While Snow slept, down in the depths of Imperator Caesar continued a ceaseless vigil. Over a one-hour period his sensory system detected and identified more than a hundred different forms of sea life. Other sounds cataloged included every surface craft that passed within his listening range. Water temperature was recorded every minute, and every fifteen minutes, tiny expendable bathythermographs were fired off to record temperatures surrounding Caesar for a distance of ten miles. The reactor was monitored for the tiniest alterations, climate in select spaces was checked on a programmed basis, and the shift of weight via human or liquid motion was monitored to adjust Imperator’s trim. And after the Russian submarines had been dispatched, Snow ordered that self-destruct communications packages be fired to the surface once every hour or that Imperator could either send or receive sixty-second messages on a special wavelength.
The computer’s most impressive talents were being saved for weapons control. Caesar was Hannibal and Napoleon, Patton and Mac Arthur, nestled in a gray metal box.
It was not in Abe Danilov’s nature to remain morose. There were times that Anna simply had to be dismissed from his mind. Just as there was no place for women on a warship, there were times when there was no room even for memories of them. The underwater transit was boring, like driving a car down a straight highway with no traffic or scenery. It could lull the senses. And when Danilov realized this torpor was allowing his sentimentality to overwhelm his mental agility, he forced himself to react.
He called for a messenger to locate Sergoff — then aware how easy it was to wait lazily for another, he canceled his order. After changing into a freshly pressed uniform, he went in search of his senior staff officer, whom he found dozing in his own cabin, an open book on his chest.
“Sergoff… Sergoff… wake up,” Danilov bellowed. “We’re growing lazy.”
Sergoff sat upright, banging his head on the bunk above him. Never before had Danilov come into his stateroom when they were at sea. Sergoff shook himself like a puppy. “What is it, Admiral?”
“One of us is going to find a polynya so that we can communicate with home base. Perhaps they already have data on Imperator that we can use. Then we’re going to play games among ourselves.”
Captain Sergoff was loyal to Danilov in the old-fashioned manner. Soviet Navy officers often remained within the same command for many years. An officer on a destroyer or cruiser could gradually rise through the ranks to become commanding officer if fitness reports remained exceptional. The theory that constancy bred perfection was often transferred to the staff of senior officers like Danilov. Sergoff, commanding a submarine years ago in the admiral’s squadron, had later been selected for Danilov’s staff. And as Danilov rose in power, Sergoff’s influence also increased. Sergoff understood the benefits of such security. He knew his admiral well enough to know that Abe Danilov made few mistakes. But of even greater significance, the admiral’s mentor for more than twenty-five years had been the commander in chief of the Soviet Navy. Sergoff, even during moments of wonder at Danilov’s impulsive decisions, remained comfortable.
When Danilov interrupted his nap, Sergoff’s surprise was momentary. As a matter of fact, he was pleased to see that Danilov’s spirit seemed to have returned. Sergoff knew that Anna was dying, as did everyone on Seratov. But there was no single person who could express to Danilov the sympathies of his sailors, not even Sergoff. Because Danilov kept both his love and his sadness so deeply within himself, those around him accepted his reticence and made believe they knew nothing of his problem. They watched his moods, their own seeming to rise and fall with the admiral’s.
News of Danilov’s return to his old self spread through Seratov quickly. Sergoff made sure that it was also passed to Smolensk and Novgorod. The mood of the leader could easily infect his subordinates, and the abrupt changes in Danilov created a positive attitude for the men in the three submarines passing under the arctic icecap.
The news, however, was anything but good when they rose to a polynya to communicate. Sergoff heard it first and even considered withholding the worst until he was sure his admiral’s attitude might remain unchanged. Yet even when he passed on the messages concerning the explosions in the northern Pacific, coupled with the failure of either Soviet submarine to report afterwards, and the disappearance of the intelligence ship, the admiral remained positive — a bit subdued, but still in a much better mood than the past two days.
“Perhaps, Sergoff, that’s exactly what happened. The Americans sank them.” He paused momentarily, knitting his brows in a curious manner as he peered at his chief of staff. “Though I find it hard to believe that they could dispose of Captain Molikov that easily. He was a tough one. But maybe there’s nothing to the reports. The explosions could have been anything. Our ships could be playing a game. After all, their mission is intelligence, not war.” Sergoff nodded in agreement. “That’s a good point. No need to worry yet—”
“But,” Danilov interrupted, cocking his head to one side, “that Admiral Reed is a cold-blooded son of a bitch, and the commander of Imperator… Snow”—he finally remembered—“he’s no better. Read the reports on them if you doubt me.”
“I’ve seen them, Admiral.” Sergoff’s job, at which he had grown adept over the years, was to let his admiral speculate whenever he desired without interrupting with facts or further conjecture. When Danilov mulled over a situation, he often thought aloud. His words didn’t necessarily reflect what he believed. He was simply expressing each aspect of the ideas generated in his mind. Sergoff knew when a good chief of staff should add specifics of his own and when he should agree or keep his mouth shut. Danilov appreciated Sergoff’s wisdom and often talked directly with him when the time was suitable.
Then, Danilov spoke up, “What would you do if you were in Admiral Reed’s position, knowing what we both know about him?”
Sergoff did not have to think before he answered. “I’d sink them both. There’s no way anyone can prove what happened right away. By the time Imperator completes her mission — if she does — those two submarines of ours will have little import. Yes… I’d sink them.”
“Of course you would. I would, too. They’d be a damn nuisance otherwise. That’s why we’re going to play some games today… just like riding to the hunt. And we’re going to play the Imperator game. No, that’s not what I really mean,” Danilov decided as he looked more closely at Sergoff. “We’re going to play American commander, and I’m going to use my computer to act just like I think they do. In two days, Reed or Snow could be very definitely trying to get rid of us, too.”