Drawing a plot in his mind, Causey envisioned two imaginary lines from the cable of hydrophones trailing his vessel, the Indiana. Since his towed array sonar system lacked a backstop like the other hydrophones attached to his boat, he had to guess if the sound came from the left or right.
“Sir? Do you want—”
“I heard you. I’m deciding.” The Indiana’s commander considered investing the time of turning to resolve the question, but he had other evidence. Heading sensors spaced along the wire defined the towed array’s deviation from a perfect line, and measurements of phase differences of the frequencies hitting the hydrophones gave clues about the left-right conundrum. The answer on the screens below him agreed with his expectations of the target’s location. “No. I believe the target’s to the northwest.”
“To the northwest, aye, sir.” The supervisor huddled over four sailors to tighten their attention in their commander’s decreed direction.
The Indiana’s commander stepped away from the sonar technicians, creating space for his executive officer to approach the men responsible for listening to the water. As the man stepped in front of him, Causey examined him and considered his qualifications.
With an average build and a softness of physique, the executive officer stank of mediocrity. He’d graduated in the middle of his class in every institution ranging from the United States Naval Academy, Naval Nuclear Power School, and his Prospective Executive Officer Course. Competent, but risk-averse, he lacked a spark, and his speech came with a taciturn reluctance. “By procedure, we should turn to verify the ambiguity, sir.”
Causey choked back chastising thoughts about the man’s rampant conformity. “Captain’s override. Time will prove me right as we approach, or we’ll adjust if I’m wrong. Make sure the sonar team keeps three men listening for threats. Counting submarines, Iran has at least a dozen warships in our operations area.”
“Aye, aye, sir.” The executive officer awaited a sign from his boss before moving.
The Indiana’s commander offered his back as the sign and then joined his navigator officer by a local chart. He pointed at a blue circular icon. “Is that the distressed robot?”
Keeping the unmanned undersea vehicle’s proper title, the navigator nodded. “That’s our distressed UUV, sir. More specifically, that’s the location of the latest distress call, four hours ago.”
“Sonar just heard it making turns for three knots. Draw an area of uncertainty around it allowing for three knots from the last distress call. Also allow for the currents.”
As the navigator worked a stylus, a blue circle arose, skewed and bulbous to account for the one-knot current pushing the distressed American undersea robot. The northern portions of the area tracked over the Iranian coast. “I’ll overlay the sonar bearing, sir.”
Causey watched the line of sound from the Indiana’s towed hydrophones slice the bulbous circle. “Looks like it’s drifting with the current.”
“Four miles east of its last distress call. Yes, sir.”
“Maybe I will do our sonar team a favor and turn.”
“To get ahead of it, captain?”
“Yes. Plot a course to deploy our drone to intercept the UUV while we stay two miles away from Iranian waters.”
The navigator worked a stylus over the plot, and the requested course appeared, showing three hours until the Indiana would slow and launch its drone.
Causey turned and raised his voice. “XO!”
With fear of disapproval livening his steps, the second-in-command darted to his boss. “Sir?”
The Indiana’s commander lowered his nose to the display. “I’ve plotted the bearing to the UUV on the navigation chart. I believe our distressed robot’s drifting with the current.”
“That makes sense, sir.”
Causey tested the man. “What’s peculiar about this situation?”
The executive officer frowned. “You mean other than a UUV calling for help deep in Iranian waters?”
“Yes.”
Desperate eyes looked upwards towards the overhead hydraulic piping for inspiration. “Um… this is the first ever repair mission for a UUV in a hostile nation’s waters.”
“It’s a repair mission only if repairs are possible. If not, it’s a salvage mission. And if that’s not possible, it’s a destruction mission, but I’ll allow the optimism. Your optimism actually highlights what’s peculiar.”
Despite the cool air from a vent blowing his hair, the second-in-command blushed.
“Would you like a hint?”
“Yes, sir.”
“We just picked up the robot’s screw, and that gave us two pieces of data. Compare and contrast those pieces.”
The examinee offered a blank stare, but then his eyes sparkled. “I think I know.”
Causey hushed him. “Take your time and make sure you know before you tell me. It’s important that you develop an instinct for this game I’m playing with you. I’m leaving you in charge for at least twenty minutes. Take us on the course I’ve plotted with the navigator and contact me if the UUV shows signs of changing its behavior.”
“Aye, aye, captain. Where will you be?”
“With the divers.” Causey departed. After a short walk and climb, he reached the control station of the nine-man lock out chamber.
A burly lieutenant with a sculpted build argued with a thinner, taller man, his team’s senior chief petty officer. Their banter ceased as the Indiana’s commander entered their space.
Recognizing divers as a special breed, Causey credited their silence to curiosity instead of deference to his rank, and he sensed their need for a distraction. “No need to stop fighting just because of me.”
The senior chief relaxed his tense frame. “Hell, sir. It’s nothing new. You know me and the lieutenant squabble like an old married couple.”
Lieutenant Hansen rolled his eyes. “Speak for yourself, you salty dog. My joints don’t crack when I move.”
“Of all the insolent, surly, snot-nosed officers in the fleet, I have to get a wanna-be comedian.”
“And I get the crustiest old bastard Neptune ever shat out his nasty ass.”
Causey raised his voice. “Gentlemen!”
Senior Chief Spencer frowned, crinkling the brown skin around his nose. “I’m no gentleman, sir. I work for a living, and I know who my parents are.”
Hansen opened his mouth to address the double-insult against the officer class, but he shut it when Causey raised his finger.
“Men, please. If you need marital counseling, I charge three-hundred dollars an hour, and I round up to the quarter hour.”
Blank stares.
“Okay, I see you’re suffering from sticker shock. I’ll do you a favor. The first ten minutes are free.” Causey leaned his buttocks against a workbench. “Tell me what you’re arguing about.” He lifted his nose to the lieutenant. “You first.”
Lieutenant Hansen pointed at the pressurized chamber over his head to accentuate his argument. “I want to send our newest divers to inspect the robot for the experience. There’s no other way for them to learn other than training on the job. But the senior chief wants to send out our best two guys. How the hell’s anyone supposed to learn their job if they can’t do it?”
Causey recalled the dive team’s complement of six men. Hansen was in charge, Spencer was his senior enlisted man, and the role of true leader remained unsettled between the troubled spouses. He faced the taller man, inviting his rebuttal.
Senior Chief Spencer countered. “Yeah, I sure as shit want to send out our best. The new kids are good divers, but this is way too important to risk the newbies.”