Jim, Mikhail, and Josh had been stuck like glue to ODIS as they watched the arming of the Saratov. Mikhail was the only one with anything to say. “It’s impressive.”
“Better than the War Eagle?” Jim was trying to get a feel for the new sub.
“Overall, maybe,” replied Mikhail. “The thinking is there. I don’t know if the engineering went along.”
“What are their strengths?”
“Torpedoes. Inventive design. Remarkable in its simplicity.”
“What else?”
“It’s made for deep dives. Yet I don’t think that they’ve improved their maximum depth by that much. Maybe we’ll find out. The missiles — they are good because they are compact. Not much range, and he has to surface to fire them. That’s a drawback.”
“Jesus Christ, Mikhail. I’m not going to have a dance contest with this guy. I’ve got to know how to beat him.”
“I told you we’re going to fight him. You should have sunk it before now.” Mikhail had run out of answers and refused to be snipped at. “The missiles are based on a platform design that the Soviet Union was working on when I left. Two missiles rise on a small carriage and turn to the direction they need to be fired. It’s compact but limited in a pressure situation. The vessel has to expose itself. That’s the problem.”
Bumper again entered the RRCC. “Cap. She’s going down. We’ve got her climbing in speed, and all I can say is that she’s quiet. Hard to find if we lose her.”
“Sounds like she’s cleaner than us, Mikhail. Makes me feel like I’m sitting in a ’57 Chevy instead of the most advanced submarine in the world.”
Mikhail actually enjoyed the sarcastic tone of Hickman’s voice. One thing Mikhail was sure of was that the War Eagle was superior. The Saratov looked good, but did it have the substance? It made him look forward to finding out if he was right.
Bumper came in again. “She’s come about.”
Jim stood. “Okay. There will be no talking until that ship is far enough away for us to lift our ass from the seafloor. Until that time not even a fart. Pass that on, Linc.”
“Aye, Cap.”
It was apparent that Nick and Marina were the odd ones out. Both were wandering around in amazement. Nick had never seen a sub laid out like the Saratov. The detail was extraordinary. It was a little cramped, but this went mostly unnoticed because the crew running her was so small. Andri came up behind them.
“Nicholas, please sit in the planesman chair. I will instruct you as to the operation.” He turned to Marina. “You, communications. Wander little. It’s located aft, port side.”
Marina left. She didn’t want to be where the action was, anyway. She located her room and familiarized herself with the equipment. Some of it was strange, but a manual came with the equipment, so she began to study.
On the bridge, Andri took his command post as captain. Nick seated himself next to the helmsman, a small man named Victor. Victor kept to himself and showed his displeasure at Nick’s arrival. He obviously knew the little man who Marina had beaten so severely and wished he were there instead.
“Nicholas,” began Andri. “You control the depth of the Saratov. To dive, push down on the control column in front of you. To rise, pull up. The two most important gauges to watch are the depth and pressure. Only dive on my command and rise on my command. It’s not very complicated, but it does require your complete attention.”
What Andri was not aware of was that Nicholas was an excellent pilot and would have little problem driving the sub. He took to it like a frog to water. Same principles, different size.
Andri then got on the ship’s intercom system. He was finally where he needed to be, and it gave him a great sense of accomplishment. Sasha came to the bridge and acted as his XO.
“This is the captain,” Andri said into the intercom. “You are now the crew of the Soviet submarine vessel Saratov. All crew have been contracted to follow my orders unflinchingly, and I expect nothing less. At the end of our mission, you will all be paid, and you can leave. Any insubordination will be dealt with quickly and decisively. We may be down some time. Never question an order I give. Any hesitation in carrying those orders out will cost you when you get paid. I will find it necessary to test you, and the test begins now. Engines ahead standard.”
To Andri, it was cut and dried. He was the captain, and they were the crew. He fully expected them to behave in such a manner until his mission was over. “Planesman, take us to a depth of thirty meters. Come about to heading zero-one-five.”
The Saratov leaned port five degrees and sped to standard in her turn. The ship was truly underway.
CHAPTER EIGHTEEN
Close Encounters
The storm smashed into the freighter as the Saratov made her dive. George was still on deck looking across the sea when the icy wind picked up, and the swells began to rock the boat. He still didn’t go in.
The old freighter lurched with the groan of her tired engines. Looking up, he could see Sergei in the wheelhouse giving orders to the engine room to make steam. He brought her around 180 degrees and had her at full speed in a futile attempt to outrun the tempest. At least he’s smart enough to get the hell out of here first, he thought. But there was something more.
George noticed the oncoming gale didn’t bother Sergei as much as the water off the starboard side. He kept looking that way. When his sonar man dropped another buoy off the ship, George knew that they were in danger. He ran to starboard; nothing was in view. The only conclusion was the Saratov. She was out there doing something that made Sergei nervous. George didn’t have to think very hard to figure out what it could be. Then began a cold rain.
A hard ping echoed through the ship as the freighter’s buoys registered the Saratov. They had found her and pinged her again and again.
“Course two-seven-zero,” ordered Andri.
Nick’s counterpart made the adjustments on his yoke, and the Saratov gracefully slid about.
“Make depth for periscope.” Andri observed the ship’s reaction as Nick brought her up until his gauge crossed a small red mark with periscope stenciled on it.
“Periscope depth, Captain,” said Sasha. He was trying to set an example for the rest.
Andri pulled the periscope up and found the old freighter. “Mark target’s course and speed.”
“Target marked and plotted,” spoke a voice from the rear of the cabin.
“Load tube number one.” There was a small noise in the ship as the clip dropped a torpedo into its chamber.
“Tube number one loaded.”
“Flood tube number one.” Andri paused. “On my mark… hold… mark… fire one.”
“Holy shit! They just flooded a tube.” Bumper yelled this from the sonar room.
Jim ran forward to listen for himself. The level of suspense on the ship rose.
“Torpedo in the water,” said Bumper’s sonar operator. “Repeat. Torpedo has been fired and is pinging to acquire target.”
“Are we in trouble?” Josh had overheard the commotion and saw Jim and Mikhail move forward.
“Only if we talk too much” was Mikhail’s reply.
“Torpedo has acquired target. One thousand yards to impact.”
The pings from the freighter and the torpedo mixed as they resonated throughout the War Eagle. It was a discorded cadence before the war.