As Armstrong approached Yury Dolgoruky, it became obvious why the PRM’s Launch and Recovery System had retrieved only a severed umbilical cable. There was a gaping hole in the stern of the submarine. One of the Russian torpedoes had indeed been fired at Yury Dolgoruky. The Compartment Nine hatch, where the PRM would have been attached, was open, but there was no sign of the PRM.
Armstrong hovered near the hole in the stern and examined the jagged edges of the hull, bent inward from the torpedo explosion. He activated the lateral thrusters again. The light from his suit cut through the darkness as he turned, and the PRM came into view. The submersible was lying on its side next to Dolgoruky. The pressure wave from the explosion must have broken the suction seal between the PRM and the submarine, shearing the PRM’s umbilical in the process. Armstrong leaned forward on both foot pedals again and flew toward the PRM. A closer inspection revealed the transfer skirt hatch was open. The inside of the PRM was flooded. There would be no one alive inside.
He turned back to the hole in Dolgoruky’s stern. Compartment Nine was flooded, which left Compartments Four through Eight. Before descending, Anderson had learned the Russians kept the aft watertight doors open on the latch, so that a greater volume of air could absorb the increasing carbon dioxide level. That being the case, all of Dolgoruky’s aft compartments were likely flooded.
He could not proceed inside to check, however. The bulky metal ADS wouldn’t fit through the watertight door into Compartment Eight. Plus he couldn’t risk entering Compartment Nine, potentially cutting his umbilical, his only source of power and communication, on the sharp metal edges of the hole.
Instead, Armstrong tilted his left foot pedal backward, and he rose toward the top of Dolgoruky’s hull. After several thruster adjustments, he landed on the deck and headed forward to the missile compartment hatch. If there were survivors, they would be waiting below the hatch for help to arrive.
After reaching the hatch, he leaned forward and tapped on the fairing with his manipulator — a metal claw, on the end of his right hand.
There was no response.
He tapped again, harder this time. After no response, he banged as hard as he could.
Still no response.
The conclusion was grim. There were no survivors.
Armstrong called to the LARS, informing them he was ready for retrieval. A few seconds later, the slack in his umbilical was removed and he flew back into the cage, and the crotch support was raised. The cable attached to the cage retracted, and Armstrong began his ascent. As he rose, the lights from his suit and cage illuminated Dolgoruky and the PRM until they faded into the darkness.
102
Seated across from the president in the Oval Office, Chief of Staff Kevin Hardison listened as the president’s phone call drew to a close. Based on the president’s comments, Hardison learned SecDef Richardson was on the other end, informing the president that a second Russian submarine had attacked USS Michigan and the guided missile submarine had been damaged during its torpedo evasion. More troubling was that the Russian submarine had fired a torpedo at Yury Dolgoruky with Christine, Brackman, and the ONI team aboard, and there had been casualties. With a grim expression on his face, the president hung up the phone, then filled in the missing details.
“Christine and Brackman are dead.”
Hardison sat frozen in disbelief as the president added, “They were aboard Yury Dolgoruky when the Russian submarine torpedoed it. We lost the entire ONI team and the rescue submersible crew as well.”
Hardison digested the president’s words. It was difficult to accept the death of Christine and Brackman, with whom he had worked for the last three years.
After a long silence, Hardison asked the critical question.
“How do you plan to respond?”
The president answered, “I prefer not to go down a path that takes additional lives. However,” he added, “I want to hear Kalinin’s explanation first.”
The president picked up the phone.
103
Standing in the command hut beside Verbeck, McNeil, and Commander Steel, Lieutenant Harrison listened intently to Steel’s report.
“Falcon is flooded. Dolgoruky’s hull has been breached and it appears all aft compartments are flooded as well.” Steel turned to Harrison. He had quickly realized the SEAL had a special interest in the personnel who had boarded Dolgoruky. “I’m sorry.”
“She could still be alive,” Harrison said.
He had meant to say “They could still be alive,” but the one word had come out wrong.
Harrison continued, “The Russians are preparing to rescue survivors from their two attack submarines, and they could send their submersible to Dolgoruky first, accessing the submarine through the missile compartment hatch.”
“The ADS pilot checked the hatch,” Steel replied. “There was no response. That means anyone inside either can’t make it to Compartment Five or they’re already unconscious from hypothermia or carbon dioxide toxicity. Either way …”
Harrison knew quite a bit about both dangers. The air should have been able to last several more hours, plus the effects of hypothermia varied by individual, as well as their ability to recover. If Christine was alive, even if she was unconscious, there was still a chance.
“There’s only one way to know for sure,” Harrison argued. “We need to check. If the missile compartment is flooded, then we have our answer. If not, we need to board Dolgoruky and verify there are no survivors.”
Steel considered Harrison’s request. If there were survivors aboard Dolgoruky, they had far less time than the men aboard the two Russian attack submarines. If it was his decision alone, he would give it a go. However, he would need to discuss the issue with his Russian counterpart, Julius Raila, and attempt to redirect their rescue efforts.
“Okay,” Steel replied. “I’ll try to talk the Russians into checking Dolgoruky first.”
He pulled a handheld radio from its holster and contacted the Russian ice camp. It wasn’t long before Raila and a translator were on the other end, and Steel made his case, requesting the Russian submersible investigate Dolgoruky first. Raila was hesitant to agree; the odds of survivors aboard Dolgoruky were extremely low, and there were over two hundred men on the two Russian submarines whose status was unknown. A delay in their rescue efforts could be catastrophic.
Harrison began to fume. One of those Russian submarines had torpedoed Dolgoruky, creating the situation they were in. Commander Steel was about to acknowledge defeat when Harrison grabbed the radio in his hand, pressing the transmit button.
“You owe us,” he said.
There was silence on the other end for a moment, then the translator responded, “Our ice hole is not yet ready. If you allow us to use yours, we will send AS-34 to Dolgoruky first.”
Harrison handed the radio back to Steel, then stepped outside to let off some steam in the cold air. In the distance, the PRM Launch and Recovery System was inactive. The large A-frame was still in the outboard position, with the sheared umbilical cable swaying in the light Arctic breeze, a stark reminder of the PRM’s fate.