"Captain, I have very loud machinery noises at bearing three-three-nine. Sounds like something's broke, sir, lots of metallic noise. Getting some air noise now, he's blowing tanks. No breakup noises yet."
"Left full rudder, come to new course zero-one-zero."
"We didn't kill the Victor?"
"I'll settle for a small piece of him, if it sends him home. We'll score that one as a damage. What's going on with the other two?"
"The fish after Sierra- I is pinging, and so's Boston's-I guess it's from Boston. "
The slight abatement of the confusion lasted ten minutes. The second target put her stem on both torpedoes and ran northwest. More sonobuoy lines appeared across Chicago's path. Another air-dropped torpedo was detected to the west, but they didn't know what it had been dropped on-just that it wasn't close enough to worry about. The torpedo they'd put in pursuit of the second Victor-class sub was struggling to catch a target running directly away as fast as it could go, and another fish was angling in from the opposite direction. Possibly Boston had fired at the Alfa too, but the Alfa was racing away at a speed almost as great as the torpedo's. McCafferty reestablished sonar contact with Providence and continued north. Chaos worked in his favor, and he took maximum advantage of it. He hoped Boston could evade the torpedoes that had been launched in her direction, but that was out of his hands.
"Two explosions bearing zero-zero-three, sir." That was the last bearing to the second Victor, but sonar detected nothing more. Had the fish killed the sub, the decoy, or had they homed in on each other?
Chicago continued north, increasing speed to ten knots as she zigzagged through the sonobuoy lines to increase her distance from the injured Providence. The attack-center crew was emotionally exhausted, as drained as their captain from the frantic tracking and shooting exercise. The technical aspects of the work had been handled well in pre-war workups, but nothing could simulate the tension of firing live weapons. The captain sent them in pairs to the galley for food and a half-hour's rest. The cooks brought up a platter of sandwiches for the ones who couldn't leave. McCafferty sat behind the periscope, eyes closed, head back against something metallic while he munched on a ham sandwich. He remembered seeing the cans loaded aboard. The Navy had gotten a good price earlier in the year on canned Polish hams. Polish hams, he thought. Crazy.
He allowed his crew to go off battle stations an hour later. Half his men were allowed to go off duty. They didn't head for the galley and a meal. They all preferred sleep. The captain knew that he needed it at least as badly as they. After we get to the ice, he promised himself. I'll sleep for a month.
They picked up Boston on sonar, a ghostly trace on the sonar screens due east of them. Providence was still aft, still cruising along at six knots, and still making too much noise from her battered sail. Time passed more rapidly now. The captain remained seated, forgetting his dignity and listening to reports of... nothing.
McCafferty's head came up. He checked his watch and realized he'd been dozing for half an hour. Five more hours to the ice. It came up clearly on sonar now, a low-frequency growl of noise that covered thirty degrees on either side of the bow.
Where did the Alfa go? McCafferty was in sonar ten seconds after asking himself that question.
"What was your last bearing on the Alfa?"
"Sir, we lost him three hours ago. Last we had him, he was at flank speed on a steady northeasterly bearing. Faded out and he hasn't come back, sir. "
"What's the chance he's hiding in the ice, waiting for us?"
"If he does, we'll pick him up before he picks us up, sir. If he's moving, his engine plant turns out a lot of medium- and high-frequency noise," the sonar chief explained. McCafferty knew all that, but wanted to hear it again anyway. "All the low-frequency ice noise'll ruin his chance to detect us at long range, but we should be able to hear him a good ways off if he's moving." The captain nodded and went aft.
"XO, if you were driving that Alfa, where would you be?"
"Home!" The exec smiled. "He has to know there are at least two boats out here. Those are awful short odds. We crippled that one Victor, and Boston probably killed the other one. What's he going to think? Ivan's brave, but he's not crazy. If he has any sense at all, he'll report a lost contact and leave it at that."
"I don't buy it. He beat our fish, and he probably beat one from Boston, " the captain said quietly.
"You could be right, skipper, but he ain't on sonar."
McCafferty had to concede that point. "We'll be very careful approaching the ice."
"Agreed, sir. We're being paranoid enough."
McCafferty didn't think so, but he didn't know why. What am I missing?
