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“Five sonar systems within the task force heard metallic transient noises. We even heard it ourselves on multiple organic sensors. The triangulation was perfect, and we’re in the best position to attack.”

Half asleep, Jazani tore the covers from his torso, shot his feet outward, and stumbled from his rack.

His second-in-command reached out with steadying hands. “Easy, sir.”

The Ghadir’s commander found his balance. Having slept barefooted in his uniform, he sought his footwear.

“Go, sir. I’ll grab your shoes and catch up with you. You must see this and authorize the weapon’s launch quickly, before the Goliath runs. Tube one’s ready.”

“Alright.” Smooth deck plates under his soles, Jazani darted to the control room, sat at his console, and studied his waters. As they merged with his visual intake, his executive officer’s claims proved true. Six and a half miles away, lines of bearing from multiple sonar systems within his task force intersected. “Who on our ship heard it?”

Seated at the consoles forward of him, two sonar technicians turned, and the thin, talkative one answered. “We both did, sir. It was loud enough.”

“How’d you classify it?”

The talkative one answered again. “Creaking metal, sir. Like something strong was losing a fight with something stronger.”

“Like straining gears?”

“Not quite, sir. More like, failing hydraulic joints.”

The executive officer appeared and placed footwear on the deck. “Here you go, sir.”

Jazani wiggled into his socks. “Failed hydraulics could be any control surface. Rudder, stern planes, bow planes. All of those could make such noises during a collision.”

The thin sailor clarified. “There were multiple failures at the same time. The only logical explanation is that something hit the Goliath’s support arms.”

Jazani looked at his second-in-command sitting across the aisle from him. “Is that the extent of the evidence?”

“Yes, sir. But it’s got to be the Goliath. Everyone agrees. Check the message traffic if you want.”

“Never mind that. I’ll trust your evaluation of the messages. Let me hear the noise for myself.”

Turning towards his console, the thin technician tapped his screen. “I’ve got it queued up. I’ll start the audio file for you, sir. And… it’s ready.”

Jazani placed headphones over his ears and listened. The rippling cacophony of groaning metal agreed with his crew’s claims. He pulled off his listening equipment. “Who’s got control of tube one?”

Raising his hand, the talkative technician faced him. “Me, sir.”

“Tell me the parameters.”

“Tube one is loaded with a Type 53 torpedo, programmed to swim out, run at forty-eight knots, run depth of thirty meters, ceiling at ten meters, floor at sixty-five meters, enable its active seeker at five miles, wire connection is good, targeted at the Goliath. The outer door is open. The weapon is ready.”

With his target’s position known, the Ghadir’s commander tightened the noose. “Enable the seeker at six miles.”

“Enable the seeker at six miles, aye, sir.” The technician tapped his screen. “The seeker is set to enable at six miles, sir.”

Jazani’s pulse raced as he prepared to sentence dozens of men to death and destroy a billion-dollar machine. He rationalized away his doubt by reminding himself the mercenary ship’s railguns presented an immediate threat to military targets and to civilians living along the coast of his homeland. That placated any guilt. “Shoot tube one.”

The thin technician relayed the update. “Tube one is launched. The weapon is swimming out of its tube… the weapon is running normally. I have wire guidance.”

A solemn silence overtook the room.

Relieved with the decision’s passing, Jazani sighed and slumped his shoulders. “XO, bring us shallow and link me with the task force commander.”

“I’m pumping water to bring us up, sir.” The deck rocked in the shallows. “I’m raising our radio mast… making the connection. You’re online, sir.”

Jazani tapped an icon, put on a headset, and raised his voice into his microphone. “Task force commander, this is Shark One. Over.”

A deep, anxious voice issued from an earpiece. “Shark One, this is task force commander. Go ahead. Over.”

“Task force commander, Shark One. I just launched a heavyweight torpedo at the Goliath. Time to impact, seven minutes, if the target remains stationary.”

“Nobody heard your launch. Wait.”

Jazani heard indistinct words through his circuit.

“I’ve had word sent about your actions. Well done, commander. I commend you on your decisiveness. I was going to give you three more minutes to take the initiative before ordering you to shoot.”

Lingering doubts dissolved with the affirmation. “Thankfully, we were of similar mind, sir. It’s taken care of.”

“Indeed, it is. Send the data on the link, and we’ll watch your weapon with multiple assets. Do you have wire control?”

“I do, sir.”

“Restrict your maneuvering to make sure you keep it. That’s a fast ship if it gets to the surface.”

“I’m giving only half a mile of warning with the active seeker.”

“Good.” The task force’s leader scoffed. “I must admit, I envy you, Jazani. This could very easily become the most important torpedo in our navy’s history, and you fired it.”

“I don’t know what to say about that, sir. I’m just going to make sure it finds its target.”

“Very well. Stay shallow and keep this line open.”

A shadow of a thought cast itself upon Jazani’s mind, grew into an impulse, and blossomed into a question. “Sir, are we telling the Americans about this?”

The task force commander’s envy waned, and his voice became stern. “That’s not your concern.”

“Forgive my curiosity, sir.”

After an uncomfortable pause, the task force’s leader relaxed his tone. “Bah, there’s nothing to forgive. I’d want to know, too, if I were in your position. I had my staff inform the fleet, and I’ve heard no word back on anyone’s intent. I’ll let them do whatever admirals and politicians do. I can only imagine the conversations that will take place in the next few minutes.”

Jazani examined the display. A sunken dolphin mothership placed one mercenary vessel to his south, and two damaged Ghadirs placed one vessel to the southwest. Given the attacks against his countrymen, either submarine within the Frenchman’s fleet could be close enough to hear his torpedo. “The mercenaries might hear it, if the Americans aren’t close enough to hear it for themselves.”

“Your only concern about that would be a counterfire weapon aimed back at you.”

To quell his anxiety, Jazani watched the icon of a helicopter dipping its sonar along his torpedo’s track. In addition to verifying that his weapon found its target, the airborne hydrophones mitigated the threat of an unheard hostile weapon coming back towards him. “I’m prepared for that, sir. The longer my torpedo runs without us hearing a hostile counterfire, the smaller the chance it’ll happen. I’m also slipping sideways across the line of sight to make such a counterattack inaccurate.”

“I sense that it’s our day, commander. You needn’t despair.”

Despite his boss’ assurances, Jazani did. An underlying anxiety unsettled him, and he hoped only the enormity of his attack caused it. As he glanced at a status showing his torpedo’s journey one-third complete, he muted his microphone. “Any sign that the Goliath detects the shot?”

The talkative technician shook his head. “Nothing, sir.”