With the distant hydrophones facing away, Volkov heard no sign of the transmission, but he heard the dolphin’s response, and his sonar guru’s face lit up.
“I hear the acknowledgement on our ship’s arrays, and it’s stronger on the drone.”
“As it should be. Get a range check.”
The technician beside Anatoly tapped buttons, and three round-trip exchanges of sound followed.
“I’ve got the range check,” the young technician said, “but I don’t like the answer. They’ve gone two miles in the wrong direction.”
“Let’s keep this up, and see if we can turn them around.”
Darkness crept up the guru’s face, and Volkov allowed him to process the sounds.
“Torpedo in the water! Detected by the drone.”
“Give me a bearing,” Volkov said.
The direction to the hostile weapon fit between those of the dolphins and the drone.
Volkov exhaled.
“It’s not a dangerous shot,” he said. “It’s reactionary in hopes that our drone was our ship. We’ll maintain course and speed.”
“The dolphins just announced a new submerged contact,” Anatoly said. “It’s probably the torpedo.”
“Acknowledge the report and send a reactionary torpedo down the bearing of the Israeli weapon.”
The Israeli Aman officer lifted his gaze to Volkov, reminding him of his mission’s limits.
“Set half the bomblets for detonation,” Volkov said. “I don’t want to risk overwhelming the crew’s damage control abilities.”
Anatoly’s fingers flew across icons.
“Tube two is ready, fifty-percent bomblet yield.”
“Shoot tube two.”
Volkov’s ears popped.
“I have control of the weapon from tube two,” Anatoly said.
“If you hear the Splendor, let me know and recommend a steer for our weapon, but I doubt that cool commander will make a mistake.”
“Of course, Dmitry.”
“Now, keep trying to get our dolphins back home with commands to return.”
“I will, but I’m concerned they won’t consider a drone a large enough target to be a mothership.”
“That’s a challenge,” Volkov said. “Can you keep the drone far enough away to keep them guessing about its size?”
The guru shrugged.
“Maybe. In these waters, their echolocation isn’t what we’ve seen elsewhere. If we get lucky, they’ll hear the return-to-ship signal and follow it without knowing it’s coming from the drone.”
For ten minutes, Volkov fought a tug-of-war for his dolphins against the distant Israeli submarine. The cetaceans seemed caught in the middle, and as their trainer lumbered into the control room and forced his way into the seat beside Anatoly, Volkov feared his mammalian assets lost.
Then he caught a break.
“I hear the fake call!” Anatoly said. “On the drone, bearing three-four-nine from the drone.”
“You’ve still got wire control of our weapon?” Volkov asked.
“Yes. I recommend a steer to the left of twenty degrees.”
“Agreed. Twenty degrees. Do it.”
The trainer looked up with forlorn eyes.
“At least you’ll make them pay if they take my babies?”
“I’m getting your babies back.”
“But if you don’t? You’re only human.”
“Then, yes. I will make them pay. Not with their lives, since I’m using a slow-kill weapon. But they’ll pay with the shame of defeat.”
The sonar expert stirred.
“I’ve intercepted another fake command to our dolphins. Bearing three-four-seven from the drone.”
“Send the raw bearing to the tactical display,” Volkov said.
He looked to the lines connecting his drone to the source of sound he suspected as the Splendor.
“Assume the source of the fake calls is the Splendor and assume its speed is five knots. Plot it.”
The technician the trainer had forced to move to an empty Subtics console seat tapped his screen, and an icon of the Israeli submarine appeared on the chart before Volkov. A velocity vector of five knots became wedged between the two sniffed sounds of the vessel’s attempts to dupe the dolphins.
“Steer our weapon another five degrees to the left,” Volkov said. “This is our chance.”
“I’ve imparted a steer five degrees to the left,” Anatoly said. “If we’re right, the weapon can acquire the target in four minutes and will have eighteen percent fuel remaining to chase it down.”
“Turn on the weapon’s seeker five minutes from now. I don’t want to give the Israelis any extra time to evade.”
While waiting for his torpedo to end the battle, Volkov urged his team to continue salvaging his cetaceans.
“Get another range check from the drone,” he said.
Three exchanges of acoustic signals later, his sonar expert confirmed the dolphins’ stagnancy in purgatory.
“Still caught between the Splendor and our drone,” Anatoly said. “At least they’re not losing ground, but this will be difficult if the Splendor keeps fighting us.”
“They’re terrified,” the trainer said. “They can’t possibly understand what’s going on. Turn on the weapon’s seeker and scare away that submarine!”
“It’s too soon, Vasily,” Volkov said.
“Please, Dmitry! My babies!”
“I will get them, and I will rid this campaign of the Splendor. Be patient.”
The trainer stood and ran from the room.
After minutes of watching the tactical scene unfold while wrestling with his guilt for the trainer’s suffering, Volkov whispered to himself.
“Damn him.”
“Say that again please, Dmitry?” Anatoly asked.
“Nothing. It’s just… never mind.”
Unwilling to admit compassion for the trainer with whom he shared a blossoming friendship, Volkov welcomed the distraction of a tactical milestone.
“Per your timing, it’s time to energize our weapon’s seeker,” Anatoly said.
“Energize the weapon’s seeker.”
“The weapon acquired a target on its second ping! It’s accelerating and changing its ping cycle to prosecute the target.”
“Excellent,” Volkov said.
“I hear the Splendor!” Anatoly said. “High-speed screws. Cavitation. Reduction gear noises. It’s trying to evade.”
“It won’t. It’s a perfect shot.”
“Right, Dmitry. You turned on the seeker less than a mile away. Brilliant! Impact is in ninety seconds. And wait… Countermeasures!”
Volkov glanced over the guru’s shoulder at a green icon indicating continued wire connection with the torpedo.
“Drive our weapon through.”
“The countermeasure field has blinded us to the Splendor,” Anatoly said. “We’ve lost the Splendor.”
“Understood. That’s expected.”
“Our weapon is approaching the field. Passing through it now. And… I’ve regained the Splendor. I have blade rate now. It’s making turns for twenty-seven knots on one seven-bladed screw.”
Volkov caught the glare of the silent Aman officer who offered a dour look.
“Your countrymen will be fine, I assure you,” Volkov said.
“I would protest if I thought otherwise. But don’t expect me to share your crew’s jubilation.”
“Hull popping,” Anatoly said. “The Splendor is heading shallow. Our weapon is diving below it… the magnetic influence field is broken… and detonation!”
“Count the attachments,” Volkov said. “Everyone!”
He watched the sonar team stare at their screens and listen while blocking out distractions. Anatoly stood, walked behind the backs of his technicians, and gathered their input.”