Scorpion in the Sea by P.T. Deutermann Read Free Book Online Page B

seemed to shrink in his chair. There were no telephones to the political security directorate at headquarters out here, and that pistol was still on the table. The Captain was staring at them.
    “Go and tell every man what I have decreed.”
    They scrambled out of their chairs, and left the wardroom one after the other, being careful not to get too close to the Captain. When they were gone, the steward poked his head in through the curtain. He saw the Captain, and then he saw the black pistol. He made a squeaking noise, and hurriedly withdrew.
    The Captain sat there for a moment, gathering his thoughts. The fools. The simple fools. The contact report had caused his stomach to grab with cold fear. He felt sick that the whole thing might already be over. He forced himself to take a deep breath, and then another. Behind him the Musaid moved discreetly. The Captain pushed back his chair, and turned in it to look up at the Musaid.
    The Musaid was a bulky man with a coarse, Turkish face, a full black beard and moustache, and fierce eyes. He was not so much tall as broad, and he was ten years older than the Captain. He had been the Captain’s bodyguard and shadow for nine years, and had been his trusted confidant
since he took command of the Al Akrab. They had gone through submarine training together in Sevastopol. The Captain looked up at him for a moment, and then nodded.
    “Musaid. You have something to say.”
    “Pasha,” he said, using the archaic title. “The crewmen are volunteers. This edict will make them something else. For fear of making a mistake, they may do nothing when the situation demands that they do something.” He seemed ready to say more, but then fell silent.
    The Captain had great respect for the senior Chief, who held a position roughly equivalent to what the American submarine Navy called Chief of the Boat. The Musaid had served in the submarine force right from the beginning, being one of the first non-commissioned officers recruited from the Army into the fledgling Navy, and one of the first group selected to be sent off for training in the Soviet Navy submarine force. He had more military experience than did the Captain.
    Publicly, wherever the Captain went ashore, the Musaid was right behind him. Onboard, when the Captain arrived in the Control room or any other compartment in the boat, the Musaid appeared immediately, even at sea. But over the four years the Captain had been in command, the Musaid had become much more than a senior orderly, bodyguard and driver. He had become the executor of any policies affecting the enlisted crew, and he had become a trusted advisor. The fact that he was older than the Captain made it possible, in a delicate but substantial sense, for them to consider each other as professional contemporaries. The Captain valued this relationship, and was very careful not to do or say anything to disturb it.
    “Musaid, you may be right,” the Captain replied. “But for now, my edict stands. It concerns the officers more than the crew. I will weigh its effect upon the crew. It would be helpful if you explained to them that this is a matter for the officers to worry about. In a few days, I will seek your counsel. It would also be helpful in the meantime if you could spend much of your time in the control room to ensure that the watch officers do not make any more mistakes
like that, at least for a while. After my orders have been announced, we shall confer again.”
    “It shall be done, Pasha. I will be there until the mission is completed.”
    The Captain nodded absently as the Musaid withdrew. He made a mental note to keep an eye on the Musaid, who tended to take things too literally. He would more than likely post himself in the Control room until he dropped. He sat back in his chair at the head of the table, aware of the steward waiting outside, and of the need to go to the control room. He forced the distracting session with his department heads out of his mind for the