Panic Switch полностью

“Why stoop to such a brutal, ungentlemanly, impolite way to neutralize the Belgorod, XO?” Seagraves asked, smiling. “When we could just elegantly play the sonar signal to light off the mines?”

“Just out of curiosity, Captain,” Fishman asked. “What is the sonar signal to command detonate? Some random combination of tones and chords?”

“Don’t laugh, Mr. Fishman,” Seagraves said. “It’s twelve seconds of the climactic ending of the 1812 Overture by Pyotr Ilyich Tchaikovsky, with the cannons firing and the trumpets wailing. At the final cannon blast, the mines explode.”

“Fitting, I suppose,” Fishman said. “A Russian composer for an attack on a Russian sub. And cannons blasting just as we’re busting open his hull.”

“My thoughts as well. How are your men now?” Seagraves looked expectantly at Fishman.

“They’re coming out of it, sir. Oddly, Grip Aquatong is the strongest at the moment, which is strange, since he had much more of the energy drink we think caused all this.”

“He developed some limited immunity, I suppose,” Quinnivan said.

The 7MC circuit from the conn buzzed. Seagraves picked up the handset and put it to his ear. “Captain.” He listened, then said, “Very well, pass the word to station silent battlestations.” Seagraves looked at Quinnivan. “The Omega is doing some strange maneuvers. I’m manning battlestations just in case.”

“Good move, Captain,” Quinnivan said. “After all, why does an armadillo have armor? Just. In. Case.”

“That joke got old in the War of 1812,” Seagraves chuckled.

“You know, we Brits almost won that one,” Quinnivan smiled.

“What do you make of this, Madam First?” Alexeyev asked Ania Lebedev, leaning back in his command chair at the end of the table in his stateroom. Lebedev looked vaguely disturbed. Sergei Kovalov was absorbed in reading and rereading the reply message from Northern Fleet HQ.

She looked up at Alexeyev. “We’re to employ Gigantskiy unit one against the ice wall. They gave us the unlock codes. Then they said to reserve unit two in case of tactical contingencies and they gave us unit two’s unlock codes. And they authorized use of unit two as required by Belgorod’s commanding officer. What the hell does HQ mean by, quote, tactical contingencies, unquote?”

“Sergei?” Alexeyev said. “What do you think?”

Kovalov nodded. “They think we may have to shoot at someone,” he said.

“I notice they said nothing about the alternative course to hug the Russian coastline,” Lebedev said. “Or about reversing course to the west.”

“I imagine Zhigunov wants to see how we do with the assault on the ice wall,” Alexeyev said. “Madam First, pass the word for action stations for tactical launch. I’ll meet you in central.”

When the officers left but for Kovalov, Alexeyev put out his cigarette and said, “How far do you think safe standoff is for shooting a nuke at the ice?”

“Did Northern Fleet and Sevmash ever figure out how far Voronezh and Novosibirsk were from the ground zero of the American nuclear detonations?”

“No, they didn’t,” Alexeyev said. “They guessed the blast was probably five kilometers from Novosibirsk. Less for Voronezh—she was vaporized. One of the depth charges must have gone off right on top of her. But the depth of the blast was different and the yield of the weapon different. Our ice target is shallower but our nuclear yield is four or five times bigger than the American tactical nukes. So we’re going to have to guess.”

“The weapon safety settings for standoff are ten nautical miles,” Kovalov said. “Any closer and we’ll have to switch off that safety. So I guess I’d say anything less than ten miles is risky.”

“You actually read the Gigantskiy torpedo operation manual, Sergei?”

“I was bored.”

Alexeyev laughed. “Our standoff distance is going to have to depend on the maximum straight-line distance we can get from the ice wall target point. The torpedo will have to go straight. It can’t be maneuvered around ice obstacles on the way. And it’s not smart enough to navigate itself through an ice maze.”

“Are you setting it up for a contact detonation or a command detonate at a point in space?”

“Both. Whichever comes first.”

“You know, to find the best and longest straight-line path from the ice target point,” Kovalov said. “You will have to survey the sea with active sonar. The under-ice unit is for close-in obstacles.”

“Agreed. Will you come to central for this war shot launch?”

“I wouldn’t miss it, Georgy,” Kovalov said.

“Master One is shut down again,” Sonarman Senior Chief Albanese reported. “I’ve got thruster noise, Officer of the Deck.”

“Very well, Sonar,” Lieutenant Anthony Pacino replied from the command console. “Pilot, all stop. Hover at present depth.”

“All stop, Pilot, aye,” Dankleff said. “Speed two knots, depth two one zero, speed one knot.”