The announcement jarred Jazani from an encroaching sense of complacency. “A weapon?”
As the talkative sailor raised a finger to request silence, the two other men seated at tactical consoles pressed muffs against their heads.
In silence, the Ghadir’s commander awaited his team’s consensus.
His short executive officer began the inquiry. “I didn’t hear anything. Did you?” He looked towards the quieter sonar technician.
“No, sir. I’m tracking the torpedoes. He’s tracking the Americans. It was outside my sector.”
Jazani saw through the apparent contradictions. “I know what it was. It was a communications buoy.” He tapped an icon on his screen, unmuting the boom microphone on his single-ear headset, and called out with his submarine’s mission name. “Task force commander, this is Shark One. Over.”
Seconds later, a deep voice entered his ear. “Shark One, this is task force commander. Go ahead. Over.”
“Task force commander, Shark One. I believe the target launched a communications buoy. The coordinates are marked in our data feed, and I request you have an asset investigate. Time is of the essence to prevent a message from being broadcasted. Over.”
“Shark One, task force commander. I see the coordinates. I’ll send an asset to investigate. Out.”
When he muted his microphone and turned his attention back to his team, Jazani saw concern in the profile of his second-in-command. “What’s wrong?”
“We’re losing the target.” The executive officer stood and then stooped over the thin technician’s shoulder to glare at his display.
The talkative sailor confirmed the loss. “I’ve lost half the target’s noises, and they’re fading fast. Distance is becoming a factor, and the target’s last deployment of countermeasures deafened me in a five-degree sector.”
“But the torpedo went through the countermeasures?”
“Yes, sir, and then I picked up the target again, but with fewer noise sources. Our northern torpedo’s converging on the target’s bearing, too, which is making it harder to hear.”
“Losing the Americans was inevitable. We can’t match the speed of Virginia, nor do we desire to while listening.” Jazani toggled the mute icon. “Task force commander, this is Shark One. Over.”
“Shark One, this is task force commander. Go ahead. Over.”
“I’m losing the target. I request you assign tracking to Shark Two or Shark Three. Over.”
“Negative, Shark One. Shark Two had to reposition to avoid the retaliatory torpedo, and Shark Three is too far to the west. Over.”
“Do you have any other asset you can assign to tracking? Over.”
“Negative, Shark One. The task force’s nearest helicopter is committed to retrieving the target’s communications buoy. You’re the only one with contact on the target. Over.”
Jazani scanned his screen and saw the lines to the American submarine’s noises fade. “I just lost contact. Over.” After muting his microphone, he called out to the talkative technician. “Get me the ping cycle of the northern torpedo.”
Obeying, the sailor tapped a calculation upon his screen. “It’s range-gating, sir. The distance correlates to three hundred yards between the weapon and the target.”
The task force leader’s deep voice shot from the earpiece. “Report the status of our weapon. Over.”
Jazani unmuted his microphone. “It’s range-gating, sir. The target’s three hundred yards from the weapon. It’s a solid lock, and per my calculations, the weapon has plenty of fuel. Over.”
“I’ve ordered Sharks Two and Three to make best speed towards the expected impact point for assessment, but you’re in the best position to listen. Gather all the information you can. Out.”
As a swell rocked the tiny submarine, Jazani called out to his team. “Our task force commander says we’re still in the best position to hear this. The information flow’s about to become challenging when the warhead detonates. Stay calm, listen, and share whatever you even remotely suspect’s worth sharing.”
With concern, the executive officer looked to his commander. “The American captain’s running out of time to abandon ship. He must know he’s been defeated.”
During seconds of curiosity and reverence, Jazani took off his communications gear and picked up a sonar headset. He pressed muffs against his ears. The racing torpedo accelerated its shrill ping cycle as it shortened the distance to the submarine. The Ghadir’s commander lowered the headset and announced his conclusion to the team and, in disbelief, to himself. “If he doesn’t surface immediately, he’s a fool. Or worse.”
CHAPTER 3
Causey tried to silence the nagging internal monologue. He’d failed. He’d made a mistake. He’d led his crew, his submarine, and himself to their deaths. Despite his efforts to stop them, internal accusations cycled through his subconscious mind.
With mortal fear pasted on his face, his second-in-command stared at him. Under pressure, the man seemed useless.
Causey tried to bring him back to life. “Recommendations, XO?”
A blank stare.
“XO, do you have anything on your mind?”
“No, sir.”
“We’re dead in minutes unless we do something. You’re sure you have no ideas?”
“It’s crazy, but…”
“Spit it out.”
“We could surface and abandon ship.”
“That’s not crazy. It’s what I’d order if I didn’t have another idea, and I want your opinion. I say we aim our bow at the weapon, bottom the ship, and hide in the engine room until we’re rescued.”
Appearing relieved that the decision belonged to someone else, the executive officer lauded it. “Yes! That could work. We’re in shallow water and will have the minisub hatch for rescue.”
“I appreciate the sanity check. We’ll do it.”
“I’ll get a message of our intent out to fleet headquarters on another communications buoy, and I’ll assemble the crew back aft.”
“Put as many men in the tunnel as will fit and assemble everyone else forward in the engine room. In case the weapon hits farther aft than I hope, we’ll run back into the forward compartment.”
“Yes, sir.”
“I’ll make the announcement. You’ve got less than two minutes. Move out!”
“Yes, sir.” The executive officer marched away.
Causey grabbed a microphone. “This is the captain. A lightweight torpedo will hit us in less than two minutes. I’m going to maneuver the ship so that it hits us forward. I want every man who’s not in the control center to evacuate the forward compartment within ninety seconds. We’ll stay in the engine room with the ship bottomed while we await rescue. Corpsman, bring any vital medications. Divers, bring diving equipment. Engineering, prepare to take local control of the rudder and stern planes. Galley crew, bring plastic wear and high-calorie foods like peanut butter, beans, and rice. Stay calm but move with urgency. Carry on.”
Lieutenant Hansen stood and faced the Indiana’s commander. “Sir, I’ll grab four rebreathers and—”
Causey interrupted him. “Do you need a decision from me?”
“No, sir.”
“Follow your instincts. Go!”
The burley diver darted away.
Causey cast his voice across the control room. “I need the navigator, the sonar supervisor, and the ship’s control stations to stay with me. Radio operator, you’re free after our communications buoy is launched. Everyone else, grab whatever food you can carry on the way back and leave now. No heroes. That’s an order.”
Sailors in blue jumpsuits stood and cleared the space.