Jazani canted his head and waved dismissive fingers.
“We weren’t the only ones who heard the explosion, sir. There were a total of five assets, including two other submarines. The data’s accurate. The Americans should be here.”
“But they’re not, are they?”
The short man shook his head.
“The dolphins didn’t find them, our swarm of submarines haven’t heard them, and divers can’t see them. We know we hit something right here, but there’s no sign of it. What does it mean?”
The executive officer shrugged. “The obvious answer is that we hit a decoy.”
Jazani grunted. “Too easy. That’s the lazy answer, and I’m sure many of our brethren are tempted to think that way, but fortunately our admiralty isn’t.”
“I understand that, sir, but I think that sending fifteen submarines, ten surface ships, and half a dozen helicopters to search four-hundred miles of water is too much.”
“How can any amount be too much, given the quarry?”
“If we present too many targets to the Americans, they may be tempted to shoot back.”
The Ghadir’s commander snorted. “That risk is business as usual in these waters. I prefer to verify the result of our torpedo rather than lazily assume its failure.”
The thin technician curled forward and pressed his muffs against his ears. After several seconds, he announced his findings. “I’ve got something. American Virginia-class propulsion noise. I’m sending the bearing to the system.”
As the technician tapped a key, Jazani watched a line form on his monitor. “XO, get this information to the task force on a data feed. Secure snorkeling. I have the deck and the conn. Coming right to course two-two-zero.”
“I’ve sent the data to the task force, sir.”
Fearing a trap and an incoming American weapon, Jazani moved cautiously. “XO, lower all masts and antennas. I’m slowing us to three knots and bringing us down to twenty-five meters.”
As the deck dipped and then leveled, the spikes representing narrowband sounds from the target rose above their noise floors.
After analyzing the data for ten minutes, Jazani risked believing he’d found an American submarine, but doubts lingered. “XO, how much faith do you have in our wave front curvature algorithms?”
“For the usual fast Americans, not much. But I see your point. This one’s hardly moving. That gives the integrators time to process the phase differences between our towed hydrophones.”
Jazani rubbed his palms. “If I believe it, it’s three miles away making three knots towards us.”
“Agreed.”
“I’m coming shallow to share the data with the task force.”
“You don’t want to shoot, sir?”
Unsure of the truth within his heart, Jazani gave the dutiful response. “Our orders are to find, not to sink. A helicopter’s better positioned to handle it.”
The executive officer grunted. “That’s an opinion, sir, but I commend your loyalty to our superiors for stating it as a fact.”
“You’d prefer to launch a weapon yourself?”
“I’d like it to be an option.”
“Don’t be so quick to dole out death. And don’t be so quick to believe that we’ve really found what we’re looking for.”
“I want to find our wounded animal, and it seems to be limping towards us. Why should I be so quick to ignore a gift?”
“Because I doubt it’s a gift. I suspect a curse. Wounded or not, American submarines at three knots can’t be heard from three miles away. Keep your head on straight and be thankful that we’re not tasked to engage it.”
Twenty minutes later, the talkative technician called out. “I hear our helicopter over the target. It’s lowering its dipping sonar. And now, it’s emitting active pings.”
Jazani eyed his monitor, which showed a history of the American noises following a straight line at three knots. “These aviators waste no time announcing themselves.” To his surprise, the American target continued along its path, despite the airborne hunters broadcasting their sonar search.
The thin technician became animated. “Two loud splashes.”
Jazani half-stood from his seat. “Air-dropped weapons?”
“I don’t hear any screws, sir.”
“What the devil…” Not wearing his headset, Jazani tapped an icon on his screen, unmuted an overhead microphone, and called out. “Task force commander, this is Shark One. Over.”
Seconds later, a deep voice issued from the speaker above him. “Shark One, this is task force commander. Go ahead. Over.”
“I just heard two drops from Angel Three hitting the water. What’s going on? Over.”
“Angel Three is dropping divers. Over.”
“Understand divers. Out.” Jazani considered his non-submarining comrades foolish until he thought through the scenario. He realized divers in fins could catch a three-knot contact, and the best sensors to identify the target were flashlights and eyeballs.
Shaking his head, the executive officer faced his boss. “I guess we’re just observers again, sir?”
“For the moment. But keep observing. I consider this deep drama in shallow waters.”
“You should be a poet, sir. A poet-warrior.”
“I’ll settle for a warrior, if, as you wish, I’m ever allowed to shoot a weapon.”
“That may require a lot of patience.”
“Patience is the hallmark of a good submariner.”
Fifteen minutes later, the executive officer announced his assessment of an updated data feed. “I’m afraid I may have misjudged the situation.”
Jazani glanced at the incoming news, which identified the submerged target as an American unmanned undersea vehicle. “We have a major fleet exercise looking for a wounded American submarine, but all we can find is a robot.”
“There’s more, sir. If you keep reading, the frigate’s going to launch a Hoot at the robot. We’re tasked to track the Hoot.”
Survival instincts compelled Jazani to check the geometry between the relevant vessels to verify his Ghadir was clear of the supercavitating torpedo’s future track. Convinced of his safety, he looked at his second-in-command. “Tell the task force we acknowledge the tasking and will support it.”
“I’m sending the acknowledgement, sir.”
Ten minutes later, Jazani received the launch announcement and pressed muffs over his ears. A splash preceded the hiss of the submerged weapon’s self-generated steam shroud as it accelerated to its sustained speed of two hundred knots. “Impressive.” On his monitor, lines of bearing to the Hoot fanned away from his ship, following the torpedo towards the robot. To his dismay, the weapon raced by its target. “That’s a miss. Let the task force know.”
His executive officer stirred. “I’m typing the note and sending it, sir. Shall I recommend that we handle this ourselves with a Type 53 torpedo?”
“Don’t embarrass us like that. You know the fleet wants to do this with our newest homegrown weapon. Instead, recommend that they dial down the speed against such a small target.”
“I will, sir.”
Five minutes later, Jazani heard the half-speed Hoot, running at only twice the speed of a conventional torpedo, detonate under the American robot. “That’s a hit. Can anyone hear evidence of the robot’s sinking?”
Two young heads shook.
The short officer summarized the lack of evidence. “The robot’s parts are too small to hear. There’d be nothing left but shards. No compartments collapsing. No air escaping. Just like rocks falling.”
“Very well. Inform the task force of the obvious. There’s one less American robot infesting our waters.”
After the executive officer sent the message, he became animated. “Sir, check the data feed. Shark Four just picked up a submerged contact making the same sounds we heard. Another Virginia-class propulsion plant. Except this one isn’t moving.”