Anton continued toward the sound of activity. Someone there would direct him toward an exit that would take him back to the Whale. He looked at his watch again. Zotkin was to meet him there in an hour for his first tour of the engine room. No captain should be barred from any area within his boat, but then the K-2 was not just any boat, it was the Whale. Then he realized that for all his pride in being the captain of this historic submarine, the true captain was Doctor Zotkin. The couple of times he had ordered Anatole Tumanov, the lieutenant commander who was the chief engineer of the Whale, to do something that involved the engine room, the naval officer told him that it had to be cleared through Zotkin. He thought of throwing Tumanov off his boat, but Zotkin had somewhat pacified Anton’s ire with the explanation of the dangers of atomic power. Anton did not like it, but for the good of the Soviet Navy, he accepted it.
Anton turned the corner, finding himself in the shadow of the faint light ahead. Instinct more than caution caused him to stop and watch. An Arctic breeze whipped down the passageway, causing him to button the top of his foul-weather jacket.
Crossing the passageway from right to left, men in white smocks pulled and pushed stretchers from an unseen compartment on the right toward daylight on the left. Had he discovered the loading platform he had observed two weeks ago during his familiarization cruise? Some internal warning told him to keep his presence quiet.
In the Soviet Union, lack of curiosity was a virtue that could save your life. Anton watched, not moving, not wanting to draw attention to his presence. Of the five stretchers he watched pass, three of the occupants had sheets drawn across their faces. The occupants of the other two had their faces uncovered. The person on the last stretcher seemed to be staring right at him, and their eyes locked. The man’s hand fell off the gurney, revealing deep swatches of dark, purple skin. Something fell off the hand onto the floor.
Around the bend at the end of the passageway, the noise of the wheels stopped, unmasking the voices. Anton was able to catch some of the words.
“Do they leave tonight?”
“I don’t think so,” a different, older-sounding voice replied. “I think Doctor Zotkin wants to examine them later, and according to his schedule he is going to be on the K-2 most of the afternoon. They’ll have to wait until tomorrow.”
“How about these two?”
Anton could envision a shrug as the older man answered. “Give them some water. And if they regain consciousness and want some food, give them some. Otherwise, place the stretchers near the drains in the event they void any body fluids.”
A third voice spoke. “Doctor Zotkin wants test tubes filled with anything coming out of their bodies. He also wants blood work done before they leave.”
“Yes, Comrade Doctor,” the older man answered. “But they are not going to leave until Doctor Zotkin says they can leave.”
“Hey! Get that hand back onto the gurney!” someone shouted from the left.
The two men with the gurney stepped away. “Not me,” one of them said. “I have no gloves!” he shouted in reply.
Scuffling noises came from the left and a burly man appeared, wrapped in a heavy parka for the Arctic weather outside.
He reached out roughly, and with a gloved hand lifted the sick man’s arm back onto the gurney, tossing it as if it were no more than a chunk of wood. The arm was now exposed on top of the sheet.
The burly man stepped back. “Damn,” he said, lifting his foot.
“Look what you assholes have done. He is shedding on the floor.” He shook his finger at one of the helpers. “When we finish loading this bunch, get them over to the clinic before these two freeze. Then you’d better get this mess cleaned up before Doctor Zotkin sees it. You understand?”
“Yes, comrade, I understand,” the helper replied, his voice shaking.
“You’d better unless you want to join them.” The burly man turned and left the area, returning inside to the warmth of the facility.
The parting threat hung in the air, and Anton wondered more about what was going on. The man on the gurney had looked familiar. Had he seen him earlier since he had been here? Anton grimaced, realizing that the condition of the face was similar to that of the arm and hand, the skin seemingly peeling away, as if baked in some oven.
A hand touched Anton’s shoulder, causing him to jump. He turned. Gesny stood there. His XO put his finger to his lips and then motioned Anton to follow him. The two Navy officers stepped back into the corridor. Without a word, he followed his executive officer down the passageway, and with two quick turns and a set of ladders leading upward, the two men quickly left the area behind.
Near a watertight door that Anton knew led to the covered dock, Gesny stopped. He looked over his shoulder and placed his finger to his lips. “Captain, you must forget what you saw,” he warned.
“Why?” Anton asked, forgetting for a moment to hide his curiosity.
Gesny shrugged. “It is only a recommendation, comrade. The last captain grew too involved in the misfortunes associated with this great opportunity for our nation. He has since been transferred.” Gesny tossed his head to the side and sighed. “We can imagine where he has been transferred, but we never discuss it.”
In a low voice, Anton continued, “Who were the men on the gurneys? I saw two of them but did not recognize them.”
Gesny seemed to be weighing whether to answer Anton, then replied, “They were former engineers of the K-2—the Whale.”
“What is wrong with them?”
“Radiation poisoning,” Gesny answered with a shrug. “It is one of the reasons why they keep you and me away from the engineering room. It is one thing to lose men who have little to live for or who have only their lives to contribute to the Soviet Union, but for us, we are capable of much more,” Gesny replied quietly.
Anton could tell that Gesny truly believed this. One man’s life was more valuable than another’s? This was not the communism he was trained to accept, but he could understand the reasoning behind it. There are many underlying currents within government of which he had become aware and chose to ignore. Maybe this was one of them.
“But the chief engineer — Lieutenant Commander Tumanov? He has been with the project since the start, and he seems all right.”
“You won’t find Tumanov in the engine room except when he has no choice. He has seen what comes out of it.”
Gesny’s words would have both of them cutting frozen wood in Siberia. He half expected strong arms to pin him against the bulkhead from the blasphemy uttered. Several tense seconds passed between them. Anton glanced behind him.
“There is no one there, Comrade Captain.”
“How do you know that this ‘radiation poisoning’ is the cause of their demise? Could it be influenza caused by the extreme conditions of the Arctic?”
Gesny shrugged again. “Influenza doesn’t cause your skin to fall off.”
Before Anton could ask another question, Gesny shrugged again. His XO was a man of many shrugs. He looked past Anton. “We should go, Comrade Captain. I strongly recommend that you forget what you saw. Many die when science moves forward. Even the Americans test their drugs on their people, who also die.”
Without waiting for a reply, Gesny stepped to the watertight door. “Remember Madame Curie and her discovery of X-rays?” He asked between grunts as he opened the watertight door.
“Yes.”
“She died of lung cancer because of it. We may expect more deaths, but in the end, their sacrifice will be good for the Soviet Union. Without their sacrifice, we may find ourselves in another Great Patriotic War against our Allies from the last one.”