“It’s always scared me, but I admit I’m addicted to the adventure. May I check on my babies now?”
Volkov waved his hand. “Yes. Go. I’m sorry to have kept you from them.”
Light on the balls of his feet, the trainer bounced away.
Turning to the monitors by his seat, the Wraith’s commander saw his boss’ face and attempted a greeting in English. “Hello, Pierre.”
Renard impressed him by switching to Russian. “My friend, how are you?”
Volkov used simple phrases in his native language. “It’s good to hear you speak Russian.”
“You know I can manage when I must. Speak slowly, or I will fail to understand.”
“I want to submerge.” The Wraith’s commander dipped his rigid hand below the surface of an imagery body of water.
“Why?”
“Sick.” The Russian tapped his stomach.
“Soon.” A shadow overfell the Frenchman’s face. “I must say something important without your translator. I can buy new submarines. I cannot buy new people. Be safe.”
Volkov interpreted the message as permission to live at the expense of the Wraith. “That’s kind of you to say.”
“It is true. It is false for the Goliath. Impossible to replace. It is true for the Wraith and Specter. I have friends and money. I can buy new Scorpènes.”
“I’m coming back with your ship and your employees.”
“I hope so. I told Jake the same.”
“Good. Should I call my translator?”
“Yes. And your rider.”
Volkov summoned his translator along with the guest from the American navy and then studied Renard’s surroundings in the display. With bodies walking behind his boss, he placed the seated Frenchman in a busy conference room. “Where are you?”
“It’s a special area for emergencies. They call it a ‘crisis response’ room.”
Bleary-eyed from sleep, the translator arrived and sat next to his commanding officer. “Good evening. Or is it morning?”
“It’s morning for us, evening for Pierre, I believe. He’s in Bahrain with the American Fifth Fleet.”
The translator looked at Renard, exchanged words in English, and updated his commanding officer. “It’s almost midnight for him. He’s hailing Jake and Terry now.”
Moments later, a uniformed American naval officer who had surprised the Wraith’s commander with the beauty of his pronunciation of Russian words, educated at the Defense Language Institute Foreign Language Center, joined him in the control room. “Good morning, Mister Volkov.”
“And to you, Commander Hatcher.”
The faces of the other ship’s commanders appeared on monitors, and the conversation became a drone of English.
The translator intervened. “Pierre wants us to be the rearguard. Jake will patrol ahead on the Pakistani side of the Indiana.”
Volkov sipped soda water and burped. “That means I’m riding on Terry’s back for another hour.”
“I’m afraid so. He wants you to use the dolphins and drones to search behind you for Iranian submarines as you trail the Indiana eastward. Jake will search ahead. The American submarine California will hover over the Indiana.”
“Hover and do what?”
“Jake’s asking that question now.”
The American requested, and the Frenchman answered.
“Pierre says the Indiana’s making two knots eastward over ground by dragging itself backwards and will continue to do so until Terry loads it. The California will patrol circles around the Indiana listening for threats. Any threats will be shared by an acoustic datalink between all five ships, as distance permits. There will also be a constant broadcast of data via radio, available whenever you can raise a mast. The Americans have dedicated assets to continuously transmit a low-frequency broadcast so that we’ll always have low-baud data, even while deep.”
Volkov questioned the underwater datalink. “How proven is the submarine-to-submarine communications system?”
The Wraith’s rider seemed confident, and as a submarine officer, he demonstrated his domain knowledge. “It’s quite reliable, as long as the ships are in the same acoustic layer, which you will be in this shallow water. Any hydrophone on the equipped ships can listen, and it broadcasts from your bow and underwater phone systems. The coverage has proven effective in our usage.”
While the translator summarized in English the American rider’s assessment, Volkov recalled his testing of the digital acoustic communication system between the Wraith and the Specter before he’d boarded the Goliath. With cautious optimism, he considered it impressive but withheld final judgment pending its use in the real world. He returned his attention to the conversation among the commanders.
Renard spoke, and the translator relayed his words. “Expect the Iranians to have orders to sink mercenary ships but not American ships. They fear war with America but not with an upstart navy. Therefore, you and Jake are free to use slow-kill weapons liberally, not just in self-defense but also in defending the Indiana. And every submerged Iranian submarine is considered a threat to the Indiana. Use of heavyweights is restricted.”
Volkov grunted his acknowledgement.
The translator continued reciting Renard’s orders. “The California will be in charge of all ships. We’ll take orders from its commanding officer, but if his order conflicts with Pierre’s policies on weapons release or safety of ship, each mercenary fleet commander will give priority to Pierre’s policies. The Americans have agreed to this.”
The Wraith’s commander studied Jake’s face for signs of irritation in the California’s primacy displacing him as the first among commanders, but the American showed no ire.
“When Terry has the Indiana in his cargo bed, he’ll inform the California, and all five ships will escape to the south to international waters, and then the captain of the California will determine the best route to friendly waters, based upon threat assessments.”
Trying to appease his uneasy stomach, Volkov shifted his weight in his seat. “Let’s just get on with it.”
“Do you want me to translate that?”
“No.”
“Don’t worry. Pierre just said we’ll submerge after this conversation and then deploy Jake.”
Taking solace in the pending relief from the rolling, Volkov called to the solitary watchman he’d stationed in the control room. “Pass the word to man the ship’s propulsion and control watches.”
An hour later, the Goliath dragged its two-submarine cargo below the waves while Volkov watched water slosh over the transport ship’s cameras. The monitor portraying Renard’s likeness turned black. Minutes ticked away slowly as the deck stabilized underneath the waves.
In English, Cahill mentioned something the translator relayed despite its obviousness. The Australian was releasing Jake’s ship.
On the screens, Volkov watched underwater floodlights bathe his ship’s twin, the Specter, in whiteness. Hydraulic rams rotated from the submarine, and then the freed vessel began its gentle ascent.
Managing the water weight underneath the departing vessel, Cahill shared his confidence in the Goliath. “Jake’s free, and I’m maintaining depth control. No problem. I’m taking us down to sixty meters to clear under him.”