“Roger,” Hector answered. “Still a thousand yards out and fifty above.” The ball was still hugging the top of the box, threatening to break out. “Seven minutes to touchdown.”

“Got you, boss. Signal strength on the Grishas is now at forty-four. They’re going to see Toledo pretty soon if they haven’t already.”

Gonzales nodded. Nothing he could do about that except to get latched to Toledo as fast as possible so they could scram. He was doing that. The mini-sub drifted to the left. He nursed the stick just a hair, adjusting the ASDV’s course to compensate for the crosscurrent.

“Current’s picking up something fierce. That’s going to make this damned interesting,” Gonzales said drily. He didn’t take his eyes off the screen.

The going seemed painfully, maddeningly slow, but the mini-sub moved unerringly toward its mother sub.

“There she is!” Donlan called out. “Just coming on the screen now.”

On the television monitor, the Toledo emerged from the hazy gray background. She looked like a huge black whale gliding through the depths.

“Home sure looks good,” Donlan commented.

Gonzales grunted. His attention was fixed on bringing the mini-sub over the after hatch on Toledo. The crosscurrent was getting worse, pushing him sideways and forcing him to compensate, like an airplane pilot making a landing in a powerful crosswind.

“Mama, Baby holds you visually. Range twenty yards. Stand by for touchdown.”

“Roger, Baby. Mama standing by.”

Gonzales eased back on the throttle, matching Toledo’s speed until he was hovering just above the big sub.

He stole a glance over at Donlan and smiled. “Almost there. Flood down five hundred.”

Donlan reached over to the ballast control panel, on the console between the two pilots, and flipped a switch. Water flooded into the depth control tank, forcing the ASDV to sink. The copilot watched the meter count off five hundred pounds of water flooding in. He flipped the switch back, shutting the flood valve.

“Five hundred flooded.”

“Good. Almost at touchdown.”

The ASDV settled down onto Toledo’s broad back.

“Mama, Baby has touched down. Engaging latch.”

The mechanical linkage swung into place, locking the ASDV to the mother sub.

“Sam, pump down the transfer skirt.”

“Baby, sonar reports the Grishas are increasing speed and still coming this way. We need to scoot. Are you locked down?”

“Mama, Baby is locked down. Let’s get the hell out of here.”

Chapter 41