"... ебать-копать," is all Tsybenko says to the feeling of those words scratching their way across the back of his psyche.

By the look of things he's not the only one who feels that way. Normally a submarine crew looking at a pair of unfamiliar arrivals would be composed mostly of hostile faces mixed in with carefully neutral ones, but the Russians who were waiting near the sub's entrance look, to a man, as if they're barely a hair on the safe side of the breaking point. One of them steps forward and speaks; Tsybenko starts translating immediately. "Chief Ship Starshina- is Senior Chief Petty Officer, to you- Symon Petliura," he says. "You said you can get us out of here?"