Voyage of the Devilfish

The pod was turned on its side. The ship, he decided, must be in a terminal velocity dive for the ocean bottom. The rumbling sound of another weapon explosion in the first compartment indicated he had less than a few seconds to try to get into the control compartment and load anyone he could into the pod and detach. He wondered if they were close enough to thin ice for an attempt to escape. It was the only chance he had. Vlasenko pulled the pod-release lever from the control panel and inserted it between spokes of the hatch-control wheel, then with a grunt pulled on the lever, using it as a pry bar until the wheel broke away. Now he pulled the steel rod out of the wheel and was shocked to see the wheel furiously rotate by itself. The rotating mechanism pulled the hatch-dogs — each a thick banana of steel holding the hatch shut — clear of the pod hatch jamb. He had to jump out of the way as the hatch flew sideways and into the pod. And Vlasenko found himself staring into the eyes of Admiral Alexi Novskoyy, whose arms were occupied holding the ladder. Vlasenko balled his fist and smashed it into Novskoyy’s face, and the admiral collapsed, falling away into the darkness of the shattered control compartment.

BARENTS SEA

TEN NAUTICAL MILES OFF SEVERMORSK NAVAL COMPLEX

USS ALLENTOWN

As the radioman handed Commander Henry Duckett the flash message, he felt the eyes of the crewmen on him, awaiting word to launch the Javelins. When he read the message the breath went out of him, partly relief, partly disappointment. He handed the message to Mills, the OOD.

“Goddamn, sir, first they want us to hightail it up here, then they want us to cock the gun, then they want us to forget it and come on home.” Duckett shook his head. “Secure battle stations, spin down the Javelins and bring us around to course three zero zero, all ahead two thirds. We’re getting the hell out of here.”

NORFOLK, VIRGINIA

COMSUBLANT HEADQUARTERS

The speaker monitoring the radio communications of the F-14 had just tolled its unhappy message.

“I’ll be god damned, the Mongooses missed, I don’t believe it… they both missed. The cruise missile is still inbound…” The F-14 crew lapsed into stunned silence, the commentary on the Mongoose missiles coming to a sudden halt. In the COMSUBLANT Hag Plot room Admiral Richard Donchez was the center of attention. Donchez’s eyes narrowed as he looked at Lieutenant Commander Kodiak.

“See if CINCLANT’s DC-9 is at the Pattern Charlie point. If it is patch in Admiral McGee.” Kodiak nodded. Until McGee could get outside the 100-mile radius of the city Donchez would remain in command, but once the DC-9 hit the Pattern Charlie point McGee was to take over.

“Sir, the DC-9 is at Pattern Charlie,” Kodiak said. Donchez took the red radiotelephone handset from Kodiak and clicked the speak button. “Nathan Hale, this is Underdog, over.”

A longish silence, then: “Nathan Hale standing by,” McGee’s distorted voice replied. “Go ahead. Underdog.

Over.” The speaker rasped McGee’s voice, ending with a beep as the NESTOR secure-voice signal made its way through the encryption equipment.

“Execute Pattern Charlie. Repeat, execute Pattern Charlie. Break. Acknowledge Pattern Charlie. Break. Over,” Donchez said, transferring operational control of all CINCLANTFLEET to the airborne admiral. This operation was now officially McGee’s problem, along with the President’s and General Tyler’s.

“Dick, McGee here. Copy your Pattern Charlie and acknowledge same. Break…” There was a pause, followed by McGee’s “Good luck, Dick, see you soon.” When Donchez spoke, his voice was gravelly. “Kodiak, get on the horn to that F-14 driver. If he hasn’t figured it out yet, you ask him if he remembers what a Kamikaze is.”

BARENTS SEA

USS ALLENTOWN

Commander Henry Duckett heard the long, rumbling roar come through the hull followed by a vibration that started to shake the ship. The deck trembled, the rumbling got louder, then diminished to a dim growl, which after a moment faded, leaving Duckett’s small cabin in silence. Duckett went to the control room and stepped up on the Conn. Senior Chief Sonarman Jameson emerged from Sonar.

“The noise you heard was an explosion. Captain, a definite underwater explosion. Bearing was north-northeast, covered a broad sector. The bearing line points to an underice explosion.”

“Was it a hull breaking up?”

“No,” Jameson said, shaking his head. “There’s a sonar blueout for ten degrees on either side of the bearing.”

“A blueouti But blueouts can only be caused by bubbles and echoes from a… a nuclear detonation—”

Jameson gave him a look. “Exactly, skipper. We believe the explosion was nuclear… Was there any warhead test going on out here? Anything in the intel brief about Russian tests under the icecap?” Duckett shook his head.

“Is there a chance there’s a U.S. boat up here?”

“If there is I’m not supposed to know about it,” Duckett said.

“British? French?”