Robert Williams - Ice Fortress

“That’s your take-away from all that I just said?” Jack couldn’t believe that Sam was behaving like everything was so… normal.

“Bluey, have you not realized that when we dropped through that hatch into this sub, we actually dropped into the bloody Twilight Zone? None of this makes any sense.”

Jack rubbed his eyes as he paused to think for a moment.

“Actually,” he continued, “one thing makes sense. Whatever weird X-Files thing we’ve found ourselves in the middle of down here, someone else is mighty keen to get in on some of that action as well. I don’t know what this is, but it’s what mobilized the army up there and what we’ve been tasked with securing.”

“You’re very mission oriented, aren’t you?” Sam observed.

“What the hell do you—”

A violent shudder rumbled through the boat. Jack lost his footing and was hurled to the deck.

Sam wrapped his arms around the body of the periscope in the center of the control room to steady himself. They’d hit something. He knew that sensation. At least he couldn’t hear the sound of gushing water flooding the compartments from a hull breach. That had to be a good thing.

As if responding to that very thought, water jetted from one of the many pipes overhead, glass gauges shattered and the lights began to flicker.

“This isn’t good,” Sam stated matter-of-factly, as he waited for Jack to point the finger of blame at him, yet again.

Jack couldn’t say anything. His unconscious body lay on the deck with blood from a gash above his eye being washed away by the torrent of water cascading down on him.

“Conn, Sonar. I’ve got a contact bearing one-eight-zero. Range 300 yards.”

“Is it the Russian Yasen?” asked Jameson

“Negative captain. It’s your U-Boat. The shockwaves from the torpedo impact must have breached the ice. I think the sub has broken through the ice and crashed down into the water.”

“Are you sure?”

“Can’t be sure of much captain. Sonar was deluged by so much acoustic data all at once that it couldn’t make out the individual signatures. There must be one hell of a hole in the ice above us.”

“Depth?”

“Same as us, sir. 100 feet. It levelled off, got hit by a big chunk ice that broke off after the U-Boat was dislodged and now it’s just… well… sitting there.”

“Let’s get back to the task at hand.” Jameson directed their attention to the sonar display that plotted their path through the ice mountain. The sea lake within the inverted mountain was their only safe haven until help arrived to escort them past the Russian hunter.

Submarines of old maneuvered by way of manually controlled bow planes and rudders steered by dedicated crew. Engine speed was relayed to the engine room from the conn and actioned by the engineers manning the propulsion systems.

The Virginia Class was an entirely new breed of submarine, the first fly-by-wire or ‘hands off’ submarines. Bow and stern planesmen and rudder helmsmen had been replaced by a pilot who simply entered the captain’s desired course and speed into the ship’s computer and the computer would set the rudder, bow and stern planes to the necessary positions to achieve the heading. Likewise with the engine speed.

“Pilot, ahead one-third, 5 degrees right rudder.” Jameson issued the commands in an even voice, not sounding like he was about to thread a three hundred and eighty foot needle through a narrow tunnel in the ice.

“Nice work,” he encouraged. “Just a little more, okay rudder amidships and maintain course.”

Their sonar gave them precise bearings of their position within the tunnel and the graphic display cobbled together by Dave and Juan plotted their progress for all to see. So far the system was working perfectly.

“200 yards and we’re in the clear,” whispered Dave. All three civilians had their eyes glued to the monitor.

Leah patted the two men on the back, “Great work boys. I knew I picked the best when I picked you two.” She looked around, “Where’s Durand? Shouldn’t he be here?”

“He said he felt ill. I told him to catch some bunk time. That’s the downside of operating with only one crew rotation — no sleep. This was supposed to be a peaceful science mission.” His voice sounded weary, like he wished he was getting some much needed sleep.

Jameson’s face was pale with fatigue but they all knew he was the only one who could get them through the passage. Sleep would come later, once they were all safe. His boat. His crew. His responsibility. That was the job.

Leah thought it strange that the XO should report in sick at this crucial time but didn’t say anything. Who could sleep at a time like this?

“Come on…” Juan said to himself as he clenched his fist and brought his knuckle to his mouth.

Leah could see they were almost through. A few seconds later the tiny blip on the screen was in open water, inside the ice mountain. For better or for worse. She didn’t realize she’d been holding her breath until she exhaled heavily, drawing Juan and Dave’s attention to her.

“Don’t look at me like I’m the only one here who was a little anxious.” She playfully knocked their heads together. Dave’s face was glistening with sweat and Juan had teeth marks on his knuckles, despite their attempt to look cool and unfazed by their journey into the underwater cavern.

“Pilot, take us up to periscope depth. Let’s have a look at where we are before we get too excited.”

“I don’t think you’re going to see much up there, captain. Light won’t be able to penetrate through the ice or rock of the ice mountain,” Leah suggested.

“We don’t need light. This baby doesn’t use the old fashioned lens and mirror periscope, like in the movies. She’s equipped with the very latest, cutting edge photonics mast. The electro-optical sensors and infrared sensors on the mast above the sail will capture razor sharp images and project them on this screen over here, even if it’s pitch black up there.” Jameson gestured toward the photonic mast display screen.

“We’re at periscope depth, captain. Ready when you are.” Technically, the Barracuda didn’t have a periscope and was at photonics depth, but some traditions are hard to let go.

“Okay, let’s see where we are.” Jameson used the touchscreen of the photonics control to program it for a ‘quick-look’ deployment. The mast would break the surface of the water momentarily before capturing a 360 degree view of the surrounding cavern in both low light and infra-red data streams before retracting, minimizing the possibility of detection. It didn’t hurt to be careful given the bizarre events that had unfolded of late.

Jameson then initiated the ‘quick-look’ viewer program and waited for the incoming data to be overlaid on the big screen.

The sonar map had been forgotten for the moment and all eyes were locked on the photonics display monitor. It would be the first time any of them, perhaps any one at all, had ever seen the inside of an Antarctic ice mountain.

Within a beat the image appeared on the screen, slightly grainy and with the unusual bloom of a night vision image, but there was no mistaking what they were seeing as they image traversed the full 360 degrees of the chamber above them.

“You’ve got to be shitting me,” Jameson whispered as he leaned in closer to be sure his eyes weren’t deceiving him.