Phantom Page #3

- Bavenod, sir.

- Where'd command scrape you up from?

- I came off a November.

- Really?

You traded a nuke for a smoker?

I heard the best crews

in the Navy sail diesels.

I wanted a chance at one

before they're all gone.

You see?

Dreams do come true.

Make our heading zero-nine-five.

- Let me know when we make the shelf.

- Aye, Captain.

All ahead standard.

Mr. Kozlov has the con.

MAN:
Aye, Captain.

You heard right about diesel crews,

Bavenod.

Yes, sir.

- (EXHALES)

- Captain.

(CLANGING ON METAL)

(CLANGING)

- (CLANGING)

- (DOG SNARLING)

(BARKING)

- Captain?

- What the hell's going on, here?

Only personnel with a security

clearance are permitted in this room.

By whose authority?

When you open your orders,

you'll understand.

A lot of noise topside.

- Is your equipment secure?

- Yes, it's secure.

Sound is the enemy on a submarine,

Mr. Bruni.

The Americans have superior sonar.

They don't need any more help from us.

(KNOCKING AT DOOR)

- Who is it?

- Alex.

- Come on in.

- (DOOR SLIDING OPEN)

Our replacements

have no personal records.

Names, ranks, that's it.

Except for Bavenod, the navigator.

He was on the K- 27 when she had

the reactor coolant leak.

Yeah, I know the K- 27.

Did you know that he's listed

among the dead?

More precision

from Squadron Command.

I've heard they'll shoot people

just to keep their paperwork straight.

Sailors are superstitious.

It's easy to spook a boat.

Well, Bavenod better not

tell anyone he's dead, then.

(ALEX CHUCKLES)

- Here's to ya.

- (MUTTERS SOFTLY)

What's on your mind?

I think our technicians

are OSNAZ commandos.

Yeah, it looks that way.

OSNAZ are KGB radicals.

True believers and trained assassins,

among other things.

Which is why I don't want any

of our crew getting between them

and whatever the hell

it is they're doing.

(CHUCKLES) Yeah.

Once we're deep,

we're gonna drill.

Because I don't want to find out

we have a boat full of nuggets

in the middle of an emergency.

- Aye, sir. I'll see to it.

- All right.

- (CLANGING ON METAL ECHOES)

- (DOOR SLIDES SHUT)

(CLANGING INCREASES)

- (DISTORTED SCREAMING)

- (CLANGS ECHOING)

(INDISTINCT CHATTER)

MAN:
Angle on bow, port 35.

It's about 30 degrees...

Water pressure seems...

Sir.

MAN:
Two degree up angle.

Captain on deck.

Captain has the con.

Sonar, one active ping

for ranging, on my mark.

MAN (O VER RADIO): Standing by,

Captain. One ping for range.

With sound being the enemy, won't that

alert the Americans to our position?

(RADIO SQUEAKING)

- Americans already know our position.

- Captain...

I'd just like to avoid

running into them.

Forward and after torpedo,

load, signal ejectors.

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