The Belgorod (K-329)
Hovering over the DASH mid-Atlantic data node
1311 local time
Captain, the work is complete,” the drone pilot said, looking up at Konstantin with a smile on his face. “The data node is destroyed. Using the onboard electromagnetic sensors, I can detect no signal transmission at all.”
“Very well,” Konstantin said, stopping short of complimenting the officer, who he felt did not deserve praise.
“Shall I recover the Klavesin, sir?”
“Nyet. I want you to program the drone to drive in circles over this location until it runs out of battery. I also want the cutting tool to be running, making noise, the entire time.”
“But, Captain, the drone is very expensive and the only operational unit. The admiral will be very upset if we—”
“Let me worry about the admiral, Captain Lieutenant, and you worry about doing as you’re told.”
“Aye, Captain,” the pilot said and, red-faced, returned to his console.
“Captain,” the phone talker said, getting the captain’s attention. “From control, torpedo tubes three and four are flooded and ready in all respects.”
“Very well, tell the conning officer to open the shutter doors on torpedo tubes one through four.”
The phone talker repeated back the order verbatim, his voice catching as he did. Then, after a moment, he turned and said, “Captain, the weapons officer is on the line and would like to speak with you.”
Anger flared in Konstantin’s chest as he picked up a handset and pressed it to his ear. “Captain on the line.”
“Captain, this is the weapons officer. Why are we opening the shutter doors, sir?”
“Because I said so, Captain Lieutenant. It is not a conversation, it is an order.”
“Captain, our established protocol is that we do not open the shutter doors unless conditions are present and satisfied to warrant firing weapons.”
“That is correct, and such conditions are present and satisfied.”
“But, Captain—”
“Captain Lieutenant Morozov, either open the shutter doors for torpedo tubes one through four, or you are relieved as weapons officer,” Konstantin said, using his command voice.
Silence lingered on the line for so long that the sub captain was convinced that Morozov had hung up the phone, but then in a barely audible voice—ripe with barely veiled vitriol—Morozov said, “Aye, Captain.”
Konstantin returned the handset to the cradle with a definitive thwack.
“Is the programming done?” the sub captain said, shifting his attention and ire to the pilot.
“Almost, sir . . . I just need another minute.”
Konstantin resisted the urge to criticize the man under his breath, but he did not prevent himself from pacing in the tiny control room for submerged drone operations.
“Captain, control room reports that the shutter doors for torpedo tubes one through four are open,” the phone talker said.
“Very well.”
“Captain, the Klavesin is circling anticlockwise at thirty meters above the bottom and the cutting head is running. Remaining battery is twenty-seven percent,” the pilot said.
“Very well, pilot. Eject the data link cable from the hangar bay plug.”
The pilot acknowledged the order and after a pause—undoubtedly hoping Konstantin would change his mind—he pressed a button to eject the data cable plug from the connection point inside the wet hangar. “Data cable ejected. Communications lost with the drone.”
“Very well. Close the hangar bay doors, pilot.”
“Be advised, Captain, that closing the hangar bay doors will likely cause a sound transient that could compromise our position.”
Konstantin couldn’t help but laugh at this. “Have you not been paying attention, you idiot? We already have a massive sound transient compromising our position, broadcasting to the entire ocean. This is the very best time to open the torpedo shutters and shut the hangar bay doors. Let’s get all the noisy things done at once!”
The pilot’s cheeks flamed crimson at being talked down to, but Konstantin didn’t care. His patience for the foolish and the meek had run out. Jaw clenched, the pilot flipped the switch to close the wet hangar doors. As Konstantin knew would happen, the mechanism clanked loudly as they passed the position in travel that had been causing trouble. However, after that point, the doors completed closing without further incident.
“Captain, wet hangar bay doors indicate shut,” the pilot said.
“Very well.”
“Captain, sonar reports sound transient from own ship,” the phone talker reported.
“Very well,” Konstantin said and gave the young phone talker’s shoulder a squeeze. “Good work, shipmate. Secure your headset and muster at your assigned battle stration’s watch position. Submerged drone operations are complete.”
“Aye, Captain,” the phone talker said and removed his headset.
Without a parting word to the pilot, Konstantin left the small drone control center and headed forward. First he would stop by his stateroom to relieve himself and take a handful of pain pills. Then he would proceed to the conn, where he intended to spend the remainder of his waking hours. He didn’t make it to his stateroom, however, because he was intercepted in the command passageway by the ship’s engineer. The most serious and reliable of his department heads, Tarasov rarely smiled, but he was smiling now.
“Captain. I found . . . the noise . . . augmenter,” Tarasov said, his words punctuated by heavy breaths.
“Good job, Eng,” Konstantin said, elated, as he patted the winded engineer, who’d clearly run some distance to make the report in person. “Where did you find it?”
“Inside the Losharik docking chamber on deck one.”
“Ahhh, no wonder it took so long. It was the perfect hiding place. Our saboteur is very clever.”
“Aye, Captain. In fact, whoever did this had electrical knowledge and skills. He wired into the lighting circuit inside the lock-out chamber.”
Konstantin considered this piece of information, his brain automatically dividing his crew into those capable of such a thing and those not. Unfortunately, the capable list included dozens of electrician mates, electronics technicians, and his entire officer corps. Submarine personnel were technically trained and industrious by nature. Discovering the saboteur would not be easy.
“Where is the device now?” he asked.
“I destroyed it. It’s in pieces and beyond repair,” Tarasov said, having regained breath.
“I knew I could count on you,” he said and clapped a hand on the engineer’s shoulder. “You’re most trusted and competent, comrade. If something happens to me, I will need you to make sure my orders are carried out.”
The smile on Tarasov’s face evaporated. “Captain, how bad are you suffering?”
Konstantin ignored the question and said, “You are the only one who knows the truth about my condition. Stepanov suspects, of course, but I have not confided in him. I only trust you, Ivan, only you.”
“I understand and you can count on me, sir,” Tarasov said, and his face showed his loyalty. “What is your plan, Captain?”
“Now that we’ve regained our stealth, we set a course for the launch coordinates and deliver the payload.”