The engineer could head aft from the forward engine room to step through the next hatch into the aft engine room.
Potts looked at the clock. It read 1847. An hour since they submerged. That was too long. “We should have finished half an hour ago. You been writing down the times I been giving you for the battery checks?”
“Yeah.” Fromley stood back, his head cocked downward, looking at the logbook. “I got each one timed correctly.”
Potts walked over and jerked the logbook from him. “Well, you got the times wrong. Let me correct them for you.”
Fromley watched as Potts erased the time entries and added new ones. He knew it wasn’t right, but this was Potts — the only friend he had. They were shipmates.
SIX
The cramped room for today’s briefing convinced Anton there was something about Arctic life that mandated smaller being better. He pulled one of the many straight-back wooden chairs out and tossed his notebook onto the long conference table.
“Captain?”
Anton turned and accepted the offered small glass filled with espresso from the steward. He nodded at the sailor, whose eyes never lifted to meet his. “Thanks,” he said.
The sailor gave a quick nod without raising his eyes or acknowledging Anton’s gratuity. What is going on here? On board his ship he would have the chief of the boat at his stateroom in an instant, demanding to know why he had not been recognized with a formal reply. Instead he placed the espresso on the table and sat down. This facility was not the Navy in many ways, and that steward probably had less sea time than most fishermen’s daughters.
Dr. Zotkin walked into the briefing room. “Walk” was the wrong word, Anton corrected. The perceived rudeness by the sailor was forgotten with Zotkin’s arrival. “Flew” or “raced” or “quick-stepped” would be better ways to describe how the head of the facility moved from one location to another. He smiled.
Marx. That was who Zotkin reminded him of. Not Karl, but Groucho — without the mustache. Zotkin walked with his upper body ahead of his legs.
“Ah, Captain Zegouniov, you are happy this morning, no?” a gentleman in a white smock, sitting across from him, asked.
“Yes, thank you,” Anton replied with a nod, wondering about the accent.
Anton had been surprised the morning after his first day to discover stiffness in his legs with trying to keep up with the energetic Zotkin. Even now, though everyone insisted he was early, he knew he arrived on the right day at the right time. Eleven days spent in the facility around this Soviet scientist genius, and Anton knew little of the man.
“Captain Zegouniov!” Zotkin shouted. The man’s hair flew in different directions, as if static electricity pulled every which way. The scientist started clapping. The other scientists clapped with energy.
Anton felt his face turning red. He glanced at his XO, Gesny, and saw him join the applause. Their eyes met, and Anton thought he detected a slight mirth in the eyes of the expressionless face he was growing used to seeing near his side every morning at quarters. Morning muster was new to the crew of the Whale, but it was not new to the Navy.
Zotkin stopped clapping, and the applause immediately died out. “Gentlemen, I have decided that it is time for the K-2 to test the atomic engine outside of Kola Bay. In eight days, Captain Zegouniov will take the K-2 from here — from our facility, from our hidden cove where we have hidden our great leap from the Americans. I know I have said it so many times it goes without saying, but we few, we few proud scientists working under the guidance of the party have developed atomic power for the Soviet Navy.” Zotkin leaned forward, his voice going lower, and said conspiratorially, “And we have kept it secret from the Americans and their Western ‘friends’ by hiding it in this hidden facility.” Zotkin laughed.
Continuing, he added, “Atomic power designed, engineered, implemented, and operated by some of the best minds in the Soviet Union.”
Polite applause rose from those around the table. Anton joined. So finally he would be able to test the atomic engine in a real ocean, though at this time of the year the first ice was already creeping south toward the shores of the Barents Sea. There was a thrill of the moment. He understood why Zotkin was so passionate, why the scientist’s face seemed to radiate with joy.
“Captain Zegouniov, allow me to introduce Doctor Nikolai Forov.” A heavyset bear of a man stood up near the end of the table across from him. A brown beard speckled with gray hid the contours of the man’s face. The doctor nodded at Anton, his face breaking into a huge grin.
“Doctor Forov is your new medical surgeon. As everyone knows, the K-2 has been without a real doctor for some time due to many, many reasons, but now I am happy to announce that in time for the trials, the Kremlin has answered our request.”
“Welcome aboard, Doctor Forov,” Anton said.
“Thank you,” Forov acknowledged as he sat down.
More importantly to Anton, he would have an opportunity to take the Whale into the open ocean. A submarine dockside was like the boat’s name; it was a Whale trapped inside the bay. Or as Elena was fond of saying about those who made her uncomfortable, “She’s sweating like a whore in church — impatient for the chance to get back to business.” He smiled even as he shut his eyes for a second, recognizing the insolence of the comparison.
“See, even our taciturn Captain Zegouniov has honored us with a smile,” Zotkin announced, his voice filling the room. Laughter erupted for a few seconds, with several applauding.
“And what were you thinking, our good captain?”
Anton was caught off guard. Taciturn? He was not! Discretion was an art best learned by observation or fear — or maybe a mix of both. “I am thrilled over the idea of us finally taking the Wha — K-2—into the open ocean. It is in the ocean where submarines should be, submerged, taking the fight to the enemy. I know I speak for Commander Gesny when I say we are honored to be the two who will test a technological breakthrough that will catapult the Soviet Navy submarine force to par with the Americans. I think if Admiral Katshora was here, he would say the same.”
“Yes, he might,” Zotkin added, his voice even.
Zotkin sat down at the end of the conference table. “Today we will discuss the goals of the sea trials we expect Captain Ze-gouniov to accomplish while the K-2 is at sea.” Zotkin opened his mouth to say something but stopped. The scientist made a sweep of his right arm toward Anton and added, “And, of course, we have Captain Zegouniov and Commander Gesny here to provide us with their thoughts and recommendations.”
Zotkin continued, never once asking anyone for their thoughts as he went over the history of the program. Anton had heard the spiel several times in the past month. Zotkin was determined that no one forget his leadership in pushing the Soviet Navy into the atomic age. Anton doubted there was a verb in the Russian language that Zotkin could not conjugate in the first person. He tuned out the history of the program as Zotkin spoke. After nearly two weeks, Anton already knew the spiel by heart.
Zotkin continued on how he had led a small group of Communist scientists to the shores of the facility. Anton had discovered that Zotkin had been selected by Stalin himself. Zotkin covered each part of the K-2 project. The K-2 was a former diesel submarine of the Great Patriotic War. Zotkin led the scientists onto the beach where they had engineered the atomic technology; designed the atomic plant; and tested it ashore before dropping it into the aft portion of the K-2. Nervously, they had tested it again and again. They had integrated it into the legacy parts of the boat. And when they finished, atomic power turned the shaft with more power than ever before believed. Today, Soviet scientists in the Pacific Fleet were working on new technology to turn foul air into clean air. With atomic power and the ability to clean carbon dioxide from the air, it would only be mechanical limitations and human frailties that limited the time a submarine could stay submerged. The Soviet atomic engine Zotkin had fathered was foolproof. It could run forever. Nothing could stop his atomic engine.