Panic Switch полностью

“Have a seat, people, and let’s get this message drafted.” Alexeyev reached for the ash tray and found his last pack of cigarettes and lit up, wondering if anyone on board had cigarettes for sale. He looked at Lebedev, who was preparing to write onto the message pad. Alexeyev dictated, “From K-329 Belgorod to Commander, Northern Fleet. Item one. Belgorod surfaced-at-ice at position—“ Alexeyev looked expectantly at Shvets.

“Longitude one zero two degrees thirty minutes east, latitude eighty-five degrees forty-five minutes north.”

“You got that, Madam First?”

“Yes, Captain. Continue.” Lebedev was typing on a detached keyboard paired to the electronic pad computer for the message. She looked up at Alexeyev.

“Item two,” he dictated. “Belgorod has encountered ice obstructions over many nautical miles that impede movement along the intended track on great circle route to the Bering Strait. The ice walls were mapped and Belgorod commanding officer believes there is no viable path to continue.”

“Say ‘severe ice obstructions consisting of multiple pressure ridges extending from icecap to ocean bottom,’” Kovalov said.

Alexeyev noticed that Kovalov seemed annoyed. Obviously something was bothering him.

“Yes, put that in. It must read that we did everything possible to get by the ice wall,” Alexeyev said. Add that after the words ‘Bering Strait.’”

“Got it, sir,” Lebedev said.

“Item three,” Alexeyev continued, “Belgorod requests nuclear release authority to employ Gigantskiy torpedoes one and two to attempt to break through ice walls.” He paused. “They’re never going to grant us that,” he said. Damned fool’s errand, he thought.

Through the hull, the blasting noise of the steam generator blowdowns roared, going on for half a minute, then quieting. There would be four of those noises, Alexeyev thought, as they blew out the contaminants from the steam generators and adjusted their chemistry. Suddenly five-hundred-degree boiler water was ejected into twenty-eight-degree seawater, and it made a hell of a racket. It was a shame they didn’t have the sound quieting technology for blowdowns that the new Yasen-M submarines had, like his Kazan. But that was an expensive retrofit, and Sevmash had decided to postpone it. Or cancel it altogether. Budget problems, he thought.

“Item four. Alternative to use conventional torpedoes against the ice walls rejected based on ice thickness. Conventional torpedo use will only deplete Belgorod’s weapons loadout.”

He puffed the cigarette and put it out. “Everyone okay with that? On to the next. Item five. One possible alternative is to attempt to drive south to the Russian northern coastline in the marginal ice zone. This option is considered to have the potential for more ice obstacles until more open water is reached, and the path will consume time and ship’s resources.” Food, he thought. Running out of it was a non-starter.

“Add that any delay on the southern route will require mid-mission replenishment,” Kovalov said. “No way our food supplies last if we spend an additional month or two fucking about on the southern route.”

Alexeyev nodded. “Add that in. Item six. Belgorod believes backtracking westward toward the Kola Peninsula and the entrance to the North Atlantic presents a better option than continuing eastward. Belgorod requests Northern Fleet Command consider the westward route and advise.” He looked around the room. “Anything else to add? No? Okay, Madam First, read back what we have.”

When Lebedev finished, Alexeyev said, “Add item seven, that Belgorod will wait at this polynya until a response is received from Northern Fleet Command or until the open water is closed in by pressure ridge movement.”

“Add in, Northern Fleet Command is requested to reply most urgently,” Kovalov said. “Just in case a duty officer lets it sit in his in-basket.”

“Add it, and make the message priority coded as ‘immediate.’”

“Yes, Captain,” Lebedev said.

“Read it back again,” Alexeyev ordered. When she was done, he said to the room, “everyone in agreement? Good. Mr. Shvets, send the message immediately. You’re all dismissed. Captain Kovalov, can you remain behind?”

Dankleff drove them under the hull and up the opposite side, aiming for where Fishman and Varney were working with the port side mine. When they arrived, Dankleff took a communication cable and handed it to Fishman so all four could be tied into the same circuit.

“What’s holding you slugs up?” Dankleff asked. “Patch and I had ours done in record time.”

“Coating gave us trouble,” Varney said.

“I’m only now arming the unit,” Fishman said. “It’s time to deploy the inter-mine comms cable. Dankleff, you and Pacino get back to New Jersey. Varney and I will join you in the shelter when we’ve connected the comms cable.”

“Yes? You wanted to talk to me?” Sergei Kovalov said in an annoyed tone.