submarine that had been
scuttled along the shore, Deckard looked carefully through the
snowflakes swirling in the wind. He couldn’t get over the feeling
they were being watched, even though Cody’s drone didn’t pick up
any thermal signatures.
The nose of their Zodiac rubbed up against the submarine’s
deck. The PKM gunner immediately jumped off and scrambled up the
hull. Deckard and seven other Samruk International mercenaries
lumbered up in their cold-weather gear and jumped onto the sub. The
coxswain stayed on the boat, making sure they were ready for
extraction.
The mercenaries quickly found a hatch and descended into
the belly of the Soviet-era submarine. Deckard pushed his goggles up
onto his forehead, his eyes adjusting to the darkness. They stepped
carefully, avoiding rusted-out portions of the deck as they walked
through the corridor toward a light in the distance. The submarine
was literally coming apart at the seams, as it had been exposed to
the elements for years on end, including the water freezing and then
melting each year.
Stairways with rust brown railings, leading to nowhere,
made it feel like they were in a haunted house straight out of some
Cold War nightmare. It was evident to Deckard that no one had been
there in a very long time.
At the end of the corridor, the sub was blasted open where
the torpedo tubes were located, the tear in the hull leaving a gap a
few feet from the next submarine. The mercs hopped across the gap one
by one onto the next submarine, this one lying on its side. The wind
cut into their faces again, forcing Deckard and the others to pull
down their goggles and pull up their face masks.
“Six,” the earbud connected to Deckard's radio crackled. “The
dock...clear.”
Fedorchenko’s voice was cutting in and out, his words full of
static.
“Roger.”
Fedorchenko had cleared the docks, but there were about a dozen
abandoned submarines in the cove. He might as well search as many of
them as possible just to be sure. It wasn’t like they had any other
leads. The mercenaries crawled down the hull as it began sloping down
into the sea.
From where he stood, Deckard could see there was another
submarine hull just under the surface of the water, adjacent to the
one they were on. Trudging through an inch of water wasn’t a big
deal in boots. They could use the sub as an underwater bridge to make
their way over to the next section of the submarine graveyard.
Deckard spoke to the Kazakhs in Russian, instructing them on
which route to take. The PKM gunner went into a prone position behind
what was left of the submarine mast while the rest of them shuffled
down the side to the submarine that was just barely submerged.
Deckard took the lead, slinging his AK and sliding down the edge of
the hull on his ass. For a moment, he fell through the air, then his
boots came down on the top of the sub with a splash.
Waving the other mercenaries after him, Deckard sloshed
through the ice water as he walked along the top of the submarine.
His fear was that the aging submarine would give way under his weight
and he would tumble right through the fuselage and into the cold
water, but even after decades of sitting in the cove, it was probably
unlikely. Submarine hulls had to be extremely strong, made with
hardened steel to withstand the pressures found in the depths of the
ocean.
Looking over his shoulder, Deckard could see that the other
mercenaries were lined up behind him. Their PKM gunner was still up
above on the other submarine, ready to provide suppressive fire if
they made contact with the enemy. Keeping his rifle at the low ready,
Deckard scanned for targets. He could hear the low creaks and snarls
of metal against metal that echoed through the cove as the elements
took their toll on the Soviet subs.
Reaching the far side of the cove, Deckard put an arm out
to grab onto the next submarine. There was a rust-encrusted ladder
rung sticking out from the fuselage. Just as his gloved
scuttled along the shore, Deckard looked carefully through the
snowflakes swirling in the wind. He couldn’t get over the feeling
they were being watched, even though Cody’s drone didn’t pick up
any thermal signatures.
The nose of their Zodiac rubbed up against the submarine’s
deck. The PKM gunner immediately jumped off and scrambled up the
hull. Deckard and seven other Samruk International mercenaries
lumbered up in their cold-weather gear and jumped onto the sub. The
coxswain stayed on the boat, making sure they were ready for
extraction.
The mercenaries quickly found a hatch and descended into
the belly of the Soviet-era submarine. Deckard pushed his goggles up
onto his forehead, his eyes adjusting to the darkness. They stepped
carefully, avoiding rusted-out portions of the deck as they walked
through the corridor toward a light in the distance. The submarine
was literally coming apart at the seams, as it had been exposed to
the elements for years on end, including the water freezing and then
melting each year.
Stairways with rust brown railings, leading to nowhere,
made it feel like they were in a haunted house straight out of some
Cold War nightmare. It was evident to Deckard that no one had been
there in a very long time.
At the end of the corridor, the sub was blasted open where
the torpedo tubes were located, the tear in the hull leaving a gap a
few feet from the next submarine. The mercs hopped across the gap one
by one onto the next submarine, this one lying on its side. The wind
cut into their faces again, forcing Deckard and the others to pull
down their goggles and pull up their face masks.
“Six,” the earbud connected to Deckard's radio crackled. “The
dock...clear.”
Fedorchenko’s voice was cutting in and out, his words full of
static.
“Roger.”
Fedorchenko had cleared the docks, but there were about a dozen
abandoned submarines in the cove. He might as well search as many of
them as possible just to be sure. It wasn’t like they had any other
leads. The mercenaries crawled down the hull as it began sloping down
into the sea.
From where he stood, Deckard could see there was another
submarine hull just under the surface of the water, adjacent to the
one they were on. Trudging through an inch of water wasn’t a big
deal in boots. They could use the sub as an underwater bridge to make
their way over to the next section of the submarine graveyard.
Deckard spoke to the Kazakhs in Russian, instructing them on
which route to take. The PKM gunner went into a prone position behind
what was left of the submarine mast while the rest of them shuffled
down the side to the submarine that was just barely submerged.
Deckard took the lead, slinging his AK and sliding down the edge of
the hull on his ass. For a moment, he fell through the air, then his
boots came down on the top of the sub with a splash.
Waving the other mercenaries after him, Deckard sloshed
through the ice water as he walked along the top of the submarine.
His fear was that the aging submarine would give way under his weight
and he would tumble right through the fuselage and into the cold
water, but even after decades of sitting in the cove, it was probably
unlikely. Submarine hulls had to be extremely strong, made with
hardened steel to withstand the pressures found in the depths of the
ocean.
Looking over his shoulder, Deckard could see that the other
mercenaries were lined up behind him. Their PKM gunner was still up
above on the other submarine, ready to provide suppressive fire if
they made contact with the enemy. Keeping his rifle at the low ready,
Deckard scanned for targets. He could hear the low creaks and snarls
of metal against metal that echoed through the cove as the elements
took their toll on the Soviet subs.
Reaching the far side of the cove, Deckard put an arm out
to grab onto the next submarine. There was a rust-encrusted ladder
rung sticking out from the fuselage. Just as his gloved
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