“Nineteen of twenty-four attached. Nine or ten should detonate based upon our fifty-percent yield setting.”
“Count the detonations.”
The sonar technicians repeated their listening efforts.
“I heard the first,” Anatoly said. “Several just went off together. The Splendor is surfacing.”
“Get me a final count.”
Half a minute later, the sonar guru made his report.
“Eight. Perhaps nine. It’s hard to tell given their timing.”
“Good enough,” Volkov said. “The Israeli commander became greedy and tried to take our dolphins. That was his mistake, and we were fortunate to capitalize upon it.”
“The dolphins,” Anatoly said. “We still need to get them back.”
“Keep using the drone.”
Five minutes later, Volkov frowned.
“They’re rejecting the concept of the drone as their mothership, aren’t they?” he asked.
“I can’t get them to move,” Anatoly said. “They must be in shock or something. Now that the Splendor’s no longer a factor, should we just blast out the return-to-ship command at maximum power from our bow sonar?”
“No. We’d announce ourselves to the world. For all we know, the entire Israeli anti-submarine helicopter fleet is coming for us now, and there’s no guarantee the dolphins would respond.”
“We can’t abandon them.”
“No,” Volkov said. “We can’t.”
He walked to his gray-bearded veteran, leaned beside him, and whispered.
“Can you patch the sound-powered phone system through the Subtics system for broadcast through the drone?”
“That’s impossible directly, but I could move a receiver close enough to a Subtics microphone to give you a workaround. Anatoly should be able to adjust the amplification to any power level you’d want coming out of the drone.”
“Good enough.”
He explained his plan to his veteran and stood to leave. As he departed, he looked to his executive officer.
“Sergei, you have the deck. I’ll be setting a plan in motion.”
In the crew’s berthing area, Volkov walked to the trainer’s rack and rapped on the locker under the bed.
He heard a sobbing voice.
“Go away,” the trainer said.
“Oh, you wouldn’t send away an old man trying to help a friend, would you?”
“Yes, we are friends. But I want to be alone. As my friend you have to respect that. I just want to be alone.”
“What if I told you I think we can still save your babies?”
The curtain flew aside, revealing a reddened face glistening with tears.
“Don’t tease me.”
“I’m not. I have an idea. Will you at least try it?”
“I’ll try anything for them.”
“I’m going to grab the sound-powered phone over there and bring it to you. I’ve arranged for your voice to be transmitted through the drone. I believe that if they hear you, they’ll follow the drone back to the ship.”
The trainer’s eyes became wide.
“Really? What about the Israeli submarine?”
Volkov responded with a hint of pride.
“It’s no longer a problem.”
“It could work. I’ll try it.”
The Wraith’s commander paced across the berthing area and returned to his friend with the receiver.
“What should I say?”
“Tell them to come home. Speak slowly and calmly. Tell them how important they are to you. They’ll follow your voice. At least I sincerely hope they will.”
The trainer spoke into the phone.
“Andrei? Mikhail?”
“Good. Keep going.”
“Come home, my babies. Vasily misses you.”
“Keep that up. That’s fine.”
After five minutes of the trainer’s repeated hails, the sonar guru appeared at the door to berthing.
“I wanted to bring you the news personally,” Anatoly said. “The dolphins are following the drone. We’re bringing it back to the ship, and they’re coming towards us.”
“See?” Volkov asked. “I told you it would work. We’ll have them back in our torpedo tube in no time, and then back into their tank for food and rest. You’ll have your babies.”
The trainer lowered the phone and looked at him.
“You do care, Dmitry, don’t you? About me. About my babies. About everyone on your team.”
“Yes, my friend. Indeed, I do.”
CHAPTER 6
After a day at sea, Cahill watched moonlight glimmer atop the waves.
“We’re still two days away from our operational theater, even averaging more than thirty knots,” he said.
“Two days exactly, give or take a few hours, depending how you define our theater,” Walker said.
“It still feels like a long time.”
“Losing patience?”
Cahill found the question odd but gained personal insight pondering it.
“It may not be about patience,” he said. “It’s probably got more to do with feeling naked above the waves for days on end. I’m better suited to be hidden underneath.”
“Don’t be that way. This is a rare opportunity. We’re lucky we can run all out on the surface.”
“What do mean? We’re lucky because our port bow is withstanding the load, or because nobody’s trying to kill us?”
“Both. But it’s nice to unleash the engines and run like a destroyer across the open waters. You may find it foreign with all your time on submarines, but this is the best part of being a surface warfare officer.”
Cahill faced his executive officer and smiled.
“Getting romantic on me?”
“Nice choice of wording, mate. I expected you to be more romantic with our Israeli guest, but I haven’t seen you string two sentences together with her.”
Cahill felt like a prisoner on his own ship, fearful of encountering the woman who consumed his thoughts. The Goliath became tiny as he tried to avoid her.
“What could I possibly say to her? What could I possibly hope to accomplish other than losing my credibility by letting a Sheila distract me?”
“Come on, mate. Half the crew is pulling for you to have a go at her, and the other half doesn’t think you have the stones.”
“Seriously? You’re joking.”
“I didn’t run a formal survey, but it’s me job to be in touch with the rumors.”
“So be it,” Cahill said. “I can’t do anything about what the men say, and I’m not going to let their talking dictate me life.”
“Nor should you. But what do you want to do?”
Cahill frowned and headed towards the stairway.
“Well, good night, Liam. You’ve got the bridge tonight.”
“Indeed, I do. But you’re avoiding the question.”
“Why are you so interested in me personal affairs?”
“I see the way you look at her.”
“So what? I must appear pathetic when she’s near me. I’m trying to avoid her so that I don’t.”
“I wouldn’t worry about looking pathetic, mate.”
“And why’s that?”
“Because I see the way she looks back at you. She’s trying to hide it, but she’s got an eye on you, too.”
After walking to his stateroom, Cahill slid under his crisp sheets and fell asleep.
He dreamt.
Exasperated, he lowered his head while his steps echoed through a steel serrated brow connecting the submarine to the pier.
“Executive officer!”
He turned his head and saw his commanding officer behind him, standing on the back of the Australian vessel, Collins.
“Yes, sir?”
“That was disgusting.”
His crew had lost ten out of twelve mock engagements with a Malaysian submarine during a four-day international training exercise. Part of him wondered if the two victories were gifts from his northern neighbor’s superior tactical team.