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undergo a full search before being allowed into the building.”
    Samant nodded his understanding and offered Petrov a steaming cup. “So, tell me, when did you get drafted to oversee Chakra ’s refit?”
    “Thank you,” Petrov replied gratefully. After downing a few sips, he answered, “Captain Mitra called me into his office on Saturday, two days ago, and informed me of my ‘promotion’ to lead engineer for the refit. He then handed me the maintenance plan and told me they had to shave two months off the schedule. Apparently Vice Admiral Dhankhar wants the boat ready for sea by April tenth.”
    Samant bowed his head slightly as he drank. “Yes, Jain told me as much. That’s nowhere near enough time to get all the work done, even if you could get every technician in the shipyard working on her. What I don’t understand is, what’s the rush? Why does the admiral want the boat to go to sea so early?”
    Petrov paused, a look of concern on his face. “It gets even more bizarre, Girish. I have a single day for sea trials—one day, and most of the testing involves the sonar and weapon systems upgrades.”
    “That’s ridiculous!” Samant scowled. “How can you possibly test the propulsion plant and auxiliary systems repairs in a single day?”
    “We can’t. A lot of that work will have to be deferred. Captain Mitra was very specific about that; only those repairs that can be completed within the revised schedule will be considered.”
    Samant shook his head in amazement; none of this made any sense. What were Dhankhar and his staff thinking? Unable to offer any explanation for the radical schedule change, Samant sat silent, thinking and drinking his tea. After a few moments, a visibly uncomfortable Petrov spoke quietly. “I’ll understand if you can’t tell me, Girish, but I have to ask. Are there any near-term plans to recommence hostilities against Pakistan? Do I need to worry about a submarine that will be going into combat?”
    The blunt questions caught Samant completely unawares; Petrov was definitely out of bounds, but he completely understood why the Russian had asked. Initially suspicious, the Indian looked carefully at his friend; then he saw the haunted look in Petrov’s eyes. The man desperately wanted to know if the decisions he’d have to make could result in the loss of another submarine. The ghosts of Severodvinsk still clung to him.
    “Honestly, Aleks, I don’t know of any plans to start the fighting again—not that there couldn’t be some contingency plans being considered. There are a number of very frustrated senior officers who are unhappy with the peace negotiations. Our friend, Dhankhar, is one of them. But I can’t see why this would require Chakra ’s refit to be accelerated. Besides, Pakistan’s navy has been badly mauled. There isn’t a whole lot left, and nothing that would require an Akula-class submarine to take care of it.”
    Samant’s answer appeared to ease Petrov’s worried expression, but not entirely. The Russian finished his tea, stood, and faced his host. “Then I have one last question for you, Girish. And I don’t mean to be offensive, or seek access to India’s state secrets, but it is a rather sensitive subject, so I must beg your pardon in advance.”
    “Certainly,” replied Samant, now deeply curious.
    Petrov took a deep breath, bracing himself before speaking. “Is it the Indian Navy’s intention to put nuclear weapons on Chakra ?”
    “WHAT!?” shouted a stunned Samant as he leapt to his feet. “How can you even suggest such a thing!”
    Petrov remained calm. Samant’s reaction was completely justified; the question did sound like an accusation. “Bear with me, Girish. I will explain my reasons in a moment. Now, please, will you answer the question?”
    Fuming, Samant struggled to get his anger under control. Friend or not, Petrov’s insinuation was insulting. Several tense seconds went by before the Indian captain responded, and even then