Aleksandr Plecas leaned over the fire controlman’s shoulder, studying the geographic display on his console. Kazan was proceeding at three knots on its electric drive, the minimum speed possible for bare steerageway, at a depth of one hundred meters, just below the thermocline. Stealth was paramount, and Kazan was rigged for ultra-quiet. Only the essential personnel were on watch, with all others confined to their beds, minimizing the possibility of a watertight door being closed too forcefully, someone dropping a tool on the deck, or even a toilet seat slamming down too hard, with the sound transmitted through the submarine’s steel hull into the ocean.
Plecas had no choice but to take the risk of being detected again—he had to extract Kazan from the sonobuoy field; they couldn’t sit there forever. He had a schedule to meet, and they had burned through most of the reserve time he had incorporated into their transit.
Thus far, the extraction appeared to have worked. Kazan had slowly slipped past the sonobuoys and the twelve-buoy field was drawing farther behind them with no indication the maritime patrol aircraft above them had reacted.
Plecas maintained Kazan at three knots until they were ten thousand meters away from the sonobuoy field, then increased speed to ten knots. He stopped beside the navigation table and queried Michman Korzhev, the Navigation Party Technician.
“What is the required speed to reach the launch point on time?”
Korzhev measured the distance and replied, “Eighteen knots, Captain.”
Plecas turned to his Watch Officer. “Shift propulsion to the main engines and proceed at ahead full, shaft turns for eighteen knots.”
After the Watch Officer acknowledged and issued the orders, Plecas turned back to Korzhev.
“Time to launch point?”
“One hour and ten minutes, sir.”