Kirov Saga Men of War - By John Schettler Page 0,39
Karpov decided he would let the man know who he was dealing with here.
“Well, Captain Volkov,” he began with a gesture to the other man’s soup bowl. “I see you have a taste for the okroshka. There are many things best served cold like that. Pickled cucumbers, Olivje potato salad, some good Salo bacon, salami and cheese, herring and caviar, and one thing more—my favorite.”
“And what is that?” Volkov met his eye.
“Why, revenge,” Karpov smiled. “And some good vodka and beer.” He picked up a small open faced sandwich, dilled sardines on thin rye, and took a bite.
* * *
Mishman Ilya Garin stared at the test-bed monitor, watching the flux readings closely. His prompt readings looked safe, and the rod interchange procedure was progressing slowly, approaching the half way mark when Markov would spell him on the watch. Chief engineer Dobrynin was down the hall looking over readings obtained by the electron microscope they had used to make a close inspection of Rod-25 as it was slowly lowered into position.
They were actually working on a low grade KLT-40 naval propulsion reactor that had been built as a backup for the floating nuclear power station barge AkademikLomonosov, deployed in the Kamchatka Peninsula region since 2016. The Russians thought a movable power facility would be useful in the region, and the design was so reliable that in 2018 they set up the reserve reactor as a test-bed facility in the Primorskiy Engineering Center. The KLT-40 was similar to the reactors used aboard Kirov, which paired two small pressurized water reactors using enriched U-234. Some models for commercial power generation might have as many as sixty-six control rods above the reactor vessel head, but this smaller test-bed model had only twelve, and much less power.
Dobrynin was quietly running the same typical rod replacement routine, while conducting a general scan of Rod-25 for any sign of corrosion, or flaw. He had mounted the rod in the central test position, in the middle of a circle of the remaining twelve rods. So today the control rod that would stand as relief pitcher for Kirov’s starting rotation of twenty-four rods per reactor, was now actually Rod-13 in this minor league game. All told, this test-bed facility reactor might produce ten percent or less of the power Kirov’s plant generated, a good safe environment to see if they could detect any anomalies with the makeup of the rod itself under real working conditions.
Markov came in with a folded magazine under his arm and tapped Garin on the shoulder as he took his seat at the monitor station. “Lunch Ilya,” he said. “And then when you finish, Dobrynin wants you to collate the inspection results.”
“More charts and tables,” said Garin. “What are we supposed to be looking for, Markov?”
“Don’t ask me. We just read the monitors. Let the Chief worry about it.”
“He is worried,” Garin thumbed over his shoulder to the long corridor behind the doorway out. “The Admiral was here all morning with him, and now more reports.”
“It’s the damn inspection,” said Markov. “They say Kapustin is going over everything with a white glove. They’re interviewing lots of crew members too, even matoc level.”
“Lucky for us we don’t know anything, eh?” Garin said glibly. “What are you reading?”
“Just a magazine.” He slid the magazine Garin’s way, open to an article where the headline read: ‘British Remember Fallen in Agreement Gone Bad.’
“Well, keep your eyes on the monitors, Markov. You can read your magazine in the break room. Yes?”
“Go and eat, Ilya. I’ll see you in another hour.”
It was actually going to be a good deal longer. Garin went down the long corridor past the inspection room where Dobrynin was working, and into the cafeteria for his meal break. Half way through his sandwich there was a noticeable flutter in the overhead lighting. He looked up, saw a neon bulb winking fitfully, and gave it no more thought. A little over an hour later he finished his tea and went back down the hallway, sticking his head into the inspection room to tell Dobrynin he was going back to relieve Markov.
“Very good, Mister Garin. How’s the food tonight?”
“It’s very tasty, sir. Good rye bread. You should try it.”
“When I have finished looking over these readouts.”
“Markov says you want me to collate the data again?”
“If you would be so kind, Mister Garin.”
Garin looked at his watch. “The cycle is nearly over now, sir. Any problems?”
“We won’t know until we get all the data from the scan. But you can