Ghost Sub полностью

He started turning, automatically completing the standard search of the horizon. A ninety degree arc in high power, 270 degrees in low power, repeat. It was relaxing in a way, the slow revolving, the luxury of staring a long distance ahead. Normally underway your eyes never had to focus on anything more than a few feet away.

As the adrenalin subsided it gave way briefly to pride, happiness with himself for finding the Boise. But that was quickly replaced by a feeling of doom as he wondered what it all meant to the Boise, and what it would mean to them.

“Take it back,” said Jabo, and V-12 quickly replaced him at the scope. He made eye contact with the captain. The XO diligently kept his back to them.

On the mike from radio: “Conn, radio, receiving traffic from Subpac.”

“Very well,” said the captain.

“We’ve got it,” said the voice of the radioman. “It’s off-line encrypted. Request the captain come to radio.”

Without a word, the captain headed in that direction.

Jabo stepped over to the chart, to take a look at their position. The red marks he had down for the Boise were still there. He looked at the numbers on his hand, and put down, in red, a track for the course and speed of the Boise. He took a long, clear ruler and extended the line all the way to the left edge of the chart.

“Is that where we’re going?” said the Nav ET who had appeared at his side.

“No,” said Jabo. “It’s her.”

He pulled another chart from a drawer beneath the table, verified the position, and extended the track, in a light red pencil line, continuing it westward until it hit land.

The red line went all the way to Hong Kong. One of the busiest ports in the world. Manila, in the Philippines, to the south, was also a possibility. Or Taiwan, to the north, if they were slightly off. But Danny was confident in the solution.

He took a pair of dividers, and marked off days, at five knots, across the red line he’d drawn on the first chart. He adjusted the span of the dividers for the scale of the second chart and did it again.

Three and a half days until landfall.

The Boise was suddenly awash in noise. The report of the Louisville’s two waterslugs bounced across her hull, at ten seconds apart. This was followed by the watery sound of Danny Jabo’s voice as he hailed them by name. Finally the two pulses of sonic energy from the Louisville’s active sonar slammed into her. All the while, the COB’s alarm clock bleated dumbly from the Chief’s quarters.

In the control room, the fire control computer continued to consume itself, as fire and heat combined to destroy it. The breaker to the machine opened, but not before the short circuits inside it caused a giant surge of electricity.

Electrical breakers upstream of the computer also sensed the over current, and efficiently began tripping open, to protect the ship’s overall electric system from whatever was wrong, to isolate whatever problem in front of them. A breaker just outside the control room, controlling power to an array of low voltage circuits, tripped open with a loud kachunk, and power to the computer was cut off. With no electricity, the fire quickly subsided, as it burned what it could inside the machine and quickly died out.

Electricity for a number of systems went through the same breaker, including power to the chief’s quarters. All the lights went off.

The red digital numbers on the COB’s alarm clock went dark.

The captain stayed in radio for what seemed like a long time, and Jabo kept the ship at periscope depth, in case they needed to send a message again quickly. The off-line encryption process was cumbersome, and required the captain to check each character in a message against a book that only he possessed, to translate the message one character at a time. Undoubtedly he would double check his work since he would have no radioman to assist him. After about thirty minutes, the captain came back into control, his face grim, a message hardcopy in his hand.

“Get a relief,” he said to Jabo. “I need you and the XO in the wardroom.”

“Aye sir.”

“And tell your relief to get us back on station, following the Boise.”

“Aye sir.”

A few minutes later the three of them were in the wardroom.

“We have our orders,” said the captain. He looked down at the paper in his hands, seemingly searching for the words. “They want us to sink her.”

“Jesus,” said Jabo.

The XO nodded without saying anything.

“That’s what it says,” said the captain. “My God. I’m going to sink a US submarine.”

“When?” said the XO.

“As soon as we can,” said the captain. “I’m thinking another twenty-four hours, when we hear the mystery pinging again and we can confirm her position.”

“I looked at the chart,” said Jabo, numbly. “She’s heading right for Hong Kong. She’ll be there in three days. I’m sure there’s no alternative.”

“And we’re the lucky bastards who get to do it.”