Under the Ice

While the engine-room crew industriously immersed themselves in their work, three parka-clad figures climbed up into the vessel’s exposed sail. They were met by a shrieking, frigid wind that sent tiny spears of flying ice whipping through the air with near lethal velocity. Turning their backs to these howling gusts, the trio focused their gazes on the surrounding landscape. For as far as they could see stretched a solid white line ofhummocked ice hills and contorted pressure ridges. The only clear water visible was that which surrounded the Defiance. With barely enough room to fit another similar-sized vessel at their side, the polynya was just beginning to ice over.

For the ice was far from a static environment, and the constant deep-throated grinding noise that rose beyond that of the wind was proof that the ice pack was in constant motion.

Shivering in the bitter cold. Lieutenant Commander Al Layman said, “Damn, and I thought Buffalo was cold!”

“What do you mean, cold?” countered Matt Colter as he bent down to check the thermometer.

“Why it’s only twenty-five degrees below zero, and it’s not even winter yet!”

Turning his attention to the figure at his other side, the captain queried.

“What do you think of your first view of the ice, Dr. Lansing?”

She had to practically scream to be heard over the howling wind.

“It’s incredibly beautiful and threatening all at the same time.”

“That it is,” agreed Matt Colter, who added, “It’s hard to think of the Arctic as a desert, but as you well know it’s one of the driest regions on the planet, with a total yearly precipitation of less than ten inches.

From what I understand, it’s because such cold air can carry little moisture.”

“You’re absolutely correct,” returned the scientist.

“Back in the lab, we tried to create these extreme conditions artificially, and though we could handle the temperature, we had a lot of trouble simulating the ice. The Arctic pack ice is extremely hard because the salt has had time to drain out of it.”

“I can personally vouch for that,” replied Colter.

“You should have seen how the ice sheared the welded navigational beacon right off our rudder during our last encounter with it. The thing looked like it had been surgically cut off.”

A high-pitched whine suddenly sounded behind them, and the XO turned to identify this noise.

“Here comes the receiver. Skipper. I sure hope it holds together in this wind and all.”

The thick, whiplike antenna rose upward from the interior portion of the sail. Matt Colter looked up and saw it wildly quivering in the powerful gusts.

“She’ll hold, all right. I just hope we’re close enough to that black box to pick up its homing signal.

Otherwise, we could be up here for God knows how long.”

“Not me. Skipper,” returned the XO.

“If it’s all right with you, I’d like permission to go below before my mustache drops off. Even with all these layers of clothing, I’m freezing!”

The captain was quick to consent.

“I think I’ve taken enough punishment myself. Will you join us, Doctor?”

Laurie Lansing’s teeth were chattering so badly that she didn’t even bother to respond, but merely turned for the ladder that would convey her back to the blessed warmth of the ship’s interior.

Five minutes later. Matt Colter was in the process of making the rounds of the control room with a steaming hot mug of coffee in hand, when he received word that the engine-room crew had begun hoisting up the damaged pump. It wasn’t long afterward that the compartment filled with a distant, deep-throated booming noise that sounded much like the report of an exploding artillery shell. When this mysterious sound continued. Colter hurriedly threw on his parka and once again climbed up into the exposed sail.

He was greeted by a familiar blast of frigid air, and as he turned his back to it, his gaze locked in on the surrounding ice pack and he couldn’t help but gasp at what he saw there. The ice seemed to have moved at least twenty yards closer to the Defiance since his last trip topside!

Another explosive crack sounded in the distance, this time with an even greater intensity. A grating, shrieking moan followed, and Colter realized that what he was hearing was the sound of the ever-shifting pack ice as it gradually closed in on them. There were many reports of ships trapped in such ice. Some of the vessels were locked in for months, while the less fortunate ones had their hulls crushed by the immense forces at work.

Because of the unique nature of the Defiance’s design, all Colter had to do was give a single order to send the sub plunging into the relative safety of the depths. But this would mean forcing the engine-room crew to halt their repair effort and then having them resecure the loose equipment. This would leave them with only half their propulsion system on line. And since there was no telling when the next polynya would be encountered, the sub could be in such a crippled state for an indefinite length of time.