Squirming in discomfort, the executive officer glanced around the table for support from his juniors. The nods he received compelled him to speak. “We discussed this. If they catch on, then it’s a tough road ahead. They’ll realize we’re attached to the bottom, and they won’t need to know where we are, because they’ll know that we’re going to Pakistan.”
“Not sure I follow you. Is it really that obvious?”
“They’ll know that we can’t cross the Gulf of Oman.”
“Why not? From where we are, we could theoretically drag ourselves to the bottom of the gulf and back up again. What are we looking at? Six hundred feet at the deepest point? The question would be if our power output could get us up the other side.”
“That’s right, sir. And we’d also be at risk of sliding and rolling on the way down this side of the gulf. I don’t think we can change depth anymore, so to speak. The Iranians may think we’re crazy enough to try it, but we’re not. We need to follow the bottom at a constant depth, and they’ll probably figure that out. So, they’ll look for us along their two-hundred-foot line.”
Causey appreciated the thorough thoughts from his second-in-command and probed further. “In that case, they still have to consider that we could backtrack to the Strait of Hormuz and then cross to Omani water, right? That would be a lot shorter than heading to Pakistan.”
“We could, sir, but that’s right back into a legion of submarines. Their numbers are just too dangerous to head back into the center of their power.”
“Good conclusion. Keep going.”
“We also can’t head north, because that only beaches us on the Iranian coast.”
Again, Causey probed further. “That’s the shortest path to surfacing and simplifying any attempt at repairs. Have you considered how fast we could weld the damage enough to make us seaworthy again?”
Revealing his fear of failure, the executive officer stared blankly. “No, sir.”
“Don’t worry. Neither have I. But it’s an option we need to consider. When you’re in the spaces next, check with our mechanical division chief about the possibility. Also check with the dive team about underwater repairs and have them draw up a plan. I discussed it with them briefly.”
“Yes, sir.”
Causey lowered his nose to the chart. “If the Iranians figure out the truth, they’d be smart ambush us somewhere to the east. It’s our least risky way to safe waters.”
“There’s not much we can do about that without help, sir.”
The conversation headed in the direction the Indiana’s commander had predicted. “Then we should request help. If we can get some confidence about where we’re going and that we’re not leaving a trail, we can tell the fleet what we need.”
Again, the blank stare. “But any help we’d get would require illegal entry into Iranian waters, captain. We’d be asking the fleet to risk starting a war for us.”
Before Causey answered, a loud scraping noise, like metal abrading concrete, grated his ears. He cringed. “Damn.”
“We’re running over something, sir.”
“No shit. I hope it’s not as loud outside as inside.”
“I wouldn’t dare to guess, sir. But it’s bad. We have to hope for the ‘large ocean concept’ to protect us from being heard.”
Half a minute after it had started, the noise stopped, but it had felt like an eternity of acoustic vulnerability. “Large ocean concept. God help us if that fails us. If any Iranian naval asset was nearby, these waters are going to get small really fast.”
“I think that was bedrock, sir. Our luck with mud and sediment ran out for a while. On the bright side, it reminds us how lucky we are that the bottom is mostly soft.”
Slowly, Causey nodded. “Agreed. But this is also a reminder that we need help. To your point about sending warships into Iranian water, the rules of engagement for the cavalry are someone else’s decision, if the cavalry comes.”
“I’m sure they’ll do something, sir.”
The Indiana’s commander leaned forward and lowered his voice. “Get with the Cob, and have him check with the chiefs. Make a list of sailors, by name, who you’d send off the ship and in which order. There may be an opportunity for rescue and abandoning the ship.”
“I’ll do it, sir, but do you really think that’s an option? I can’t imagine the fleet letting us leave our ship in Iranian waters for them to take home and reverse engineer.”
“I’ve got enough to think about without figuring it out for them, but shame on us if that’s the order and we’re not ready.”
The executive officer furrowed his brow. “I suppose that could happen, and once we’re all off, the fleet could blow up our ship to prevent the Iranians from having it.”
“Maybe, but it’s speculation. At this point, I’m committed to getting one hundred and forty-two sailors home with a salvageable ship. If it requires dragging us backwards all the way to Pakistan, that’s what I’ll do.”
CHAPTER 7
His submarine rocking on the Goliath’s cargo deck, Dmitry Volkov steadied himself against a railing. “Seasickness is one reason I prefer being underwater.”
With the Wraith above the waves, its commanding officer needed little help in his control room, but he welcomed his friend’s presence. The lithe form of his ship’s dolphin trainer crouched, and pitying eyes looked at him. “You must feel terrible, Dmitry. You’re turning green.”
Volkov’s nausea was persistent but mild. “I don’t always get this way. It must look worse than it is.”
“I’m sure that riding backwards doesn’t help.”
“It’s the only way Terry can carry two submarines.”
“Have you tried facing backwards, so that he’s pulling you forwards?”
“I did for a bit, but it didn’t help. I’ll be fine once we submerge.”
“That reminds me. My babies are probably unhappy with this incessant rocking. I need to check on them.” The trainer stood and strode away.
The Wraith’s commander stopped his friend. “Vasily?”
“Yes?”
“Are you ready to use your dolphins for this?”
Frowning, the lithe man placed his hands on his hips. “Why would you ask?”
“The water’s shallow and noisy. It’ll be hard for them to hear, and there may be a lot of targets to confuse them.”
“Smart targets, like the Israelis?”
Volkov shrugged. “Perhaps. I don’t want to underestimate the Iranians.”
“Ever since Israel, I’m scared of losing my babies. But I believe I can talk them home from any distraction through the drones.”
“You’ve gained confidence. That’s good. You can’t worry about every possible problem, or you’ll go mad.”
“But you look like you’re worrying.”
Volkov scoffed. “That’s the burden of command.”
“It’s worse after what happened to the Goliath, isn’t it?”
The Wraith’s commander remembered the theft of the mercenary fleet’s flagship. Doubt had pervaded his crew when an assailant had hijacked the transport vessel, but the dour mood of Volkov’s sailors had been euphoric compared to the morbid victimhood overshadowing Cahill’s men. “I believe our crew’s fine. Terry’s crew may be a different story. Three of his technicians quit after the hijacking, and he’s barely had time to train replacements.”
“All the crews have some attrition. Once a man has his wealth, he must decide if he’s willing to stomach the ongoing danger. I can’t fault them for leaving.”
His nausea worsening with the increased rolling, Volkov grunted. “You are wise, Vasily. I trust that you and your dolphins have judged the continued risk acceptable.”