Under the Ice

Gazing in the direction in which the pilot was pointing, Jack spotted a single, black-hulled vessel, barely two-hundred feet from stem to stern, seemingly locked in a solid sheet of frozen ice. Though a thick column of gray smoke poured from its dual stacks, the ship didn’t appear to be moving and Redmond observed, “It doesn’t appear that they’re making much progress. Exactly where are they. Captain?”

“That’s the Barrow Strait they’re trying to transit,” returned the pilot.

“They’re currently in between Somerset and Cornwallis islands, but I’m afraid that’s about as far east as they’re going to be able to go.

That ice looks way beyond their capability.”

Redmond shook his head.

“Looks like we can’t be counting on the Coast Guard to give us any help. I still find it hard to believe that we don’t even have an icebreaker capable of operating in this portion of the Arctic all year round.”

“I hear you. Lieutenant,” retorted the pilot.

“With all those millions we waste on our NATO obligation to defend Germany, we can’t even come up with the funds to protect our own coastline. Ottawa’s still fighting over committing the resources needed to build the Polar 8 icebreaker. With one hundred thousand horsepower engines and a specially fortified bow, such a ship would smash through that ice below quick enough. Eh?”

“I think we should build those nuclear submarines,” the copilot put in.

“I’ve got a brother based on the Onondaga in Halifax, and he says the amount of trespassing that’s going on beneath these waters is positively criminal. The Soviets, Yanks, and even the Brits, carry on up here like it was their own territory.

Yet if we had a fleet of nuclear submarines, it would be a different story. Then we could block off the choke points, and keep these seas one hundred percent Canadian like they should be.”

Jack Redmond turned to the young copilot.

“Does the Onondaga do much under-the-ice work?”

While slightly enriching the fuel mixture, the copilot answered.

“They’d certainly like to, but they can’t.

As you know, all three of our subs are diesel-electrics.

Since they’re dependent on their batteries while traveling submerged, prolonged patrols under the ice are just too dangerous.”

I Jack Redmond thoughtfully reflected.

“I realize it would be enormously expensive, but a nuclear submarine would sure suit our needs right now. All one would have to do is cruise under the frozen waters of Lancaster Sound and pop up in an open lead. Then me and my lads could crawl out of the hold and take it from there.”

“Who needs a blooming submarine when we can do the job for you in a fraction of the time it would take the Navy to get you to Baffin,” the pilot retorted with la proud smirk.

“In fact, if you hold tight, we can have you there in just under an hour.”

I Redmond met this offer with an enthusiastic thumbs-up, and looked on as the pilot turned the steering yoke and the Aurora smoothly banked to the right. The compass read due east as the Ranger turned to his jumpseat. No sooner had he rebucklec his seatbelt than the door to the flight cabin poppec open. With an excited gleam in his eyes, a short jumpsuit-clad airman entered and wasted no tim expressing himself.

“I believe I’ve got it. Captain! I started picking it ui right after you made that last course change.”

Not having the slightest idea what the sensor opera for was talking about, the pilot was quick to intervene

“Now hold on, lad. Just take a deep breath am tell us just what it is that’s got you so riled.”

Suddenly realizing the reason for the pilot’s confusion, the airman paused and then explained himself “It’s the homing beacon, sir. I was warming up the directional receiver in preparation for our arrival a the suspected crash site, when much to my amazement I began getting the faintest of returns on bearing zero-nine-zero. At first I didn’t think much of it but when we turned on that course ourselves and the signal began steadily increasing in strength, I knew w< were on to something. I know it’s still a bit early Captain, but I’m almost positive it’s the black box.”

This last revelation caused Jack Redmond’s eyes t(open wide with wonder, and he anxiously questioned “Were you able to get a definite fix on this signal airman?”

The sensor operator turned to directly address the Ranger.

“Though it’s still hard to pinpoint exactly, it seems to be emanating from the north end of the Brodeur Peninsula, on Baffin Island’s northwestern tip.”

Jack Redmond leaned forward expectantly.

“That’s it all right. Why I’ll bet my pension on it. The last radar sighting NORAD had on the Premier’s plan was right over that same portion of coastline. How close can you drop us. Captain?”

Busy studying his cockpit’s own radar screen, the pilot hesitated a moment before answering.