The Log of the Retvizan TwylightChapter 9
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The Log Of The Retvizan - TwylightChapter 8 free porn video
"Retvizan to Diana. Status?" the radio called. Fedyunsky picked up the handset for the TBS and reported.
"Ready to go, Retvizan. Boilers are fired and we have pressure up. All bridge controls are functional except the compass, it's jammed. We've replaced it. This vessel was once a high speed DMS type minsweeper. However, it's had an extensive refit and what looks like destroyer turbines fitted. I'd guess it's so they can keep up with fast warships."
"So what would your best speed be?"
"We'll need to find out, but, I'd estimate somewhere in the mid 20 knot range. I'd say it's a pretty good sea boat. The fo'c'sle's been raised for rough weather and the bow profile given more forward rake. Someone went to a lot of trouble and expense to give it more legs in rough weather."
"How's your bunkers?"
"80%. About 2000 tons of fuel oil. This baby was meant to be at sea for a long time."
"This is Gorshin," the Commander interrupted, "it sounds like the Americans wanted something that could make high speed dashes. Get in and get out fast, perhaps? Forays inside the three mile limit of, say, China and various of the US enemies at the time? You've got a slice of Cold War history there, Fedyunsky, a craft optimised for stealing secrets then getting the Hell out."
"Feeling a little nostalgic, sir?"
"My first posting as an Officer-candidate was on the Reshitelny, a type 61 BPK. ('Kashin' class destroyer) We trained in Northern waters on fleet exercises and our job was to keep these things as far from the fleet as possible. You've never seen ship handling like that, their's and our's. Sometimes we'd bump them or they would bump us and half the crews would be clicking away at each other with cameras. Yes, I was a young man and those sorts of things leave an impression for a life time. One of the Americans even threw over a Christmas cake, can you believe that? It was Christmas and we were so close to them that you could throw things to each other. My senior officer said the American was probably a baseballer practising his pitch. He was pretty damn good I recall."
"Was that all he threw, Commander?"
"We crews weren't enemies," Gorshin replied, "we'd call out and shout across to them. It was just a big game. We had a job to do and so did they. There was little animosity. A lot of jeering, sometimes, like a couple of rival football supporters. I learned to give the finger," he laughed, "from a big American with a long fender. I'm not sure how he was going to fend away a 4000 ton ship with a pole."
"Perhaps he thought he was playing snooker?"
"Most probably," he laughed, "'Russian destroyer in the corner pocket.' Yes, I see that now!"
"Sir, I suggest an economical cruising speed of 12 knots. That should be easier on our fuel and, perhaps, be less of an ordeal for our passengers?"
"Agreed. We'll be at periscope depth to maintain communications. I suggest you keep that mattress antenna of yours spinning constantly and a 24 hour radio watch. You are unarmed, so don't be rash with anything that might be trouble. You ought to have some infra-red scanning capability for night time, I'm thinking. See what young Golovko can come up with and let me know if you require any more equipment."
"Sir. Golovko has requested computers. He says the things here are little more than adding machines and he could calculate faster with an abacus and three fingers."
"Haha, be careful what you ask for, tell him that, Fedyunsky. These geeks are too used to electronic wizardry. In times to come he may have to get used to his fingers for calculus, rather than tapping a keyboard. Tell him we'll send over anything he needs."
"Sir?" Fedyunsky asked, "spare parts? What are we to do when either the Retvizan or Diana require refits, major overhauls? It would be a tall order to find some disused slipway somewhere capable of handling a 22,000 ton submarine."
"Yes, I know. We'll have to make do as long as we can. Clearly, however, we need a base of operations. I think that colony idea has some merit. We may find a tanker drifting somewhere filled with fuel oil for the Diana? Perhaps a sailing vessel may be more practical? We will need to cross our bridges as we come to them."
"Sailing? Who knows how to sail a boat?"
"I do. A ketch, perhaps, but the principle's the same. Find me a sailing ship, Fedyunsky, and I will sail it. A following breeze and fair weather, Fedyunsky, nothing like it."
"I'll try, sir. Sir? Have you noticed the weather here is, well, kinda clear all the time. Don't they have storms?"
"Now you mention it. A storm is probably something you don't need, though. At least until you've properly worked up that new vessel of yours. They may be particularly violent, who knows?"
"Let's hope they're rare and reasonable, then."
"Quite. Right, let's make the final transfers and set out, shall we? I don't want our crews idle for too long."
"Yes, sir!"
With the transfers of some of the passengers to the Diana, the Retvizan seemed almost empty to Chino. Her friends, Iggy, Mich and Amy had all gone over and she even missed Roscoe. His big frame and southern drawl kinda filled the room like nothing else.
She found that, suddenly, there was little to do. The crew seemed to have found a new energy with the discovery of the American spyship and they were looking forward to more finds. Most seemed confident they'd find more people out there, particularly women. Many were jealous of the 'love boat's' complement and the sexual orgies they imagined would be taking place on board.
In the repressed sexual atmosphere of a missile submarine, crews spent a lot of down time in imaginery exploits with teams of busty dancers, Anna Kournikova, young tennis players in short skirts and bare assed porno stars. Nothing grew larger in the mind than something that was not available. Back in port, most of it was forgotten and they returned to their sweet little girlfriends or domineering wives.
Competition for the Diana's crew was hot, and Fedyunsky had a talented pool from which to choose his men. Those that missed out eased their disappointment by imagining all the willing tennis players they would most likely meet in months to come.
Chino's clothes had attracted too much attention and she decided to tone it down. Out went the short, shorts and the bare midriff. Instead, she took to wearing long pants and a skivvie, not much different from the working fatigues of the crew. Monogrammed across her chest was the name 'Retvizan' in cyrillic and on her sleeve, the vessel's badge. As such, she felt part of the crew.
She went up top to watch the Diana's departure. From the stern was the St Andrew's cross flag of the Russian navy, blue on a white field. From the mast of the submarine, Gorshin was also flying their ensign and pennant. It was part of the departure ceremony when naval vessels leave port and the Commander was treating it as a gala occasion. Diana's morse lamp was busy making signals and the Retvizan was replying. Diana sounded her siren and the submarine did likewise. Everyone on the hull shouted and waved, while some made obscene suggestions. Chino spotted Amy and Mich and the friends blew kisses to each other.
She felt sad as she watched the Diana steam away and stood on the hull as long as she could until the siren sounded to get below. She stood on the deck and watched the pressure hatch close and seal with a hiss. A seaman, spun the lockwheel into place before climbing down the steel ladder. There was another hiss as the ladder retracted out of the way and the internal hatch slid silently closed. The sub was now sealed tight from the outside world and she felt the dull hum of the turbines starting up. Soon, she knew, she'll hear the valves open to admit ballast water and feel the slight uneasiness as the submarine submerged. It was like a gentle elevator ride, she thought, but most of the crew just ignored it.
The Retvizan had five pressure hulls within its bulk. One was purely for the missile silos and another for the reactors and turbines. Three contained the operations rooms, accomodation and stores. They were set two above and one below inside the main hull. Pavlov had explained that it was partly for safety, and partly because smaller environments were easier to manage than one big space. To pass from one pressure hull to the next meant going through a small airlock. The hatch behind had to be sealed before the other could be opened. It was interlocked, and both hatches couldn't be opened at the same time.
Akulas were considered the safest submarines in the Navy because of their many innovative features. Not always the case with Russian submarines.
'The Hunt for the Red October, ' was a novel and film featuring a mythical Akula, or 'Typhoon' submarine of the Soviet era. In the novel, the Red October was equipped with a 'caterpillar drive, ' a pumpjet, supposed to confer ultra quiet qualities. In reality, the pumpjet was a slow and inefficient means of propelling a submarine. In the movie, however, it was turned into a Magnetohydrodynamic Drive. This suggested method of propulsion caused quite a bit of amusement among the crew of the Retvizan. (The film is available, in Russian, in the sub's library)
MHD drive is neither efficient nor quiet. The process produces gasses and a large magnetic signature that is easy to detect. It was ludicrous to suggest an MHD drive could propel something as large as an Akula and the amount of power it consumed would hardly be worth it.
Large pods began to apear on the rear stabilisers of Soviet subs in the sixties and some NATO analysts had suggested at the time they were MHD drives. In reality, the pods contained winches for the towed array and electronic countermeasures equipment. If any MHD had been fitted to an operational submarine in either the Soviet of Russian navy, none of the crew were aware of it.
Pavlov and Chino had discussed the movie before they'd 'split.' Pavlov had described the theory of the drive and speculated on the description of the Red October's skipper, Rameus, that this, somehow, made it a 'first strike weapon.'
Pavlov explained that the 'first strike weapon' was something of a myth. In reality, any missile firing would be detected by the other side and appropriate action taken. Both the Soviet Union and the US ahd been ringed with sensors and satellites designed to track everything above and below water. A deluge of nuclear warheads from all sources, would be unstoppable and formed the basis of the theory of 'mutually assured destruction.' Rameus complained that his submarine was designed to circumvent that theory but, in reality, the Red October's missiles were as detectable as anyone else's. As part of a co-ordinated assault, they were just as unstoppable and retaliation would be practically automatic.
"So what did it achieve?" she'd asked him, "no more wars? Korea, Vietnam, dozens of others. That's no war?"
"There was no general conflict, I suppose," he'd explained, "Soviet forces didn't overrun the rest of Europe and China didn't invade Japan, and the rest of Asia. America never gained a free hand in the Middle East or turned Central and South America into a fiefdom. I guess it achieved some kind of balance and prevented another world war. I don't believe, however, that even the maddest of generals wanted another European war. The cost was much too high in the first two. That's why we had the Warsaw Pact countries, as sacrifices in the event of another war."
"Like pawns?"
"Exactly like pawns, yes. One big chess match, a good description."
Chino missed the discussions she'd had with Johnny. He was intelligent, well-educated and had no stake in justifying the past. The conflicts of the Cold War were behind them, he insisted, despite how much politicians tried to revive it. He told her they were all now captitalists with an equal desire to make money. Old Cold War protagonists had too much money invested in each other to want to destroy each other.
With Iggy, Amy and Mich gone, there was no-one she could really discuss stuff with and she was lonely. That's when Valentin Gavriel came a courtin'.
Valentin was one of Pavlov's marines who'd not been sent to the Diana. He was good looking, tall and strong, and, at 20, on his first posting. He'd been too young to serve in Chechnya and thus wasn't stained, as Johnny was. His English was okay, having been taught at high school, but wasn't as fluent as Johnny. Nevertheless, there was a boyish charm about him. He was uncomfortable, not too confident around women, and Chino thought his reticence disguised great depth of thought.
Valentin was a native of the North, from the Kola area, which was of great strategic importance to Russia. He was from a village near Polyarnyii, the headquarters of the Northern Fleet. In that area, everything was navy and there was little chance Valentin would do anything else but join the service.
The contrast with Johnny couldn't be more marked. Johnny was a St Petersburg sophisticate who'd had the privilege of the best education. Valentin, had been taught in military schools and consequently, had a much more limited frame of reference. Whereas Johnny was cynical and opinionated, Valentin had a kind of naïve innocence. His knowledge of the world was confined by the steel grey hull of a submarine.
His attentions couldn't go unnoticed in the closed, intimate world of a submarine. He was an amateur wood carver and began to bring her toys and little statues he'd created. Such was his handiwork, Chino was flattered and she began to spend more and more time with him.
"You have family?" she asked him one day.
"I have sister and two brothers," he announced, "my sister is at creche and one brother go to elementary school. My other brother is in cadet college where he study engineering. My father is navy officer in operational planning department and mother is nurse at hospital. I have many aunts and uncles, all navy."
"Right," she nodded, "so why didn't you join the airforce?"
"Excuse me?" he answered confused, "my family are navy. We join navy, not airforce. Airforce families join airforce and navy families join navy. It is the way it is."
"Right!" Chino's attempt at sarcasm was lost on Valentin. His English wasn't up to the subtlety.
"Do you ride a motorbike?" she asked him.
"No motorbike in Arctic," he replied, "I have no time for such things. I have 4 wheel drive, a Lada Niva, it is enough. Is practical in ice and snow. It has chains and spikes I put on in Winter. I take it anywhere. You like what I show you."
"Such as?"
"Such as deer and foxes. Such as glaciers and mountains that rise up to block the sun. When wind blows it sweeps the powder off the summits and there's big clouds, like this, that stream for kilometres. You see the colours of the sun when it's low and gleams off the sea. I show you high cliffs over Barents Sea. I show you all of those things."
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