make sure the video link was functioning properly, and Dwight Manning, her State Department liaison and de facto second-in-command, was there as well, off-camera but available.
The command position in
Patterson had been seated and ready when the link was activated. President Huber was flanked by the secretaries of state and defense. She was relieved to see Jeffrey Wright present, and she had the impression that many others were in the room as well. She felt a little alone.
Her image must have appeared there at the same time, because President Huber looked off to the right, then announced, “I’m taking fifteen minutes out of a very busy day, Joanna.”
“Yes, sir. Thank you.”
“Don’t thank me yet, Doctor. Tell me why you invited a Russian admiral aboard
“Vice Admiral Borisov has replaced Rear Admiral Vidchenko, the admiral who threw us off their flagship. I had to convince him beyond any reasonable doubt that
“And this was worth cutting the Navy out of the loop.” That statement came from Hicks, the Secretary of Defense. His calm tone didn’t match his expression. The benefit of video teleconferencing was seeing as well as hearing.
“Time was short,” she answered. “The visit had to take place before rescue operations took up all his time.”
Huber answered again. “You had enough time for a phone call to clear this with Rear Admiral Sloan. You know that the submarine community is sensitive to such visits. No Russian has ever been aboard a
She hadn’t expected them to buy it. “True enough. All right. I set up the visit on my own because it’s vital that we build some trust — not just for the sake of international relations, but for those trapped crewmen.
“I was there. Captain Rudel implemented his visit ship procedures. Displays were covered, sensitive material was stowed, and the Russian admiral showed absolutely no interest in
“The Russians will say anything,” Hicks answered sharply. “Doctor, I think you’ve been set up.”
“And I think you’re about twenty years out of date,” Patterson fired back. “Mistrust has already cost lives. We either learn to work with the Russians or we could lose more. And I don’t need to tell you how bad we’ll look in the eyes of the world if we walk away now because of a cold war mindset.”
“At any cost?” Summers asked.
“At almost no cost. except maybe to the Navy’s pride.” Patterson immediately regretted the retort, and quickly added, “To save their crew, the Russians are being forced to reveal information about their newest, most advanced submarine. We’d think they’d be foolish to withhold it. Our situation is no different.”
Both secretaries started to speak, but Huber stopped them. “All right, Doctor. I’m endorsing your decision — after the fact.” He paused for a moment, and then added, “I can’t remove you. That wouldn’t look good to the Russians or the media. But be very careful, Doctor. We need the situation simplified, not complicated.”
Captain Third Rank Fonarin swept the light from the battle lantern around the central post, looking for his captain and starpom. Although he was tired and cold, he moved about quickly, his breathing labored, a notebook clutched in his left hand. As chief of the chemical services, Fonarin had just completed his latest test on the atmosphere’s quality; the news wasn’t good. It was times like this that he wished he had a different job on board
“Captain, sir, the latest report on the atmosphere,” panted Fonarin as he handed the notebook to Petrov.
“Just give me the bad news, Igor,” he said, as he accepted the pad.
“Yes, sir. Unfortunately, my suspicions have been confirmed. The American chemicals are fully depleted. Carbon dioxide has increased to two point seven percent.”
Petrov nodded wearily. He was physically unable to get upset any longer. “How long do we have?”
“Even with many of the men asleep, the carbon dioxide levels will rise to three percent within six hours. After that, things will get worse quickly. I estimate that no more than twenty hours later we’ll be at lethal concentrations; over five percent.”
“So, essentially we have one more day,” Petrov summarized.
“Yes, sir. I’m sorry.”
Petrov looked up at the junior officer and gave him a slight smile. “You have nothing to be sorry for, Igor. It is I who must apologize, to you, to the whole crew. Now go and get some rest.”
“Aye, sir.”
Kalinin watched as Fonarin shuffled slowly away, his shoulders hunched over in defeat. “He’s a good lad. But he shouldn’t take his responsibilities quite so personally.”
Petrov chuckled a little. “I think the pot just called the kettle black.”
“Perhaps,” admitted Kalinin with a shrug. “So what do you think our good squadron commander is up to?”
“I don’t know,” replied Petrov with some irritation. “You heard what he said a few hours ago. Help was coming but it would take a little time.”
“Hmmm, you’d think he’d realize that we don’t have much time to spare.”
“One would think.”
Petrov leaned back against the bulkhead, physically exhausted and emotionally spent. He was out of ideas, and almost out of time. A part of him wished that death would stop toying with them and just get it over with.
Without warning, the loudspeaker on the underwater communications system crackled to life, and a familiar voice filled the central post.
Petrov snapped out from his brooding and looked over at Kalinin, who was equally surprised. They both struggled to their feet and Petrov grabbed the microphone.
“Likewise, my friend. Please have your crew prepare to receive more supplies.”
“Thank you, Captain. Give us some time to open the tube’s outer door.”
“Understood.
“A remarkable fellow, this Rudel,” Kalinin observed nonchalantly, although his face radiated relief.
Petrov didn’t answer. He couldn’t. It required all his strength to simply hold back the tears brought on by this latest emotional roller coaster. But, for the first time since the failed rescue attempt, Petrov dared to hope.
26. TEAM EFFORT
The recovery of the second supply vehicle from
