The laughter died in the premier's throat.
"Oh," Garbegtrov said, amazed. "Oh, you are serious."
"Of course, Comrade Premier," Captain Zhilnikov had said. "Is that not our mission?" Garbegtrov shot a look over at the other sailors on the cramped bridge. They were busy at work. Only the executive officer was looking their way.
"Come with me, Gennady," Garbegtrov whispered.
The former premier led the captain back to the quarters he used whenever he was aboard the Novgorod.
"What precisely do you think we are doing here, Gennady?" Garbegtrov asked once the door to the small cabin was closed and locked.
"I thought we were working to restore Lenin's great vision to Mother Russia," the captain replied. Garbegtrov sat on the steel edge of his bunk. "And how will we do this with only one submarine?"
"I assumed, Comrade Premier, that we were the first in a new Soviet fleet. We would build strength, and when the time came our forces would seize control."
Garbegtrov's frown deepened. "I will let you in on a secret, Gennady," he said. "A secret I assumed you knew. We are not only the first ship in this mighty fleet you have invented, we are the only ship."
Captain Zhilnikov's face clouded. "I do not understand," he said.
"Gennady," the ex-premier said, "do you know the cost of keeping this one vessel afloat? We can barely afford it as it is."
"Finance is something capitalist Americans fret over."
Garbegtrov nodded. "You are lying to yourself if you believe communism cares nothing for money. If we did not, this ship would never have been decommissioned. She was left to rust because Mother Russia could no longer afford her. Capital has always been as important to Russia as it is to America. Except they knew better how to spend it."
Captain Zhilnikov didn't like what he was hearing. "Respectfully, Comrade Premier, the pursuit of money is not the goal of a good Communist."
Garbegtrov smiled sadly. "You and your men are being paid well, are you not?"
Zhilnikov frowned. "Yes," he admitted. "But that is because we are the new chosen ones. The vanguard of the new order."
"You are. But it is not the order that you think." And Garbegtrov went on to tell the captain how he had gone to a meeting not long before the theft of the Novgorod. At this meeting he found a group of people who had given him hope for a new future for the global Communist movement.
"Was it in Moscow?" Zhilnikov asked hopefully.
"California," Garbegtrov replied.
He explained to the former Russian navy captain about environmentalism and an organization called Green Earth. How the Green Earthers were more devoted to socialist dogma than any Duma member. Garbegtrov told the captain that the people who had been ferrying supplies out to the Russian sub were wealthy Americans who belonged to the organization.
"They hate their country, these rich, spoiled children of privilege," Garbegtrov explained. "They hate its freedoms and strength. They loathe the military. Anything that weakens American power and prestige in the world gives them joy. When I mentioned Russia's own diminishing military strength, they were crestfallen. There was a time, Gennady, when we would have destroyed their way of life-crushed the very freedoms that allowed them to act like the stupid children they are-and these people were actually upset that Russia was no longer a threat to their survival.
"It was when I told them about the situation with our decommissioned warships that they became particularly interested. One got it in his head that it would be a fitting slap in the face of his own country if Green Earth could have its own Soviet submarine. A way to strike fear in the hearts of illegal dumpers, whalers, oil tankers and the like. Before I knew what was happening it was being voted on by the Green Earth board. The project was green-lighted, I was put in charge and-not long after-you and your men stole me my submarine."
Captain Zhilnikov couldn't believe what he was hearing. He was absolutely crushed. His legs were wobbly. He had to sit down in the little chair near the bolted-down desk in the corner of the tiny cabin.
"We will not use the Novgorod to take back Mother Russia?" he asked weakly.
Garbegtrov sighed. "Russia is not as strong as she once was," he admitted. "But Moscow will not surrender to one little obsolete submarine that has to beg for its supper."
And that was that. Out of financial necessity, Captain Gennady Zhilnikov had become a tool of environmental zealots.
For several years the Novgorod was kept afloat by Green Earth money. During that time, Garbegtrov moved up the ranks of the organization just as he had risen to the top position of the Communist Party. As time went on, the former premier spent less and less time involved in matters of the Novgorod, he was too busy staying in plush hotels paid for by Green Earth. Funding and supplying the sub was turned over to a minor American Green Earth member. The ultimate insult.
By now the men on board knew the truth. Though it sickened them, the pay was good and the work was undemanding. In fact, it was almost as if they had been forgotten.
Then one day two weeks before the Globe Summit in Mayana, Captain Zhilnikov learned that this was indeed the case.
His American Green Earth contact had met the sub in international waters off the coast of Florida. With him was one of the ranking members of the Green Earth board.
The board member was a dotcom millionaire who had cashed out before his online birdseed store had collapsed along with the rest of the Internet market. He was twenty-six, had a social conscience and was a lot more concerned with the bottom line than the rest of the organization's membership.
"You gotta be fluffing kidding me," he said as he climbed down from the deck of the Novgorod. He looked around at the sailors-still dressed in their Soviet-era uniforms. "No fluffing way, dude," he said, shaking his blond-highlighted head.
"Is something wrong?" Captain Zhilnikov asked.
The kid laughed. "Dude, this is all wrong. We've been paying to keep this tub afloat for years." He glanced back at the man who had been Zhilnikov's liaison with Green Earth. "Years, right?"
"Yes, sir. Approximately a decade."
"Dudes, that is way nuts," the kid said. "I know some of the older guys thought this was a cool idea and all, but this thing is tapped. I think they were high when they okayed this 'cause there's no way they could ever have used it."
"What do you mean?" Zhilnikov asked. He had taken an instant dislike to this callow American.
"It was stolen, dude. The Russians would freak if they found that out. Someone up in Green Earth figured that out, so they kept this floating money pit a secret. But they thought it was cool, I guess, so they kept you around. No more, dude. You're history."
"What does this mean, 'I am history'?"
"You, your little barnacle-butt buddies-you're all gone. Take this tub out and sink it in the Atlantic. We'll get you back on our boat."
Captain Zhilnikov was appalled. The Novgorod had been home to himself and his crew for years. He would not surrender without a fight.
"Out of the question," the captain said. "I demand to speak with Nikolai Garbegtrov. He is powerful man in your organization now. He will not stand for such outrage."
The kid laughed. "Dude, who do you think signed off on scuttling this tub?"
Captain Gennady Zhilnikov couldn't speak. He blinked in disbelief. His mouth opened, but no words came out.
He had believed in Garbegtrov when the politician was first selected premier of the old Soviet Union, only to be betrayed.
Again he personally trusted that Garbegtrov had arranged to steal the Novgorod to take back Mother Russia. Again betrayal.
And he had surrendered all dignity to work for these demented Americans who loved trees more than children, only to have Garbegtrov-incompetent, decadent, slave-to-the-West Garbegtrov-betray him one last time.
Zhilnikov tried to gather thoughts now filled with images of rage and hate and revenge. Through the haze he heard a voice.
"It's kinda too bad and all," the youthful visitor to the Novgorod was commenting. He was glancing around the sub's bridge. "This is pretty cool. Das Boot and all. Hey, dude, you got torpedoes and everything on this scow?"