As he spoke, a young man and woman wearing white laboratory coats wheeled in a portable blackboard. A sheet covered the front of it.
Anton blinked a couple of times. The squeaking of the wheels on the stand had shoved away the drowsiness the monotone had sneaked upon him. He shifted in his seat, forcing himself to pay attention to Zotkin.
“Additionally,” Zotkin continued, “I have already started work on identifying what we want to find out, such as how far down the submarine can go and the engine still work, and how much speed we can generate while beneath the ocean surface.” He smiled, his bushy eyebrows rising, causing his eyes to widen. “The only thing that limits the speed that atomic power can bring is mechanical limitations. This is our opportunity to establish a baseline. Determine how fast we can go with the mechanical limitations of an aged submarine. From our lessons learned here, we can make future changes to our submarines that will increase speed and durability.” The scientist stopped, smiling, his eyes wide, looking around the table. The smile slowly disappeared when silence greeted his comment. “So, no one has anything to say?”
Anton looked around the table; no one answered. He cleared his throat. “Doctor Zotkin, we should also capture the cavitation we create while going through the speed changes.” He looked around the table. Only Gesny and he were sailors. “Cavitation, as everyone knows, is what the propeller does as it moves the submarine through the water. The faster a submarine goes, the more cavitation it creates. That wave motion creates noise in the water, and antisubmarine forces are always looking for noise in the water to locate their prey.”
Zotkin cleared his throat, a slight red creeping up the head of the facility’s neck. “You are right, Captain Zegouniov. I was asking what everyone thought of the idea of taking what we learn and incorporating it into future submarine designs. Don’t you think that is a great idea for the next step in bringing atomic power into the Soviet Navy?”
“Of course,” Anton said, with a slight nod to the left, “it is something I think all of us would have expected. What I wanted to do was add to your already comprehensive ideas on what we are going to test when we go to sea. I know the more we can provide to the Navy, the more we can expect their support.”
Zotkin looked down for a moment before raising his head. The red along the man’s neck was gone. “Captain Zegouniov is correct. He has offered us another element — another metric for determining the effectiveness of atomic power against mechanical limitations against operational considerations.” He pointed at a young scientist sitting on the right side of the table near the top position. “Marc, write down a new category. Title it ‘Operational Considerations.’ ” Zotkin looked at Anton. “Good of you to enlighten us, Captain Zegouniov.”
Anton nodded. He glanced at Gesny, who was looking down at the table. Zotkin was less than happy over his contribution, but atomic power was useless unless submarine warfare was taken into consideration. Every submariner who had fought in the Great Patriotic War knew that speed was not the essence of winning an underwater fight. Stealth was the essence. Sneak up on an unsuspecting enemy and put a torpedo or two into him, then sneak away before the antisubmarine forces found you and sank you. Atomic power could be the element of stealth that would enhance submarine warfare. No more battery limitations to submerged operations. If a submarine could stay submerged for days, it could eventually lose the dogs chasing the fox.
The man who had spoken to him earlier cleared his throat, catching the attention of the table. Anton appraised the man.
He wore the white smock of Zotkin’s scientists. The man had to be about fifty or sixty. Heavyset, a stomach from fine food and drink. A mixed mustache of gray and red trimmed too close to the lip on the left side interrupted the features of the red-flushed face.
Zotkin stopped his talking and looked at the man. “Doctor Danzinger, you have something to say?”
“Yes, I do, Doctor Zotkin. Your plan of testing the depths, the speed, and the power of atomic power will work until the hull collapses. I have told you that. The first test must be limited. It must take the submarine through its tested limitations, not beyond. Then we bring the K-2 back to the facility and see what, if any, damages are present. We need three to five at-sea tests, not just one.” Danzinger raised a hand and made circling motions above his head. “Before we rush off to declare victory. I am concerned we risk the future if we do.”
Anton had seen this polar bear of a man several times since his orientation voyage into the bay. Each time while Zotkin engaged Anton in conversation this scientist would disappear, casually, as if headed to another meeting or going home; but whatever the reason, the man never stayed when Anton appeared. This was the first time he had heard the man say more than a word or two, but it was enough that Anton detected a slight accent in the Russian the man spoke.
Zotkin’s eyes narrowed. “I agree, Doctor Danzinger. But we have to ensure we understand every capability and every fault our submariners will face in using atomic power.” Zotkin walked to the blackboard and wiped his hands on his laboratory coat. “Don’t you agree?”
Behind the anger in Zotkin’s voice, Anton detected a slight trace of nervousness. His eyes trailed back to Danzinger, who had picked up the pencil in front of him and was now drumming it on the table.
“I agree we need to test the combination of a submarine with atomic power,” Danzinger finally acknowledged. “We also need to discuss the dangers—”
“I have told you,” Zotkin interrupted, “that there were no dangers. We have tested everything we know, and we are satisfied with the safety of the program.”
Anton watched the interplay between the two men. Why did this man make Zotkin both angry and nervous? What dangers were they talking about?
“We don’t know what we don’t know.” Danzinger looked at Anton. “Captain, how many trips on the Whale have you made?” Anton straightened. Getting in the middle of what was appearing to be an internal scientific disagreement was something he would prefer to avoid. “Every day I have been aboard the Wh — K-2 prototype, Doctor Danzinger.”
“And every day you have inspected the submarine from bow to stern?”
“Doctor Danzinger!” Zotkin interrupted. “Can we discuss this later, after we cover the purpose of today’s briefing?”
Danzinger looked at Zotkin, then glanced back at Anton. “Captain, my apologies. Like Doctor Zotkin, I want this sea trial to be a great success for the glory of the Soviet Union and the expansion of its Navy,” Danzinger said, as if repeating a rote phrase learned during his time in the Soviet Union.
Zotkin grunted, then turned back to the board. “Let’s continue with the purpose of today’s meeting.” He flipped over the covering sheet.
Anton turned away from Danzinger, not answering the scientist’s question, and read the board. Nothing new there. He had taken submarines out to sea for routine trials, and he saw nothing new for a Navy leader. Zotkin started reading what was on the board to the assembled members, making Anton wonder why people did that. Why read something aloud that everyone could read themselves?