Under the Ice

“No apologies are necessary, Captain. My cabin is most satisfactory, and the crew has been most helpful, what little I’ve seen of them. Lately, I’ve been going right from my cabin to the officer’s wardroom to grab a bite to eat, and then straight over here.”

“Once you’ve completed the reprogramming and gotten a little rest, I’d be honored if you’d join me on a proper tour of the Defiance. Besides, from what I gather, the crew’s even got money riding on when you’ll finally be making an appearance.”

The scientist blushed.

“I sure wouldn’t want to let them down, now would I, Captain?”

“Not if you know what’s good for you,” returned Colter with a wink.

“Now, don’t hesitate to call out if you need anything — and get some rest!”

As he exited the sound shack. Colter found himself thinking about the warm smile she had flashed his way as he’d excused himself to get on with his duty.

She was certainly a hard worker, and there could be no doubting the sincerity of her intentions. Realizing that they’d soon know the results of her efforts, he transit ted a cable-lined passageway, and entered the familiar confines of the control room.

Lieutenant Commander Al Layman was waiting for him at the chart table, “Morning, Skipper. Did you sleep in this morning?”

“Afraid not, Al. Just spent a little longer on my morning walk through than usual.”

“I hope you found everything shipshape.”

Still thinking about the scientist’s smile. Colter absentmindedly replied.

“Everything was fine, Al.”

The XO knew his commanding officer well, and noting the distant look in Colter’s eyes, saw that his full attention was elsewhere.

“We can go over those charts another time. Skipper.

There’s nothing here that can’t wait until later.”

Only then did Matt Colter realize how far his thoughts had been drifting. Such a thing could be dangerous in times of crisis, and he instantly regained control of himself.

“There’s no reason for that, XO. You can carry on.”

“If you say so, Skipper,” replied Layman as he pulled his pipe from his pocket and placed its bit between his lips unlit. He then reached down and switched on the light to the chart table.

Clearly displayed beneath the clear Plexiglas of the table was a polar projection chart of the eastern portion of North America. Utilizing a blue crayon, Al Layman marked a small x in the sea halfway between the extreme northern point of Labrador and the southern coast of Greenland.

“As you can see. Skipper, we’re well on our way to the Davis Strait by now. We’ve currently got Labrador’s Cape Chidley off our port bow, and Greenland’s Cape Farewell to our starboard.”

“We must have gotten a little help from the Labrador Current,” observed Colter.

“We’re doing much better than I had anticipated. Any ice above us as yet?”

“As of two hours ago, the sea was clear, Skipper.

But that could be a whole different story now. If I remember correctly, this is about where we spotted the first floes on our last visit.”

“Seems like just the other day,” reflected Colter.

“How about taking us up to periscope depth and having a look around?”

“My pleasure. Skipper.”

As the XO relayed the orders that brought the Defiance up from the black depths. Matt Colter stepped up on the low steel platform that lay beside the plotting table. Only when the digital depth gauge reached sixty-five feet did the captain take over.

“Up periscope!” he barked.

An alert seaman hit the release switch, and to a loud hiss of pressurized hydraulic oil one of the two eight-inch-thick, steel cylinders that hung before Colter began sliding upward. Several drops of water ran down the cylinder’s barrel from its overhead fitting, as an eyepiece and a pair of folded handles emerged from the well. Bending over slightly, the captain snapped down the hinged handles and nestled his eyes up into the periscope’s rubberized lens coupling.

The direct light was at first so intense that it stung Colter’s eyes. The sky was a brilliant, deep blue, and as a wave of greenish seawater slapped up over the lens. Matt spotted several disturbingly familiar formations floating on the distant horizon. By merely increasing the magnification of the lens tenfold, these pure-white crystalline objects seemed to jump forward and a sudden heaviness formed in Colter’s gut.

For the monstrous icebergs meant only one thing, from this point onward, if something went wrong in the black depths below, the Defiance could no longer rely on the sea’s surface for a safe haven. Very much aware of this unsettling fact. Matt Colter sighed heavily and, like Arctic explorers for centuries past, consigned his fate to the spirits of the frozen sea.

Chapter Nine