“Many have marched toward Moscow in history.”
Gesny waited for Anton to step through before shutting the hatch and securing it. “That is true, but Mother Winter won’t always be our ally from history. A true atomic power on a par with
America would ensure that the avenues of Moscow remain free.”
The Whale stood in front of them. Where they had emerged had put the two senior officers of the submarine near the starboard aft side of the boat. Several sailors moved across the deck of the submarine, taking care of some housekeeping chores such as scouring away new rust. A submarine was only as effective as its ability to move silently through the waters; otherwise the immense antisubmarine resources of the Soviet Union’s enemies would quickly detect them. While scientists at the facility worked quickly on developing atomic power for the submarines, another group of scientists, at the Black Sea headquarters, were working on something called anechoic coating. Once Soviet submarines were covered with this special coating, it would reduce drag beneath the waves. The noise signature of the submarine cutting through the water would be near zero. Anton smiled. So much technology, and all of it so near. Wave after wave of new things hastening the Soviet Union into achieving the age-old goal of Russia to be a formidable sea power. Gesny was right: forgetting what he saw was best for the Soviet Union. It was also best for him and Elena.
“She is so beautiful,” Gesny offered.
“Is this your first tour as XO?”
“Yes, Comrade Captain. But you are the second commanding officer, so I don’t know what that says about my abilities as an XO.”
“What happened to my predecessor?”
Gesny looked around. Voices echoed in the cavern of the covered dock. He shrugged. “One day he was here; the next he was gone. Doctor Zotkin said the captain had had a nervous breakdown.”
“But you said—”
Gesny looked at him; then, in as quiet a voice as possible in the echo-laden open of the covered pier, he said, “As I said, the captain was curious. He wanted to know what was going on aboard his boat.”
“As I do.”
Gesny nodded. “The captain did not have your connections to the Kremlin. He was Ukrainian.”
“I am Ukrainian,” Anton said.
Gesny looked perplexed. “Umm; I don’t think Doctor Zotkin knows.”
“I think he does. It is in my records, and my records were forwarded to the commander of the Northern Fleet Submarine Force — directly to Admiral Katshora.”
“I think the admiral is the only one who has the necessary”— Gesny seemed to searching for the right word—“credentials to disagree with Doctor Zotkin.” Before Anton could say anything, Gesny added quickly, “Not everything, but some.”
“Such as?”
Gesny shrugged. “Hard to say, Comrade Captain. Short-stature XOs of the rank of commander are seldom privy to the thoughts and confidences of their seniors.” He looked up at Anton and nodded. “Not even yours.”
Anton stopped and turned to Gesny. “Why are you sharing this information with me?”
“Maybe it is because I am your XO, Captain, and as your XO my loyalty — not counting my extreme loyalty to the Soviet Union and the party — is to you.” Gesny glanced to his left for a moment, then turned back to Anton, his voice still low. “I do not want to see this crew go through a third skipper. Our project — the future of the Soviet Navy — is too important for crew morale to suffer more than it already has.”
“I need to visit the engine room, and I need to talk with the chief engineer more than short nods and hellos in the passageways of the facilities. I know that Doctor Zotkin views the Whale as an extension of his laboratories, but it is a Soviet warship under the command of Admiral Katshora.”
Gesny turned forward, extending his hand toward the gangway. “Maybe we should continue on board the Whale, sir. Doctor Zotkin is due soon to discuss the test trials further. Maybe you can ask him about the shielding to the atomic reactor.”
Anton turned, and the two men continued their walk along the starboard side of the submarine.
“And if we are lucky, maybe he won’t tell us again the history of how he convinced the party that he could bring atomic power to the Navy.”
The gangplank ahead of them lacked the normal canvas sides with the submarine number and name on it. It was a clean, steel walkway leading from the pier to the deck of the Whale, highlighted by the faint Arctic daylight at the huge opening leading into the exit channel.
“Lead, right? We are using lead?”
Gesny nodded. “Lead is the element known to stop radiation. But from what I know, it is the thickness of the lead in proportion to the radiation that protects us. The lead being used is from the factories in Ust-Kamenogorsk.”
Anton’s eyebrows furrowed in question.
“Ust-Kamenogorsk is a city in Kazakhstan. It is a center of heavy metal industries, of which lead is one.” Gesny continued, poking himself in the chest, “I believe there is a problem with impurities within the lead shielding that is allowing too much radiation to escape.”
“And what does Doctor Zotkin say about that?”
Gesny shrugged. “He disagrees, and he is the chief scientist.”
“Can we modify the air purifiers to circulate the radiation off the boat?”
“We have tried. We are trying now. Since the reactor has come online, we have had two air purifier failures in the engineering spaces. Both times radiation built up. So you are right, Captain; air purifiers and circulation help a little in keeping the radiation down; but what we discovered is it also raises the exposure throughout the boat.”
Anton pointed ahead of them, not at any specific thing, but to the casual observer it would appear that the two senior officers on the Whale were speaking about something on the boat. “That would not be good if we were submerged for a long period.”
“It was not nice when we were on the surface. Even now, the atomic engine continues to run. It runs forever. Never has to be shut down. Never cries for rest. Just keeps running — churning and churning. We could submerge outside the dock and disappear beneath the waves, with only mechanical failures and human needs being the reasons for surfacing, as Doctor Zotkin pointed out.”
The two men stopped. Anton looked over Gesny’s shoulder at the deck of the Whale. Several sailors were about a hundred feet away, working on the deck of the boat. One was repairing some of the rusty deck, while another shouted instructions, as if the seaman doing the work needed additional leadership to complete the job.
“It is indeed a glorious example of Soviet science,” Anton said.
“Even if it were not Soviet science alone that did the discovery, even if they had access to American science or German engineering, we need it for our survival. Our nation needs this power or the Soviet Union will never be the global sea power needed for its survival and defense.”
They both turned at the sound of the hatch opening behind them. A young officer in the dress uniform of a lieutenant shut the hatch and headed toward them. He saluted as he arrived.
“Captain Zegouniov?”
“Yes.”
“Admiral Katshora sends his regards, sir,” the lieutenant said, handing a white envelope to Anton.
Anton looked at the name tag on the man’s right chest. “Lieutenant Serigy,” he said, holding the envelope up. “And this?”
“I am sorry, sir. The admiral did not say. He handed that to me early this morning and told me to bring it to you. I would have been earlier, but it took a couple of hours to arrange a boat to bring me across the bay.” The lieutenant had his hands behind his back in a formal parade-rest position.