Under the Ice

Say, Stan, if her duty does send her into the sonar room, and your toothache gets too bad, just call the forward torpedo room and 111 be happy to fill in for you.”

“I’ll bet you would,” remarked Roth. He couldn’t wait to see this mysterious woman his shipmate was raving about so, and he suddenly realized that since they’d been talking about her, his tooth had miraculously stopped throbbing.

While sailors throughout the three-hundred-foot vessel were immersed in similar discussions concerning the latest addition to the crew, the woman responsible for this scuttlebutt sat in her cramped, Spartan quarters in officer’s country. Laurie Lansing had been so busy organizing her technical materials, she was just now finding the time to sit back and reflect on more personal concerns. Though she was certainly no stranger to submarines, and had even gone to sea on one before, this would be her first overnight stay on such a craft. Thus her perspective was completely different on this occasion.

The cabin she found herself in was just about the same size as the roomette of a train. It had a similar Pullman-type washbasin that folded up into the wall when not in use. The rest of the furnishings consisted of a built-in bunk, beneath which was a clothing locker, a small desk and chair, and a mounted bookshelf.

Even though cramped, it would allow her space to work in peace, and would give her some semblance of privacy. This last feature was most appreciated, considering that she was the only female in a crew of 107 men. Though she didn’t foresee any problems developing in this respect, it was nevertheless somewhat comforting to have a solid door to shut behind her when she desired to be alone.

Were it not for the digital knot indicator and Fathometer mounted in front of the bunk, she would have found it hard to believe they were currently three-hundred feet beneath the Atlantic, clipping away at a steady twenty knots. Except for a slight tilting sensation that had followed the triggering of the dive klaxon, there’d been absolutely no sensation of movement or instability, though this hadn’t been the case when they were still traveling on the surface. The keelless vessel had incessantly rolled in the endless ocean swells, and for a while there Laurie had thought she might vomit. Fortunately, she had been too busy organizing her work materials to pay her nausea mudh attention, and it soon passed.

Though she had originally intended to try to turn in early, she found herself wide awake. Making the most of this restlessness, she seated herself at the desk, took out a legal pad and pen, and began organizing her work schedule.

With the able help of her assistant, she’d been able to work on the re calibration of the laser almost right up to the moment of departure. Since this procedure would require the Defiance to be on the surface, it would have to be completed long before they reached the ice. Because of the excellent progress they had already made, only a couple of hours more work in the sail would be needed. Earlier, when she had informed Captain Colter of this fact, his relief was most noticeable. Submariners, especially those in the nuclear-powered navy, tended to shy away from surface travel whenever possible. They preferred instead the safety and anonymity of the black, cold depths in which their vessels were initially designed to operate.

Once the work in the sail was completed, the majority of Laurie’s time would be spent in the sonar room. Here a spare console had been reserved for her, where she could initiate the time-consuming task of programming the surface-scanning Fathometer to interact with the Defiance’s navigation system. When this job was completed, the mere punch of a button would automatically guide the submarine upward into an opening in the ice of sufficient size and width to accommodate the vessel.

Because of the newness of the software involved in this program, Laurie didn’t really know what problems she might be facing in the next couple of days.

Thus she was greatly relieved when the captain informed her that he was having the sub’s old surface-scanning unit reconnected, to be used as a backup if needed. Such devices were primitive when compared to the new unit, but crudely effective all the same.

Thirty years ago, Laurie’s father, Dr. Frank Lansing, had been involved in the development of this equipment. In reality, it was but an inverted Fathometer, mounted on a submarine’s topside instead of in its keel. As the sound signals this Fathometer projected echoed off the ice above, a device sketched the ice cover’s actual thickness and shape, and then printed out a profile on an eight-inch piece of graph paper, right in the control room. Utilizing this cross section, it was then up to the captain to find an open lead large enough for his vessel and then to surface in it.