The Indiana’s commander agreed with the senior chief. Attempting the first repair, retrieval, or destruction of a malfunctioning UUV involved defining the mission’s goal onsite and reacting to any surprises in Iranian water. The task required experience, and he hoped to lead the lieutenant to that conclusion. “You’ve considered mixing your teams? One newbie, one veteran?” He knew the answer but let his feigned ignorance propel the discussion.
The senior chief shook his head. “We could do that, but that’s just not right, sir. The guys have trained as buddies and know how to finish each other’s sentences.”
Lieutenant Hansen nodded. “Yeah, it’s generally okay to switch pairings for training, but when it comes down to it, the guys work best with their longtime buddies, sir. That’s one thing we agree on.”
Causey folded his arms. “Alright, I got it. It’s either newbies or veterans. And I suppose they all want to get out there?”
Senior Chief Spencer frowned. “We all want to get out there, sir. Unfortunately, four of us have to stay behind and watch.”
The Indiana’s commander recognized a disconnect. “You mean four of you have to supervise and support.”
“Yes, sir. That’s what I meant.”
“But you made it sound like a spectator sport. You’ll have two backup divers pressurized while you and the lieutenant monitor breathing gases, vital signs, and communications. That’s important and complex work. There aren’t any spectators on your team.”
“Well, sir. That’s why I want the best two out there.”
Lieutenant Hansen shook his head. “I want the senior guys in here with the full view of the picture. We’ve trained on the robots before. They’re not that complex, not compared to diving manned submarines or wrecks. The new guys can handle it out there.”
Causey ended the debate. “In isolation, the robot’s a simple vessel, and I agree. But it’s not in isolation. It’s in shallow water deep in hostile territory. The Iranians may know it’s distressed and could be waiting. They may even have sabotaged it. Whatever’s out there, you need your veterans on point to sniff it out.”
Lieutenant Hansen shrugged his broad shoulders. “I can’t argue that point. It’s the lost training opportunity I don’t like.”
“Focus first on doing it right. Then teach the newbies from what your veterans learn.”
The muscular young officer blushed as he realized the weakness of his argument. “You’re right, sir. I can live with that.”
“Good. Be in the control room in three hours to monitor the drone with my tactical team.”
“Three hours, aye, sir.”
Causey retraced his steps to the control room, and the eager eyes of his mediocre executive officer pleaded for approval. “I figured out what’s peculiar about this, sir.”
“Go ahead.”
“Our robot’s blade rate suggests that it’s moving at three knots, but based upon its last distress call and its present bearing, it looks like it’s drifting with the current, which suggests it’s moving at zero knots through the water.”
The Indiana’s commander nodded. “Good. What’s that mean to you?”
The man’s supple build seemed to deflate.
Causey encouraged him. “There’s no right answer. You used logic to identify the disconnect. Now use intuition to resolve it.”
“It’s got a stuck rudder, sir.”
Recalling the theories flowing between civilian engineers and naval technical experts since the distressed UUV had radioed its first cry for help, the Indiana’s commander agreed. “That’s probable. We have a diagnostic trouble code for a control surface failure, and everyone believes that’s the problem. But why’s it stuck?”
Embarrassed, the executive officer gave a sheepish grin. “A fishing net got caught in it. Or a piece of driftwood. Maybe some broken wreckage.”
Satisfied with the thought exercise, Causey declared it complete. “Good. We obviously won’t know until we see it, but those are good guesses.”
“If you don’t mind me asking, sir, why’d you say our blade rate data was peculiar? We expect a jammed rudder, and we’ve measured the Doppler shift to verify that it’s going in circles. So, whether it’s making three knots or max speed, it’s going to look like it’s just drifting with the current over an extended time period.”
“I know, XO. My point is, what we’re expecting, is peculiar. It takes a lot of bad luck for something to jam a hydraulic rudder, even on a vessel that small. Whatever’s happening is abnormal, and I want you to remember that we’re trying to make it look routine. But keep the bigger picture in mind — something’s wrong other than a UUV going in circles.”
“I understand, sir.”
Three hours later, Causey slowed his ship to bare steerageway and announced his intentions. “Attention in the control room. I’ve slowed us to deploy the drone, which I’ll use to investigate the distressed UUV. We’re two miles outside of Iranian waters, but our drone will take station on the robot five miles inside Iranian waters, which means that we’re violating international laws. Stay alert for Iranian submarines, surface ships, sonobuoys, aircraft, and divers. That’s all. Carry on.”
Standing behind a seated technician, his executive officer looked up with the pained eyes of someone who feared a misstep. “The drone’s ready, sir.”
“Very well. Launch the drone.” Causey glanced at a monitor and watched numbers tick upward showing the increasing speed of the human-controlled probe swimming from his submarine’s torpedo tube.
After half an hour of a patient technician driving the drone towards the distressed UUV, the executive officer moved to his commander’s side. “The drone’s two miles from the robot, sir. Do you want to try an active search?”
Causey shook his head. “Keep it passive.”
“We can’t hear anything, sir. The robot secured its screw.”
“It’ll come back on. Be patient.”
Fifteen minutes later, the sonar supervisor stooped over a technician’s shoulder to stare at a screen. He straightened his back, revealing his short frame. “Captain, we’ve got the robot again, on the drone and towed array. Blade rate correlates to three knots. That gives us a good enough fix to drive the drone in. I recommend a five-degree steer to the right.”
A glance at his monitor gave Causey his confirmation. “Steer the drone to the right five degrees.” He considered the dangers of micromanagement. “And from now on, we’re trusting our drone operator to do this without backseat drivers.”
A young technician looked up from his screen.
Turning his head to the young drone operator, Causey continued. “Keep it below the surface, keep it off the bottom, keep it passive, and above all, keep it from banging against the robot. Assume the Iranians are watching and listening.”
“Yes, sir. I’ll get it done.”
“I know.” The Indiana’s commander turned his nose towards a monitor showing the view through the drone’s camera, which showed the water’s darkness. “And I’ll be watching.”
Ten minutes later, the sonar supervisor pressed a muff against his ear while stooping over the drone operator’s shoulder. “The robot’s coming around in a circle. We should see it on this pass.”
His eyes glued to his monitor, Causey saw nothing from the drone’s camera. “Maybe not.”
The supervisor aimed his nose at his commanding officer. “Dang it, sir. It passed below and just off the drone’s starboard side.”
From his seat, the young drone operator called out. “I can get it. I’ll chase it.”
Although avoiding micromanagement, Causey recognized the need for validation. “Remember not to bump it. Be cautious instead of aggressive. I don’t like having my drone in Iranian waters, but don’t hurry. We’ve got time.”