collide with the American boat, Captain. We hit and slid along its hull before something pitched us nose down and drove us into the mud.”
“That’s more than I remember, Vasiliy.”
“Yes, sir. You were thrown into the command console when we first collided. You were knocked out. ”
“We’ll piece our memories together later, Vasiliy. Right now we need to figure out how bad off we are. I already sent the Chief Engineer aft to check on the propulsion plant. Send some more runners forward and aft. Pass the word for each compartment to report their status via messenger, since the comms systems aren’t functional.”
“Already done, sir,” replied Kalinin.
“Very good, Starpom.” Petrov took a little comfort in the fact that his first officer was already dealing with the situation. “I presume you fired the emergency gas generators after we struck the American, yes?” Petrov was referring to a set of chemical generators in the main ballast tanks. They could be triggered to send a one-time blast of high-pressure gas that would push the water out of the ballast tanks, hopefully causing the sub to ascend. The system was designed to get a submarine on the surface quickly during an emergency.
“Yes, sir, but it didn’t seem to help very much. Something was driving us down. Given that we are still on the bottom, I’m sure several ballast tanks were crushed on impact.”
Abruptly, the high-pitched shrieking of a panic-stricken man interrupted their discussion. “Captain! Captain! Seawater is entering compartment one! There is water coming into compartment one!” A young seaman scrambled into the dim light. He was visibly shaking; his eyes were wide with fear. It was the junior rating the starpom had sent forward.
“Calm yourself, Seaman Kessler,” Kalinin said reassuringly as he grabbed the young man’s shoulders, steadying him. “Now, give us your report.”
Kessler settled down a little. His shaking had subsided but he continued to gasp for air. Facing his captain, he struggled to speak clearly.
“Captain, the forward bulkhead in compartment one has been breached. There are numerous geysers pouring seawater into the compartment. The hull is… is starting to groan, sir!”
Petrov took the devastating report with a stoic expression, as if it were just part of a routine drill. He had to maintain control even though his own sense of fear was rising. If he panicked, the crew would soon follow suit and they all would perish. He was the rock on which they clung and he had to stand firm.
“Seaman, listen to me. Tell your compartment commander to. ”
Kessler shook his head violently and cut his captain off in midsentence: “Senior-Lieutenant Geletin is dead, sir! And most of the remaining crew members are badly injured!”
With his frustration growing, Petrov pulled on the seaman’s coveralls and looked at the billet number on the left breast pocket. The five-digit number told him what battle department the seaman belonged to, as well as his duty location and watch section. The first number was a “1,” indicating that he belonged to the navigation battle department. Scanning the room with his flashlight, Petrov spotted his commander of navigation, Captain-Lieutenant Ivanov, tending Seaman Naletov.
“Dimitry, take command of compartment one. Assess the situation and report back immediately. Take Starshini Michman Zubov with you.”
Senior Warrant Officer Vitaly Zubov was the senior and most experienced enlisted man on board
“Aye, Captain,” replied Ivanov as he and Zubov dashed for the ladder well.
Stepping out of the way, Petrov moved closer to Kalinin, who leaned over and whispered, “Sir, that bulkhead took the brunt of two impacts. Should it fail.. ”
“Yes, Starpom,” replied Petrov testily. “I am well aware of the implications. But I need an accurate report before I consign those injured crewmen to their deaths.”
Kalinin nodded as Petrov shouted, “Captain Mitrov!”
“Yes sir,” came the reply from the entrance to the sonar post.
Turning toward the voice, he ordered, “Get as many men as you can and evacuate the injured from compartment one. Then gather as many air-regeneration cassettes and emergency rations as possible. Post an able-bodied, clear-minded man at the watertight hatch. Seaman Kessler will take you to the injured men.”
“Yes, comrade Captain.” As Mitrov walked past Petrov, the captain grasped his arm, stopping him. Quietly, he said, “Move quickly, Vladimir Vasil’evich. If that bulkhead starts to go, I’ll have to order the hatch closed, regardless of who is in compartment one.”
“I understand, sir,” responded Mitrov. Then turning to Kessler, he said, “Come, seaman, we need to go rescue our comrades.”
For a brief moment, the room was still. Only slight murmurs could be heard as the remaining men tended to the wounded. But then a moving shadow at the rear of the central post caught Petrov’s attention. It was Shubin. He was pale and sweaty, his breathing labored. An IDA-59M emergency respirator hung around his neck.
“Captain, Chief Engineer Lyachin reports that there is extensive damage aft. Compartment eight is flooding from the stern tube. The compartment is over half full of water and. and the level is rising quickly.” The junior officer stopped as he tried to catch his breath. He was obviously fatigued and frightened.
“Please continue your report, Mikhail,” coached Petrov calmly. He didn’t need to rattle the young senior- lieutenant any more than he already was. Petrov and Kalinin needed an accurate account of the situation in the engineering spaces, not the incoherent babblings of an overly stressed and terrified man.
“Yes, sir. The shaft bearings are badly distorted and Chief Engineer Lyachin says we cannot use the main propulsion turbines. He also regrets to report that the bulkhead between compartments seven and eight has been compromised. He doesn’t exactly know how bad, but water is welling up in the bilges in compartment seven. It’s already up to the deck plates in the below decks. He doesn’t think we can isolate it.”
The last sentence struck both Petrov and Kalinin like a knife through the heart. Kalinin groaned audibly as he leaned up against the command console for support. Stunned by the additional dark news, Petrov stood speechless.
“I see,” replied Petrov woodenly. “Anything else?”
“Yes, sir. Damage Control Chief Kolesnikov reports that there was a small electric fire in compartment three. It was put out with a portable chemical extinguisher. There was a far more serious fire in compartment six that required the application of the LOKh to extinguish.” The LOKh was a compartment-level fire-fighting system that used Freon gas to smother a fire by depriving it of oxygen. Unfortunately, it would also kill anyone trapped in the compartment.
“Casualties?” asked Kalinin quietly.
“There are numerous casualties, Starpom. We haven’t been able to compile a list just yet. Dr. Balanov is treating the wounded in compartment four.”
“Where is Captain Kolesnikov now?” Petrov’s voice was deadpan, but his face reflected the pain he felt.
“Captain Kolesnikov is on the line of defense established at the aft bulkhead of compartment five. He is assisting the Chief Engineer in evacuating compartments six and seven.”
“Very well, tell the Chief Engineer. ”
Suddenly the central post reverberated with the sound of mechanical popping and a low creaking groan that seemed to come from the hull itself. The unnatural noise grated on their already frayed nerves.
A puzzled Petrov looked toward Kalinin. His face was ashen; he understood. “My God! The forward bulkhead!”
Petrov took off running, while Kalinin hopped as best he could toward the ladder. The captain grabbed the handrails and sailed down the ladder well, the pain in his shoulder deadened by the adrenaline in his blood. It took him no more than ten seconds to reach the watertight door, despite having to jump over injured men lying on the deck. Mitrov was shoving Kessler through the hatch as Petrov arrived; both men were carrying two air-regeneration cassettes each.
“The bulkhead is failing, Captain!” shouted Mitrov as he stumbled through the door.
At the far end of the passageway, Petrov saw three men in orange rubber damage-control suits attempting to put up mechanical braces against the bulkhead. Heavy streams of water shot out of numerous small cracks in the
