Under the Ice

“I’m sorry. Skipper, but the ice machine definitely gave us a green light.”

“Damn that friggin’ machine!” cursed Colter.

“That’s the third time this week it almost got us killed.”

“I realize that. Skipper,” offered the XO.

“I guess it still has some bugs in it.”

Colter shook his head.

“That’s an understatement if I ever heard one. As far as I’m concerned, they can rip that whole damn unit out and replace it with the gear we used to carry. The old ice machine never failed us, even if it was based on technology that was over three decades old.”

Having vented his frustration, the captain crossed the control room to join his second-in-command.

“I’m sorry if I snapped at you, Al. I realize it’s not your fault Command gives us gear that’s not properly tested.”

“No apologies necessary. Skipper,” countered the XO, whose gangly frame was a good four inches taller than Matt Colter’s.

“After all, I was the one picked to operate the unit. I only wish my training was a bit more extensive. One week isn’t a hell of a lot of time to learn the intracacies of a complicated system such as this one. Who knows, maybe the laser was calibrated improperly.”

The captain grunted.

“That shouldn’t be our concern, Al. It’s evident that the engineer who dreamed up this newfangled process failed to think it out completely.

And unfortunately, we were picked to be the human guinea pigs who almost lost our lives because of a pencil pusher’s incompetence. What I wouldn’t give for five minutes alone with the fellow responsible for this boondoggle. He needs to be reminded that human lives are at stake out here.”

“They should have sent him along,” offered the XO.

“I guarantee you, the first time we smacked into the pack ice, he would have gotten that gear working properly.”

“Either that, or he’d have died from fright while trying,” jested Matt Colter.

A grin turned the corners of the XO’s mouth.

“Since we have no reliable way of determining if there’s clear water above, how are we going to complete the rest of our mission?”

“We’re not going to even try,” answered the captain.

“As far as I’m concerned, the safety of this crew takes number-one priority. It would be foolhardy to try another ascent. And since our orders revolve around surfacing in a variety of ice conditions, I’ve no alternative but to send us packing, back to New London.

So, how about charting us the quickest route back to the Davis Strait?”

“Aye, aye. Skipper,” returned the XO, relief clearly painted on his handsome face.

Well aware that barring any mechanical difficulties they’d be home in another five and a half days. Matt Colter excused himself and went to his quarters. A combination of emotional stress and a simple lack of sleep had finally caught up with him. Confident that his XO was well qualified to take over. Colter gratefully closed the door of his cabin behind him. Without even bothering to take off his shoes, he collapsed on his narrow mattress and was instantly asleep.

He awoke with a start, precisely four hours later.

Having emerged from a vivid dream, it took him several confusing seconds to reorient himself. The soft glowing lights of the digital depth, speed, and course indicators mounted on the bulkhead at the foot of his bunk finally brought him back to full waking consciousness. The rest of his cabin was pitch black, and he momentarily remained on his bunk unmoving.

Except for a distant muted whine, there was no indication that the three-hundred-foot-long vessel that surrounded him was even moving. But Colter knew differently. The Defiance was currently four hundred feet beneath the frozen waters of Lancaster Sound, moving along at a crisp twenty-five knots.

Their course was taking them due eastward and would soon turn to the southeast, once they reached the Davis Straits. The ship would remain on this heading for almost two-thousand miles, until the coast of Newfoundland was attained. Here they would round Cape Race and turn to the southwest, for yet another thousand-mile jaunt to their home port.

Throughout this entire trip, not once was the Defiance scheduled to break the water’s surface. They would do so only upon reaching Long Island Sound.

Thus they would be traveling oblivious to the fickle state of the tempestuous seas above. This was quite all right with Matt Colter, who was as prone to seasickness as any other normal mortal.

He would never forget his first encounter with this sailor’s arch nemesis. He had only been a lad at the time. It was spring break, and his Uncle Bill had invited him down to Sarasota, Florida. This was to be Matt’s first trip all on his own, and he boarded the prop-driven airplane with a promise to his parents to be on his best behavior.

Bill was his father’s older brother, and had always been Matt’s favorite relative. They only got to spend time together during those all-too-brief, yearly family reunions, during which his uncle never failed to enchant him with tales of the sea.