Arctic Firepath

'Captain.' The knocking on the door grew louder. 'Captain!'

'Yes! Stop that row!'

The Steward entered. 'I was told to request your presence on the bridge.'

'What’s the problem?'

'The lookout has spotted something on the horizon.'

'Right. Give me 5 minutes.' The Captain did not normally want to be called every time they came across a ship. But after reading the confidential directive from Vice-Admiral Kostya Duboff, Grigori left special instructions to inform him whenever they sighted a vessel. Nothing would come between him and the objective outlined in his orders.

He dressed quickly. Even though the bridge wasn’t far, he pulled a parka on. A recent polar depression heralded a new weather front from the north. He entered the bridge in a blast of cold air. 'What have you got?'

'We are too far away to get a good view, Captain.'

'Radar?'

The helmsman shook his head. 'Just a blip on the screen, Captain.'

Grigori motioned towards the binoculars. 'Give them to me.'

He screwed them into his eyes, twisting the knob to adjust the focus. After a minute he left the bridge to observe the object from the lookout's position. He stayed a while, then strode back.

'Any change?'

'It's a puzzle, Captain. I find it hard to comprehend how anything so small could travel so far north.'

'Hm. I think I’m beginning to understand,' murmured Grigori.

The man observed the Captain expectantly.

'Come 12 degrees to port. Increase speed to 16 knots.'

The man coughed. 'Captain, the Chief Engineer…'

'I know what the Chief Engineer said,' snapped Grigori. 'But I am the Captain, and I make the decisions.' He glared at the helmsman. 'Is that clear?'

'Yes Captain.'

Grigori went out to the lookout's post. At this latitude it would not get any lighter. He raised the binoculars again, refocused the lens.

'I knew it,' he muttered to himself. 'It's a damn sub!' He returned to the bridge and picked up the intercom.

'Radio operator. Contact Arctic fleet command. Ask them if we are expecting any of our subs in the area. I need an answer fast — a simple yes or no will do.'

'Yes Captain!'

The captain continued to inspect the object of his curiosity. A minute later, the intercom buzzed. He listened for a moment and replaced the mike in its cradle.

'Increase speed to 18 knots!'

There was a stunned silence on the bridge.

'Did anyone hear my order?'

'Er, sir. Yes sir,' the helmsman responded at last.

Grigori understood what he was thinking. Given the state of the reactor, the Chief Engineer had issued a strong warning not to exceed 14 knots. Grigori calculated the situation demanded immediate action. They might have to stop later to repair the corrosion damage, or even shut down the reactor and start up the second.

Either way, he needed to get close straightaway.

* * *

Captain Gerry White clapped his gloved hands together to improve the circulation. A chill wind blew around his position atop the conning tower, but it didn't stop the crew on the ice from enjoying themselves. A group were building a snowman using Brussels sprouts for the eyes and a carrot for the nose, while another party had an energetic snowball fight. Two men at the perimeter patrolled with rifles, providing protection against the odd stray polar bear.

The intercom buzzed, and he picked up the handset.

'Captain, we spotted a Russian icebreaker heading our way. We were told to look out for one in the area. Do you want us to hail him?'

'Distance and direction?'

'Sorry skipper. Distance is just over 5 km. Direction is south-south east.'

Captain White glanced towards the compass point and lifted his binoculars. Bow-on, the ship almost filled the field of view. The hull was painted a deep rust-like red. The vessel had a rhythmic up and down movement as it bullied a path through the icepack.

'No need to Matthew, we'll be able to wave to him in a few minutes. Better warn the crew to keep closer to our boat, in case the ice begins to crack.'

'Yes Captain.'

* * *

Grigori handed the binoculars to the lookout. 'Tell me what you see.'

'A conning tower, Captain. It's broken through the ice!'

'Confirm the designation on the side.'

'Ah, wait a minute Captain. SSN-812.'

'Thank you. Please make a note in the log.' Grigori turned and walked back into the bridge. He picked up the mike. 'Engine room, I want maximum engine speed.'

The helmsman stared at the Captain as though he had left his senses. Seconds later the intercom buzzed.

It was the Chief Engineer. 'Captain, I cannot permit this. I told you not to exceed 14 knots!'

'I know, Pytor. I need full speed immediately, whatever the outcome.'

'Grigori, if you do this you will damage the reactor. I cannot be held responsible.'

'I won’t hold you liable Pytor. You may record your objections in the log. But I must have full power!' Grigori waited for a response.

After a long moment, the Chief Engineer replied. 'Very well, but I will be making a report.'

'Do that later — give me the power now.'

Within seconds, the engine beat increased and LK-80 surged forward into the ice.

'Helmsman, another two degrees starboard.'

The Helmsman scrutinised his Captain, weary about speaking out again. Glancing through the bridge window, alarm overcame the need for obedience. 'Sir, may I respectfully suggest we choose another bearing. This course takes us directly to the submarine.'

'Helmsman, I warned you once. If you persist I will put you on a charge and have you replaced.'

The Helmsman's face was white with raw emotion. 'Sir! We are heading straight for an American submarine! You are putting their lives — and our crew's — into danger!'

Grigori's voice took on the quality of steel. 'Steer another two degrees to starboard.'

For a second there was silence in the room.

The Helmsman turned back to the wheel. 'Two degrees to starboard. Yes sir!'

* * *

By now the snowball fights had stopped and the crew of the USS Montana stood, all eyes on the ice-breaker smashing its way straight for them. Still about two kilometres away, Captain White could make out details of its superstructure without needing binoculars.

The XO took up a position next to the Captain. 'Sir, I don't think he's going to stop,' he said tentatively.

'You're right, he should have altered course by now. Get the COB to order all the men to return immediately. Prepare for an emergency dive!'

'Yes sir!'

The Captain picked up the intercom. 'Sparks, signal the icebreaker. He is making for us. Tell them to change course. Comms, get someone up here to fire off flares. XO?'

'Yes sir.'

'Go below and make preparations for an emergency dive. As soon as the last man is on board, I want this sub to disappear under the ice. Go!'

The Chief of the Boat used the loudhailer to order the men back to the sub. Captain White watched anxiously as the group began to return. The COB hectored them and the walk turned into a sprint. Sailors started to climb the ladder to the deck.

The Captain glanced at the icebreaker. In that short space of time the distance had closed to just a kilometre. The ship appeared enormous.

The intercom buzzed. 'Sir, we've started to reduce buoyancy, but we think the boat's stuck. We'll need some men to clear the ice around the sail.'

'Right XO. I'll see to it.'

The Captain stopped the line of men waiting to descend through the conning tower hatch.

'I want all of you to form a party and free the ice. Grab pickaxes and shovels.' The Captain saw hesitation in their faces. 'Immediately!'

That last urgent command galvanised the men. They all knew the drill, and the men attacked the ice. A red flare ascended into the sky, burning brightly as it floated down on its parachute. Another one went off, and then another. Captain White peered anxiously at the icebreaker. The vessel was so close he could hear the loud hum of its engines.