Phantom Page #3

We're dead already.

We just don't know it.

MAN (O VER RADIO):

Con, surface contact, 11,000 meters,

bearing one-nine-five.

Very well. Classification?

Big and slow. Probably a merchant.

- DEMl:
Five degree left rudder.

- Five degree left rudder.

MAN:
Five degree left rudder.

Stop the drill, Captain.

- Why?

- PAVLOV:
Because our orders require us

to take tactical advantage

of the testing opportunities

for the classified onboard equipment.

Captain, I need you

to put us under that ship.

- We have men below.

- Then you should get them out.

MAN (O VER RADIO): Con, we have

a problem in battery deck two.

Yeah, what is it?

Not sure, sir.

The men are coming up now.

- Mr. Kozlov, terminate the drill.

- Aye, sir.

- All hands, terminate drill.

- BRUNl:
Captain.

- What?

- Put us under that ship.

Sir... we don't know who that is.

DEMl:
Mr. Bavenod,

plot an intercept for that ship.

- Put the moon on our stern.

- BAVENOD:
Aye, Captain.

- Sir...

- Level the boat.

Make our depth ten meters.

- Level the boat, depth ten meters.

- MAN 1:
Aye, aye, level the boat.

- MAN 2:
Ten meters.

- DEMl:
We'll take a look

before we get any closer.

If that's all right with you.

DEMl:
Panamanian flag.

- Tanker.

- Good. She can't shoot at us then.

No, but she can report our position.

Put us beneath her keel.

You can do that.

The noise from her screws

will blind us, Captain.

Engineer, time on the batteries?

MAN (O VER RADIO): At current speed,

30, 35 minutes, Captain.

All full ahead.

Make your depth 30 meters.

- Put us in her wake.

- Aye, sir.

- Ahead full, 30 meters.

- MAN 1:
Ahead full, 30 meters.

MAN 2:
Thirty meters.

(PING SOUNDING)

- (PING ECHOES)

- Sixty meters.

Closing at two knots.

Con, sonar.

We're in her acoustic shadow.

Too much cavitation.

We need to get higher.

Captain?

Officer of the deck,

gently make our depth ten meters.

One degree up bubble.

Depth ten meters.

MAN:
One degree up bubble, ten meters.

(BOAT CREAKING)

- Ten meters.

- Higher, Captain.

- Those are 20-ton screws.

- BRUNl:
Higher, Captain.

Engineer, time on the batteries?

MAN (O VER RADIO):

Ten minutes, more or less.

BRUNl:
Higher!

If you please.

We're already rolling, Captain.

Fluid dynamics, Mr. Kozlov.

We're both in the same plane of motion.

One degree up bubble.

Very gently.

- Make your depth five meters.

- Come to five meters.

One degree up bubble.

Maybe you'd like to tell us

- what we're risking 86 lives for?

- DEMl:
Hey, hey, hey...

For our patriotic duty, Mr. Kozlov.

Come on. Come on!

Con, maneuvering.

We're losing main battery power.

Reduce all engines 40 percent.

Make turns for five knots.

Stand by, all diesels.

- Diesels online.

- Brace for impact.

- Brace for impact!

- (METAL CREAKING)

- (METAL SQUEALING)

- (MEN SHOUTING)

(OVERLAPPING CHATTER)

- MAN 1:
Stand by.

- MAN 2:
Get down there and take a look!

I want a damage report.

- Raise the snorkel.

- MAN:
Engine room,

- give me a damage report!

- All start diesels.

- Aye, sir. All start on diesels.

- (INDISTINCT CHATTER)

Will that be it for a while, Mr. Bruni?

Yes.

Mr. Kozlov has the con.

PAVLOV:
Always the rebel, Demi.

I mean, don't you think that vodka

would be more in keeping

with a servant of the Soviet Navy?

Rum's a sailor's drink.

Vodka, a politician's.

One serves the other,

don't you think?

Politics serves itself.

I mean, no offense, but...

I drink what I like.

Try some.

Good for ya.

How is it, after all this time,

you and I end up on a boat

older than most of the men sailing her?

Well, this boat is reprisal

for the benefit of Squadron Commander

Markov's amusement.

Reprisal for what?

The "what" is well understood

by the Admiral and myself.

What was her name?

Sophi. I married her.

That was superb sailing.

But I'm not sure Alex

would have made the same call.

Well, some younger officers...

...aren't comfortable

working near the margins.

He needs to be more careful

around the OSNAZ.

They have connections that could

just as easily land him in the gulag

as on his own submarine.

We risked our lives

without knowing why.

He's entitled to his opinion.

Opinions are antithetical

for a clear chain of command.

I'll remind you of that

the next time you have one.

You didn't like Bruni's orders either.

That confuses me.

Following orders confuses you?

You not questioning them

confuses me.

Well, like you say,

one must take care around OSNAZ.

An instinct worth sharing

with your executive officer.

Which I'm sure you'll do

at the first opportunity.

(SIGHING)

This boat is an outrage, especially

for a man with your record of service.

Markov must have offered you something.

You know what they call an

old boat captain without a boat?

"Just another drunk."

Markov offered me the only

command left in a shrinking navy.

Pathetic as that

may sound to you...

...I took it.

(CLANGING ON METAL)

(OVERLAPPING NOISE)

(SNARLING)

(OVERLAPPING SOUNDS CONTINUE)

(LOUD HAMMERING ON METAL)

- DEMl:
Do you think we can...

- WOMAN:
Wake up.

- DEMl:
Where are my men?

- WOMAN:
Wake up.

- MAN:
If you have so many questions...

- DEMl:
Why are they doing this?

- I said where are my men?

- WOMAN:
You were gone again.

- MAN:
They're where you left them.

- WOMAN:
And again.

- I was dreaming about you.

- DEMl:
I'm sorry, Sophi.

(GRUNTING)

Hey... Hey, I'm here. I'm here.

I'm here. I'm here. It's all right.

It's all right.

All right, all right.

- All right. All right. OK.

- (PANTING)

There you go. Yeah. You're OK.

- PAVLOV:
He just collapsed.

- It's all right.

What's wrong with him?

- He's epileptic.

- PAVLOV:
He's epileptic?

Yes, from a brain trauma years ago.

Only happens once or twice a year.

(INDISTINCT MURMURS)

- Yeah, help me get him to his bunk.

- (MEN GRUNTING)

- There we go.

- There you go.

- You got him?

- Yeah.

His medication,

this government stuff, is sh*t.

(DEMI PANTING)

Demi... I'll be in the con.

I got him.

Sh*t.

You're all right. OK?

Just relax.

Melville?

The white whale.

Sometimes I have dreams so clear...

...I can't tell them from what's real.

They beckon... like Ahab.

It's not uncommon with a brain injury.

There are times I feel

I'm losing my mind.

Alex.

If it gets back to the party

that we knew about his condition...

...we could be spending the rest

of our careers scraping paint.

I'm not gonna tell 'em.

MAN (O VER RADIO): Con, sonar.

Sonar, con. Go ahead.

We have a contact.

Three thousand meters.

On my way.

Secure port and starboard motors.

Make turns on the propellers

for three knots. Excuse me.

- Rig for silent running.

- MAN:
Aye. Secure for silent running.

(SIGHING)

You realize this is

supposed to be your patrol.

If it was supposed to be mine,

I'd be the captain.

Well, as far as we know,

the party already knows about this

and wants to see how

you perform under pressure.

How am I doing?

- That man has a nuclear firing key.

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