. “This is important: has the torpedo acquired us? Is it pinging us? If so, we have to dive now. And if we dive, this plan is over.”
“I don’t know Captain Percy!”
“You have to work this out, Cassandra. You know what a pinging torpedo sounds like. Listen until you can see what’s happening in your head. Then tell me what I need to do.”
Cassandra slowly closed her eyes. The sonar earphones pumped sound into her head, and her mind passed out of the Prospect and into the water. She searched around with it, looking to port, then to starboard behind the Prospect, passing over the dead zone where the prop wash made her deaf. She homed in on the torpedo — a high whining electric motor just off their rear port side. She wrapped her head around it, and in her mind she could see the machine: a long, slick steel tube slipping through the water at a speed that was far faster than anything else she’d ever seen in her mind’s eye through sonar. It was coming directly toward her.
It started pinging. The round ringing echo of it almost hurt her ears.
“OK Captain Percy,” she said, loudly enough for Percy to hear, but keeping her voice calm, “it’s pinging.”
“That means it has probably armed. Now tell me if it seems like it is tracking the Prospect. Bastian, come port to 280.”
Bastian spun the rudder control wheel and the boat listed slightly over to one side as it made its turn.
Cassandra did not hear any corresponding change to the torpedo’s direction. “It doesn’t seem to be tracking us, Captain Percy — no change to direction.”
“OK, it hasn’t acquired us…yet. What’s the range?”
Cassandra looked at the active sonar rig readout. “One-point-three miles.”
“That’s not very much room to play with Cap,” said Bastian, nervously fingering the throttle control.
“I am aware, Bastian.”
Bastian lit a cigarette and blew smoke out from one side of his mouth.
Cassandra let her mind slip out into the water again. The frequency of the torpedo’s pings had increased. It seemed to Cassandra like the device was gaining confidence, more certain of its target. But what was the target?
Cassandra scanned back and forth in wider arcs around the Prospect with the sonar. Then, farther off to their port side, she could hear a hole in the water. A mass that bounced back the torpedo’s pings at her, and at the same time a void that sucked in her consciousness until her mind passed around and under it, and she could see the shape clearly in her head.
“Captain Percy! The torpedo is tracking a derelict!” she said.
“Are you sure?”
“Absolutely. It will hit at any…” The explosion suddenly pierced her head through her ears. She yanked the headset off, but she was too slow to save her ears from being swamped with a painful and enduring ringing.
A second later the detonation rumbled through the hull of the Prospect.
Percy smiled. “Nice work, Cassandra! They may not risk another torpedo on us in these waters. They wasted two already, and those things are expensive.”
“Great,” Gregory smirked. “So they’ll just go back to trying to ram us.”
“Cassandra, the next task is to find the Gnat and figure out what Hemi is doing,” Percy said.
“Right.”
“And don’t forget to continue to track the Grackle at the same time. What’s the range?”
“Two-point-three nautical miles. And they are increasing speed now.”
“They’re trying to close on us. Your hunch about ramming might be right, Gregory.” Percy glanced at the battery gauges. They were moving fast enough at ten knots that she could see the needles on the battery-charge gauges dropping steadily. Those gauges had passed into the hatched red zone. That meant only a matter of twenty minutes or so of battery remained. After that, they would be forced to remain stationary or surface — either way, they would be an easy target for a final ramming.
“Let’s do what we can to conserve our remaining battery, Bastian; shut down the port-side wheel and spin one wheel alone. Cassandra, find the Gnat. Quickly!”
It was not an easy task. While the Gnat created an earth-shaking amount of noise when running diesel on the surface, its small size and tiny electric motor made it nearly invisible underwater. And even though it was relatively quiet, the noise from the Prospect’s electric motors at this speed also drowned out most of the possibility of hearing a target as small as the Gnat. The only way it could be done was by carefully filtering out the Prospect’s motor noise, and then somehow landing the sonar mics precisely on the bearing of the Gnat. Cassandra flipped filters on and off and adjusted the fine-control dials carefully. Eventually she managed to limit the noise wash from the Prospect enough to give her a sense that she might be able to hear her way around it.
She scanned and scanned, back and forth. All the way around the bow, too, but mostly focusing on the direction behind, where she had last heard the little boat moving. Her mind was out there, deep in the water behind her, but there was nothing but darkness. She felt like she was blind to everything except for her sense of the Prospect’s position, and the Grackle steadily gaining on them.
Then she heard the faintest rhythmic pumping noise, off to the starboard side. It had to be mechanical, and the Gnat was the only other machine in the area. She locked in on it and tracked it carefully for a minute. “I’ve got them, Captain Percy. Thirty meters down, almost directly off our starboard side. Range: about a quarter mile.”
“Excellent. They might hear us on ship-to-ship.” Percy pulled down the mic and called out into the water for Shakes.
“Prospect! Captain Shakes here. I read you. Nice to hear you didn’t go down with that last torp.”
“Indeed. Unfortunately, Gregory here has a theory that now the Grackle is after us for another ramming. Based on the speed they’ve put on, I’m inclined to agree with him. So…what’s the plan now?”
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“Aye. Well, Hemi says he still thinks he can take them down. He just needs to deliver one of his devices to a weaker part of their sub than the ram — which is what they detonated the last one with.”
“And how is he going to do that?”
“No idea. I’m just steering the boat the way the boss says. Hang on…” A few seconds of static came across the radio, and then Shakes picked up again. “Hemi says you should just keep running — make evasive moves if you can. He’s going to maneuver us into position to deliver a second device.”
“OK. But keep in mind we’re down to maybe fifteen minutes on the battery here. As soon as that’s gone, we’re a dead-in-the-water target for a boat with an intention to ram.”
Another second passed. “Hemi says — get this — he will ‘take your remaining battery into his calculations.’”
“If anyone beside Hemi had said that to me, I wouldn’t be able to take it as any kind of reassurance. Don’t sink, Captain Shakes — I need Hemi back.”
“Don’t you sink either, Captain Percy — I’ve gotten used to the hot meals on your boat! Out.”
As Percy hung the mic back up above her head, Bastian reached one long finger out and fruitlessly tapped the battery gauge.
“Captain Shakes, we have to go deeper. Fifty meters.”
“Ain’t gonna happen, Hemi. The Gnat was built at altitude! The heart of the boat is in the sky, not underwater.”
“That’s a somewhat odd sentiment for a submarine.”
“Below thirty and the seams start splitting. Fifty is out of the question.”
“If we lay the mines shallow, the Grackle hits them head on. As you could see from the first device, the ram essentially acts as heavy plated armor. We are not going to do any damage if their boat hits the mine with the ram. If we can get the device under their boat, though — if we can get it to detonate right in the middle of their sub — the upward force of the explosion will blow through the middle and break the sub’s back. Snap it in half. And all the watertight compartments in the world will not help them at that point. At least, in theory.”
“That sounds to me like the Gnat would have to be directly under them, release the mine, and have it go off almost immediately. How are we surviving that, Hemi?”
“Not quite. I will set the arming timer. We can leave the mine under their path, and if I get the timing correct, the weapon will arm just as the middle of the sub passes over it — and detonate immediately. We would have a few minutes at least to move the Gnat to safety, probably to the surface again.”
“You can calculate the timing that precisely?”
“I believe so. It is just a refined use of dead reckoning.”
“Never was very good at reckoning the dead myself.”
“All you have to do is drive the boat, Captain Shakes.”
“…Down beyond a depth I never intended to take it.”
Hemi pounded on one of the roughly welded thwarts. “It is a good boat. I think it is capable of more than you give it credit for.”
“I’d have more faith in that statement if it came at a time when you were not trying to convince me to do something incredibly, suicidally stupid with the Gnat.”
Hemi grinned and patted Shakes on the shoulder. He picked up the sonar headset and put one earpiece over his ear. After a second of listening, he gave Shakes a new course. “Come left to 330. That will put us on an intercept with the Grackle again.” Hemi started his stopwatch.
It was natural that any person piloting the Gnat could not help but look out the small viewport set into the sail at eye level. After aligning the bow of the boat to 330, and pushing the throttle control all the way forward, Shakes’s eyes peered out into the murky water, and scanned upwards. There was nothing to see, but Shakes could never resist the temptation to try.
“Ten minutes,” said Hemi, speaking softly, since he was less than a meter from Shakes’s head. “We need to start descending now.”
“Just curious Hemi, how deep do you think it is here?”
“More than a thousand meters. All we are asking the Gnat to do is swim a bit deeper in the very top layer of all that water. No big deal.”
Shakes patted the cold rusting steel of the hull closest to his head. “Boat, you’re the only thing that can keep us from being sucked into that hole under us. It wants us, I can feel it — but you’re a good little boat, even Hemi says so. You’re just the tool to keep us above that pit.” With this clandestine blessing, he pushed the yoke forward and the Gnat’s little dive planes responded by angling downward.
They gained depth quickly, and almost immediately the hull of the Gnat began to groan with the stress of it.
“Forty meters.”
“The boat is doing great, Shakes.”
Crackling sounds snapped and echoed from somewhere in the forward compartment.
“Captain Shakes. And tell the boat, not me, man.” Shakes’ hands were sweating. He put a cigarette to his lips but forgot to light it.
Hemi stared at his ticking watch.
“Forty-five meters.”
“OK, start leveling out,” said Hemi. “I think you can stay just above fifty. I have to go prep and load the mine.” Hemi listened for one second longer to the sonar, checked his stopwatch, and sidled back to load the second device into the escape trunk.
The Gnat clearly did not like being this deep. It moaned and snapped and gave every impression of being on the verge of imploding. Hemi reassured himself that he had been in lots of boats that were just “noisy” when they went deep — though apparently perfectly sound. Some boats just liked to be vocal, letting their operators know the stress they were suffering like whiny children. On the other hand, those were professionally-built boats designed by engineers. Those boats just happened to have a few idiosyncrasies. Hemi could not shake off the knowledge that this boat was built by…Shakes. It was all idiosyncrasies.
Only a minute later, both Hemi and Shakes knew it was not just the Gnat being vocal. There was water in the bilge and it was rising. They could hear it sloshing around. Somewhere in the Gnat, the seams were leaking.
“Better hurry Hemi. I’m not sure how much longer we can stay this deep.”
Hemi looked at the stopwatch. “Three minutes. Just hold the boat right at the level and speed you have — do not let anything change.”
Hemi had stuffed the explosive cylinders, fenders, and lines of the second device up into the still-wet escape trunk. He quickly scribbled calculations on his pad, made adjustments to his slide-rule, looked at the stopwatch, and came to a solution. He reached up and set the timers on the explosive cylinders. “I hope that is correct,” he said to himself, and sealed the device into the escape trunk.
“Thirty seconds!” Hemi called forward. He put his hand on the lever. The hand of the stopwatch ticked around, climbing upwards. It hit the zero mark. Hemi hefted the lever that released the escape trunk hatch. It slid easily back this time.
It took a second for Hemi to realize that was because the hatch above him did not open.
“That hatch is not open!” Hemi yelled forward, true panic slipping into the baritone of his voice.
“The pressure, Hemi! The entire hull is compressed. The hatch must be wedged in its seat!”
Hemi smacked a heavy fist against the hull above him.
Shakes could hear the pounding in the pilot’s seat. “Hemi. You have to get that open. We can’t have that weapon arm itself in the trunk…”
“I am aware of that!” Hemi pressed his lips together, concentrating on revising his estimates of where the boats were in relation to each other, and at the same time trying to figure out a way to release the hatch. “Come shallow by a few meters,” Hemi shouted forward, “that might be all we need.” A second went by, and Hemi knew they were getting out of position. “You also need to come port to two-two-two. Hard! Now!”
The boat leaned over dramatically as Shakes turned the yoke left all the way to its stop. At the same time the bow rose slowly in response to his gentle backwards pull on the yoke.
Hemi pounded and pounded against the hull. He slid the release lever in and out uselessly. “No throttle! We have to release it right here!”
Shakes pulled the throttle back to the zero mark, and the boat drifted. Hemi picked up the crescent wrench and smacked the hull repeatedly until he left dents. Sweat beaded at his temples and his face went red with a deep anger rarely seen on his calm features. He let out a yell that frightened Shakes to his core.
Hemi gave one final smack against the release lever with the wrench.
He heard a pop, and water falling into the escape trunk. Hemi quickly leaned over and slapped his ear against the damp steel of the escape trunk. He could hear the mine bumping as it lifted away out of it. “It opened! Full throttle! Any direction! Get us away from here!”
The electric motor behind Hemi wound up to speed, and the sudden acceleration almost rolled him off his feet.
Shakes lowered his head and tried to see up through the tiny viewport. Above the Gnat, the water was lighter. He saw a dark shadow pass through the light.
“Blow the tanks!” Hemi yelled from the rear of the sub.
Shakes pulled the lever, and the gust slammed through the boat. Through the viewport, he saw a worrying string of bubbles pouring from near the bow.
The depth gauge did not move.
Shakes tapped the gauge. He pushed the lever down, and pulled it up again, hard. Shakes believed deeply that with mechanical things you sometimes just had to get physical.
Nothing happened.
“No-go, Hemi,” Shakes said with some kind of doomed resolve reflecting in his voice. “We must have cracked the ballast tanks. The blow ain’t doin’ crap. I think we’re done here.”
That was when the mine detonated. Far too close to the Gnat for safety. The little boat shook to its timbers, and rolled over on its side as the shock wave grabbed the Gnat’s small sail and yanked on it. The sound was so loud that it rang Shakes’s and Hemi’s ears. Whatever small cracks had opened in the seams before now split wide, and freezing black water poured in. The power blinked and went out.
Hemi felt his way forward in the blackness, climbing over the engine. He found Shakes by feel. Shakes was laying against the sonar equipment on the side wall that was now the floor, in half a meter of water that was rising quickly.
“Emergency power. Does the boat have emergency power?” Hemi asked loudly.
“No. Kinda like I said before: we’re done here.”
The Gnat was sinking.