Katshora stood without interrupting the nonstop tirade vomiting forth from Zotkin. He grabbed his heavy fur winter cap. The flaps were tied up along the sides, and on the front of the cap was the emblem of a vice admiral.
“Come with me,” he finally got to say when Zotkin paused for a second to take a breath. “Let’s go to the bridge and find out what the situation is.”
“The situation is dire! Dire, I tell you! Everything I have worked for has—”
Behind Katshora, the telephone started to ring again. When he opened the door and motioned Zotkin ahead of him, the slight wind inside the ship blew the consolidated daily sighting report off the table, the papers scattering across the deck.
Katshora shook his head as Zotkin rushed by him and he shut the door. Minor irritants. Ankle-biters. Things that matter little sometimes build up. Zotkin kept his monologue going as they walked along the passageway. Zotkin’s pace would separate him from Katshora by a few steps; then the scientist would slow down long enough for him to catch up. Listening to Zotkin, Katshora nearly smiled as he realized how unusual this must seem to a man who had never seen combat or spent a deployment on board a warship.
Zotkin obliquely criticized Katshora about how things had been going, specifically pointing out that it had been Katshora who had forbidden the scheduled tests in the Barents. Zotkin stopped for a moment to allow an oncoming sailor to pass, but when the sailor saw Katshora, he snapped to attention and pressed himself against the bulkhead.
The vice admiral stepped around Zotkin, by the sailor, and continued toward the bridge. Testing in the Barents in the dead of winter was a bad idea. It was an idea no sailor would have thought of. He never tried to tell the politically connected Communist scientist that weather is not subject to the whims of the Kremlin. You never truly knew what you said or did that earned you the free one-way trip to Siberia, though he doubted the dreaded Siberia could be much different from the long winters of Severomorsk.
At the hatch entering the bridge he turned to Zotkin. “Here you will have to keep quiet while we check on the condition of my submarine.”
“But I am the test director.”
“You are right. You are the test director. But I am the vice admiral who is going to make sure you have your submarine back so you can continue your tests.”
Without waiting for a reply, Katshora opened the hatch and stepped onto the bridge to a chorus of “admiral on the bridge” announcements. He saw the motion of the starshina writing his presence on the log. Ironic how close the Soviet and American Navies were in their traditions and how they did their operations.
“What is going on, Captain?” Katshora asked the skipper of the destroyer.
Captain Second Rank Kuvashin saluted. “The Whale—”
“It is the K-2, not the Whale” Zotkin interrupted, irritated.
Katshora glared at the scientist, who quieted. Zotkin reached up and buttoned the neck of his knee-length winter coat.
“Go ahead,” Katshora said to Kuvashin.
“The K-2 was surfacing near an unauthorized vessel that had entered the operational area. It appears it surfaced beneath it.”
“How does a submarine surface beneath a vessel? Did he have contact on it?”
“Apparently so, Admiral.”
“Then they collided. Who is this intruder?”
“We had been tracking him. We put him down to either one of our patrol boats or a lost merchant vessel.” Kuvashin glanced out the front windows of the bridge. “Fog is still hampering our tests.”
“I think the tests are over with. Did you try to contact the intruder over bridge-to-bridge and warn him away?”
“Yes, sir. We have been trying since the collision, but he has yet to reply.”
Zotkin opened his mouth to speak. Katshora looked at him. “One moment, please, Doctor.” He looked at Captain Second Rank Kuvashin. “What is the damage?”
“Captain First Rank Zegouniov reports his periscope is damaged and unusable. He has sustained integrity damage to the conning tower. The main hatch has been warped. He is already working to correct it, sir.”
“And the forward torpedo room that was damaged last week? Is it still secure? No problems?”
Kuvashin turned to the officer of the deck. “Lieutenant, ask the Whale the damage status for the rest of the submarine, specifically the forward torpedo room.”
Katshora glared at Zotkin before the scientist could correct Kuvashin. Katshora turned back to the captain of the Soznatel-nyy. “And the other vessel?” he asked.
“No report, sir.”
“I want to know about the other vessel.”
The bridge-to-bridge radio bleeped, and the sound of static interrupted the two men. Kuvashin motioned at the OOD, who handed him the microphone. “Whale, this is the commanding officer, Soznatelnyy; report, please. Admiral Katshora is listening.”
“Admiral, Captain First Rank Zegouniov reporting, sir. The other submarine seems to be okay. It is heading northeasterly toward what we were calling contact Alpha. That would either be the destroyer Soznatelnyy you are on, or the Byvalvyy.”
Katshora grabbed the microphone from Kuvashin. “What other submarine? There is no other submarine out here.”
A moment of silence passed before radio static announced the pressing of the talk button on the other end. “But sir: we collided with another submarine. It has to be one of ours.”
Katshora glanced around the bridge. Everyone was looking at him. Some openly, but most flickered a look from the corners of their eyes. What submarine? he thought. Then he recalled the sighting report he had read from the merchant captain only a few minutes ago. The British would not be so stupid as to send one of their submarines into Kola Bay. The Americans would never do something like this; they were too concerned with the safety of their superiority.
Katshora looked at the helm and saw a chief starshina standing near the helmsman. “Chief, go to my stateroom and bring me the consolidated daily sighting report. It is on the table beside my chair.”
The chief saluted.
“Do it quickly.”
Katshora raised the microphone and pressed the talk button. “Can you describe the submarine?”
“No, sir; I only caught a glimpse of the stern as it disappeared into the fog.”
“Do you have a course, other than northeasterly?”
“That is a negative, Vice Admiral.”
Katshora looked at Kuvashin. “Do you have the contact on radar?”
“No, sir. We have had it on contact, but land smear masks the contact. We have problems detecting the Byvalvyy, and she is only a few kilometers from us.”
“Bring the ship to general quarters. Order the Byvalvyy at best speed to the restricted passage. Tell them to conduct active antisubmarine efforts. Tell them I believe we may have an unidentified submarine in the operational area.” He paused, then added, “Tell him he has authorization to sink any unidentified ship between him and the entrance to Kola Bay.”
Kuvashin hurried to the other side of the bridge, where the communications officer manned a bank of secure radios.
Anton heard the orders Katshora was giving over the open speaker. The admiral must still be pressing the talk button.
Gesny’s head appeared in the hatch. “Captain, we have a problem! Forward torpedo room is flooding. I have a damage control party en route. The chief engineer is attempting to use the bilge pumps to maintain the flood. I have a damage control party en route to rig portable pumps.”