Panic Switch полностью

A “SLOT” was a one-way radio transmitter buoy ejected from a signal ejector — a small device resembling a torpedo tube — and would wait the input time delay, then transmit the message in a burst communication to the overhead CommStar satellite, then sink. The message code three indicated the Omega was proceeding under the polar icecap and that the USS New Jersey remained in trail and was undetected by the Russian.

Seagraves nodded. “Launch the SLOT.”

“Nav-E.T., launch the SLOT,” Pacino commanded.

“SLOT is away,” the navigation electronics technician reported.

“That’s the last anyone will hear from us for a while,” Pacino remarked, more to himself than Junior Officer of the Deck Cooper.

From the overhead, a strange noise could be heard, getting slightly louder. It was an eerie groan.

“Sounds like a ghost,” Pacino said. “An unhappy one.”

Seagraves nodded. “We’ve moved under total ice cover. That’s the sounds of the ice shifting. It’ll get louder. Mr. Pacino, I want you to bump the number one periscope out of the sail, just enough to expose the optronics,” Seagraves said. “Squadron thinks in infrared mode, we can see the hull of the Omega. Or at least his reactor plant components. If that doesn’t work, we can switch to visual spectrum and light up the surroundings with the deck and sail under-ice lights.”

“Bump up number one, aye,” Pacino acknowledged, uncovering the hydraulics toggle switch cover and pushing the hydraulic valve to the UP position for just a half second. The screen came to life, but the view was dim, just the underside of the ice over their heads.

“Mark the bearing to Master One,” Pacino called to the sonar operator, Senior Chief Albanese.

“Master One bearing, zero four eight.”

“Training the scope to zero four eight,” Pacino said. The captain looked over Pacino’s shoulder. There was nothing but darkness.

“Light up the infrared,” Seagraves ordered.

Pacino hit the IR button and the seascape came into view, ice above them, a pressure ridge to the right of them, and ahead of them in the distance, a heat bloom, showing up on the screen as a series of red shapes. He increased the magnification. Around the red shapes was the slightest indication of a cylindrical envelope around them.

“I have Master One on IR,” Pacino said. He hit the switch that projected the view on the control room starboard side’s flatpanel display so everyone in the room could see it. He smiled at Short Hull Cooper. “This is turning out to be easier than I thought.”

“Don’t get cocky, Mr. Pacino,” Seagraves said, but he was smiling just slightly.

“Well, people, allow me to gavel this weekly meeting of the Poseidon committee to order,” President Vito Paul Carlucci said, taking his end seat in the Situation Room of the White House.

He seemed in a better mood than the last two meetings on the subject, National Security Advisor Michael Pacino noted to himself.

“What do we know?” the president asked, getting right to business.

CIA Director Margo Allende projected her pad computer to the room’s large displays, the projection showing the earth from high above the north pole. “The red line shows the path of the Omega II as it left its base near Murmansk in the Kola Peninsula. The red ‘X’ not far from the coast, in open water, is where the deep-diver sub docked with the Omega when both were submerged. The USS New Jersey reported that the docking was conducted with no problems.”

Pacino felt a lurch in his stomach whenever Anthony’s submarine was mentioned.

“First time,” Office of Naval Intelligence Rear Admiral Frieda Sutton said. “They’ve never been able to do that successfully before. Not with the Omega submerged. They seem to have fixed their artificial intelligence’s ability to hover the submarine.”

“From there,” Allende continued, “the Omega proceeded northward and exited the Barents Sea and entered the Arctic Ocean. She passed under complete ice coverage two hours ago, as reported by the New Jersey. It was New Jersey’s final transmission before going into radio silence.”

“And,” Carlucci said, squinting at the display, “what do we think this thing, this Omega, is doing?”

“Her course would seem to take her just slightly wide of the North Pole on the Russian side,” Sutton said. “Director Allende, could you plot the extrapolation of her course?”

“If it keeps going like this, Mr. President,” Allende said, “its course would bring it to the Bering Strait and into the Pacific.”

There was silence in the room for a long moment.

“Now, why the hell would it do that?” Carlucci asked.

“All our intelligence intercepts mentioned carrying the Poseidon weapons to U.S. east coast ports,” NSA Director Foster Nickerson said. “So heading to the Pacific is off-script.”

“Maybe Vostov is calling an audible,” Pacino said. “Maybe he’s decided to plant them off our west coast ports.”