The woman guided Christine to a chair by the table, babbling question after question. Christine shook her head and answered in English.
“I don’t understand.”
The woman sat beside Christine for a moment, trying to communicate, and they eventually learned each other’s names. The unintelligible dialogue continued until Tamara said something Christine understood.
“Tea?”
Christine smiled and nodded.
Tamara prepared tea, which was served with a shallow cup of jam. There was no bread to go with the jam, so Christine assumed it went in the tea. She took a small spoonful and held it over her cup, then looked at Tamara. She gave Christine a curious look, as if to say—what a ridiculous question, then nodded. Of course the jam goes in the tea. She then busied herself in the kitchen again, and aroma filled the air as she prepared a pot of hot borsch.
The cabin door opened and an elderly man entered. He stopped when he spotted Christine at the table. Before Tamara could explain, he asked a curt question.
Tamara guided him to the table, talking along the way, then pushed him down into a chair across from Christine. Tamara pointed to him and said, “Vasily.”
Christine extended a hand. “Christine.”
The man eyed her hand suspiciously, then shook it.
Vasily wasn’t any better at communicating, but Christine figured he was trying to ascertain who she was and how she ended up in their cabin. But aside from her name, she was able to convey nothing.
Borsch was served and Tamara joined them, and the conversation ceased while they ate. After living off the meager backpack rations the last few days, Christine was famished. Tamara offered a second helping, which Christine eagerly accepted.
Christine was the last to finish, and after the dishes were cleared, Tamara and Vasily resumed their efforts to communicate. Christine finally conveyed she needed a phone by punching her finger in the air, and learned that they didn’t have one.
Tamara went to the fireplace mantel and returned with a framed photograph of a young woman. She pointed to herself and Vasily, then to the picture.
“Anna,” she said, punching her finger in the air. Christine understood; the woman in the picture was their daughter and she had a phone. Tamara then pointed to the door and then to her watch, offering a questioning gesture. Christine stood, then tapped her watch vigorously. She needed a phone as soon as possible.
Tamara and Vasily exchanged looks, then Vasily spoke. He pointed to himself, then the door. He would take Christine to his daughter.
70
USS MICHIGAN
“The piping systems are aligned,” Lieutenant Commander Bill Harwi reported, standing by a watertight door to the Missile Compartment. Accompanying the Engineer were Captain Wilson and a chief machinist mate in charge of Auxiliary Division, along with a machinist mate second class on the sound-powered phones.
Wilson acknowledged Harwi’s report. The piping systems had been aligned to port high-pressure air into the Missile Compartment, to expand the existing air bubble and force water back out the hole in the hull. The back-of-the-envelope calculations indicated the effort might succeed, depending on how high up the hole was in Michigan’s hull. If it was too high, air would spill out the hole before sufficient water was expelled, and the effort would fail. There was only one way to find out.
“Open Salvage Air,” Wilson ordered.
The Engineer passed the order to the machinist mate second class who rotated the handwheel, and air began flowing into the Missile Compartment. The piping was only two inches in diameter, so it would take a while to force the water back out the hole. Meanwhile, other preparations were required.
The A-Gang chief remained at the Salvage Air valve with the other machinist mate, while Wilson and Harwi headed to the Control Room to monitor air bank pressures and ship’s depth. The ballast and ship control panels, along with the other equipment in Control, were dark.
“Energize Sonar and the ballast and ship control panels,” Wilson ordered.
The Officer of the Deck ordered the appropriate electrical breakers shut and a Sonar startup. The ballast and ship control panels energized, and the air bank pressures slowly decreased as air flowed into the Missile Compartment.
Sonar completed its startup, but communications were still down, so the Sonar Supervisor opened the door to Sonar. “Sonar, Conn. Sonar startup complete. Commencing broadband and narrowband searches.”
Wilson entered Sonar, addressing the Sonar Supervisor. “We need to determine when we’ve pushed all the water possible out of the Missile Compartment and air starts spilling out the hole. We can’t afford to waste any air.”
“I understand, sir. We’ll monitor broadband and the self-monitoring hydrophones for any change in sound signature. We should be able to determine when air starts exiting the compartment.”
Wilson returned to the Control Room, settling into his chair on the Conn, waiting until the Salvage Air process was complete.
The minutes ticked by as air flowed into the Missile Compartment, pushing the water out. Finally, the Sonar Supervisor emerged from Sonar again. “Captain, we’re detecting air bubbling into the surrounding water.”
Wilson ordered the Salvage Air valve shut, then examined the air bank pressures; they were pretty close to what the Engineer had calculated. A glance at the Ship Control Panel revealed the expected information. Michigan was still stuck on the bottom. Too much water remained in the Missile Compartment.
He was about to proceed to the next step — pumping water from Michigan’s variable ballast tanks — when the Sonar Supervisor reported, “Sonar, Conn. Hold a new narrowband contact on the spherical array, Sierra two-eight, bearing two-five-zero, classified submerged. Analyzing.”
Another Russian submarine was nearby, most likely another one of the three Improved Kilos.
Wilson ordered, “Man Battle Stations Torpedo silently.” He didn’t have a choice, with the shipwide communications systems secured.
The Officer of the Deck sent the Messenger and the LAN Technician of the Watch throughout the Operations Compartment while the Chief of the Watch informed personnel in the Engine Room via the sound-powered phone system.
To the Engineer, Wilson ordered, “Commence reactor startup. We’ll wait until we’re in the power range to come off the bottom and open the main seawater intakes for Engine Room startup. I want to minimize the time we’re hovering above the bottom, more vulnerable to detection, until we have propulsion.”
“Aye, sir,” the Engineer replied, then relayed the order to the Engineering Officer of the Watch in the Engine Room.
Wilson then asked, “What do we have left in the battery?”
The Engineer queried the Engineering Officer of the Watch, who reported battery discharge rate and voltage. They had enough power to sustain the tactical systems for a few hours.
To the Officer of the Deck, Wilson ordered, “Bring up Combat, Navigation, and all communication circuits.”
Personnel streamed into the Control Room, taking their positions at the dormant consoles, waiting as the combat control and navigation systems completed their start-up routines.
As the last console flickered to life, Sonar reported, “Sierra two-eight is classified Improved Kilo class submarine.”