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“What is the target?”
“The waterline,” Murph said. “Not the open cargo holds.”
“Remember,” Max said, “we want to sink the ship, not ignite the rockets. We’ll fire five rounds. That should put her under quickly.”
“I’ll target three in the bow and two in the stern,” MacD said.
The image slewed around to the bow. A green dot appeared on the screen. It was centered under the name CENTAURUS stenciled on the bow.
Max waited for Murph to confirm that the ship’s computer had automatically calculated the proper firing solution for the round.
He remained silent. Max could see that his chest was heaving.
“Mark,” he said. “We need to do this.”
Murph finally said, “Target acquired.”
“Fire.”
The Oregon shuddered as the rail gun launched its tungsten shell.
“Round one away,” Murph said. “Loading round two.”
* * *
—
Linda had repositioned the Gator another hundred yards away from the Centaurus. MacD was standing in the hatch with his eyes focused through the laser designator.
With the Oregon seven miles out to sea it would take five seconds for the hypersonic round to reach the target. The shell was unguided, so it was on a ballistic trajectory. MacD didn’t have to activate the laser again until he was selecting the next target.
Unlike in the movies, there was no high-pitched whistle to announce the incoming round. As if out of nowhere, a gaping hole was torn in the bow of the Centaurus. There was no explosive in the shell. It was purely a solid hunk of metal. The kinetic energy of the round did all the damage. Water poured through the black maw.
The sonic boom of the round’s shock wave followed immediately after, rattling the Gator.
“Successful hit,” MacD said with no satisfaction.
“Acquire target two,” Max said.
MacD adjusted the laser sternward under the first crane.
“Ready.”
“Firing.”
MacD waited another five seconds. It was as if he had drawn a bull’s-eye on the ship. The shell ripped through the hull like it was made of crepe paper.
The bow of the Centaurus was already settling into the water.
“Keep going,” Max said.
The next round went under cargo bay two. Three rounds, three targets hit. If it hadn’t been in service of such an awful purpose, MacD would have been overjoyed at the display of the Corporation’s teamwork and engineering skill.
He moved back to the superstructure, placing a round directly below the bridge at the waterline. Finally, he hit the stern right above the propellers.
Normally, MacD would expect Max to say something like, “Nice work.” That seemed inappropriate given the situation.
Instead, Max said, “We’re done.”
