Larry Bond - Cold Choices

Suddenly weary, Petrov sat down next to Lyachin as loss and shame washed over him. He’d controlled his own feelings, more or less, but those dead men were in his charge as well. The question leapt up from a dark place in his mind. If Lyachin felt like this, why didn’t he as well?

But the grief passed without disappearing. Duty to those still alive took pride of place. “Not all your men are gone, Sergey. There are others who still need you.” As do I, he added, to himself.

“Sir, I won’t leave them all alone.”

“You can’t do anything more for them,” Petrov responded. He didn’t even think of just ordering Lyachin forward. He was beyond simple discipline.

“I can share their fate,” Lyachin responded, almost eagerly.

“Which will accomplish nothing but add more tragedy.” Petrov shook his head and stood, holding out his hand to the engineer. “And we are not free yet. I am responsible, and guilty for every casualty on this boat. Please, help me save the rest of my crew.”

Patting the hard metal of the hatch one last time, Lyachin stood and wiped his face.

Petr Velikiy

Vidchenko had become more impatient as time passed well beyond half an hour. After an hour and twelve minutes, and many updates, Petrov’s voice on the underwater communications system finally reported, “Give me three minutes, then trigger the charges, sir.”

“Three minutes. Starting now.” The admiral watched the second hand crawl around the dial three times.

Vidchenko nodded to Kurganov, who stood by the bridge-to-bridge radio. “ Rudnitskiy , this is Kurganov. Trigger the charges.” As he hung up the microphone, he pressed a button on the intercom. “Central post, bridge. Make sure sonar is alert.”

Rudnitskiy would detonate the charges with a high-frequency sonar pulse. It was coded, so ordinary sonar transmissions would not affect the detonators. Petya’ s passive sonar might or might not hear the trigger signal, but it would definitely hear the explosions.

If they ever happened. Vidchenko waited, and then counted to ten. Assuming there was some difficulty, he was reaching for the radio microphone when the intercom finally barked, “Multiple explosions.” After a short pause, the operator reported, “Nothing else.”

Sonar would probably hear the escape capsule leave the hull. It would take less than three minutes for it to break the surface. After ten minutes, he called sonar. They’d heard nothing from the sub. After twenty, he called on the underwater telephone. He received no answer, but they might still be in the escape chamber, out of touch. After half an hour, he asked how soon AS-34 could launch to examine the sub. They answered that it would be several hours.

Petrov finally called in after forty minutes. There had been no change in the sub’s list, he reported. “We are moving everyone out of the escape chamber.”

10 October 2008

1835/6:35 PM

Skynews Report

“Although the Russians have made no official announcement, their attempt to rescue the crew of Severodvinsk appears to have failed.

“Approximately forty-five minutes ago, at 1448 Greenwich Mean Time, sonars near the scene of the rescue detected a series of small explosions. It is believed these were from charges intended to clear obstructions preventing the release of the submarine’s rescue capsule. According to submarine rescue experts, if the charges had worked, the crew would have been able to ascend to the surface in the capsule almost immediately.

“It is believed that the men aboard Severodvinsk are running short of the U.S.-supplied chemicals needed to remove the deadly carbon dioxide from their atmosphere. Medical experts are also concerned that they may be suffering from hypothermia, as the crew have been subjected to near-freezing temperatures for several days now. Hypothermia would cause the survivors’ bodies to increase their oxygen consumption, in an attempt to preserve body heat, thus complicating the carbon dioxide problem.

“While the Russian Navy has not provided any information on the condition of the men trapped inside, information on the status of the crew has appeared on the Wives and Mothers of Severodvinsk website, now one of the most popular websites in the world. Late yesterday, the ‘portrait pages’ were updated. Several crew-member photographs were modified to include a Russian Orthodox cross, while others had a red cross added.

“Having recently finished her last dive, the Priz minisub will now have to recharge its batteries. This will take at least six hours, which means it will be tomorrow morning before the Russians can even hope to make another attempt. What form this could take is not known.

“The Norwegian marine salvage vessel Halsfjord is also due to arrive this evening. Whether they will be able to act before the submariners run out of time is impossible to say.

“This is Britt Adams, for Skynews.”

Severodvinsk

“Be careful, watch out for the hatch coaming!” commanded Petrov. “Slowly, slowly. There, I have him.” Wrapping both arms around the injured man’s abdomen, Petrov held him steady while Zubov removed the rope suspending him from the escape chamber. Once free of the sling, the two laid their shipmate on to a stretcher. It was young Sadilenko.

“Nikolay, Nikolay,” he moaned deliriously.

“Yes, Yakov, I know,” replied Balanov gently. “Let’s get you back to bed. Careful now,” he said to the stretcher-bearers as they lifted him and proceeded back to the third compartment.

“That’s everyone, Captain,” reported Mitrov, still up in the chamber.

“Very well. Thank you, Vladimir. Make sure you turn off the emergency lights before you secure the hatch.”

“Pavel is doing that now, sir.”

“Good, good.”

The flickering of a light from the rear of the central post caught his attention and he walked over toward the source. Kalinin and Lyachin appeared slowly from the ladder well. Both were breathing heavily.

“There doesn’t appear to be any additional damage from the explosive charges, Captain,” reported Kalinin as he leaned against the bulkhead.

“I’m glad to hear that, Vasiliy. That was a most unpleasant experience.”

“It wouldn’t have been quite so bad if it had worked,” he replied as he wiggled a finger in his right ear. “Well, at least now we know what it’s like to be inside a kettledrum.”

Lyachin and Petrov chuckled at the starpom’s apt analogy. The doctor had said the ringing in their ears would take a little time to subside. The smile on Lyachin’s face, however, lasted for only an instant, and was replaced by the same forlorn, haunted expression he’d shown earlier. Straightening himself, he turned toward Petrov and asked, “Sir, if I may be excused, I would like to check on my men.”

“Certainly, Sergey.”

As the chief engineer walked away, Kalinin pointed in his direction and said, “He seems to be doing better.”

“Unlike some of us,” countered Petrov, remembering the dazed Sadilenko, his voice heavy with fatigue and dejection.

“You need some rest, sir.”

“No, Starpom. What I need is some fresh air.”

“As do we all,” said Kalinin, conceding the argument. For a moment the two leaders stood there in silence, both were tired, cold, and emotionally drained. After about a minute, Kalinin finally brought up the topic they had both been avoiding.

“That failed evolution was rather depressing.”

“Yes, it was. I could see it on the men’s faces. I should have been more guarded with my optimism.”