Scowling, Samant walked quickly over to the television and turned it off, stopping the offensive chatter. He had no patience for people so easily distracted. They had more important things to do. The program office was behind on a number of mandatory reports, and Samant had called in his entire staff to work on Saturday to catch up. Many of the engineers had complained bitterly about his mad insistence on working extra hours just to keep an arbitrary schedule. This is why it takes India thirty years to design and build a submarine, he fumed.
Samant remembered the papers in his hand. He’d been trying to find one of the financial analysts, to review the cost estimates for the propulsion system, and his search had discovered not only one office empty, but all of the offices, and that had led the Indian captain here.
The analyst’s name was Singh. Samant had to refresh his memory by looking at the report. He’d been in charge of the project for only two days, and was still learning names.
He would have much preferred remaining aboard Chakra, but he could see why Vice Admiral Dhankhar had assigned him here. The reassignment had been unexpected. By rights, he should have remained captain of the sub for another six months before being transferred ashore. He wondered if his predecessor had committed some horrendous blunder, or if Dhankhar had just become fed up with the project’s lack of progress.
The Advanced Submarine Program was India’s second attempt to design and construct a nuclear submarine. The first program had created Arihant, now in service. The second boat, Aridhaman, was under construction, so it could certainly be considered a success, but the follow-on submarine design was taking much too long. By rights, the new program, building on the experience of the first, should have progressed much more quickly. But it wasn’t, as far as he could see.
His mind returned to the meeting with Vice Admiral Dhankhar. It had been straightforward enough — a review of the progress on Chakra’s refit, which had drifted into a discussion of the ongoing truce talks and the course of the war with Pakistan.
India had planned to eliminate Pakistan as a threat — remove her nuclear capability and destroy the bases in Pakistani territory that supported the terrorist attacks against India. They’d almost succeeded before the weather had closed in and ended the campaign until the spring.
Whatever the government might claim were the reasons for agreeing to truce talks, Samant and the rest of the military knew that the Indian Army had stopped advancing. Pakistani resistance had stiffened as Chinese support increased and the weather worsened. They were inside Pakistani territory, but not far enough. The enemy army, largely intact, still faced them, and their nuclear weapons were still a threat.
The most common scenario for the Kashmir incident held by Indian military personnel, discounting aliens, was that some of the Pakistani nuclear weapons had fallen into the hands of, or been handed over to, Lashkar-e-Taiba, and that somehow, perhaps in preparing a weapon for a future terrorist attack, someone had crossed the blue and red wires.
Dhankhar and Samant had been discussing the frightening implications of that hypothesis when the admiral had suddenly declared, “The real problem is China.”
Samant had immediately agreed, of course. It was universally understood among the military that with China now providing more support to Pakistan, and with the shock of the initial invasion having worn off, a resumption in fighting would find India facing a much more dangerous opponent, and a harder task.
The admiral stated firmly, “If we could prevent the Chinese from backing Pakistan, we could certainly win the military campaign and force the Pakistanis to agree to our terms.”
Samant didn’t like to disagree with admirals. Dhankhar was right, but wishing for China to go away was a waste of effort. China was helping Pakistan, and would continue to do so. That was a reality that India had to live with. Finally, he replied, “Wouldn’t that just widen the war, sir? And this time, India would be fighting alone. We may have missed our chance, sir. Maybe giving the Pakistanis back their territory in return for assurances…”
“And we’ll be right back where we started, Captain,” Dhankhar replied harshly. “I can’t accept that, after so much blood and effort, halfway to our goal.”
Dhankhar had ended the meeting shortly after that, and two days later, Samant had received orders relieving him of command of Chakra and assigning him to be the head of the Advanced Submarine Program, designing India’s next nuclear submarine. It was a logical step in his career, if a little premature, but Samant kept asking himself if there was a connection between the two events.
Instead of putting his foot through the television screen, Samant decided to return to his office. He’d find Singh later, after he’d cooled down a little more. He didn’t mind letting the people under his command know he could get angry, but angry people could make bad decisions.
And his outburst had sent a clear message. The rest of INS Circars might be going insane. They might double the security at the main gate. They might post sentries and institute ID checks at the entrances to every building. They might even close the commissary because they were worried about terrorist attacks, but this office would not follow their example.
Back in his office, he sat down to organize his thoughts. His eyes fell on the large photograph of Chakra, hung on the center of the opposite wall, facing his desk. His new office was almost palatial, compared with the closet-sized space he’d lived and worked in aboard the submarine, but he missed it. He missed being in command of one of the most important units in the Indian Navy.
He still worried about her, too. Was all this confusion affecting the refit? He thought of phoning Jain and visiting for a few minutes, but was reluctant to call. He and Jain had never been that close. It had never seemed appropriate to Samant. Jain would be busy enough without getting a call from his former commanding officer. He might even interpret it as meddling.
Better to focus on the task at hand. Lead by example.
He left to find Singh.
Aleksey Petrov often ate at Akshaya’s, in the restaurant district northeast of the naval base and the dockyard. Many of the other Russians working in Visakhapatnam, or “Vizag,” ate there as well. The staff was considerate of foreign sensibilities, toning down the spices below their customary volcanic intensity, and they’d actually tried adding some foreign items to the menu. Luckily, Petrov liked pierogies, and hadn’t had the heart to tell the manager they were Polish, not Russian.
Virtually all the Russians in Vizag worked either at the naval base or the dockyard, and often met at Akshaya’s, sharing conversation — usually news from home and complaints about the heat and humidity.
Today the talk was all about work. The Russians who worked at the dockyard as technicians or consultants were in an uproar. At noon, Captain Mitra, in charge of the work on Chakra, had called everyone into the shipyard and announced that the sub’s refit was to be cut short. She had to be ready for sea in four weeks!
“‘By April tenth,’ Mitra announced,” Ivanov reported, “as if it was that easy! Admiral Dhankhar was there, too, looking as if he was afraid Mitra wouldn’t recite his speech properly.”
Anton Kulik, an electronics technician and former sonar officer, complained, “It doesn’t make sense. I’m still routing the new cabling. Some of the new components aren’t even on hand yet. Mitra says anything that can’t be finished by April tenth should just be closed up as best we can.”