Panic Switch полностью

“Watch Officer, fire large-bore tube six to launch the Shkval in tube five!” Alexeyev barked.

Shvets hit the fixed function key on the weapon control panel.

Finally, Alexeyev thought, something worked, as the sound of the tube firing rumbled the deck for a fraction of a second before the roar of the Shkval’s rocket motor ignition shook the room.

“Captain, I have a rocket motor ignition!” Senior Chief Albanese yelled from the sonar stack. “Possible supercavitating torpedo! Bearing two six five!”

“Captain, we need to get out of this hover,” Pacino said, his voice louder than he’d intended. “We need to emergency blow to open water, we need to surface!”

“We can shoot a CMT at it,” Seagraves said.

“No, Captain, you can’t,” Pacino said, trying mightily to keep his voice even and level despite the adrenaline burst into his system. “It’s going two hundred knots, a torpedo will never acquire it, much less speed up to hit it, and the Russian weapon is searching for something at a depth between fifty meters and a hundred and fifty meters. If we blow to the surface, it won’t see us.”

“How do you know all this, Mr. Pacino?”

“I read the Shkval tech manual,” Pacino said. “Originally in Russian, translated to Farsi, then to English. That missile saved my life.”

Seagraves nodded. “Officer of the Deck, emergency blow to the surface.”

The VA-111 Shkval torpedo lay quietly in small-bore tube five, on internal power, waiting patiently for the acceleration of the tube launch. All self-checks were nominal. The fuel tank pressure was holding, its pressure pressing up against the ball valve that would, when opened, admit the self-oxidizing fuel to the combustion chamber. The rocket engine nozzle gimbals were free and lubricated. The computer control was crawling through its lines of code, going over the target data package, the torpedo instructed to fly off to the east to a target point near the first explosion point of the Gigantskiy torpedo fired earlier. If there were a submarine target in the bracketed depth, the torpedo would aim for it. If not, it would detonate on contact with the ice wall.

Then, suddenly, there it was, the tremendous three-G acceleration as the torpedo tube forced the unit out of the tube like a bullet from a gun. As the acceleration passed 1.5-Gs, the unit checked the input from the blue laser seeker, which — if dark — would indicate a malfunction and that it was still in the torpedo tube, but if were lit, indicated the torpedo was in free water.

The blue laser seeker was lit up. With the acceleration now easing off with the torpedo in open water, the block valve at the fuel tank opened and fuel flowed into the combustion chamber. The spark unit lit off the peroxide fuel and the pressure in the combustion chamber soared to over eleven thousand kilopascal, the super-pressurized combustion gases needing to escape. The gases were routed to the rocket engine nozzle and flew out of the aft end of the torpedo at supersonic speed.

The accelerometer registered the thrust on the unit climbing and the electromagnetic log speed sensor showed the torpedo climbing in speed. Fifty knots, one hundred, one-fifty, one-eighty, finally steadying at two hundred knots. At two hundred knots, the torpedo armed the warhead, a small 250-kilogram conventional high-density explosive in a shaped charge, which, while small, was additive to the tremendous ton-and-a-half mass of the torpedo, which at two hundred knots, would present formidable kinetic energy to blast through a hull even if it were titanium.

The blue laser seeker ahead scanned for a target, but so far, at time-of-flight at thirty seconds, the sea ahead was clear. The fuel would last for a time of flight of a little less than three minutes.

At flight time of one minute, all systems remained nominal. No contact on the sea ahead.

Time of flight, ninety seconds, and all systems were still nominal. No target detected.

Time of flight, two minutes, and all systems remained nominal. Still no target ahead.

Time of flight, two minutes, six seconds. With no target in sight, the unit slammed hard into the ice wall. The contact shut a deceleration activated relay, which sent the signal to the explosive to detonate.

The explosion raged against the ice wall, but did little more than create a cave ten meters deep and five meters wide.

Watch Officer Vilen Shvets looked at Captain Alexeyev. “Captain, Losharik has shoved off per our indications in the docking bay. Losharik is out of communication unless we activate the Bolshoi-Feniks system.”

“Very well. Sonar, do you hold Losharik on sonar?” Losharik, as a deep-diver submarine constructed for deep sea salvage, was not sound-quieted. If she were within a mile or two, she should be detectable on broadband, not just from her screw, but pump and turbine noises from her reactor and machinery space.

“Yes, Captain, she’s moved ahead northward down the ice corridor.”