Cameron Poe - Red Agenda

“Damage?”

All ships operations reported normal.

“Bump. Where is that bastard?”

“He headed up. From the sound, he’s hurt pretty bad.”

It was the first good news Jim had heard since leaving the States. “You think the fight’s out of him?”

Bumper responded, “I don’t know, but it sounds like he has a real mess on his hands.”

Mikhail emerged from the bulkhead. “Follow him up and board him.”

“Could be going to fire another missile,” Lincoln thought out loud.

“Nonsense.” Mikhail snorted. “He’s finished, and he knows it. Go up and contact him. Get the crew off and sink the bastard.”

“Take her up nice and easy. Ahead slow, right rudder.”

The War Eagle began her climb. The steerage officer turned around. “Sir, rudder is nonfunctional.”

Then Jim knew what had happened. The torpedo had hit the fin and detonated. Most of the explosion had passed harmlessly over the narrow stern of the ship, but he was convinced his rudder was probably gone. “Take her to one hundred feet, Linc. Then put Froggy in the drink.” He referred to their frogman, who would assess the damage underwater. “Let’s not show ourselves—yet.”

It was a credit to his leadership that no one panicked. Nick could see that. They still were all very scared, though the Fathometer was unwinding. Soon they’d hit the top, and the ship would right itself.

Everyone hung on. There was little control in their ascent, and they all prayed just to make it up. Sasha read off the depth as she climbed, and the travel became faster as the pressure lessened. Then they surfaced, fell over, and settled into a sever list on the port side, bow down.

A collective sigh went throughout the sub.

“Secure all stations,” Andri barked. “Keep up emergency pumping until I understand the extent of our damage. Sonar? Sonar report.”

There was no response. The bulkheads were sealed, and there was no way for the people in the bow to move back. The computer wouldn’t let them since it read so much damage in the forward part of the ship. Their only hope, if they were alive, were two escape hatches in the nose.

Andri went into action. “Engine room all stop. We’ll assess the damage from the exterior.” He went into the mast of the sail and proceeded to the top. Sasha left his seat and followed.

Nick felt that if he and Marina were to get off the ship it had to be now. He knew the War Eagle was in the area, and he had to take the gamble on them getting away and getting picked up. It was obvious that the Saratov was going to be in trouble for some time, and it wasn’t going to be a good idea to be on her if they were going to be attacked again. He went to the escape pod to get Marina.

Kyle always fancied himself a good gambler. Mostly because he had the uncanny ability to know when a long shot was going to pay off. This was one of those times.

He had hovered in his helicopter twenty feet above the waves, waiting. His copilot had almost convinced him to drop his sonar buoy or leave, when the stern of the Saratov shot through the surface no more than a quarter mile away. The screw was turning madly as it chopped into the air before it lay down. Dumbfounded was the best way to describe his feeling.

Through his binoculars it was apparent that the sub was in a bad way even before she settled. Oil and grease spewed from the gaping hole in the bow. It looked like the nose could separate and fall off at any moment. The deck was ripped open, and the gash was so severe that he could make out several torpedoes strewn around a compartment.

“Holy shit, someone scored a hit,” said his copilot.

It was apparent that the Saratov wasn’t going anywhere, and there was no reason for him to attack. “ Toledo, Toledo. This is Whiskey Bravo Seven. Have hostile in clear sight and holding attack pattern.”

It was Booker who responded. “Describe the ship, Whiskey Bravo.”

“Well, she’s Russian all right. She still holds the Soviet insignia on her sail. Ship has sustained substantial damage to the bow and looks to be inoperable. I’m confident that she’s no threat.”

Kyle waited for further instructions, but none came. “Awaiting your advisement, Toledo .” Still no answer. “ Toledo , still waiting your response, do you read?”

The radio crackled, and an unfamiliar voice came over. “Whiskey Bravo Seven. Drop torpedo and sink the ship.”

“Please repeat, Toledo . Be advised that ship is inoperable.”

“Understood, Whiskey Bravo. Repeat, drop torpedo. Drop torpedo now.”

Kyle had a conflict with his orders on a moral level. They had the sub. It couldn’t fight back. Yet for some reason, the Toledo thought it was still a danger. He placed his thumb on the release button, and the torpedo splashed in the water with a small parachute dangling behind it. Immediately it acquired its target. That’s when Kyle saw two men emerge on the top of the sail.

Andri looked at the damage grimly and waited for Sasha to emerge. There was too much gone for the ship to recover, and he knew it. The next step was in question. There were no options left.

Sasha emerged and looked forward. “How bad is it, Captain?”

“Bad enough. We’ll have to abandon ship and hope we get picked up.”

“What about the enemy?”

“We haven’t been chased to the surface, so there’s a good chance that they, too, are having some difficulty.”

Sasha found it surprising that Andri was taking the sinking of his vessel, his creation, so well. His lifetime work lay before his eyes irreparable, yet he stood fast, showing little emotion. Sasha seemed to feel more defeat than him, and he turned away to compose himself. He gazed astern and caught the wake of the torpedo running across the water. There was no time to speak. Only time to react. He picked Andri up and tossed him into the ocean as the explosion erupted against the Saratov .

Sasha didn’t look back. He slid down the mast to the bridge and closed the hatch behind him. Men were scrambling in all directions, trying everything to keep her afloat as she began to fall uncontrollably.

“Full astern, full astern!” he screamed into the intercom. There was no response. He rushed across the compartment and threw every switch to blow any tanks left, but there weren’t any. The Saratov was sinking like a rock, and everyone on board was going for the ride.

Nick had been trying to coax Marina from the escape pod when the torpedo struck. She had been refusing because she knew there was no way they were getting off without Sasha coming after them. She was crying and on the verge of hysteria when the vessel violently shook.

It threw Nick back into the corridor, and he slammed against the wall, momentarily knocked silly. His next recollection was feeling the attitude of the sub change dramatically, and looking through the small window in the bulkhead door, he saw water pour through a gaping hole in the reactor room. Then he felt Marina tugging at his arm.

“Come on, Nicholas. We’re sinking!”

“I know” was all he could muster.

“Come on. We have to leave. We have to get out before we go under.”

That woke him up. “The lifeboat!”