Voyage of the Devilfish

“He was looking over the Magnum an hour ago.”

“Did he say anything? About the Magnum?”

“Yes, in fact, he did. He said he hoped the scientists who designed them knew what they were doing.” Vlasenko stored the comment. “Warrant, I’m going to the lower level. Want to come?”

“I’d better. Captain. I don’t want my torpedo officer killing you if you surprise him.” They made their way to the ladder to lower level, the area with the six 53-centimeter tubes. Following Vlasenko down the stairs, Danalov was impressed at how fit Captain Vlasenko looked at forty-eight, then remembered he had been a champion wrestler at Marshal Grechko Higher Naval School of Underwater Navigation. The men now reached the base of the stairs, where young Senior Lieutenant Vasily Katmonov, the Torpedo Officer, came to attention.

“Is there something I can do for you. Captain?”

“No, just wandering the ship.” Vlasenko looked around at the space. It was clean and fresh looking. The lower-level compartment was the home of the six 53-centimeter conventional tubes and their 53-centimeter torpedoes. The weapons lay on two large racks with hydraulic rams to maneuver them into the tubes. These torpedoes were painted a dull black, as sinister looking as the Magnums above. Vlasenko complimented Katmonov on the lower two levels of his compartment, adding he was especially pleased with security. “Warrant Officer Danalov here is an asset to this vessel.” Katmonov and Danalov shared a quick look. “That is not what the admiral said,” from Danalov.

“What did he say. Lieutenant?”

“He wanted me to demote the Warrant Officer. He said Danalov should be disarmed. It seems Danalov put a pistol to the admiral’s head when the admiral was looking at the weapons. I don’t like the idea of an officer carrying a loaded pistol, sir. Neither did Danalov. But Admiral Novskoyy refused to hand over his weapon, a serious violation of Fleet Regulations, sir, particularly in the weapons spaces. I don’t know what I should do, sir. How do I tell an admiral he’s violating Fleet Regs?”

“You don’t. Lieutenant. You tell me, I handle it.” He left them and made his way back to the second compartment’s main shaft and again stared at Novskoyy’s locked door. It occurred to him that he knew where there was an extra key to the door, but dismissed the thought. Don’t provoke the man on this trip — the admiral would soon be gone and the boat would again be his. Vlasenko turned away from the door and went to the ladder to the lower level, where he found Captain 3rd Rank Vladimir Ivanov standing ten meters aft in the passageway outside his stateroom door. Ivanov, normally the Operations Officer, was responsible for Weapons, Communications, Sonar and the ship’s tactics, but on this run he also became Acting First Officer when the second in command of the Kaliningrad took sick.

Ivanov motioned to him, and Vlasenko walked aft down the passageway.

“Good morning, sir. We have a problem. Two problems.”

Ivanov was in his mid-thirties but seemed younger. He could drink vodka all night and was unofficially the ship’s number-one bachelor, usually not one to take life too seriously, but ever since he had assumed the duty of Acting First Officer when the ship had pulled out of Severomorsk he had seemed agitated and tense.

“Go on, Ivanov.”

“Technical problem first, sir. The multifunction transmitter cabinet is blowing fuses. It’s eaten two circuit boards for the signal drivers. We’re trouble-shooting it now, but I’m beginning to think the UHF to the satellite may be out of commission for some time.” Vlasenko shrugged. Routine trouble and they would soon be under the arctic ice cover where there would be no need to transmit to the satellite. Emergency systems could handle the communications if they needed a rescue.

“Well, sir, that leads us to the second problem. Admiral Novskoyy… he wants the UHF systems of the multifunction antenna ready at all times, commencing now.” Son of a bitch, those were orders that should have originated with him, Vlasenko thought, not with a visiting flag officer.

“I will talk to the admiral, Ivanov. Meantime, keep working on the problem. Are you going forward?”

“Yes, sir. I expect I will be there until the equipment works. The admiral wants the gear to be up by this evening.”

“Tonight? Did he say why?”

“No, Captain. Just that I will be sorry if the equipment is not working by then.” Ivanov looked ready to deal with Novskoyy personally as he hurried up the ladder to the upper level. Vlasenko understood, but hoped the young headstrong Ivanov could keep his temper under control this run. He knew it wouldn’t be easy… not for any of them. Vlasenko, aborting the tour of the second compartment, headed aft to the nuclear control room. Nuclear control was really just a large waist-high computer console that wrapped around a right angle with an elevated platform behind it. The platform had a command chair reserved for the Chief Engineer, who was sitting in it and looking altogether regal.