Chapter 27
The Baktun’s combat crew cheered when their drone torpedo shadowing the Agua Linda exploded.
Captain Stokes fixated on the weapons monitor. His eyelids lifted with the rising geyser of water erupting against the Agua Linda’s hull spewing up into the night air. It was a glorious sight, but—
“Something’s amiss,” Stokes murmured as he loomed over the weapons station.
“Sir?” the Russian weapons officer said.
The geyser of water fell back with a crash, and the Agua Linda rocked slightly with the blast. The torpedo drone’s carbon-fiber body was nearly impossible to detect, which made it quite dangerous. It carried a relatively small warhead, but its charge was ample enough to sink any commercial vessel.
“The Agua Linda isn’t sinking. Why?” Stokes demanded. His first officer now stood beside him as well.
“She doesn’t even appear damaged,” the first officer said.
The Russian checked his monitor. “Perfect explosion.”
“Two explosions,” the sonarman said. He was a former South Korean naval officer.
“Two?” the first officer said. “How?”
“Reactive armor,” Stokes said. He grinned broadly. “This is not a commercial vessel. It’s a decoy, like an old Q-ship.”
The Russian’s face broke into a wide smile. “A combat vessel in disguise.”
“We should retreat,” the first officer said. He turned to the helmsman. “Prepare for evasive maneuvers. Full power.”
“Aye, sir,” the helmsman responded.
“Stand by,” Captain Stokes said, delaying the helm order.
Activating the Baktun’s laser-induced plasma detonation wave propulsion (LIPDWP) system would rob power from the Baktun’s more important operations and likely disrupt it, if not damage it.
The whole purpose of the Baktun was to provide a secret and safe platform for the development of Project Q.
Dr. Bose’s organoid computer and associated hardware consumed the vast majority of the electricity generated by the Baktun’s internal confinement fusion reactor.
She had just briefed him on their progress.
They were days away from success. Any disruption of her electricity supply at this crucial juncture could prove catastrophic.
The Baktun’s fusion reactor produced ten times the energy of an Ohio-class S8G fission reactor, though it occupied a smaller space. Without an ample supply of electricity, Project Q would crash to a halt.
But Stokes had to rob Peter to pay Paul.
The only way the Baktun could activate its plasma wave propulsion system was to redirect the energy supply away from Project Q.
An enormous amount of electricity was needed to power the high-energy optical-fiber lasers—each thinner than a human hair—that laced the torpedo-shaped pod beneath the Baktun’s hull.
The resulting rapid expansion of superheated plasma underwater created both a supercavitation bubble and a shock wave.
That supercavitating zone essentially eliminated all friction between the energy pod and the surrounding seawater—and generated incredible speed.
The successive plasma shock waves, in turn, produced explosive thrust and drove the Baktun in any direction Stokes desired by manipulating the energy flow.
Stokes hardly understood the physics of the thing, but he knew his disguised research vessel could reach unheard-of speeds and all without conventional fuel or propellers.
But the former naval warfare officer wasn’t ready to turn tail and run just yet. Stokes had been waiting for years for a combat opportunity like this. The Agua Linda, even if it was some kind of a disguised gunboat, couldn’t possibly know his location. How could it attack him?
Yes, the Agua Linda’s ability to knock out his holographic drones with what appeared to be an electromagnetic pulse weapon was surprising, but hardly concerning. The Baktun’s systems were hardened against such a thing. But what other weapons might the Agua Linda have up her sleeve?
“Comms? What kind of chatter are you picking up?” Stokes asked.
“Agua Linda hasn’t broadcast any radio or distress signals. She’s quiet.”
Further proof she wasn’t damaged, Stokes reasoned, nor in need of assistance. She was no sitting duck. It would be a manly fight.
Now was his chance.
“Weapons—fire the nano-torpedoes. Helm—activate laser propulsion. Evasive maneuvers.”
“Aye, Captain.”
★
“Missile detected!” Linda shouted.
“Course and speed?” Cabrillo asked.
Stoney threw the radar track up onto one of the big monitors as he called out the stats. A bright red orb on the radar screen streaked at over six hundred miles per hour toward the Oregon.
“Activate missile defenses.” Cabrillo hardly needed to give the order. Linda had already activated it, exactly according to protocol.
“Heading our way,” Stoney called out. “No…Wait…Veering off course…”
The missile track drifted several points away, then suddenly dropped off the screen.
“Malfunction?” Cabrillo asked.
“Maybe a wave skimmer,” Max said.
“Just splashed,” a sonarman said, one hand pressing against his headphones.
“Crashed?” Cabrillo asked.
“Multiple splashes…”
“Debris?” Max asked.
The underwater sonar track appeared on a big wall monitor. All eyes turned to it. A cluster of twenty green blips appeared—and moving fast.
“Computer counts twenty…heading our way…high-speed screws—seven-zero knots!”
“Torps,” Juan said. “Sound battle stations.”
“Wait…Look,” Ross said as the Klaxon alarm rang.
The green dots split up into smaller triads, and the triads, in turn, split up. They began moving in strange patterns.
“They’re swarming,” Juan said.
“AI torpedoes?” Max asked.
“Stoney, get us out of here,” Juan said. “Wepps, anti-torps.”
Linda Ross punched the firing button for the Oregon’s new advanced torpedo defense systems. The miniature torpedoes were fire-and-forget, AI-guided munitions. They would select their own targets and take them out either singly or in groups faster than any human could react.
As Ross launched the torpedoes, Stoney slammed his throttles forward and jerked the joystick.
Seconds later, the engines launched into full power.
The Oregon lunged forward and then staggered into a steep turn like a drunken racehorse.
Everyone in the op center strained against their safety harnesses, their buckles fastened when battle stations sounded.
“Wepps, get a fix on that vessel,” Cabrillo ordered.
“Trying…”
“Not good enough.”
“Can’t get a radar lock,” Linda said. “No radar signature.”
“How’s that possible?” Hali asked.
“Cloaking,” Juan said grimly. It was the only explanation possible.
“How is that possible?” Max asked.
“A question for another time.”
Cabrillo glanced at the weapons monitor. His cloud of defensive mini torpedoes broke up the same way the incoming attack torpedoes had done. It was an underwater AI chess match now.
“Wepps, get an estimated trajectory of the missile launch location. Load the starboard Melara 76 with high-explosive rounds. Set to airburst mode. Estimate a bracket for wide-area effect.”
“Guess we’re shooting shotguns after all,” Max said, beaming.
“Yeah, blindfolded and in the dark,” Juan said.
“Solution plotted. Firing.”
The Oregon’s refit had stripped away massive amounts of weight, machinery, and maintenance issues when it eliminated the bow-mounted 120-millimeter smoothbore cannon and the multiton rail gun, both of which required massive hydraulics to lift and operate.
In their stead, Juan had placed four proven naval deck guns hidden inside of what appeared to be standard forty-foot shipping containers permanently located on deck.
Two of the containers held long-range OTO Melara 127-millimeter naval guns.
The two others housed medium-range versions in 76-millimeter.
Both systems were capable of firing a wider variety of munitions at much higher rates than the Oregon’s previous guns.
When activated, the sides of the shipping containers dropped and the roofs drew back automatically.
The Melara 76 boomed overhead like kettledrums from hell, firing two rounds per second.
“Incoming torps,” Stoney shouted. Juan glanced up as alarms shrieked. Five of the green blips had slipped through the Oregon’s defenses—
And five explosions erupted beneath the hull.
“Damage report.”
“Venturi tube outlet nozzle…port-side fin…port-side stabilizer—all down,” Max said, studying his engineering panel.
“Full stop,” Juan ordered as the Melara continued booming overhead.
“Aye,” Stoney said, killing the engines.
“Hull damage?” Juan asked.
Max pressed his headset harder against his ear, listening to his engineer’s report.
“No breaches reported. All good.”
Before Juan could give the order, Max dashed for the engine room. The propulsion system was his baby. He’d run into a fiery building to save it if it came to that.
But Cabrillo’s fear was that the invisible hunter might be closing in for the kill.
“Wepps?”
“Nothing on my screens.”
“Sonar?”
“No screws in the water, shipborne or otherwise.”
Every other station reported “All clear” as well.
“Maybe we hit him,” Stoney said.
“ ‘Maybe’ can get us killed.” Juan scanned the wall monitors. His team was right. No more threats presented on the screens. They seemed out of harm’s way—for now.
“Everyone stay alert. Hali, kill the Klaxon, but stay on battle stations.”
“Aye.”
Juan unbuckled his harness and approached Linda’s station.
“Anything pops up—you know what to do.”
She nodded. “I guess there really was a demon ghost ship after all. Just not the holographic type.”
“That wasn’t any ghost. And for whatever reason, he was pulling his punches.”
“Why do you say that?”
“Those AI torps he threw at us? Too small to sink us, but clearly designed to select damage points to stop us in the water. If they have that kind of advanced tech, I guarantee you they’ve got even bigger and nastier arrows in their quiver.”
“Then why not use them and send us to Davy Jones’s locker?”
“Dunno. Maybe he wanted to avoid satellite detection of a larger launch. He clearly doesn’t want to be seen. He’s hiding something.”
“I wonder what?”
“We’ll have to ask him when we find him.”
“If we find him. What do we do now?”
“We wait for Max to give us our marching orders. Can’t finish our snipe hunt until we get our girl fixed up.”
Linda stood. “I’ll head over to the boat garage and get the ball rolling.”
“I want repair crews under the boat in fifteen minutes. Sooner, if we can.”