It was during this time that the cataclysmic events were taking place. Even in the great depths of the Pacific Ocean, those earth-changing events did not go unnoticed or unfelt. The turbulence in the water was such that both vessels had to break silence and initiate emergency power to maintain control of their crafts. It was not only the shifting of the tectonic plates, which affected the force of the underwater currents; it was the sudden eruption of magma through once dormant hydrothermal vents in the sea floor. Unfortunately for the Nevsky, it navigated itself right above one of these vents as it released its molten fluids. The massive craft became impossible to control. Alarm bells were ringing in every compartment.
The Texas immediately ascended the depths to escape the throws of the currents. When it was evident that the seas above were as perilous as those below, it found a manageable condition moving at a depth of thirty fathoms.
It was another twelve hours before the waters were calm enough to come to periscope depth. The captain’s first look showed no cause for alarm. There were seven to eight foot seas, and the sky was a dark gray. He instructed his chief radioman to send the encoded burst transmission prepared earlier. And then they waited.
While the Texas was waiting for a reply, the Nevsky found itself in serious trouble. There were radiation leaks in five of the sixteen missile tubes. Although bad enough in themselves, they were minor in comparison to the damage affecting the vessel’s reactor. The ship was dying; it was just a matter of time. When the crew managed to contain what they could, and generate enough power without causing more damage to the reactor, the captain made the decision to surface. He knew there was no other choice.
Following their slow ascent, the Nevsky waited near the surface until the waves abated. Captain Leonid Bardin preceded his executive officer, and the watch crew, onto the conning tower. When the outer hatch released, he felt the heat from the wind. It was much warmer than he anticipated. He looked in all directions and saw the same thing. A disturbed sea, a gray sky, and off in the distance what appeared to be a fluttering red light, which cast its glow off the sky above. It was a surreal scene as the clouds were unnatural in appearance.
One of the watchmen announced, “American submarine, southeast, two-thousand meters.” When they all turned to view the craft, it too was sitting on top of the water in full view with its own crewman watching the Nevsky.
Captain Bardin reached for the intercom, “Captain Lieutenant Orlov to the conning tower.” As he waited for his engineer, he removed his 8X56 Zeiss binoculars from their case. They had belonged to his father and they were passed onto him as a gift for his first full command. He studied the other submarine as he waited. There was little he could do. His was not a ‘hunter killer’ vessel with the speed and maneuverability to match the American sub, especially considering the shape they were currently in.
“Yes my captain,” Captain Lieutenant Sasha Orlov said as he stepped outside and saluted his commander.
“What news do you have for me?”
“It is the same my captain. The radiation levels are reaching the critical stage and there is nothing we can do to contain them. In a few more hours it will be perilous,” he finished in blunt efficiency.
The captain said nothing, looked back toward the other vessel, and asked his executive officer whether radio communications were as yet operable. They too had been attempting to send and receive signals to their own commands.
“No sir. Nothing, sir.”
“Very well, signal the Americans and tell them we request assistance.”
His executive looked at him, understood the gravity of the situation, the responsibility placed on his commander, and instructed one of the crew to signal the Americans to approach. When they were within a few hundred yards of each other, the Alexander Nevsky launched an inflatable boat with four crewmembers from their side. Two seaman, and two officers, all unarmed, made their way to the Texas. When they came to its side, a flexible ladder was lowered to allow them to board.
“Sir, Captain Lieutenant Orlov, and Senior Lieutenant Lukin of the Alexander Nevsky,” Orlov said in heavily accented English as he saluted.
His salute was returned. “I’m Commander Weston, captain of the USS Texas, and this is Lieutenant Gonzalez my exec,” he said while exchanging handshakes.
After the Russian sailors had been searched for weapons, their enlisted men remained topside, while the two officers were led to the galley. They sat down to a cup of coffee, and waited while the commander and his senior staff made their way in. They stood as the commander entered.
Jared Weston was a green-eyed thirty-eight year old who wore his red hair cut close to his scalp. At just under six feet tall, he carried his lithe body with authority and confidence. He took his job seriously and was known as a consummate professional. He came from a rural upbringing, and worked for everything he accomplished, including paying his way through college. It was not the natural route for a future commander of a naval vessel to come from a private school, but his talents were recognized early on, and his work ethic allowed him to move ahead of others. His parents were of little means, yet they provided the principles, which made him who he was. He was a man, and he should be able to make his own way. He was very proud of the career he made, and this was going to be, no doubt, one of the most interesting events in it.
They sat down.
“And what can the United States Navy do for our Russian friends?” Commander Weston asked.
There was no time to waste, and no purpose for deception, even to ‘save face.’ “The Nevsky is dying. An undersea explosion of some type caused several leaks within our missile tubes, and more importantly, in our reactor. Captain Bardin sent us here to ask that you save our crew. There are one-hundred-thirty men on board. If you could take us to the nearest port, we would be indebted to you.”
While he digested this information, he studied the face of his Russian counterpart to see if there were any signs of deception. He knew something was wrong with the sub, but he did not know if he was hearing the whole story, and he did not want to make a hasty decision until he was sure that he did. “Have you made radio contact with your superiors,” Commander Weston asked.
“Our communications and much of our electronics are not functioning,” Orlov said.
Ascertaining this was important because they too had problems with their navigation, communication, and much of their other electronic instruments. There was no need to disclose this information at the moment. “How was your ship damaged, and what do you make of the surface conditions,” he asked to see if they knew anything more than the crew of the Texas did.
Orlov was at first curious by the question, then contemplative. He had a good idea of what might have caused the damage, but he had not stopped to consider the strange nature of the environment he saw when he came out of the sub. “We believe some sort of underwater eruption damaged our vessel. We didn’t come into contact with any structure, and there were no onboard explosions. It was something external,” he finished.
“What about out there,” Weston pointed with his thumb indicating the strange weather conditions.
“I don’t know,” Orlov said.
They sat there studying one another. It finally dawned on the young Russian about what had concerned the Americans.