“There will be no evasive maneuvers. Senior Lieutenant, until we first launch a salvo of our own,” declared the captain.
“Such a drastic decision is necessitated by a single concern. As long as that Sturgeon remains in these waters, our ultimate mission is compromised. So we have no choice but to eliminate it.”
A relieved grin broke upon Mikhail Kharkov’s face as he listened to the young captain call out forcefully.
“Prepare tubes one and three for firing. Sonar, we’re going to need a sonic interface between the target’s signature and those warheads. And for our very lives, make it a secure one!”
Helping tag the suspected Soviet submarine as it attempted to smash its way through the ice, was just the kind of thing that Seaman Lester Warren needed to snap him out of his doldrums. A new spirit of self-confidence infused the junior sonar technician as this contact was confirmed and the Defiance moved in to intercept it.
Any thoughts of abandoning his console to fill his empty stomach were far from the Texan’s mind. Instead he was very content to remain right at his duty station, with his veteran shipmate manning the terminal on his right.
Since initially picking up the enemies’ signature, they had monitored them making yet another futile attempt to smash their way to the surface. Currently headed downward for what appeared to be one last effort, the Russians had just taken on additional ballast. Even at a range of thirty miles, this distinctive racket was clearly audible.
One of the unusual features of under-ice operations was the manner in which such signatures traveled. Because the sound waves were reflected upward by the seabed and downward by the ice cover, man-made signatures could be heard for a great distance. This would be particularly significant if the ambient sounds of the ice itself could be filtered out.
Yet since this was extremely difficult to achieve, Warren was quite content to receive startlingly clear readings at their present range.
They were rapidly approaching the point where the Defiance could initiate a torpedo attack if it so desired. Though Lester Warren thought such a response was more than appropriate considering the scare Ivan had given them, it was Captain Colter’s decision. However, anxious to know if this was indeed the course they would next take. Warren sat forward expectantly when Stan Roth hung up the intercom handset on which he had been talking.
“You’ll never guess who I just got off the horn with, Les? That was none other than Lieutenant Commander Layman, and he wanted to personally convey to you a job well done.”
Though this was certainly better than another censure, the Texan still found such a remark unnecessary.
“That’s all very well and good, Stanley. But what did he say about the Russkies? Are we going to take them out, or what?”
Noting his shipmate’s impatience, Stanley Roth snickered.
“My, aren’t you the eager one. Since when did you become such a hawk?”
“To tell you the truth, Stan, I always thought I had a pretty good understanding of the Soviet people. They impressed me as a levelheaded sort, who wanted peace just as much as we did. But my opinion abruptly changed the moment they rammed us.”
“I hear you, Les. And you’ll be happy to know that the captain happens to feel likewise. In fact, the XO just told me to lock Ivan’s sound signature into the Mk-48’s in tubes one through three.”
“All right! We’re finally going to play hardball,” exclaimed the Texan as he watched his shipmate hit the switches that would feed the Russian sub’s sound signature directly into the computers mounted inside their torpedoes.
Yet as the reality of this bold new step sunk in, Lester’s tone suddenly revealed concern.
“Do you think this will mean war, Stan?”
Only after he had successfully completed the interface did the senior technician answer.
“That’s hard to say, Les. But where I’m sitting, the prospects for detente sure don’t look very promising.”
This statement was punctuated by a distant muted whirring sound that flowed into their headphones from the direction of their target. In all his years of service, Stanley Roth had only heard this distinctive racket during sea trials with the fleet. Yet this certainly wasn’t an exercise. A look of pure disbelief came on the veteran’s face as he cried out in horror.
“Holy Mother Mary, Ivan just launched a broadside at us!”
Listening on in sheer terror as the signatures of two separate torpedoes filtered in through his headphones, Lester Warren found that his worst nightmare had at long last been realized — they were at war!
The frantic call from the sound shack caught Captain Matt Colter and his XO huddled around the plotting table.
“Damn it?” cursed Colter.
“I should have known this Ivan would be the type to shoot first and ask questions later. Let’s return the favor. Lieutenant Sanger, hit ‘em with tubes one, two, and three. Then release our MOSS Mk-70 decoy out of tube number four.”
