“We were heading for Canadian Forces Base Alert, sir. It’s a long way, but better than sitting here. If the Triton’s coming over, then maybe not.”
Rice looked at the four of them, the two SEALs and the two civilians.
“How are they doing, Whitt?” he asked tipping his head towards the two civilians.
“They’re not bad, sir. Marjan… the woman’s ex IDF, that’s why she’s got the H&K.”
“Ok, we’ll head for CFB Alert, sir. You and Ford lead on with the package.”
The whole group skiied off to the west.
Time to make a stand. Ivan, there’s a new man in town, meet Stonewall Jackson.
It was time; the USN had to show the Northern Fleet they didn’t own the icecap.
“Any trace, Benson? He’s down here. I can smell him,” said Nathan.
Benson shook his head and looked down at his painted screen display. Nathan knew to let him get on with the job, there was no finer sonar geek in the US Navy. The boat was heading northeast, his best guess for a contact.
“What do you think, XO? Put out a Pointer to widen the search?”
“Could do, sir. There is the retrieval to think about. That may cause problems. But yes, do it.”
“Weaps?”
“Sir, we have Stimpy in tube five, he’s ready.”
“Flood five and open outer doors. Deploy Stimpy to the east-northeast.”
A rushing sound up front told him the Pointer had been pushed out of the tube and let loose.
Nikki had said the retrieval may cause a problem, and Nathan knew why. The crew saw the Pointers as a kind of pet dog. Perhaps they shouldn’t have names. But they did, and the crew didn’t want to lose one; it hurt. Nathan knew they were expendable and if it came to it then one would be sacrificed, but he knew how the crew felt and it couldn’t be ignored.
“Signal five by five. Exporting sonar,” said Weaps.
“Acquisition channel and encryption?” asked Benson.
“Channel nine frequency modulation. Encrypting on seven f76e3q71ta.”
Benson set his screen up. “I have acquisition of Stimpy; sonar picture forming. Good image.” He raised his voice. “Sir, Stimpy is searching. No enemy contact on the board.”
“Very good, Benson. Keep looking, we’ll get one soon,” replied Nathan. His gut told him they’d be northeast or east of his position. “Weaps, sitrep on our warload?”
“We have tubes one to four Mk48, five being loaded with Deputy Dawg, tube six Scooby, sir.”
“Sir,” said Benson, “I can’t believe it, shit. Another contact. He must have emerged from an ice ridge. He’s gone deep, range two miles, depth 700 feet. Bearing 050 degrees. It’s an Akula. Firm contact, heading south.”
We can’t have three of the bastards down here. Nathan quickly thought through his options. That’s it, do it.
“Weaps, get a firing solution on Tango 3, new contact. Flood a tube and open outer doors.”
“Solution laid in, tube three flooded and ready in all respects.” It was hasty but it felt right, he knew it.
“Launch tube three.” The rushing launch sound came from upfront.
“Fish running, good launch, fish hungry.” The Mk48 raced off after the Akula.
“Fish closing, pinging, cutting wire. Now terminal.”
“No activity from the Akula,” said Benson. “Wait, no, he’s going deep.”
It was too late, the Mk48 hit the enemy boat from above amidships. Her back broke and a massive volume of gas escaped. The boat sunk deep into the abyss. “Yes, yes. Hot datum,” called Benson.
It was quick and abrupt, Nathan knew, but better to nip the situation off in the bud. It was him, but not him; it had showed itself, and it had been cut off.
“Good shooting, sir,” said Nikki.
“Yeah, we couldn’t have three of them playing with us.”
She grinned at him. “You didn’t give him time to scratch his ass.”
“Planesman, hold our course, speed seven knots.”
It was up to his crew now.
He got on with a report of the boat’s status. There were several personnel issues too. An hour later, Nathan sat back and rubbed his eyes. It was drudgery, but now it was done, thank God.
He looked around the control room. All went about their jobs, there was some chatter into headsets, but it was work as normal. It was time for some planning.
“Nikki, let’s go to the Wardroom for a meeting.”
She stood and led the way aft, and Nathan followed, trying hard not to look at her swaying rear. She opened the Wardroom door, to find the Chief Engineer and several of his Petty Officers sat around the table.
“Sorry, Chief, carry on,” said Nikki.
“Ok, come on we’ll use my cabin.”
They walked into Nathan’s cabin, and he unfolded the bunk and sat on it, while Nikki sat on the chair.
“Right, Nik, we have two Yasen’s down here with us. They’re unlikely to be involved in a routine patrol. They must be connected to the search upstairs for the scientist. How do we cause them a big problem?”
Nikki brushed her fair hair aside. “Sink them, they’re threatening our operation.”
“Not that easy, Nik. In wartime, yes.”
“Nathan, let’s say there were two of us and an enemy boat sank our partner. What would you do?”
“You know what I’d do. It’d be gloves off and sink him.”
“But what if he’s a cunning bastard? He knows his wingman’s been sunk and he figures it’s best to report to Northern fleet HQ in Murmansk. If so, he makes for the icecap edge or a Polynya to broadcast. Fleet HQ wouldn’t know they had a boat down by enemy fire, unless he told them. That’s what I’d do anyway; I’d call in the cavalry.”
“Yeah, his recording would show that we’d fired first on his wingman.” Nathan frowned. “If that’s what we did, it would become a big political bun fight.” He looked up at her, his expression innocent. “All we have to do is get him to fire first; that should be easy.”
Nikki laughed.
“Yeah,” Nathan smiled, “and we need to track the other Yasen. Stop it reaching the icecap edge before it makes its broadcast.”
“We’ve a big problem there,” said Nikki. “The Yasen’s faster than we are.”
Nathan grinned. “I may have a solution for that.”
The two of them stood and Nathan headed for the door, but Nikki stood in his way. She moved forward and kissed him.
“Go easy, Nik.”
She smiled. “I’m a Georgia girl. We only do easy for the right man.”
Nathan smiled and opened the door.
Nikki returned to her station in the control room; Nathan took the conn.
“Benson, what’s the layering situation here?”
“Sir, I have a suspected cold layer at 800 feet.”
“Let’s get below it. Planesman, down bubble 15, make your depth 1,100 feet.”
“Aye, sir, down 15 for 1,100.”
The deck tilted forward, and the boat slid deeper in the sub ice blackness, then levelled out. “Eleven hundred feet, sir, 020 degrees, seven knots.”
The two of them — Stimpy shallower and USS Stonewall Jackson deeper — hunted the two Yasen class SSNs.
Nathan looked to Nikki, and she returned his gaze. They’d taken on a fearsome nuclear foe.
Just 20 minutes later, Benson looked up at Nathan. “Sir, Stimpy has contact, bearing 345 degrees, possible Yasen class.”
This was it.
“Koss, if you were heading from here to the icecap edge, what would be your heading?”
The Navigation Officer checked his chart. “Eighty six degrees, sir, that’s the shortest route.”
“Thanks, Koss. Planesman, make for 045 degrees, speed ten knots.”
“Aye, sir, 045 degrees at ten.”
Nikki knew what Nathan was up to, and she gave him a faint smile.