By Dawn's Early Light by David Hagberg Page B

“Ease left on the helm.”
    Seawolf ’s starboard heel began to lessen as the helmsman backed off the rate of turn. Their heading passed west-southwest, and the five digital and one analog compasses in the control room all settled slowly on due west.
    â€œOur new course is two-seven-zero degrees. Passing two hundred feet.”
    Flank speed submerged was forty-six knots, which was a highly classified figure. But the trick in this maneuver was to maintain that exact speed. With the reactor putting out 110 percent power at straight and level, Seawolf could achieve her top speed within less than one mile from a standing start. Diving at a sharp angle, however, could add an extra four or five knots.
    Alvarez played a delicate balancing act. Seawolf entered a highly unstable zone between forty-eight and fifty knots, in which she was susceptible to pitching downward so violently that recovery was theoretically impossible. The submarine could carry them beyond the crush depth.
    Dillon had spent a lot of time thinking about the problem. Under certain combat conditions, when they were trying to outrun an enemy torpedo, for instance, they could end up in such a situation. He had developed a maneuver that worked three times out of five in the model tank. He didn’t know if he cared to try it in reality, but it was there.
    â€œPassing three hundred feet,” Alvarez reported. He picked up the growler phone at his position, and said something to the engine room officer that Dillon couldn’t make out. He probably asked for a specific number of propeller revolutions to maintain flank speed on the way down.
    â€œPassing four hundred feet.”
    Dillon made his way around the periscope pedestal to the plotting tables, where the assistant navigation officer, Ensign Howard “Buster” Brown, was keeping the dead-reckoning paper plot with the compass readings, speed of advance (SOA) that they took from the boat’s external sensors, and a stopwatch. Twice during each six-hour watch, the DR plot was checked against the sub’s inertial guidance system’s position. Their position was updated when they could get a surface fix as well: satellite, celestial, radio beacon, radar, and visual.
    Before they got into the Indian Ocean and up into the Bay of Bengal they would have to thread the needle through the Mariana Islands, south through the Philippines, then Indonesia, the lesser Sunda Islands, and finally the Timor Sea. Land masses, reefs, shallows, sea mounts, and warships from a dozen countries would be in their way. All of it negotiated at flank speed. Their initial plots would have to be right on the money.
    Brown, a heavyset young man built like a tree trunk with deep-set dark eyes and close-cropped black hair, was next up for SOAC (submarine officers advanced course). His next billet would be as a section head; probably as chief navigation officer. The man was precise. Which was why Dillon had suggested to Alvarez that Brown start their plot.
    â€œDid you get a reliable fix before we submerged?” Dillon asked.
    â€œYes, sir. I got a couple of good star shots, two independent satellite fixes, three radar bearings on the island, and I’ll do bottom profiling on each leg.”
    â€œThis will be a tight one, Buster. I don’t think I’ll be able to get you a surface fix until we’re on station. I want you to double-check everybody else’s work.”
    Brown grinned happily. “I’m on it, skipper.”
    â€œPassing five hundred feet,” Alvarez announced. “Ease your angle on the planes.”
    Seawolf ’s depth was taken from her keel amidships. Since her length was in excess of three hundred feet it meant that her bows were already approaching six hundred feet. The boat would have to be leveled out, her ballast tanks adjusted so that she would skid to a stop at precisely six hundred feet.
    Alvarez had been aboard less than six months, but already he