Graf Zeppelin must have died, and other ships must surely be burning with the fire of war.
Adler came to his side, both men on the weather deck, staring at the scene in silence. “Perhaps that is good news, Admiral,” he suggested. “That British battleship may have blown up!”
“That has to be over a mile high,” said Lütjens, gazing, beset with a deep inner feeling of misgiving. That was no storm, not on a day like this. That was death and destruction, but what on earth could have caused it?
“Send to Topp at once. Can he see that? What has happened?”
Then he felt the upwelling of the sea, just as all the others, which did little to still the feeling of disaster that was rising with that cloud on the horizon. It was not long before he saw what he had feared. The scoring of rocket trails in the sky, lancing up and speeding away towards the distant battle he now hastened to join.
They are here, he thought with some alarm. Yet we believed the Invincible was well to the southeast. Could those spotting reports we had be in error? He needed to know, and immediately ordered an Arado seaplane launched to overfly the battle ahead and report positions of anything in the vicinity. He knew that was risky. Those rockets could strike down aircraft as easily as they pummeled ships. He stiffened with a sudden chill, though the morning was not all that cold. The moment Adler returned he put his squadron on air alert, not for planes that might soon come, but for those rockets that would surely seek his own ships if they persisted on this course.
“Rockets,” said Adler. “Topp reports three hits—all from those rockets, but the damage is controllable. He does not know what has happened with that eruption, nor do I. What could it be, Admiral?”
Lütjens gave the scene another narrow eyed look, his face grim. “Three trails in the sky, and three hits. Such accuracy! If we could do that with our guns we would destroy anything we encounter. And here we get yet another report of these rockets striking with unfailing accuracy. Whatever means they have discovered for guiding these rockets, it is the greatest breakthrough of the war. Now it comes down to what we discussed earlier, Adler. Just how many rockets do they have out there? And how many hits can we absorb before we get into gun range? The ship will come to battle stations. Now we see what that new armor may do for us. Tell the Chief of Engineers that he may deploy his hydraulics. And as for you, Captain, in another half hour you get your battle.”
* * *
Elena Fairchild was now on the bridge, her eyes also pulled to the rising column of steam and vapor on the horizon. MacRae explained it in frank starkness.
“It’s one hell of a donnybrook out there, and who knows where it might have come from. Mack thinks the Russians got spooked and made a bad call. In any case, they believed they were in jeopardy, and they lit one off.”
“Lit one off?”
“That has to be fifteen to twenty kilotons out there,” said MacRae. “Probably fired it on one of their Type-65s. Believe it or not, that would be standard operating procedure against a major threat in our day. It’s the one warhead that would be almost certain to take out the target, even if they missed. This is what Morgan thinks.”
“They got that spooked? From a U-boat contact? I thought this Russian sub was the best they had.”
“That’s the odd thing,” said MacRae. “They sent us a flash radio message saying they thought they had an Astute Class sub on their tail. I know it sounds crazy, but our man Haley says he thinks he heard torpedoes in the water—Spearfish. Those are British weapons, but from our time, so this message is starting to have a nice ripe smell.”
That took Elena by surprise. “A modern British submarine? Here? How did it get here?”
“I was thinking to ask you that myself,” said MacRae. “They wouldn’t happen to have another box and key like the one you’ve fished out of Delphi, now would they?”
Elena had a strange feeling now. She found herself staring at the sea outside, the tall lowering cloud in the distance chilling as it overshadowed the scene. It was as if the power and dreadful terror of the next war made all they were doing here in this one