tc.redstormrising-第36部分

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McCafferty　shook　his　head。　When　was　the　last　time　you　saw　your　men　look　relieved　over　a　twenty…foot　change　in　depth？　he　asked　himself。　He　went　forward　to　sonar。　He　did　not　remember　being　there　only　four　minutes　earlier。
〃How　are　our　friends　doing；　chief？〃
〃The　patrol　boats　are　still　faint；　sir。　They　seem　to　be　circling…the　bearings　are　changing　back　and　forth　like　they　been　doin'。　The　boomer's　blade　count　is　also　constant；　sir；　he's　just　toolin'　right　along　at　fifteen　knots。　Not　especially　quiet；　either。　I　mean；　we　still　got　plenty　of　mechanical　transients；　y'know？　There's　maintenance　work…lot　of　it…going　on　in　there；　by　the　sound　he's　making。　Want　to　listen　in；　skipper？〃　The　chief　held　up　a　pair　of　earphones。　Most　sonar　scanning　was　done　visually…the　on…board　puters　converted　acoustical　signals　into　a　display　on　TV　type　tubes　that　looked　most　of　all　like　some　sort　of　arcade　game。　But　there　was　still　no　real　substitute　for　listening　in。　McCafferty　took　the　phones。
First　he　heard　the　Delta's　whirring　reactor　pumps。　They　were　running　at　medium　speed；　driving　water　out　of　the　reactor　vessel　into　the　steam　generator。　Next　he　concentrated　on　the　screw　sounds。　The　Russian　boomer　had　a　pair　of　five…bladed　screws；　and　he　tried　to　make　his　own　count　of　the　chuga…chuga　noise　made　as　each　blade　made　its　circuit。　No　good；　he'd　have　to　take　the　chief's　word；　as　he　usually　did。　。　。　klang！
〃What　was　that？〃
The　chief　turned　to　another　senior　operator。　〃Hatch　slammin'？''
The　first…class　sonarman　shook　his　head　judiciously。　〃More　like　somebody　dropped　a　wrench。　Close；　though；　pretty　close。〃
The　captain　had　to　smile。　Everybody　aboard　was　trying　to　affect　a　casual　manner　that　had　to　be　outrageously　faked。　Certainly　everyone　was　as　tense　as　he　was；　and　McCafferty　wanted　nothing　more　than　to　get　the　hell　out　of　this　miserable　lake。　Of　course　he　couldn't　act　in　such　a　way　as　to　allow　his　crew　to　bee　overly　concerned；　the　captain　must　be　in　total　control　at　all　times…what　fucking　games　we　play！　he　told　himself。　What　are　we　doing　here？　What　is　going　on　in　this　crazy　world？　I　don't　want　to　fight　a　fucking　war！
He　leaned　against　the　doorframe；　just　forward　of　the　control　room；　only　a　few　feet　from　his　own　stateroom；　wanting　to　go　in；　just　to　lie　down　for　a　minute　or　two；　to　take　a　few　deep　breaths；　maybe　go　to　his　sink　and　splash　a　little　cold　water　。　。　。　but　then　he　might　accidentally　look　in　the　mirror。　None　of　that；　he　knew。　mand　of　a　submarine　was　one　of　the　last　truly　godlike　jobs　left　in　the　world；　and　at　times　it　required　a　truly　godlike　demeanor。　Like　now。　Play　the　game；　Danny；　he　told　himself。　The　captain　withdrew　a　handkerchief　from　his　back　pocket　and　rubbed　his　nose　with　it；　his　face　locked　into　a　neutral；　almost　bored　expression　as　his　eyes　traced　over　the　sonar　displays。　The　cool　captain　。　。　。
McCafferty　returned　to　the　attack　center　a　moment　later；　telling　himself　that　he'd　spent　just　enough　time　to　inspire　his　sonar　crewmen　without　pressuring　them　with　too　much　attention　from　the　CO。　A　fine　balance。　He　looked　around　casually。　The　room　was　as　crowded　as　an　Irish　bar　on　St。　Patrick's　Day。　His　men's　outwardly　cool　faces　were　sweating；　despite　the　nuclear…powered　air　conditioning。　The　planesmen　especially　were　concentrating　on　their　instruments；　guiding　the　submarine　down　an　electronically　defined　display；　with　the　diving　officer…Chicago's　most　senior　chief…right　behind　them。
In　the　center　of　the　control　room；　the　two　side…by…side　attack　periscopes　were　fully　retracted；　with　a　quartermaster's　mate　poised　to　raise　them。　The　XO　paced　as　much　as　he　could；　looking　at　the　chart　every　twenty　seconds　or　so　as　he　turned　at　the　rear　of　the　partment。　Not　much　here　to　plain　about。　Everybody　was　tense；　but　all　the　work　was　getting　done。
〃All　things　considered；〃　McCafferty　said　for　all　to　hear；　〃things　are　going　pretty　good。　Surface　conditions　are　working　against　them　detecting　us。〃
〃Conn；　sonar。〃
〃Conn；　aye。〃　The　captain　took　the　phone。
〃Hull…popping　noises。　He　seems　blowing　tanks；　skipper。〃
〃Understood。　Keep　us　posted；　chief　〃　McCafferty　put　the　phone　back。　He　took　three　steps　back　to　the　chart　table。　〃Why　surface　now？〃
The　navigator　stole　a　cigarette　from　an　enlisted　man　and　lit　it。　McCafferty　knew　he　didn't　smoke。　The　lieutenant　nearly　gagged　on　it；　drawing　a　brief　smirk　from　a　second…class　quartermaster　the　navigator。　He　looked　over　at　the　captain。
〃Sir；　something　is　wrong　about　this；〃　the　lieutenant　said　quietly。
〃Just　one　thing；〃　the　captain　asked。　〃Why　did　he　surface　here？〃
〃Conn；　sonar。〃　McCafferty　went　forward　and　took　the　phone　again。　〃Skipper；　the　boomer's　doing　a　long　blow；　really　blowing　his　tanks　out　like；　sir。〃
〃Anything　else　unusual？〃
〃No；　sir；　but　he　must've　just　used　a　lot　of　his　reserve　air；　sir。〃
〃Okay；　chief；　thank　you。〃　McCafferty　hung　up　and　wondered　if　that　meant　anything。
〃Sir；　you　ever　done　this　before？〃　the　navigator　asked。
〃I've　trailed　a　lot　of　Russian　boats；　but　no；　never　in　here。〃
'The　target　has　to　surface　eventually；　only　sixty　feet　of　water　down　here　along　Terskiy　Bereg。〃　The　navigator　traced　his　finger　along　the　chart。
〃And　we　have　to　break　off　the　trail；〃　McCafferty　agreed。　〃But　that's　another　forty　miles。〃
〃Yeah。〃　The　navigator　nodded　agreement。　〃But　starting　five　miles　back；　this　gulf　starts　to　narrow　down　like　a　funnel；　and　for　a　submerged　sub；　it　eventually　closes　down　to　two；　then　only　one　safe　passage。　Jeez；　I　don't　know。〃　McCafferty　came　aft　again　to　examine　the　chart。
〃He　was　content　to　run　fifteen　knots　at　periscope　depth　all　this　way　down　from　Kola。　The　usable　depth　has　been　about　the　same　for　the　past　five　hours…just　bottomed　out　some…and　figures　to　be　the　same　for　another　hour　or　two　。　。　。　but　he　surfaces　anyway。　So；〃　McCafferty　said；　〃the　only　change　in　environmental　conditions　is　the　width　of　the　channel；　and　that's　still　over　twenty　miles　。　…　。〃　The　captain　mulled　this　over；　staring　down　at　the　chart。　The　sonar　room　called　yet　again。
〃Conn；　aye。　What　is　it；　chief？〃
〃New　contact；　sir；　bearing　one…nine…two。　Designate　target　Sierra…5。　Twin…screw　surface　ship；　diesel　engines。　They　just　came　on　all　at　once；　sir。　Sounds　like　a　Natya…class。　Bearing　changing　right　to　left　slowly；　seems　to　be　converging　with　the　boomer。　Blade　count　puts　her　speed　at　about　twelve　knots。〃
〃What's　the　boomer　doing？〃
〃Speed　and　bearing　are　unchanged；　skipper。　The　blow　has　ended。　She's　on　the　surface；　sir；　we're　starting　to　get　pounding　and　some　racing　on　her　screws…wait　a　minute　。　。　。　an　active　sonar　just　started　up；　we're　getting　reverbs；　bearing　seems　to　be　about　one…nine…zero；　probably　from　the　Natya。　It's　a　very　high　frequency　sonar；　above　aural　range　it　twenty…two…thousand　hertz。〃
An　icy　ball　suddenly　materialized　in　McCafferty's　stomach。
〃XO；　I'm　taking　the　conn。〃
〃Aye；　Captain；　you　have　the　conn。〃
〃Diving　officer：　get　her　up　to　sixty　feet；　high　as　you　can　without　broaching　her。　Observation！　Up　scope！〃　The　search　scope　came　up　and　McCafferty　met　it　as　he　had　before　and　quickly　checked　the　surface　of　the　sea　for　shadows。　〃Three　more　feet。　Okay；　still　nothing。　What's　the　ESM　reading？〃
〃Now　seven　active　radar　sources；　skipper。　Plot　out　about　the　same　as　before；　plus　the　new　one　at　one…nine…one；　another　India…band；　looks　like　another　Don…2。〃
McCafferty　turned　the　periscope　handle　to　twelve…power；　its　highest　setting。　The　Soviet　missile　submarine　was　sitting　extremely　high　in　the　water。
〃Joe；　tell　me　what　you　see。〃　McCafferty　asked；　wanting　a　quick　second　opinion。
〃That's　a　Delta…III；　all　right。　Looks　like　she's　blown　dry；　Cap'n；　they　e　out　pretty　far；　and　that　looks　like　about　three　or　four　feet　higher　than　they　usually　do。　He　just　used　up　a　lot　of　his　air　。　。　。　That　might　be　the　Natya's　mast　ahead　of　her；　hard　to　be　sure。〃
McCafferty　could　feel　that　his　own　Chicago　was　rolling。　His　hands　tingled　with　the　transmitted　wave…slaps　against　the　periscope。　The　seas　were　crashing　against　the　Delta；　too；　and　he　could　see　water　splashing　in　and　out　of　the　limber　holes　that　lined　the　boomer's　flanks。

〃ESM　board　says　that　signal　strengths　are　approaching　detection　values；〃　the　technician　warned。
〃His　periscopes　are　both　up；〃　McCafferty　said；　knowing　that　his　scope　had　already　been　up　too　long。　He　squeezed　the　trigger　to　double　the　magnification。　It　cost　optical　detail；　but　the　picture　zoomed　in　on　the　Delta's　conning　tower。　〃The　control　station　atop　his　sail　is　fully　manned。　Everyone　has　glasses　。　。　。　not　looking　aft；　though。　Down　scope。　Diving　officer；　take　her　down　ten　feet。　Nice　work；　planesmen。　Let's　see　that　tape；　Joe。〃　The　picture　returned　to　the　TV　monitor　in　a　few　seconds。
They　were　two　thousand　yards　behind　the　Delta。　Beyond　her　by　about　half　a　mile　was　a　spherical　radar　dome；　probably　the　Natya；　rolling　noticeably　with　the　beam　seas。　To　house　her　sixteen　SS…18　missiles；　the　Russian　sub　had　a　sloped　turtleneck；　and　from　directly　aft　it　looked　like　a　highway　ramp。　An　ungainly　design；　the　Delta；　but　she　had　to　survive　only　long　enough　to　launch　her　missiles；　and　the　Americans　had　no　doubt　that　her　missiles　worked　just　fine。
〃Look　at　that；　they　blew　her　so　high　half　her　screws　are　clear；〃　the　XO　pointed。
〃Navigator；　how　far　to　shallow　water？〃
〃Along　this　channel；　a　minimum　of　twenty…four　fathoms　for