Lieutenant Suvorov skiied over to the Sergeant. “Sergeant, take two men and finish off any survivors.”
The Sergeant took two men with him and over the next two minutes, several gunshots were heard.
The VDV Sergeant returned.
“There were six of them still alive, sir. They’d all have gone before long; we just speeded nature up. Their main rifle was the M4 carbine. I went through their pockets. Americans, all SEALs.”
“We’ll be better off without them. Whoever fired the flare will still be around,” said Lieutenant Suvorov. “We need to find them.”
Maybe this ass-covering exercise would be useful after all.
Platoon Chief Whitt heard the aircraft and then saw the bright missile impact flash and the burning aircraft plummet in. He could see the burning wreck hundreds of yards away. Dammit. He knew it carried their reinforcements, and the damn Russians had took it out with a Manpads.
“What’s that?” asked Nils.
“Our lifeline,” said Marjan.
A few minutes later, Whitt heard several single gunshots. “Bastards.”
He saw Sondergaard looking at him quizzically.
“You want to know what that firing is, do you?”
“Yes, what do they have to shoot at?”
Whitt grunted. “The survivors. They’re not leaving any loose ends. That’s your Soviets, sorry, Russians for you.”
He looked at the woman, the Mossad officer. She’d be useful, resourceful, and had an H&K416 over her shoulder. That meant there’d be two and a half of them. The Danish scientist was just baggage. But valuable baggage; they were here to get him out.
“Head south. We’ll get some distance between us and the Russians.”
The four of them skiied to the south and put some distance between them and the enemy.
The next day and more were spent getting south, away from the Russians. Marjan found a place with deep snow and suggested digging a deeper snow hole. They dug it out and climbed in, sleeping in bivvy bags. Food supplies were low, so they consumed them sparingly.
Whitt and Ford tried the radio sets, but there was no contact. In theory, the range was nothing like far enough to reach any allies, but the US was known to operate drones that could relay the signals.
The sets were AN/PRC-114 trimode-bleed offsets, primarily for ground forces communications. The set did have the ability to contact a military satellite by an encrypted signal. Whitt knew that the signals could have been picked up by satellite; Ford knew this too. The Russians were sophisticated in this area and their capabilities largely unknown.
After the second attempt, the two SEALs made eye contact. “I know, Ford. Let’s hope it’s picked up by one of ours.”
“How’s it sound out there, Benson?”
The Virginia Visionary shrugged. “Same old under the ice thing. It’s closed in its own world, sir. No surface sounds, everything feels short range, like being locked up in a dark wardrobe. The returns are odd, they have an echo about them.”
“Keep on the lookout.”
Nathan looked over at Nikki and smiled. “So, XO you’ve got the FLAP analysis, where is this ice run the satellite picked up?”
She took him over to the chart station and brought up the area at a large scale. “About here, sir. It’s south of where they transmitted from. We can put the SEALs out upstairs; it’s up to them to find the subjects. I can’t see them being in good shape; they’ve been out on the ice for a while and supplies will be minimal.”
Nathan stared at the chart. Some of the features were fixed and reliable, but the whole place was constantly changing. The Arctic icecap was both a wonderland and a death maze for a submariner.
“Nikki, I wish we had a bit more certainty.”
He knew it was a forlorn wish; what General hadn’t wished for more troops or intelligence before a battle. “XO, the ocean is our home and battlefield. Above is the sky and that’s mostly the bad guy’s territory. Now, up here, we have a roof over the damn ocean. It’s not just a common or garden roof, all flat and predictable. It’s full of downwards projecting peaks and valleys. What a goddamn complication; what a wonderful place to hide. Nikki, we’re under the ultimate 3D maze.”
Nathan knew there’d be downward projecting peaks to avoid and valleys to hide in. It was like being in a fighter aircraft over mountainous terrain; it’s just that you’re inverted. The problem was an enemy submarine would have the same problems and advantages. Lots of places to play hide and sneak.
“Ok, XO, we’re below any peaks now. Head towards the ice lead and let’s get our boys up and out there on the ice.”
“Rather them than me, sir.” Nikki smiled, Nathan nodded.
The boat sailed quietly under the icecap towards the break in the ice.
“Sir,” said Benson, “I have a subsurface contact. Odd, it’s faint and echoing, coming and going. I thought it was whales humping but it’s the wrong place or season. They give birth down south. I’ve been listening for a while, but I’ve confirmed it now.”
“So, you get to listen to whale porn at sonar school?” Nathan grinned. “It’d be hard to have a floating surface contact up here, Benson. Go on, what is it?”
“I think we have a Yasen class SSN. Even the computer agrees. It has it down as the Krasnoyarsk, but it’s just showing off. I think it’s guessing.”
“The computer guesses, does it?”
“Yes, sir. I’ve met the programming team. They’re mostly young women and like to show off how clever they are. How they’re better than men. This section’s reports show that it’s Stella’s work. She’s hot, but has terrible taste in men.”
“Do I sense a resentment there, Petty Officer Benson? Did Miss Stella turn you down? What do you think, XO?”
“I think you got it, sir. The computer wouldn’t date him.”
“Ok, Benson,” Nathan frowned. “So Stella thinks it’s a Yasen and you agree. Any details?”
“Not close, sir. Three to five miles to the north. It’s hard to pin down under this thing.” Benson looked up as though he could see the icecap above.
“Keep a good ear out, try to gauge her direction.”
“Weaps, Nikki, the wardroom. Now.”
The three sat around the table in the boat’s wardroom. Nikki and the Weapons Officer had their tablets on the tabletop.
He looked at his crew. “Ok, Yasen class. I’ve not been up against one so far. I’ve been on a refresher course and they were discussed there. Let’s hear what you know, Weaps?”
Weaps opened a file on his tablet. “Sir, it came from Project 885 Yasen (Ash tree) it will replace the Akula and Oscar class boats. It’s the first Russian submarine to be equipped with a spherical sonar, designated as MGK-600 Irtysh-Amfora. It also has a new nuclear reactor that we don’t know too much about.
“The sonar system consists of a spherical bow array, flank arrays and a towed array. Due to the large size of this spherical array, the torpedo tubes are slanted. In other words, the torpedo tube outer doors are not located in the immediate bow as in the previous Akula classbut moved aft. The armament is 8 tubes for the damn Type 53 Fizik wire guided torpedo. The type is wire guided and passive wake homing, as we’ve seen. There are 8 vertical silos for Oniks or Kaliber-PL anti-ship, anti-submarine and land attack missile with a range of 400 miles. The boat has a never exceed depth of 1,800 feet, similar to our 2,000 feet. It’s expected the Yasen will have a normal max depth of 1,400 feet. It’s not as quiet as a Virginia boat, but it’s quiet. We definitely have an edge there.
“Sir, looking at the data and weapons fit, the Yasen is more a cruise missile carrier — a successor to the Oscar class — than the anti SSN Akula class. But clearly, it’s intended to operate in both roles. Ash is an old English word for spear and the Yasen (Ash tree) is the Motherland’s new spear.”