Ramirez's grin broadened. "We picked her up for a song when the Russians were selling off their older fleet. It was about thirty million. But the retrofitting? The quiet running modifications, the upgraded sonar, the new batteries?" He whistled. "We're well over two hundred million into her now."
Esag's jaw dropped. "And how much are we paying you for this service?"
"An adequate amount." Ramirez's grin was almost predatory. "If you want to know how much, you will need to ask your boss."
Esag shook his head as he tried to imagine the cost of this operation. The Clan Mother was sparing no expense to save Tula. It was humbling, and for some reason, it made him feel guilty. It was ridiculous, but he felt inadequate knowing that he would never have been able to amass enough resources to rescue Tula on his own.
Without the clan, he would have been helpless.
"She'll do five knots submerged in stealth mode," Ramirez continued, leading them toward the boarding plank. "Naturally, we will only switch to stealth when we get close to the target, but it still means eighteen hours until we reach it. We've got berths for the full crew complement, so the journey will be comfortable. The original Soviet design housed fifty-two, but we've reconfigured it for more comfort, so the accommodationsare more forgiving. It's not exactly luxury, but it's better than most submarine crews get."
"Medical facilities?" Julian asked.
"We have a well-equipped medical bay." He turned back to Yamanu. "We've also updated navigation and sonar systems."
As they approached the boarding area, Esag noticed that the sub sat low, the waterline nearly reaching the top of the hull, and his stomach felt queasy. He hadn't known he would react like this, but he really didn't like the idea of being deep underwater.
Okidu had begun transferring equipment through the forward loading hatch, handling bags that would have required two immortals to lift, and Drova was helping him, carrying similar weights. If Ramirez noticed the anomaly of a middle-aged man and a skinny teenage girl lifting weights that would have challenged bodybuilders, his expression didn't betray it.
As Esag descended through the hatch, the smell hit him first—diesel fuel, metal, and something that was indefinably submarine-like, a mixture of confined air and machinery that made him feel claustrophobic.
His stomach churned at the thought of being underwater for so long, and they weren't even submerged yet.
The interior was cramped but well organized. Narrow corridors ran the length of the vessel, with pipes and conduits covering every surface. The walls were painted a depressing gray-green that probably hadn't changed since the Cold War. Every few feet, watertight doors stood ready to seal off sections in case of flooding.
Ramirez led them forward through the vessel. "Crew quarters are here." He gestured to a compartment lined with triple-stacked bunks. "Officers' quarters are slightly larger." He showed them a cabin with two bunks and barely enough room to turn around. "But with the size of you two, it will be a tight fit, so you actually might be more comfortable on the crew bunks. The medical bay is amidships, and the command center is just forward of that."
The command center was dominated by sonar stations, navigation equipment, and the periscope housing. The technology looked like a mixture of old Soviet engineering and modern upgrades. Screens displayed various readings that meant nothing to Esag but seemed to satisfy Yamanu, who nodded approvingly.
"Where's your crew?" Anandur asked.
That was a good question. A sub this size probably required a large crew to run it.
"Per Turner's specifications, I brought only a skeleton crew for this run," Ramirez said as several men entered the command center. "Let me introduce my men." He pointed to a burly guy with iron-gray hair and sharp eyes. "My first mate, Daniel Kozlovsky." Next was a wiry man with oil-stained hands. "Chief Engineer Mikhail Volivoda." Ramirez turned to a younger man with intelligent eyes and glasses. "Navigator Carlos Mendez. And our sonar operator, James 'Jimmy' Walsh." A pale, thin man who looked like he hadn't seen sunlight in years managed a nervous smile. Ramirez continued to introduce Yamanu, Anandur, and Julian to his crew. He skipped over Esag, who, as an observer, wasn't important enough even to mention.
"There are also four hands who are currently too busy to come say hello. That's nine total, plus the twenty-two of you, so we are well under the maximum capacity, which means more room and more air for everyone."
They continued the tour, passing through the diesel compartment where massive engines sat silent, waiting to charge the batteries once they were underway. The battery compartment itself was sealed behind thick doors marked with warning signs in multiple languages.
"Don't go in there without the chief engineer," Ramirez warned. "The batteries produce hydrogen gas. One spark and we're all having a very bad day."
The aft section contained more equipment storage and the motor room, where a massive electric motor would drive the single propeller. Everything was cramped, utilitarian, and spoke of decades of service beneath the waves.
And to think that this bucket cost over two hundred million dollars. Esag was still reeling from that number.
"Just in case, we've stocked provisions for seven days," Ramirez said as they returned to the crew quarters. "Though if we're down that long, provisions will be the least of our problems. Fresh water is limited, so navy showers only. That means get wet, turn the water off, soap up, rinse quickly. Now, let's discuss watch rotations and emergency procedures."
As Ramirez droned on about emergency signals and abandon ship protocols, Esag studied the claustrophobic vessel. Despite the upgrades, every surface showed signs of age. Worn paint, polished brass from decades of hands grabbing the same fixtures, patches where repairs had been made. This sub hadhistory, and he regretted not having read more about naval battles involving submarines. The only real reference he had was an old movie he had seen multiple times because it was just that good.
The Hunt for Red October.He wouldn't mind seeing it one more time.
"Questions?" Ramirez finished.
"Just one." Yamanu lifted a single finger. "How experienced is your crew?"
Ramirez's expression didn't change. "I hand picked each of them myself, and they are all top-notch. Most importantly, they know to follow orders and not ask questions."
"What did you tell them about the mission?" Anandur asked.
