“You know why. You trained them to deploy explosives. Now is not the time to protest capitalizing upon their abilities.”
“Why did you bother getting a torpedo ready if you’re going to use my babies?”
“Contingency. Backup in case my tactical assets — and let’s be clear that they’re my assets and not your babies — fail.”
The trainer said nothing.
“I can do this without you. The basic commands to the dolphins are mapped into my tactical system, and my operators recognize them even if I don’t. I’ll use them if you don’t comply within the next ten seconds.”
“Yes! Yes! Better that I do this, if they are to survive.”
“Very well, order the approach”
Recorded whistles. Mammalian response.
“They’ve confirmed,” the trainer said. “They’re accelerating towards the target.”
Volkov locked eyes with his sonar operator, who nodded his overheard concurrence of the communications exchange.
As the animals’ usefulness unfolded, so did Volkov’s memory of their abilities. He recalled that cameras atop their body harnesses could capture images of the target to confirm its identity.
“Very well. I want a dark photograph first, without a flash to alert the target. Then I will assess.”
“A dark photograph first,” the trainer said. “Got it. I will send the order.”
After the dolphins confirmed, the trainer tapped his fingers on the console.
“Why so nervous?” Volkov asked. “You trained them for this exact activity.”
“I don’t like it. The explosives may trigger early. The Ukrainians may have weapons to use against them. God knows what fate you’re making me send them towards.”
“Instead of fretting, you should expect to soon be proud of your achievement. Their explosives will protect the lifeline to Crimea from our adversary with little to no trace of our involvement.”
“Perhaps, but I still worry.”
Volkov turned and walked to the elevated conning platform at the compartment’s rear. He sank into his foldout captain’s chair.
“Get a report of their location.”
Three series of transmitted recordings spurred mammalian responses.
“The distance to the lead dolphin is ten thousand yards,” the sonar operator said. “Bearing is three-four-two. Updating the chart.”
Volkov watched the whale icon shift on the liquid crystal display beside his forearm. Velocity data appeared above it.
“They’re moving at eleven knots,” he said.
“Any faster, and you risk muscle cramps while they’re fully loaded,” the trainer said. “They can’t sprint the distance. So they’re pacing themselves at optimum speed.”
“Very well.”
“They’ll be in camera range in twenty minutes, ignoring the uncertainty of the distance.”
“How can you most quickly remove that uncertainty?”
“I trained them to announce when they pass a distance boundary, either from long range to medium range or medium range to short. They’ll tell us when they’ve closed within a mile.”
Periodic solicited dolphin chirps updated their icon on the chart. Volkov’s anxiety grew as the animals passed over the expected location of the target, but he exercised restraint to avoid stating his concern about the positional inaccuracy.
Then the unsolicited chirp arrived.
“They’re within a mile of the target,” the trainer said. “Four minutes until dark photograph range.”
Four minutes later, Volkov ordered the image. The ship’s recorded chirp told the lead dolphin to point its nose at the target for three seconds while the camera atop its head snapped a picture of the dark depths.
He recognized the new sound of crackling shrimp, the camera’s signal that simulated the sea’s biological noises, pulsing through the loudspeakers. Given the low baud rate, he expected five minutes to form the full image.
“Order the dolphins to hold their position,” he said.
The trainer complied.
As the synthetic shrimp symphony sounded, a grainy picture took form on Volkov’s display. He noticed the trainer glaring at the same image evolving at his console.
“Doesn’t that bright narrow triangular area appear to be artificial lighting?” Volkov asked.
“It’s too soon to tell,” the trainer said.
“I don’t share your pessimism. I’ve determined that the target has a light source and is conducting illegal sabotage activity. Since we used no flash and kept the photograph dark, the target is not alerted. The dolphins will have an uncontested approach. Prepare them for explosives deployment.”
The heightened anticipation kindled Volkov’s memory of the dolphins’ capabilities. He envisioned one sliding its snout into the carrying strap of the bomb attached forward of the dorsal fin of its partner.
A chirp announced the completion of each animal’s arming.
“They’re ready to lay explosives,” the trainer said.
“Very well, deploy the explosives.”
As the trainer reached to relay the order, a new pattern of mammalian sounds filled the room.
“What’s that?” Volkov asked.
“The new threat signal,” the trainer said.
“Belay my last order. Hold the dolphins.”
The trainer tapped a command and then suspended his hands above the console.
“I’ve stopped them.”
“What sort of threat?” Volkov asked.
“Submerged, of course. That’s the only type they report unsolicited.”
“I need data. Bearing and range, just as before. Gather the data, and don’t wait for me to approve each message. The timing is too critical due to the threat to the pipeline.”
The trainer began the exchange with the animals.
“Sir,” the sonar operator said, “I hear the new threat now. High-speed screws, but very faint.”
“Faint?” Volkov asked. “Meaning at great distance?”
“No, sir. More like very small with minimal shaft torque.”
“Could it be another submersible?”
“I don’t think so. It’s more like small craft. Two of them. In fact, I just lost the signal.”
The dolphins’ data revealed a twin threat. Two small, mechanized, and hostile targets to the south materialized. When the icon appeared on his screen, Volkov surmised the coordination of the sabotage.
“They’re attacking the bridge, too,” he said. “Split the dolphins. Send one to the south to assess the threat to the bridge. Have one continue with the attack on the submersible near the pipeline.”
“Splitting is impossible,” the trainer said. “There’s no such order or concept. They’re a team, and you may as well ask me to order this submarine split in half.”
“Very well. Have them take out the submersible with just one detonator. I want to save the other for the threat to the bridge.”
“Again, I can’t order one to act without the other. They either plant explosives together or they do not.”
“Damn it, then. Have them plant the explosives on the submersible near the pipeline.”
As the trainer set the dolphins into their attack, Volkov ordered the Krasnodar to periscope depth. The deck rocked in the shallow sea’s swells.
“Raise the radio mast,” he said.
An enlisted man seated at a control console at the front of the compartment tapped a screen, and Volkov heard hydraulic valves clunk over his head.
A red light from a transceiver box mounted over his head signaled his connectivity with a nearby ship that relayed his voice to the Black Sea Fleet headquarters. He yanked a handset down towards his mouth.
“Wolf Den, this is Wolf One. Over.”
An amplified voice issued from the transceiver.
“Wolf One, this is Wolf Den. Over.”
“Wolf Den, Wolf One. I’ve found a submersible with artificial lighting near our pipeline. I need verification that we have no authorized work being done on the pipeline. Over.”