“Admiral, Senior Lieutenant Alexandrov instructed me to inform you that Lieutenant Antonov and his team are on their way up, and will be returning to the ship shortly.”
“Do we have the results of Antonov’s mission as yet?” questioned Valerian, suddenly all business.
“Not that I know of, sir. The senior lieutenant is waiting beside the moon pool where the team is to be debriefed.”
“Then by all means, let’s join them, Comrade,” said Valerian, who drained off the rest of the vodka and threw the empty bottle overboard.
One design feature unique to the Academician Petrovsky was a large, rectangular opening cut into the bottom of its hull. Known as the moon pool it offered the ship’s technicians a relatively safe, convenient access to the sea below.
To get to the moon pool Valerian had to travel below deck, and proceed aft — towards the ship’s stern. A steep stairwell conveyed him down to the spotlight-illumined waterline, where a steel-latticed catwalk completely surrounded the moon pool itself.
A tall, distinguished officer, with a two-way radio clipped to his belt, waited for him here.
“Viktor Ilyich, I thought that the team was on its way up,” impatiently chided the one-eyed veteran.
“That they are, sir,” replied Valerian’s secondin command Senior Lieutenant Viktor Ilyich Alexandrov.
“If you look towards the center of the moon pool you can just see their air bubbles now.”
By the time Valerian spotted this disturbance, the first of two diving saucers broke the waters surface.
The bright yellow mini subs were exact duplicates of the one used by the occupants of the Mir habitat, with the one exception being a properly designed alternator. As the lead saucer crept over to the edge of the catwalk where the two officers stood, its hatch sprung upwards and out popped a devilishly handsome, blond-haired sailor, dressed in dark blue coveralls. His appearance caused a broad smile to turn the corners of Valerian’s face, and the newcomer returned this greeting with a grin of his own.
“So Neptune has sent you back to us after all, Comrade,” welcomed Valerian.
Lieutenant Yuri Antonov answered while climbing up onto the catwalk.
“Even Neptune knows better than to fool with the spetsnaz. Admiral.”
This comment caused Valerian to break out in a hearty laugh, and he reached out to give the ruddy cheeked commando a firm handshake.
“Now tell me, Lieutenant Antonov,” said Valerian in all seriousness.
“How did the inspection go?
Did you find the malfunction?”
“I can’t really say,” replied Antonov, while watching his copilot climb out of the saucer.
“Per your instructions, we followed the power cable from the moon pool all the way down to the floor of the trench, a thousand feet beneath us, and we didn’t see a hint of damage. When we arrived at the device itself, our first test was of the magnetic resonator.
As far as I can tell, the degaussing pattern was strong and true.”
“How about the electromagnetic generators?” asked Valerian.
“Were they pulsating on the proper frequency?”
Ill “That they were. Admiral. We only recorded the slightest of variances, and most likely that was but a fault in our testing equipment.”
“If the malfunction is not in the resonator, then I still say that we’re projecting the improper energy field,” offered the senior lieutenant.
“And the only way to tell for certain is to bring up the entire device and recalibrate it.”
“But that could take an entire week,” protested Valerian.
“And even if we do get it back in place by the time Seawolf passes through the trench, we still won’t know for certain whether it’s operational or not.”
“Maybe the problem’s with the equipment in Vladivostok,” offered the commando.
“I’ve considered that possibility,” admitted Valerian.
“Well, at least our first test here was a partial success,” said Yuri Antonov optimistically.
Valerian heavily sighed.
“Unfortunately, a partial success is not good enough to guarantee us Seawolf. No, Comrades, it appears that I have no choice but to play our trump card. Though I promised Moscow that we could succeed without him, it’s time to call in the only individual who can find the malfunction and repair it in time to insure our success.”
The footpath led away from the dacha, deep into the surrounding birch forest. Dr. Andrei Petrov knew its every turn, for he had been walking it almost every day for the past five years. This was quite an amazing feat considering that he had just turned seventy years old, and that the doctors at the cancer institute had doubted that he’d ever see sixty-five.
Ever thankful that he had listened to his wife Anna, and worn his winter coat, he pulled the woolen collar up over his neck when a chilling gust of wind swept in from the north. The slender birch trunks swayed to and fro like a single entity, and Andrei looked up to scan the sky. A wall of low, dark grey clouds met his eyes, and he sensed that the first real snow of the season would soon be falling.
Though the official start of fall was still several days away, the lazy days of summer had long since passed. Here in the heart of central Russia, the snows came early, with the winters lasting well into the spring. This was fine with Andrei, who loved nothing better than to sit before a blazing fireplace, with the wood he chopped himself crackling away, as he watched the snow fall outside through the dacha’s central picture window.
Winter was the time to read books, and to listen to classical music on the phonograph. Occasionally, friends and colleagues would drop by, often staying overnight when the weather made travel difficult. These unscheduled slumber parties always turned out well, with plenty of lively conversation, and excellent food and drink to share. Andrei most anticipated these visits when the guests were former co-workers of his at the institute. Then he had a chance to get caught up on the latest gossip, and to learn more about the projects currently under development.
A raven loudly cried out overhead, and Andrei directed his attention back to the path. With increasing strides, he continued further into the forest, to the spot where a bubbling brook split the path in two. All too soon these crystal clear waters would freeze, and Andrei cautiously approached the pebble-strewn stream bank.
Only yesterday, he had seen a fat speckled trout swimming in the waters here. In the spring, he hoped to try his luck with a fly rod, in an attempt to catch this fish. For now he was content merely to catch a glimpse of it.
As he kneeled down behind a fallen birch trunk to await the trout, a rustling in the underbrush on the other side of the creek caught his attention.
Something large was moving through the berry bushes there, and he was somewhat surprised when a full-grown male elk broke through the thick cover and sauntered up to the creek to drink. It was a powerful-looking creature, with a tremendous rack of pointed antlers and a shaggy brown coat. Such elk freely roamed the woods here, and were coveted by the local hunters for their meat.
Andrei was not the type who could ever shoot such a magnificent animal. In fact, he didn’t own a rifle, and he had learned to fire one only for selfdefense during the war. Quite happy to coexist with nature in peace, he decided to quietly return to the footpath and get on with his hike. As he turned around to do so, yet another elk crashed out of the woods directly in front of him. This one was obviously a female, and appeared already to have gotten his scent.
Andrei now found himself in the unenviable position of being sandwiched between the two creatures.
Fall was rutting time for the elk, when the males were particularly aggressive. This was especially the case if another animal happened to get between the buck and its mate. Only last November, a local woodsman had been found fatally gored to death by an enraged male elk. Not wishing to share the man’s fate, Andrei did his best to continue on his way as quietly as possible.