Guba. In 1966, the nuclear-powered icebreaker Lenin suffered a nuclear accident that killed thirty sailors. It took six years to repair her and she received a new propulsion plant. Her three old reactors were removed and dumped in the bay in 1967, along with a container loaded with damaged fuel elements.
Dr. Patterson was especially interested in the last item. “The last survey was twenty years ago. We’re going over every inch of the damn thing. We’ll compare the new data with the earlier survey results and see if it’s leaked at all.” At her direction, Davis used Dewy to thoroughly photograph every surface and then sample the seabed on two sides.
The radiation from the
Tsivol’ska Guba was larger and it took six sorties over three days to cover it. They found more spent solid waste canisters, a few pumps, piping, and some junked machinery, but everything was either listed in the various reports — or looked like it should have been. Jerry saw Patterson’s frustration grow. After that came Sedov Guba.
During the transit north, Hardy asked Patterson if he could read the various reports she was referring to, so that he could “get smarter on the problem.” With obvious delight, she handed him four sizable documents and offered to discuss them with him at his convenience. She beamed over the idea that Hardy was finally coming around and becoming more environmentally aware.
While they found a lot of material, including solid waste canisters, a few fuel rods, and even a discarded experimental reactor vessel, it was all consistent with the Russian documentation. Everything they found had been there for decades, and while there was some leakage from corroded containers, the contamination hadn’t gone very far. Like the other sites, the radiological problem appeared to be very localized.
Patterson was not getting what she needed and her desperation grew. She started taking water samples every six hours, hoping that leeched radioactive material might be collecting in pockets of water in the bay. She even talked to the Engineer, Lieutenant Commander Ho, about ways of increasing the sensitivity of the tests, on the theory that the pollution was there, but at extremely low levels.
On Wednesday the eighth, with Sedov Guba finished, the crew stood down from ROV operations for a day. Jerry was still excused from watch-standing, and he used the time to catch up on the jungle of paperwork that had flourished on his desk. The stack took up so much of his desk that he moved the whole mess to the wardroom, where he could spread it out on the table.
Emily Davis was already at work when Jerry came into the wardroom, but she quickly made room for him and his mountain of paper. Her half of the table was covered by a chart, printouts of the local tide tables, and a couple of textbooks on nuclear chemistry. “What’s this about?” Jerry asked.
“It’s another one of her ‘ideas,’” Davis explained cynically. “She wants me to see if currents or tides could be carrying the leaking waste in toward shore.”
“And that would explain the low levels elsewhere in the bays?”
“She hopes so.” Davis shrugged. “It’s not my area of expertise, and I don’t have the best references, but I’ve never heard of that phenomenon. It’s not supported by the other documents, and from what I can tell the local tides are all different. To suggest that this might be what’s been happening in all three of the bays we’ve searched, just doesn’t make any sense. She’s pretty desperate. Right now she’s in her stateroom tearing apart every environmental report she’s brought with her, looking for anything that will help.”
“Help prove her point?” Jerry asked.
“If she doesn’t come back with enough new evidence of environmental abuses by the Soviets or the Russians, then she’s finished. Her career as a presidential adviser will be over.”
Jerry settled down to his paperwork while Emily continued hers. His stuff was routine admin, though, and it couldn’t hold his attention. He considered Patterson’s problems and his own.
If she did not find what she needed, would the mission be considered a failure?
And frankly, Jerry wasn’t interested in being a part of a hyped claim of impending environmental disaster. Personally, he was glad that the contents of the drums and casks and waste containers hadn’t spread. It was just bad news for people who had said with such certainty that it had. They wanted a stick to beat the Russians with, and they hadn’t found one yet.
Patterson had staked her political and scientific reputation on proving a point. She’d made a promise to her boss, who happened to be the President of the United States. It was a strong reminder of why the military stayed out of politics.
On Thursday, the ninth of June,
Two previously surveyed sites, a lighter full of waste and a discarded reactor compartment, were located and verified. Like the other locations they’d already examined, there was little sign of the waste having spread.
At dinner that evening, some of the officers began to talk about the trip home. Four more Manta and ROV sorties over the next two days would cover the bay, and then they’d be finished.
Dr. Patterson listened to the conversation quietly, but Jerry could see she was not happy. She hadn’t been all day and now she spoke. “Captain Hardy, I’d like to extend the survey.”
“What?” Hardy’s surprised outburst caused the officers to jump out of their seats.
“I want to add some more sites to the search plan, perhaps even cover another bay.”
“Doctor, I can’t see the point of remaining here any longer. It only increases the risk of the Russians…”
“But we haven’t found what we were looking for!” she interrupted.
“Doctor, you’ve surveyed four previously known dumps and located over a dozen new ones. We’ve collected samples and photographic evidence.”
“It’s not enough. We’ve been looking for evidence of new waste being dumped or that the old waste had been entering the environment in significant amounts and we’ve found neither.”
“Maybe it’s not there to find.” Hardy’s bland statement was logical, but Jerry knew the effect it would have on Patterson. If it was true, then her plans were ruined.
“And maybe we just haven’t found it yet. We’ve only surveyed a fraction of the coastline. With more time…”
“Which we don’t have,” Hardy reminded her sharply. “You were on a tight schedule. We increased speed to get here, and we’re going to have to hurry on the way back.”
“Even an extra day would help. I know there’s that much margin.”
“Which means, what, another two or three Manta sorties? We’ve done twenty so far and have another four planned. What will two more provide us in terms of definitive evidence?” Hardy softened his tone slightly. “Doctor, you’ve convinced me of the danger to the environment that these dumpsites presents, but maybe it will take longer than you think to spread.” Paterson’s expression showed how worried she was that Hardy might be right.
Jerry expected Patterson to order Hardy to comply, to threaten him if he didn’t cooperate, but she simply sat there, silently. Finally she said softly, “I’ll just have to hope we find more in this bay than we did in the others.”
The next day Jerry’s Manta began searching Techeniye Guba. Within an hour, he found a cluster of spent fuel canisters. On the second sortie, a pile of junked pumps and other propulsion-related machinery. The ROVs’ investigations showed that neither presented the kind of immediate threat that Dr. Patterson was now longing for.
