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4. CURRENT DEPLOYMENT INTENDED TO FORCE UNITED STATES TO DESTROY OWN SEA LAUNCHED CRUISE MISSILES. WARSHOT SSNX-27 MISSILES WITH EXERCISE-UNIT MARKINGS HAVE BEEN LOADED ABOARD NORTHERN FLEET SHIPS AS CONTINGENCY.

5. DO NOT EXECUTE MISSILE LAUNCH UNTIL INSTRUCTED TO DO SO BY AUTHENTICATED MOLNIYA EXECUTION MESSAGE SCHEDULED FOR0910GMT.

6. TRANSMITTED BY SUPREME COMMANDER, NORTHERN FLEET, ADMIRAL ALEXI NOVSKOYY.

CHAPTER 15

SUNDAY, 19 DECEMBER 0859 GREENWICH MEAN TIME
ARCTIC OCEAN
BENEATH THE POLAR ICECAP

“Captain,” Stokes said, “ship is ready to hover. Depth is six seven five feet, speed zero, depth rate zero.”

“Very well.” Pacino stood at the periscope watching the distant glow of the ice overhead. “Attention in the fire-control team…” The room quieted, the eerie silence filled only with the whine of the computers and the bass of the ventilation fans.

“… Here we go. After we upset this guy, be ready to make the recovery and get deep. Off sa’deck, to all spaces, rig ship for collision and prepare to report any damage. Diving Officer, engage the hovering system and give me max blow until Aux 2 is dry, report ascent rate.”

This dangerous maneuver might go sour, Pacino realized. If the Devilfish’s hovering system failed they might rise up with a drift to the side and collide with the ice. Trying to induce your enemy to lead so you could counterpunch was a risky business. If he started the ascent from a shallower depth it might not be enough to affect the OMEGA. To a ship that massive, even a blow from Devilfish from a mere 200 feet would scarcely jar it. There were just no guarantees, too many variables, too many ways his maneuver could turn against him. But to do nothing was to risk losing the OMEGA if she left the polynya and went deep. The thing was too damned quiet. He’d never catch up with it. The time was now.

Chief of the Watch Robertson at the wraparound ballast-control panel reached for the hovering joystick and pushed it to the BLOW position to put high-pressure air into the aux tank and blow out the ballast water to lighten the ship.

A slight sound was perceptible above the roar of the fans, the sound of air blowing into a tank. The digital depth gage clicked. The ascent had begun.

“Aux 2 empty, sir. Securing the blow,” Robertson intoned. Pacino snapped up the periscope grips and adjusted the control ring to lower the periscope so it would not be smashed by the ascent.

“Six hundred feet, sir,” Diving Officer Lanscomb called from his seat between the planesmen. “Ascent rate five feet per second… seven… ten… fifteen…” On the ship-control console in front of the Diving Officer the numbers on the depth gage began to spin rapidly. The deck now tilted to the port side. Pacino, behind Stokes at the forward end of the Conn, looked up at the bubble inclinometer, which showed a list of ten degrees. The sail must be dragging them into this tilted ascent. As the water flowed at great speed over the hull, the sail acted as a brake, heeling them over. Pacino grabbed a handrail set into the side of the Conn sonar console. Now five hundred feet below the OMEGA submarine, Devilfish continued upward at terminal velocity, her hull level fore and aft but heeled over, her sail tilted to a fifteen-degree angle. She was a 4500-ton express elevator, roaring through the dark arctic depths toward the most advanced attack submarine in the world.

ARCTIC OCEAN
POLYNYA SURFACE

Admiral Novskoyy checked the bulkhead chronometer, set as usual to Greenwich Mean Time. As he waited for the seconds to click away till 0900, he again read his message. Brief and official, Novskoyy thought. He typed in the next words in the sequence: TRANSMIT SEQUENCE STATUS? And the computer said: READY… It was time. Novskoyy typed in: TRANSMIT And the computer replied: TRANSMITTING…

There were now only ten minutes, until 0910, to decide whether to send the execution message for missile launch to his fleet. Novskoyy had told Dretzski at the Severomorsk shipyards that this deployment was to force U.S. compliance with his demands for total destruction of their nuclear weapons. And he had believed it, at least up to a point. He had also acknowledged to himself that if necessary he would take the next step, as he had done all those years ago against the USS Stingray. Well, his ships were deployed; the mole, General Tyler, had already gone to lengths to convince the U.S. authorities that this was merely another exercise. Would they seriously believe a sudden reversal, believe that the threat was real? Certainly not from Tyler. And certainly not from a Russian admiral. Never again would he and his forces have such an opportunity. Had he ever, in fact, really believed it would not come to more than a deployment? As the Kaliningrad’s multifrequency antenna began transmitting the standby order to the COSMOS 21 communications satellite, Novskoyy doubted he would need the ten minutes to decide whether to follow up with the execution message for missile launch. The decision was made.

ARCTIC OCEAN
BENEATH THE POLAR ICECAP

The aux tank remained full of air, acting like a hot-air balloon, driving Devilfish screaming up to the surface toward the OMEGA.

“Four hundred feet, Cap’n.” Chief Lanscomb said from the Diving Officer seat. “Ascent rate 20 feet per second and steady.” Less than 20 seconds, Pacino thought. Twenty seconds to what?

“Two five zero feet, sir,” Lanscomb called out. “Depth rate twenty-two feet per second ascent rate. Two hundred feet, twenty-three feet per second…”

“One five zero feet sir, twenty-three feet per second.” Lanscomb said.

It was the last thing Pacino heard before the collision.

WESTERN ATLANTIC
F.S. VLADIVOSTOK

The Communications Officer at the radio console caught Captain Krakov’s eye. Something was coming over the periscope antennae. The flashing red light on the console meant it was coming in on the emergency frequency.

A shot of adrenaline overcame the nausea Krakov had been feeling. The Communications Officer pulled the printout from the discharge slot and handed the message to the captain.

“Deck Officer,” Krakov said after reading it, “spin up the SSN-X-27 cruise missile. Keep the periscope up for communication reception, and alert me to any incoming molniya. The First Officer and I will retrieve the attack plan and authenticator package from the war safe.”

“Sir”—the Deck Officer could barely get out the words—“is this a drill or…?” Krakov looked at his First Officer Anatoly Tupov, holding up a hand before he could speak.

“No,” Krakov said, “it is not a drill.”

Krakov and Tupov hurried to the captain’s stateroom, down the ladder and around a corner, in the door and behind a locker cabinet to the war safe. The outer combination was Krakov’s. He spun the tumbler, his hands sweaty, and on the second try opened the safe. As he stood back he heard the ship wide announcement: “BATTLESTATIONS MISSILE! BATTLESTATIONS MISSILE! THIS IS NOT A DRILL, REPEAT, THIS IS NOT A DRILL!”

The inner-safe combination belonged to Tupov. Tupov had more trouble with the tumbler. The safes were configured this way so as to prohibit one man alone access to the war-authentication codes. With an authenticator packet from the inner safe, someone could send a fake message to launch a nuclear attack or send a fake cease-fire message after a valid attack order. Novskoyy’s message to begin preparations could have been sent by anybody with a radio on their emergency frequency. But the execution message, when it came, would need the exact combination of numbers and letters inside the foil packet marked NF-008. All authenticators were at all times under two-man control or locked in a double-combination safe. If the execution message was complete with the authenticator, the message was valid.