The Captain nodded.
‘So you can..’
The ship shuddered as a loud explosion ripped through the midsection.
‘Keep an eye on him,’ Sean told Pierce. ‘I’m going to check what that was about.’
Sean ran up the companionway to the reactor operations room. Khostov and the two American engineers stood outside.
‘What the hell happened?’
Khostov’s face was pale. ‘I was pumping out seawater from the primary circuit when the seals went. I’m surprised they lasted as long as they did. Between the reactor core and the containment vessel the neutron-absorbing shield is now empty.’
‘What does that mean?’
Khostov shuddered. ‘The explosion you heard was some of the material finding its way into the secondary coolant system. When that happened, it vented explosively. I’ve failed to reduce the temperature in the reactor.’
Sean shook Khostov by the shoulders. ‘Tell me, what does it mean?’
Khostov’s sigh was long and deep. ‘I’m afraid there’s nothing more we can do to stop the core reaching meltdown.’
CHAPTER TWENTY-SIX
Major Pierce and Captain Grigori joined the group. They moved inside the operations control room, and shut the door against the freezing cold.
‘How long do we have?’ Pierce asked.
‘A couple of hours,’ Khostov responded.
‘That doesn’t leave us much time to evacuate the ship. We’ll have to halt the rescue of the remaining crew from the submarine and get the hell out.’
‘Unfortunately, it’s not as simple as that,’ Sean replied. ‘Tell him, Alexei.’
Khostov cleared his throat. ‘When the uranium melts, it will burn right through the ship and through the hull. When it meets the seawater there will be a huge eruption as the molten uranium reacts. Enormous quantities of radioactive steam and debris will explode into the sky. The radioactive material will be carried by the winds all over the Arctic. A large part of the Arctic, the people and the wildlife they depend on, will become irradiated for a long stretch.’
Pierce stared at Khostov. ‘You’re shitting me.’
‘I was brought in to try and stop this happening.’ Khostov glanced helplessly towards the two American engineers. ‘I tried my best, but the odds were against me all along.’
‘What about this third safety system you were talking about,’ asked Sean.
Khostov shook his head. ‘We inspected it before the seals went. In theory, it’s still possible to start the process, but it would take longer than we’ve got to implement it.’
‘Even with the three of you working on it together?’
Khostov avoided making eye contact. ‘Even with the three of us. It’s too complicated, and we don’t have enough time.’
‘Then we must leave,’ said Pierce emphatically.
‘You leave,’ replied Khostov firmly. ‘I’ll stay.’
‘So your remains can be spread over the top of the world?’
‘I’ll continue on the cadmium-nitrate backup. It’s just possible I could get enough into the reactor to stop it from burning through the containment vessel.’
‘You have to be shitting.’
Sean thought Pierce’s vocabulary was limited, but he certainly knew how he felt. Sean held up his hand. ‘Wait. We’re not thinking straight about this. What about you two gentlemen — do you have any other ideas?’
The engineers eyed one another, then turned back to Sean. The leader responded. ‘No, there isn’t anything else. Khostov’s right, a blast is inevitable.’
Now it was Sean’s turn to use a ripe phrase. ‘Bollocks. There must be a way to put it off. Think!’
Silence descended on the group.
They waited a minute, but no-one offered a solution. ‘OK. If we can’t stop an explosion happening, is there something we can do to minimise the effect?’
‘Like what?’ asked Pierce.
‘Like — I don’t know.’ Sean paused. ‘Suppose we scuttle the ship. What do you think, Alexei?’
‘If the core made contact with the seawater on the ocean floor, the explosion would be better contained than on the surface. The depth of the sea bottom is what?’
They gazed expectantly at the captain.
‘About 500 metres,’ Grigori responded.
‘So the pressure on the seafloor would be around… 50 atmospheres. That’s fifty times the compression than at the surface — it might work!’
‘Even so, we would be annihilating the USS Montana,’ said Pierce.
‘Nearly everyone has been taken off,’ answered the lead engineer. ‘If we don’t do anything, they would die anyway.’
‘True. Right Captain.’ Pierce regarded Captain Grigori. How do we scuttle her?’
Grigori looked startled. ‘Are you sure that’s such a good idea? She’s the first of her line!’
Pierce fixed Grigori with a penetrating stare. ‘Do you really want to remain here when the core makes contact with the seawater?’
Grigori’s shoulders slumped. ‘There are scuttle valves at eight points around the ship. You would need to turn on five of them to make sure she went down quickly.’
‘How long would it take to sink it?’
Grigori shrugged. ‘It takes a while to open them. Depending on how many we open, maybe six to ten hours.’
Major Pierce gawked at him. ‘Are you shitting me? We’ve only got two hours left!’
At the American base, the radar operator spotted movement on the scope. ‘Incoming 200 nautical miles!’
‘Course and speed?’
‘950 km per hr. Russian warplanes are heading straight for us. ETA 23 minutes.’
‘Numbers?’
‘Difficult to say sir, with all the clutter from the storm. I’d guess a squadron at least.’
‘Right, get the interpreter here at the double. I want to speak to these boys before they arrive. And order the squadron up to meet them. Fingers off triggers until I say.’
The commander thumped the desk. Why was this happening, just as they were about to wrap things up? Maybe he could delay them with some smooth talk.
‘Interpreter, contact the leader of the flight. Let him know that we are packing up to leave. We’ll be gone in 30 minutes.’
The man threw him a sharp look. No-one was going to believe that.
‘Just do it!’
‘Sir!’
They waited a minute for a response. The commander flipped the speakers on, so they could all listen in. The lead pilot responded in English.
‘Storm flight to base. The deadline has expired. We don’t understand how you expect to be gone in 30 minutes.’
‘Tell him sixty minutes.’
‘Storm flight to base. You already lied, and you are lying again.’
They could hear the click as the leader ended the conversation.
‘Bloody hell! Try them again, and give me the mike.
‘Base to storm flight. We are on a peaceful operation to rescue the crew of our submarine. I repeat we are here on a peaceful operation.’
They listened, but there was no response.
The flight leader of storm flight clicked the intercom to broadcast to the rest of his squadron. ‘No further communication with the base, unless it is through me. We do not want the Americans to realise we have one hand tied behind our backs!’ The leader was referring to orders handed down by Dimitry Kamenev, the First Deputy Chief of the Presidential Administration; under no circumstances were they to make the first move. ‘Let the Americans think we are about to attack!’
‘Commander!’ It was the second radio operator. ‘Sentinel squadron want to know how much force they should employ to interdict Storm Flight.’
‘Their orders were clear. They are to protect and defend. Use any necessary force to comply.’
The commander turned back to the microphone. ‘Base to storm flight. I am recording this conversation. I am asking you to turn around. Under no circumstances should you attack our base or our aircraft. The base is home to the crew of USS Montana who have just been rescued from their disabled submarine. Any attack by you will harm non-combatants.’