Chapter 36
Through the darkness, floodlights illuminated the path as a mini-sub approached. This wasn't one of ours, and dread filled my stomach. "I think it's time to get out of here.”
"I second that notion," Jack said, engaging the thrusters.
The floodlights on the sub behind us made it hard to see its silhouette. But this wasn't a research sub.
It was a military vessel.
I studied the camera feed. It was probably a four-to-six-person submarine with articulated arms, landing skids, and what looked like light torpedoes affixed underneath swept wings. There was no mistaking it when one of them spat bubbles, launching through the water, hissing in our direction.
"Incoming!" I shouted as it pinged on sonar, lighting up the screen.
Jack's eyes rounded.
A spike of adrenaline set my heartbeat pounding. I didn't feel cold anymore. Blood rushed. “Cut the engines. Dive, dive, dive! Now! It's homing in on our acoustic signature.”
There was no way we could outrun it or the sub chasing us. Both were gaining ground.
Jack cut the propulsion and dove the sub. We plummeted down the ridge into the dark depths.
Nerves sizzled my skin. Flynn's eyes were wide as saucers, his brow misted with sweat. It was a nerve-racking few seconds that seemed like hours.
The Neptune went silent and fell like a stone.
The missile race overhead, narrowly missing us. Without a sonic signature to home in on, it was lost in the deep. There was no telling what it might key on—a passing ship, some kind of aquatic life form.
We sank to the bottom, and the skids touched down.
All eyes were glued to the sonar screen as the enemy sub approached.
The torpedo rocketed ahead, then angled around.
It kept searching for something to lock onto, and that something was the sub behind us. The torpedo took a long, sweeping 180-degree turn, keying on the enemy propulsion.
Soon, the water dart was heading right toward them.
By the time they figured out what was going on, it was too late. The enemy sub killed their props and tried to take evasive action, turning away.
The light torpedo slammed into the pressure hull at the aft end of the enemy sub.
An explosion breached the hull, and a massive shower of bubbles erupted. The shockwave rushed through the water, rattling the Neptune.
The enemy sub sank to the seabed, the occupants having a bad day. Unless they had bailout bottles or rebreathers handy, they were toast. Even then, the massive explosion likely did them in.
Jack powered up the thrusters again, and the lights flickered.
Then everything went dark with a warble. Power died.
Emergency lighting kicked on.
"What happened now?" Flynn asked.
Jack tried to reboot the system and power up the sub again.
It wouldn’t come online.
"The shockwave could have loosened a connector, or the abrupt shutdown could have triggered some kind of spike or surge,” I said.
He kept trying to get the sub to power up, but it wasn't happening.
I climbed out of my chair and moved to the electrical panel. I flipped it open and shone my flashlight inside, examining the wiring and connections.
Everything seems solid.
Nothing had rattled loose. I followed the lines all the way to the input port.
All looked good.
Jack tried a couple more times to get the system to power on, but the abrupt cycles must have damaged the batteries somehow. It was starting to look grim.
"I'm not one to panic," Flynn said, “but what the hell do we do now?"
I took a deep breath. "The Triton is 150 yards back that way. The batteries are still good as far as we know. Only the cable was cut. We can grab the batteries, hot-swap them out, and give it a shot. Right now, it's our only hope.”
“150 yards with no hot water support," Flynn said. "That's a 300-yard round-trip, carrying heavy batteries.”
"I'll do it," Jack said.
"No. Not with your shoulder.” Jack had mostly recovered from a gunshot wound to the shoulder.
He'd worn his vest during the incident, but the impact fractured his collarbone and deflected the bullet into the soft tissue of the shoulder.
He wasn't quite a hundred percent yet. I figured that may give him a little trouble on the return with the battery packs.
"You're not going,” Jack said. “Look at you. You're still shivering. You’ve had way too much cold exposure to handle this.”
"Hell, I'll get’er done,” Flynn said.
"Flynn, you're not trained for that kind of thing," I said.
"I got this," he said with confidence.