The Hunt for Red October

Cold this morning, Captain.

Cold.

And hard.

It's time, captain.

It's time.

Time indeed.

What are you doing? You're supposed to be upstairs sleeping.

Stanley keeps waking me up.

I get it.

Boy, are you getting heavy.

Don't let her pull more than her usual nonsense.

Two stories, two glasses of water.

- Jack, you're going to miss the plane. - Okay. Cricket, you listen to me.

Go upstairs with Mrs. Wheeler now and go to sleep.

On my business trip, I'll get Stanley a little brother.

- Will you promise? - I promise.

- Can I get you anything, sir? - No, thank you very much.

If you try and get sleep, the flight will go faster.

I can never sleep on a plane.

- Turbulence. - Pardon?

Turbulence. Solar radiation heats the earth's crust,

warm air rises, cold air descends.

- Turbulence. I don't like that. - Try to sleep anyway.

Dr. Ryan?

Jack, boy, get yourself in here.

- Jesus! You look like hell. - Thank you very much, Admiral.

- Want coffee? - I think I need some coffee.

I'm not going to ask you how your flight went.

When's the last time you got some sleep?

I don't know. This thing's still on London time.

- Milk and sugar? - Milk and sugar.

So how's Caroline?

Last time I saw her

was at your granddad's place in Maine, wasn't it?

She's fine. Sends you her best.

- And Sally? - She's fine.

What is she now, three?

No, she's a very precocious five.

She announced to Caroline and I the other day

that her life would be considerably less lonely

if we were to buy her a baby brother.

But she decided it would be enough if we were to buy one for Stanley.

- Who's Stanley? - Stanley's a bear.

All right. What's important enough to get you on a plane

in the middle of the night?

British Intelligence obtained these pictures two days ago.

She's the Red October, the latest Typhoon class.

Big son of a bitch.

Twelve meters longer than the standard Typhoon.

Three meters wider. The captain's name is Ramius.

- One of yours? - Yeah. I did his bio last year.

He's taken out the lead boat in each new sub class for 10 years.

Fairly good political connections.

Trained most of their attack boat skippers.

The Russians call him Vilnius nastavnik.

The Vilnius schoolmaster.

- What are these doors? - Those doors, sir, are the problem.

I don't know what they are. Neither do the British.

Perhaps our friends in Murmansk have come up with something new.

With your permission, I'd like to show these to someone.

- Do you know Skip Tyler? - Sub driver.

Was. Clipped by a drunk driver. Lost his leg.

He's teaching at the academy, consulting for navy labs.

- Clearance? - Top secret or better.

Margie, have a car for Dr. Ryan downstairs in 10 minutes.

A satellite caught Red October in Polijarny Inlet this morning.

Do you hear it?

No.

Beaumont, at Cal Tech we used to do this in our sleep.

You hear it now?

Wait a minute. Maybe.

- It's buried in surface clutter? - Yes.

- I should go to SAPS? - Correct, Seaman Beaumont.

Signal algorithmic processing systems.

Give it a week, and you'll be teaching at Cal Tech.

So...

Like Beethoven on the computer, you have labored to produce

a biologic.

- A what? - A whale, Beaumont. A whale.

A marine mammal that knows a hell of a lot more about sonar

than you do. Kill the SAPS.

Train over to 2-6-9 and let's try it again.

If he gets to ragging on you too bad, ask him about Pavarotti.

We don't have time for sea stories.

I was in the middle of teaching Seaman Beaumont

the intricacies of modern sonar. Now...

I ain't chief of the boat. I'm Sheena, Queen of the Jungle.

- Cob, please. - Come on, Cob. Tell me.

Okay. Fine. Go ahead.

Seaman Jones here, he's into music in a big way.

He figures this whole boat is basically

just his own personal, private stereo set.

- He gets this piece of Pavarotti... - He was Paganini.

- Whatever. - Paganini.

This is my story, okay?

Tell it right. Pavarotti's a tenor. Paganini was a composer.

Okay. So he's got this music, and he's got it out in the water.

He's listening on his headsets, happy as a clam.

Then all hell breaks loose.

- A slew of boats out of San Diego... - Including one way out at Pearl.

Including one way out at Pearl.

All of a sudden, they start hearing Pavarotti.

- Pavarotti... - Coming out of their asses.

- What do I do? - I got it.

Conn, Sonar. New contact, bearing 0-9-7.

Designate contact number Sierra 3-5.

- Captain, aye. What've you got, Jones? - Distant contact, probably submerged.

It's a wild guess,

but I'd say we hit a boomer coming out of the barn.

Could be a missile boat out of Polijarny.

Okay. Start your track. I'll be there in a minute.

Sonar, aye.

Time to open the orders, sir.

The Political Officer is in your cabin.

Very well.

You have the conn.

What are you doing?

I must oversee the stability of the crew, Captain.

By invading my privacy?

Privacy is not a major concern in the Soviet Union, comrade.

It's often contrary to the collective good.

"Behold, I am coming as a thief...

"And they gathered them together

"In a place called...

"Armageddon."

"And the seventh angel poured forth his bowl into the air,

"and a voice cried out from heaven, saying,

"'It is done."'

A man with your responsibilities reading about the end of the world.

And what's this?

"I am become death, the destroyer of worlds."

It is an ancient Hindu text quoted by an American.

- American? - He invented the atomic bomb,

and he was later accused of being a communist.

You wrote and underlined these passages?

No.

This book belonged to my wife. I keep it for sentimental value.

I'm sorry, Comrade Captain. Your wife was a beautiful woman.

Her death was unfortunate.

I'm only doing my job. It is my responsibility.

How many agents did the KGB put aboard my boat?

- Your boat, Captain? - Yes.

This vessel belongs to the people of the Soviet Union.

Besides, if the KGB or the GRU has agents aboard,

I will be the last to know.

I suggest we open our orders, Captain.

Certainly, comrade.

"From Commander...

"Strategic submarine forces red banner northern fleet."

We're to proceed north to grid square reference 54-90

and rendezvous with Alfa submarine Konovalov.

- Captain Tupolev's boat. - You know Tupolev?

I know he descends from aristocracy and that he was your student.

It's rumored he has a special place in his heart for you.

There's little room in Tupolev's heart for anyone but Tupolev.

Having made contact, we are to run a series of drills.

Tupolev will hunt us while we test our ship.

Having evaluated the operational readiness

of the caterpillar drive,

we are to return to Polijarny on or about the 16th of this month.

Captain, this is an historic moment. I'd like to make a request.

- Before you proceed, comrade... - I know it's not protocol,

but would you permit me to post our orders

and inform the crew of our mission?

Where I'm going, you cannot follow.

Dr. Petrov, report to my cabin immediately.

There's been a dreadful accident.

Buddy!

Daniel, got any more rods? More rods!

Listen to me. There's no cradle underneath it.

- Get it over. - Relax! Stop being an old maid.

You want to come up here and do it yourself?

- All right. Bring her up. - What? What?

Ryan!

Who let you in here?

Skip, what, have they got you playing with models now?

Damn it, Bill! Tell them to slow down!

I'm doing it. I'm doing it. Slow it down, will you?

It's not a model. The DSRV. Rescue sub.

I know what it is. What are you doing with it?

We're rigging it with a generic docking collar

so it'll mate with British, German... Just about anybody's sub.

We can get it anywhere in the world in 24 hours.

- How's your back? - It's fine.

Have you got a minute?

Bigger than a regular Typhoon.

- What are these doors? - You don't miss much, do you?

Those are too big to be torpedo tubes.

Would you launch an ICBM horizontally?

Sure. Why would you want to? They're symmetrical.

Right down the long axis of the sub.

- How about a towed sonar array? - Nope. Too close to the screws.

I'll be...

This... This could be a caterpillar.

- A what? - A caterpillar drive.

Magneto-hydrodynamic propulsion.

- You follow? - No.

It's like a jet engine for the water.

Goes in the front, gets squirted out the back.

Only it's got no moving parts, so it's very, very quiet.