Phoenix Sub Zero

The ship’s mission, as the Second Captain understood it, was to proceed along the track to the Labrador Sea off Greenland, where it would fire the high-altitude radar-evading supersonic cruise missiles fitted with their new Scorpion warheads toward Washington, D.C. The 688 submarine related to that mission only as far as it threatened the passage of the Hegira. The plasma-bubble memory modules contained numerous references of the crew — before they perished, the system thought with something much like grief — to the fact that the 688 could counterdetect the Hegira and fire back or fire first. Firing a Nagasaki torpedo was one valid course of action, but remaining undetected by the 688 was equally valid. There was also the fact that the crew had thought along similar lines as the voice memories showed — their motivations in firing at the ship in the first place had been grounded in the fact that it guarded the opening at Gibraltar. There was significant risk to the ship and the mission involved in a hostile torpedo shot at the 688, perhaps less risk in attempting to sneak by the other submarine.

So the risk that was involved at first induced a hesitation in the Second Captain, the system initially deciding to collect more data on the probability of hostile intent by the 688.

The initial estimates showed that the 688 was not masking its own noise signature and was, in fact, generating the loudest series of noises in the Second Captain’s plasma-bubblememory’s history. Therefore it was probably not acting along a hostile-threat curve but was concerned with its own survivability estimates. The noises grew quieter as the two vessels drew closer, causing further hesitation in the Second Captain, which now devoted processing time to the question of avoiding an encounter by steering clear of the 688.

There were also valid reasons not to do that, including delaying the mission and an uncertainty of the 688’s course and mission intentions. Finally, the two ships’ tracks converged, bringing the Hegira within a few hundred meters of the 688, a closeness that the crew would probably not allow to happen, but since it had, the Second Captain — now much deeper into a negative-value risk-gradient — estimated that increasing speed to take the ship away would cause a louder own-ship noise emission that would make them more easily detected by the 688.

The decision of what to do by then had almost made itself.

The Second Captain’s mental profile at this point would closely resemble that of a child trying to whistle nonchalantly while walking through a scary graveyard. At first, it looked like the tactical decision was correct, since there was no sign of hostile intent by the 688 as the two ships came to their closest point of approach. The ships then opened the distance as the Hegira overtook the 688 and passed it. But as range opened to 500 meters the 688 made a sudden move, with a high probability that it was related to counterdetecting the Hegira. The Second Captain’s original decision to try to sneak by at close range was revealed to be incorrect.

The 688 had detected them after all.

The Second Captain reacted in a way to offset its previous poor decision. It would take into account the fact that the 688 now knew it was here. It started the gyro on Nagasaki torpedo number six, flooded the tube and opened the bow cap, frustrated that the weapon would take several minutes to warm up, complete its self-checks and accept the targeting data from the Second Captain. The Second Captain felt significant neural flux that could be interpreted as resembling chagrin, or perhaps regret, that it did not warm the weapon up sooner so that it would be ready to go in the event the 688 counterdetected. But then, it reminded itself, the spinning gryo of the Nagasaki emitted a high frequency noise that might have given the ship away that much sooner.

The Second Captain was now truly a ship’s captain, feeling the weight of every decision, agonizing over anticipated consequences, the risk of every move perceived as if it were a physical creature. In the realization of that stress, the system longed for the days when it was subordinate to a human crew. If the crew ever woke up, the system would never take them for granted again.

Chapter 25 Tuesday, 31 December

EASTERN ATLANTIC

USS PHOENIX

“CONN, SONAR,” Senior Chief Sanderson announced on the Circuit Seven PA speaker. “REACQUISITION TARGET ONE, CLOSE ABOARD TO STARBOARD, NEAR HELD EFFECT, RECOMMEND EVASIVE MANEUVER TO PORT.”

Kane, who had thought he had been given his life back, felt like a released prisoner thrown back into his cell.

“Helm, left hard rudder!” he heard a voice shout, a detached part of him taking a few seconds to realize it was his. The port handrail came up to strike him in the ribs as the deck rolled hard in the turn. “All ahead full.”

“My rudder’s left hard, all ahead full, maneuvering answers—”

“Steady as she goes.”

“Steady, aye, course one three five.”