Page 92 of Enemy Within
“No, we won’t,” Anderson growled. “Weapons, get me a firing solution on their position. I want torpedoes going up their bearing when they fire. Helm, get us the hell out of here. Point us to the Makarov Basin and run like hell.” He turned to Chief Garcia. “Make the boat ready for depth charges. Deploy countermeasures.” His gaze turned to Jack, and then to Ethan. “Stand by to brace for collision.”
Ethan grabbed Jack and the nearest handhold, clinging to both. Jack, in turn, clung to him, his hands wrapping around Ethan’s waist. The deck pitched hard toward the bow asHonolulukept diving toward the bottom of the ocean. Ethan scrambled, almost lost his feet, and the men sitting at the diving station nearly toppled over. Their seatbelts held them fast, but one of the watchstanders wasn’t so lucky. He tumbled and rolled, sliding on his ass down the length of the Conn before slamming sideways into the damage control board.
A low, quaking thrum rumbled through the Conn, like a train rushing past them a handsbreadth away. Every surface rumbled. Display screens shook, the whole sub vibrating, a Martini being shaken. Jacinto’s grease pencils leaped from the plotting table and hit the deck. They kept rolling, down the steep angle and into the darkness.
“She’s right above us!” Boomer shouted. “She’s covering my scope!” TheAkulafilled the sonar display, an almost solid magenta wash eclipsing their underwater world.
“Torpedoes in the water! Inside five hundred feet!”
“Chief, countermeasures!”
Chief Garcia’s hands flew over his board, almost fast enough to blur. “Deployed, Captain!”
“Depth!”
“Two hundred forty feet, captain!” The diving officer clenched his jaw. “Two hundred fifty! Two hundred sixty!”
“Level off!”
“Torpedoes inside three hundred feet!”
Ethan caught Jack’s gaze, caught the fear pouring out of Jack’s eyes. In their depths, Ethan saw the same in his own gaze, reflected back at him. He didn’t want it to end like this. Not twisting apart in the ocean, crushed by pressures as he froze and drowned. After everything, not like this. Jack’s hold around his waist tightened enough to bruise his hips. Ethan had one hand on the handrail, and with the other, he cupped Jack’s cheek.
“Countermeasures deployed! Jammer ineffective! Torpedoes still on target! Range, one hundred fifty feet!”
Anderson glared at Chief Garcia. “Sound collision alarm.”
Garcia grabbed a large switch over his board and hauled it down. At once, a new klaxon wailed through the ship, an awful screech.
“Brace for impact!”
Ethan held Jack’s gaze and pushed their faces together. “I love you,” he whispered against Jack’s lips. “I love you.”
Booming crashed behind them, and Jack’s eyes squeezed closed. The sound of a thousand bubbles popping, and a hiss like an anaconda hovered over their heads, and then a second boom sounded. Darkness veiled the Conn like a curtain as the lights flickered. The whole world shook. Ethan bucked, losing his footing, but kept an ironclad grip on his handhold and on Jack. They rolled to port, falling sideways against the plotting table and almost on top of it, before shuddering and rolling back.
When would the water crash over them? When would they draw their last breath?
Tearing metal screeched and groaned, a crescendo of shrieking that seemed to rake up the inside ofHonolulu. The lights winked out, plunging the Conn into pitch black.
“Torpedoes detonated, Captain!” Garcia’s booming voice broke over the alarms. “Countermeasures successful, but we still took damage.”
“Damage control?” Anderson’s voice, rising in the darkness. A moment later, the battle lights winked on, and the alarms fell silent as Garcia’s hands flew across his board.
Lieutenant Harvey, at the damage control station, responded. “Emergency Reactor Scram, sir. The shock of the blast knocked the reactor into safety standby.” A hum, and then emergency lights flickered and rose, casting the Conn in a sickly, almost hospital-like glow. “Flooding reported in the engine room and the battery compartment.”
“Get that saltwater out of there before the batteries start venting chlorine! All drain pumps reroute to the battery compartment. Damage control teams to the Engine Room. Secure collision alarm. Chief, dial up the pressure in the hull. Let’s slow that leak. And get the reactor back online.”
“Captain, we’ve got another problem!” Roller’s eyes were locked on his display, and he leaned over his helmsman, his hands on top of the younger man’s, physically trying to haul the control yoke over to help the helmsman steer. “Rudder is jammed. We’re pointed eighteen degrees to starboard, sir, and I can’t unstick it. Not from here.”
“Conn, Sonar.” Boomer’s voice shook. “Approaching Makarov Basin. Distance to Sierra One two thousand feet.”
“Jacinto, adjust our bearing to compensate for the rudder. We can’t fix it now.” Anderson strode to the weapons station and leaned over Lieutenant Munoz. “Weapons, do you have a track on that bastard? Did you get a bearing?”
Munoz nodded, breathing hard. “I got two curves as Sierra One passed.” An almost flat triangle flashed on his screen, a complex trigonometry problem that put the Russian sub at the apex, dead in Munoz’s target. “We can light her up.”
“Sound battle stations. Flood torpedo tubes one and two. Set torpedoes for short range attack. Enable seekers at one thousand feet and step them up to fifty knots.”
Man Battle Stations! Man Battle Stations!clanged through the ship. Munoz’s hands flew over his board, setting up the torpedoes as Anderson ordered. Deep insideHonolulu, Ethan swore he could feel the torpedo tubes opening, water rushing in to fill the dark launch tubes.
