Barracuda: Final Bearing

“Five thousand yards and that’s it.”

“Aye, sir.”

“Firing-point procedures, phantom target at five thousand yards bearing two three zero. Vortex unit ten.” The reports rolled in, and Phillips called for the launch. He put his fingers in his ears one last time, feeling sad that the last Vortex was gone. If only the icepack hadn’t eaten up the first missile, he would still have a ticket home.

USS BARRACUDA

Admiral Pacino pulled himself to his feet and made his way to the conn. He and four other men remained conscious, one of them Paully White, the other the helms man, the third the executive officer, Leo Dobrinski, the fourth, the chief of the watch at the wraparound ballastcontrol panel. The survivors seemed to have picked at random. Dimly Pacino registered that David Kane was collapsed on the deck of the conn. He bent down, fighting his dizziness, and rolled Kane over. Kane’s face was shattered, blood coming out of his nose. Pacino put his face down near Kane’s and heard rattling sucking breathing. Kane must have taken a hit in the chest as well as his face. Pacino lowered him to the deck. The ship was dying, he reminded himself. Save the ship, save the plant, then save the men, his old mentor Rocket Ron Daminski, long dead now at the bottom of the Mediterranean, had taught him back on the Atlanta. It sounded coldblooded but it made sense. A dead ship ensured a dead crew. Karie was wounded and down. Pacino was the senior submarine-qualified officer aboard. Navy Regs said he was now in command. Ironic. All the time since Seawolf had gone down he had missed command, and now it was his — a submarine crippled, drifting, probably flooding and sinking, hit by a Nagasaki torpedo, an enemy Destiny out there to be fought, a ship’s company that probably numbered more dead than living. Get with it, he ordered himself, and stood upright on the conn. “This is Admiral Pacino,” he said in a ringing, probably foolish sounding voice. “I now take command of the USS Barracuda in the absence of her commanding officer in accordance with US Navy regulations.” He paused, wondering if anyone would dispute his claim, but all he saw were the eyes of Paully White and Leo Dobrowski, both ready for orders.

Pacino reached for the circuit-one microphone. “ALL STATIONS, THIS IS ADMIRAL PACINO. CAPTAIN KANE IS WOUNDED. I HAVE ASSUMED COMMAND. ALL STATIONS REPORT DAMAGE STATUS IMMEDIATELY.” “Paully,” Pacino said, “get the reports off the battle circuits. Helm, keep this damned thing level.” Pacino pulled the 1JV phone from the conn cradle. “Maneuvering,

Captain. Maneuvering! Pick up if you hear me.” There was nothing.

“XO,” Pacino said to Dobrowski, “lay aft and get the reactor back up.”

Dobrowski was gone before he had finished the order.

“Goddamnit, Paully, what’s on the phones?”

“There’s no one reporting. Admiral. We’re it.”

“Get into sonar and see what you can do. Just stay on the phones.”

White ran into sonar, leaving Pacino with the helmsman and the chief of the watch.

“Get the battle lanterns going. Chief. Mark ship’s depth.”

“Sir, we’re at one thousand feet and sinking. Speed is one knot, we’re showing no power and I have all ahead flank rung up.”

Were any more torpedoes coming in? He was helpless if they were. If the ship sank any deeper he’d have no choice but to surface the ship. He grabbed the 1JV phone to maneuvering.

“XO, what’s the status?” Pacino shouted into the phone.

“Sir, it looks like the plant scrammed on shock. I’ll have to do a fast recovery startup but I’m all by myself!

I can’t do this by myself.”

“Hold on, I’ll send Commander White aft.”

“Paully!” Pacino shouted into his headset.

“Yes sir. Sonar’s down and Omeada’s dead. So are the other guys, there’s blood everywhere—”

“Paully, get aft now and help out the XO. I want power yesterday, you got it?”

White rushed out of sonar and ran through control, one hand up at Pacino as he rushed by on the way to the aft compartment.

“Depth thirteen hundred, sir!”

Crush depth was coming up in another six hundred feet. If Paully and Dobrowski didn’t get power up by then, he would have to emergency blow, and then it would be all over, the Japanese air force would blow the Barracuda to the bottom. Assuming another Destiny didn’t do the job for them.