Ten seconds.
His finger hovering over the shutdown button, Jazani considered his torpedo laughable overkill in snuffing a solitary man’s life, that of the straggling cowboy, but he considered the would-be victim responsible for his own pending death. Freed of the mortal ramifications of his decision, the Ghadir’s commander weighed the tactical value of shattering the Scorpène’s keel.
A demonstration of power, aimed at the American nemesis, targeting their illegal mercenary lackeys, and captured on video for the entire world to view.
The easy answer. The traditional move. The expected decision.
But Jazani considered himself a thinking man capable of discerning possibilities beyond the expected.
So, he thought.
Eight seconds to detonation.
Nothing changed. He kept thinking.
Seven seconds.
Reckless destruction. Necessary?
Six seconds.
Who would mock and shun him if he spared his target?
Five seconds.
Would his military brethren consider him weak for showing mercy? Would it ruin him?
Four seconds.
Setting aside pride and self-preservation, he considered the outcome. If someone above him overruled his mercy, the helicopters could finish the submarine. A hedge, if he opted for mercy.
Three seconds.
A helpless submarine. An unmanned submarine. A vessel steaming with its throttles pinned open heading towards a wall of American assets poised to receive it outside Iranian waters. Five miles to international waters giving time for friendly assets to board it. Take it. Capture the Scorpène. Acquire a submarine to compensate for the American one that got away.
He tapped the button, and then a blinking line of text signaled the torpedo’s shutting down.
Standing, the short executive officer protested. “What are you doing?”
“I shut down the weapon.”
“Why?”
Giving the insubordination an appropriate unsympathetic response, Jazani turned his shoulder to his executive officer and unmuted his headset. “Task force commander, this is Shark One. I shut down my weapon.”
The deep voice sounded startled. “Understood, Shark One. You had the leeway, but I’m… surprised. Why’d you do it?”
“We can still take that submarine as our own.”
The task force commander grunted. “Good idea. We already have a commando team scrambling on that, but there’s no guarantee that they’ll arrive in time. That’s why I let you continue as you wished.”
“If a boarding attempt doesn’t work out, we can damage or sink it with the helicopters.”
“A contingency plan for that’s in place as well.”
Relieved to escape beratement from his immediate supervisor, Jazani probed further into his military’s intent. “What about the Goliath, sir?”
“The American submarine’s too close. We’re letting it go. Our target’s the Scorpène. I’ll reserve my judgment on your decision while we’re in the heat of battle, but I do commend your courage on making a tough call to spare the Scorpène.”
“Thank you, sir.” The affirmation that a senior officer could perceive his move as brave comforted Jazani. His anxiety’s ebbing allowed him to conceive an idea. “You could drop a man from a Sea King, sir. I imagine you could even land a Sea King on its back.”
Another grunt. “Considered, as well. But you must also consider that an armed team remained aboard to prevent just that.”
“Suicidal men, sir? That’s unlike the Americans or the Europeans or whoever’s on that ship.”
“We don’t know who staffs that ship. Would you be willing to jump into confined quarters with a pistol and no armor against waiting riflemen?”
His curiosity piqued, Jazani gave the question deep thought. “I’m not sure. Maybe. I don’t think it’s as dangerous as you might expect since the man topside would hold the high ground over a narrow upward climb. And what would such men gain by killing a single airman?”
“They’d retain control of their ship.”
“This is complex gamesmanship.”
“Indeed, it is. Fortunately for you, your moves are complete. But I have to make a final call.”
Jazani took the bait. “What’s that, sir?”
“When I asked if you could do it, it wasn’t hypothetical. I wanted an objective opinion. Five seconds after I hang up on you, I’m going to talk to my air commander. Within those seconds, I need to decide if I’ll order an airman to risk his life and take that submarine. I appreciate your point about the high ground.”
As the line went silent, Jazani looked up at his second-in-command. The short officer scowled. “What’d he say, sir?”
“They’ll try to retake the Scorpène with a commando team, but he sounded doubtful if they could reach it in time. Or maybe they’ll do it with an ad hoc man from a Sea King.”
Apparently calmed that actions had been set in motion after his ship’s torpedo had gone dormant, the executive officer sat and snorted. “Wow.”
“You really wanted me to crack that submarine in half.”
“Yes, sir. I don’t see what harm it could’ve done. Mercenaries are scum without loyalty to anything but money.”
“I won’t argue their motivations or their character, but what if they weren’t here?”
“The mercenaries? I don’t know, sir.”
“Think, man. How would the Americans have reacted without them? How would they have defended their flooded ship?”
The short officer’s face darkened. “I can’t say.”
“You can’t say because it’s an ugly answer. They’d be defending their wounded asset the only way they can, by overpowering us. The submarines they paid mercenaries to damage with their humane weapons would’ve instead been shattered by American torpedoes — with their crew vaporized. I don’t know how much I considered this in my final decision, but it must’ve been in the back of my mind.”
“I guess so. I see your point.”
Jazani’s final thought about the spared submarine reached the forefront of his mind. “Oh, and since I’m sure the Americans were watching, I may have done us a favor in the trade negotiations.”
The short officer snorted. “You mean so I can get my iPhone?”
“Yes. And I also want my Dodge Charger. My stupidly fast, gorgeous SRT.”
“Maybe I’m wrong, sir. You might be lauded for this.”
As Jazani’s mood softened, a haunting, shrill echo poured ice water over his warming innards. Then two more pounded the control room. Active sonar pings. “What was that? Identify!”
His talkative technician squirmed. “Identifying. It’s close. Oh, no, sir. I’m…”
“What?”
“I’ll send it over the loudspeaker.”
In perfect Persian, an English-accented voice issued orders. “…shutting down your torpedo a wise and gracious choice. We are speaking to you from a drone and have you targeted. Do not attempt any further launch of weapons. You must let the surfaced submarine escape to international waters. I repeat, we are watching you. We consider your act of shutting down your torpedo a wise…”
Shocked by his instant defeat in the invisible game of undersea cat-and-mouse, Jazani’s heart sank into a melting mix of panic and embarrassment. He pointed at the overhead speaker. “Keep recording this.”
“Yes, sir.” The talkative technician turned his face towards his console, seemingly content to hide his shocked expression.