“We could’ve done that with a heavyweight torpedo, by detonating it early. Try that with a frigate-launched weapon!”
While seated in the tight confines, Jazani often bumped shoulders with his executive officer. The closeness demanded leeway in formalities. “You’re arguing a hypothetical.”
Missing the hint to relent, the short officer continued his rant. “If we’d been allowed to detonate a heavyweight, we’d be guiding it in with a wire. Then we’d send them a shockwave that would cripple them and get the message across. If not, we’d send another, and then another until the dense Americans figured it out.”
“I don’t think they’re dense. Don’t underestimate our adversary.”
“But here they are looking like fools.”
Jazani wanted to end the talk about the unchangeable decision. “That would’ve been difficult, XO. A heavyweight shockwave can kill from farther away than you might think. Lightweight torpedoes minimize such a risk and give us a chance to study and possibly capture a wounded ship. The less metal we vaporize and twist into useless shards, the more we can salvage.”
“That’s a simplification and wishful thinking. You’re talking like a politician, sir, with all due respect.”
The Ghadir’s commander scoffed. “With all due respect, stop baiting me, and I’ll stop talking like a politician. I’ve given you enough leeway in this debate.”
“I’ll stop now, sir, but my point about the small weapons being unguided still concerns me. I don’t like our options if they miss.”
Jazani expected the two-torpedo salvo, which a frigate had launched toward the point where the dolphins had surfaced, to accomplish the goal of stranding an American submarine in shallow Iranian waters. “I don’t think they’ll miss. Look at the data.”
His executive officer returned his attention to his display and shrugged. “I guess you’re right, sir. The southerly torpedo is vectoring away, but the northern one’s closing with a fifteen-knot speed advantage. Our tracking system predicts impact in eight minutes.”
“Keep watching. The Americans are arrogant because they’re good. Don’t be surprised if they try something cunning and perhaps… unorthodox.”
“You mean the same Americans who let two riverine command boats get captured near Farsi Island a few years ago?”
“I said they were good, not perfect.”
The executive officer leaned forward, exchanged words with the soft-spoken sonar technician, and looked to his commander. “The Americans’ reactive weapon is heading into oblivion, and they’ve probably lost their guidance wire to steer it.”
“Or they’ve lost their ability to listen and order a proper steer. Either way, the shooting frigate will escape unharmed. Tell me what you know about the weapon headed for the robot.”
“It’s going to hit, sir. That can’t be helped.”
“So be it. The robot’s already served its purpose.”
Seated forward of Jazani, the thin, talkative technician turned and brushed one muff behind his ear. “May I speak frankly, sir?”
Jazani rolled his eyes and sighed. “When have you not?”
The sailor scowled. “Good point, sir. I believe I speak for the bulk of the crew, if not everyone, when I say that we don’t like being out here supporting a bunch of surface ships and aircraft in half measures.”
“That’s too complex a discussion for the moment. We’re tracking a hostile exchange. A real one, I remind you.” Jazani tried to keep his gaze on his screen, but he turned and narrowed his eyes at his submarine’s best sonar expert. He anticipated the answer but wanted to hear the thin man say it. “You’re incapable of listening attentively until you’ve spoken your mind, aren’t you?”
Blushing, the sailor shrugged. “Sorry, sir. You know how I am.”
“Very well.” Jazani darted his eyes between his display and the sailor. “What do you mean, specifically?”
“Lightweight torpedoes. Letting the Americans live. Why such weakness when we should be displaying power?”
The Ghadir’s commander scoffed. Again, a man on his crew wanted to debate the unchangeable, but he respected the sailor’s independent thinking. Submarines won battles and returned home with dry innards thanks to sailors who knew when to follow orders and when to question them. “Would you prefer detainees for political leverage, or would you prefer martyrs to incite the Americans?”
The technician looked away in thought before responding. “Hmmm. I’d say they’re already incited. They’re always incited. Americans have always been cluttering our waters with submarines, looking for a fight. We’re the first generation of sailors who can give them one. I say, let them suffer some pain.”
“Don’t be so fast to pass judgment.”
Unconvinced, the thin sailor faced his commander. “And what happened with the American sailors we captured three years ago? I’ll tell you what? We videotaped them and gave them back to their lazy, pampered mothers and wives the next day.”
Jazani snapped. “We were under international scrutiny for nuclear negotiations back then. I assure you it’s entirely different now.”
The thin man opened his mouth.
The Ghadir’s commander shut it as he raised his voice. “And those sailors were led by a young officer. A Virginia-class submarine’s captain is a respected commander, and there could very well be more than one hundred survivors. This mission offers powerful leverage.”
Unfazed, the talkative man assumed a cynical tone. “It would be cleaner with zero survivors and video footage of two halves of their submarine sinking.”
The executive officer intervened. “That’s enough, sailor. He’s your commanding officer.”
Jazani raised his palm. “No, XO, it’s okay. I give leeway because we’re a small crew, and I can’t afford men suppressing their dissent.” He turned to the loquacious sailor. “But I don’t take killing lightly. Not even Americans. Fortunately, our admiralty thinks the same way. If you can’t keep quiet about your discontent in my actions and the intent of the Islamic Republic of Iran Navy, then find a relief for your watch station and reflect upon your career until you can.”
Inhaling through his nostrils, the thin man gained his composure. “I’ll keep my opinions to myself, sir.”
“Do so.” Jazani returned his attention to the weapons and liked what he saw. The northern torpedo had shifted to active searching and had gained contact on the American submarine’s hull. “This looks promising. So far, everything’s going to plan.”
As the ship rolled, the executive officer cocked his head. “I don’t believe that battle plans are supposed to survive engagement with the enemy.”
Appreciating the camaraderie of the growing and competent Iranian submarine fleet, the Ghadir’s commanding officer admired and respected his men. Unlike the submarine commanders of the world’s lesser navies, he trusted the infrastructure that trained his technicians and officers, and he appreciated that his second-in-command’s skill allowed him to sleep during long patrols. “Sometimes, with good training and a competent team, things work out as intended.”
A shadow overcame the small officer’s face.
“What’s wrong?”
“Today we had a chance to prove our submarine’s combat abilities, but instead we’ve accepted roles as observers.”
“I thought I put all debates on hold, XO.”
“Sorry, sir. You did.”
“But now that you’ve said it, tactical observers are vital to combat, and we’re providing value by tracking the scenario, whether we pulled the trigger or not. Keep your focus and that of our crew on your duties.”
“I will, sir.”
Moments later, the northern torpedo’s destiny remained promising, but the thin sonar technician stirred. “I heard launch transients.”