Contact change.” Captain Borodin grabbed a microphone from an overhead panel. “Sonar, report.” “Captain, target eight has deployed some type of underwater instrumentation. High-frequency modulations, narrow band spread.” “What is it?” “Not sure, but it may be surveying equipment. The signal strength is weak. It bears one seven two degrees relative; range is ten point five kilometers.” “Let me know when you’ve identified the signal.” “Aye, Captain.” Borodin returned the microphone to its receptacle and leaned back in his chair. Eight men in the CCP sat at consoles and control stations. It was late morning. The Neva navigated five kilometers southwest of Point Roberts, forty meters below the surface. It orbited in a two-kilometer radius at four knots. The flooded torpedo room continued to vex Borodin and his crew. The Neva made wild swings in depth. During one maneuver, the sail came within ten meters of the surface. However, by running in a tight circle at minimal speed and adjusting the blow planes, the diving officer compensated for the sub’s bizarre handling.
