Aquatong looked at the ship control area, which had a steering wheel and two control joysticks. “Damn if I know how this works.”
“Maybe on that panel behind you on the starboard side.”
Grip turned and leaned over the horizontal portion of what looked like a control panel. “It’s all in Farsi. I can’t figure any of this shit out.”
“They said to look for big levers, with big operators on them, like the Vermont’s emergency ballast tank blow levers.”
Grip shook his head in frustration. “Nothing.”
“Dammit.”
Scooter and Swan showed up, their Mark 6s ready to fire.
“Status?”
“All ship’s company immobilized. We used half the zip ties we brought. Smaller crew than we imagined,” Scooter reported.
“You check all the nooks and crannies? All the possible hidey-holes?”
“We went over it all once. We’ll need a second and third tour once we get the Vermont crew in here.”
“And don’t forget that translator, what’s his name?”
The short and slight kid with buck teeth and thick glasses, Cryptotechnician First Class Saurabh Onur, had a thick Indian accent, and hadn’t really been adopted by the Vermont sailors, at least, not yet. He was fluent in Russian and Farsi, and he was an expert at encryption and decryption technology. He’d definitely be useful here, but Fishman worried that there was only one of him. There should have been a second CT in case something happened to Onur, he thought.
“Grip, go get the OIC and AOIC in here and bring that CT guy with you. Pacino and Dankleff can figure out the operation of this sub once the CT guy translates all this gibberish. Meanwhile, Swan and Scooter, make another sweep of the sub for anyone we haven’t found and immobilized.”
The three commandos left Fishman alone in the submarine’s control room. He leaned over the older officers, if that’s what they were, wondering if he should put them on the raft with the other crewmen or keep them as hostages to help run this submarine. Obviously, this was harder than they’d imagined.
Dammit, he thought. Another major decision. Another two realities coming his way. But which one led to mission success?
“What the hell?” Dankleff said to Pacino. “Upper hatch is coming shut. But the Panther is still submerged.”
“Must be glitch number one,” Pacino said. “Panther crew must not have wanted to surface — probably in her op-order to remain submerged no matter what. The SEALs must not have been able to figure out how to surface her.”
“Shit. Trunk is draining down.” Dankleff picked up the 1JV phone. “Control, the lockout trunk upper hatch is shut and trunk is draining down. One or more SEALs is coming back in.”
Finally the forward side-door of the lockout trunk opened and Grip Aquatong pulled off his mask.
“You’re next on-stage,” he said. “Let’s go.”
“Why isn’t Panther on the surface?”
“Goddamned if we could figure out how to surface her. We didn’t want to just try stuff. Not sure we can trust any of the Iranian crew. We need that cryptotech, Onur.”
“Petty Officer Onur, get in here,” Dankleff barked.
The cryptotech climbed into the lockout trunk, looking like a fourteen-year-old boy. The kid was tiny, Pacino thought, surprised the SEALs hadn’t given him a call sign like ‘Heavy’ or ‘Fatty’ or ‘Massive.’
“What do they call you?” Pacino asked the petite cytotechnician.
“Saurabh, sir. My first name.”
“From now on,” Dankleff said, “you answer to ‘Crypto Geek,’ or just ‘Geek.’”
Onur stared at the OIC as if he’d spoken another language.
“Come on, Geek, get your mask on.”
“First trip, I’ll take OIC and AOIC and the Geek,” Aquatong said.
“I’ll inform control,” Pacino said, reaching for a phone on the bulkhead of the crowded passageway. At first he picked up the 1JV official circuit, but realized half the tactical team would be listening in. He put the phone back, found the inter-station phone and dialed the conn. Officer of the Deck Rachel Romanov answered, her voice seeming perplexed that she’d been called on the unofficial phone circuit. For a moment, Pacino felt something dark blow through his soul.
“OOD, Lockout Trunk,” Pacino said. “SEALs couldn’t figure out how to surface Panther. So OIC, AOIC, cryptotech and Aquatong are going to lock out and get over to Panther and try to surface it.”
“Very well,” Romanov’s cold voice replied.
“And Nav,” Pacino said, hesitating.
“Yes?”
Pacino could hear her breathing.
“I just wanted to say,” he said, “I’m sorry for what I did. I hope someday you’ll forgive me. I treasured our friendship. I was hoping we could be friends again. I wanted to tell you now because, well, I feel like I may be running out of time. My life may be out of days. So. You know. I just wanted to leave you with that.”
There was silence for a moment. Dankleff was waving at him from the hatch, as if to say, let’s go. Finally Romanov answered him.
“Don’t think that way, non-qual,” she said softly, almost gently. “You are going to win this thing. We will prevail. We will all survive this. Because, goddammit, you owe me a fucking drink when we get to AUTEC.”
“I could throw in a steak and some more drinks to go with it, Nav,” he smiled into the phone.
“Good plan. Good luck out there, non-qual. Anthony.”
She hung up the phone. He stared at the handset for a moment, then looked up. Dankleff was staring at him.
“Okay,” Pacino said. “Control has the word. Let’s go.”
Pacino, Onur and Dankleff climbed into the side hatch. Pacino dogged the hatch, shut the drain valve and vent valve and hit the hydraulic lever to open the trunk-flood hull and backup valves.
“Control, Lockout Trunk, flooding down.” Dankleff said over the 7MC communication circuit.
“Trunk, Control, aye,” the box rasped.
The water began to rise in the lockout trunk, and for a moment Pacino felt a visceral panic grip his chest and it became hard to breathe. He consciously tried to take a breath, screaming at himself that this was not the Piranha. But the water had risen above his chest and as it approached his chin, he found himself hyperventilating, and as the panic blew into his mind, the edges of his vision began to darken.
Aquatong slapped his mask, hard. “Lipstick. Lipstick! Patch! Patch! You with us?”
Pacino violently shook his head, trying to clear his mind.
“Shut the flood valve!” Aquatong yelled.
The noise of the flooding stopped. The water was up to Pacino’s shoulders. Aquatong took off Pacino’s mask and regulator, pulling his own mask to his forehead and dropping his regulator.
“You okay, Patch? You gonna make it?”
Pacino saw Dankleff and Onur staring at him. He inhaled. “Just some, you know, anxiety from what I went through on Piranha,” he choked out. “I’ll be okay,” he said, more to himself than the others. “I’ll be okay.” He took a deep breath, put his mask back on and put his regulator into his mouth, clamping his teeth down on the rubber.
Through the mask he saw Dankleff looking at him, knowing that since Dankleff was in command, he was making a decision — whether to leave Pacino behind or soldier on.
“I’m okay, U-Boat,” Pacino said around his regulator.
“Come into the air space with me,” Dankleff ordered, pulling Pacino with him into the space that remained dry while the rest of the trunk flooded, where the valve operating mechanisms and comms box were housed.