“Conn, sonar,” sonar operator Thomas said. “Pakistani contact, Sierra Four, now penetrating through the thermocline. She’s at about two hundred feet of depth, still moving under full propulsion.”
“Sonar, conn. Range to the Pakistani?”
“About four thousand yards, Captain. She’s still diving hard but . . . hold on, hold on. That sounds like . . . conn, sonar! Torpedo in the water, bearing zero six eight!” The sonar operator yelled loud enough into the comm that his voice could easily be heard in the control room without it.
“Is the torpedo actively pinging?” the captain said.
“No, sir!” STS3 Thomas said.
The captain spun toward the executive officer. “That means the torpedo is on a wire. Goddammit, they must know right where we are. Helm, all ahead flank, cavitate! Dive control, make yo
