Jets of compressed air blew the two-ton weapons from the tubes as their electric motors came online. In just a few seconds, they were homing in on their target at sixty-plus knots. Cabrillo used the keypad on his chair to switch the view screen to the forward camera. The torpedoes left twin wakes of white bubbling water that streaked away from the ship.

“That second fish will be after us in about three seconds,” he said. “Open the forward redoubt for the Gatling gun, and crank it up.”

A cleverly hidden door at the bow crashed open, and the multi-barrel snout of the Gatling emerged. The cluster of barrels was spun up until they were just a blur. Capable of firing four thousand 20mm tungsten rounds a minute, the weapon had the capability of tearing through enough water to reach the torpedo as it homed in on the ship. They had stopped a similar attack in the Persian Gulf when an Iranian submarine had taken a shot at them.

“Contact. Sonar. Their fish has gone active. Oh, no!”

“What?”

“She’s at three hundred feet.”

Juan understood the implications immediately. Unlike their last fight with a Kilo-class, where the water had been shallow, here the Chinese captain had the sea room to order his torpedo deep and come up on them where a ship is most vulnerable—along the keel. A modern vessel can survive a massive explosion along her flank—witness the USS Cole—but a blast under the hull will snap its spine and usually result in it breaking into two pieces and sinking within minutes.

“Who’s going to win the race?” Cabrillo asked.

“Their fish is inside ours by a hundred and fifty yards and coming at us four knots faster. It’ll hit us a full minute before ours hits him.”

Juan considered and rejected option after option. There simply wasn’t enough time to maneuver away, and the seas were too rough for the Oregon’s unparalleled speed to be a factor.

“Wepps, sound the collision alarm. Eric, I’m transferring helm to my station.”

Over the electronic warble of the alarm came another mechanical sound.

Max, who knew the ship better than anyone, was the first to realize that Juan had opened the big moon-pool doors. He quickly grasped what the Chairman intended. “Are you out of your mind?”

“Got a better idea? So long as that torpedo uses a contact fuse rather than a proximity signal, there’s a chance we can pull it off.”

“And if he does detonate just under the keel?”

“Having the doors open or closed won’t change a thing.” Cabrillo turned to Linda. “You’re my eyes. Guide me into position.”

“What do you want me to do?” She still didn’t understand.