Dominic Conlon - Arctic Firepath

The Independent Duty Corpsman was a qualified doctor. He cleared his throat. 'Sir, I'm sorry to report another two fatalities. That makes five dead. Two more are still critical. I've had a dozen with other injuries, mainly broken bones and concussion. There are others with minor cuts and abrasions. I'm using the Crew's Mess as a patient evaluation and treatment area.'

'Thank you George. Do you need anything else — supplies or manpower?'

'No sir, I've managed to get most of the stocks we squirrelled away.' Medical provisions were stashed in several locations throughout the boat to minimise loss from a single incident. 'I don’t need any more help at the moment, though I would like to return to my patients as quickly as possible.'

The Captain waved his hand. 'Go George. Someone will brief you later — and thank you.' He turned to the Chief Engineer. 'What's the status of the hull David?'

'There's still some seepage, but the majority of the flooding is under control.' David Purbeck looked towards his Damage Control Assistant. 'We've a major problem with the main ballast tanks. The vents of the two forward and aft of the sail are damaged and are stuck on open. Without the ability to close the valves we won't get enough buoyancy to lift off the sea bed. The other ballast tanks at the stem and stern of the boat are just operational, but even with these and the trim tanks we won’t have enough buoyancy to lift us off the bottom.'

'What about the reactor?'

'It SCRAMMED automatically when we were hit. That reduced the output for a short time. Normally it would come back online after a fast insertion of the control rods. However the computer activated a full shutdown because so many alarms were triggered.’

'How much power can we expect?'

'About five percent. The fission products are still decaying and they give out some heat. Anything over that and we will need to rely on batteries.'

'How long have we got?' The chief purpose of the battery back-up was to restart the reactor, but at a pinch it could be used for life-support systems.

'Altogether, I'd say there’s enough juice for 40 hrs plus. The batteries provide energy to the carbon dioxide scrubbers to remove dangerous CO2 gas from the air. They can also supply the electrolyser machine to produce oxygen from seawater.'

The Captain glanced at the shocked faces. 'Forty hours is not long David.'

'It's hard to be certain. The electrolyser requires lots of power to replace the oxygen used up by the crew. We could extend it by turning the heating off.'

'What’s the downside?'

'The key problem is the atmosphere inside the sub will cool to the temperature of the surrounding ocean — just above freezing. The crew could wear more clothes, but the biggest issue is the water vapour in the air. It will condense on all metal surfaces and might cause shorting in our electric circuits.'

'Right, we'll take that chance. How long before we can start the reactor?'

David shrugged his shoulders. 'We don't know yet. I am working on it, but I need to set expectations. The fact that it failed to resume automatically means there are significant issues. And if we are going to use the battery for life-support, there might not be sufficient energy left to begin the start sequence. We may have to wait until the sub is returned to Groton.'

Captain White glanced around his officers again. Their faces all told the same story.

'What else you can do?'

'We'll have to inspect the support systems fully and assess what happened to the reactor, sir. It’s essential to check the circuits are functioning properly before we can even try a restart. The checklist alone will take at least 24 hours. Any issues we find during the tests are likely to need the services of our home port.'

'Better get on with it immediately. And keep me up to date, will you?'

The Chief Engineer nodded and hurried out. The Captain turned next to his Navigator.

'What's the story, Jago?'

Jago ran his hands through his short curly hair. 'Comms are a complete mess. Virtually all our communications are routed via the transmission masts in the sail, and the conning tower was crushed by the icebreaker.'

'So no-one knows we're in trouble?'

Jago shook his head. 'We can still receive Extra Low Frequency transmissions because ELF doesn't need an antenna above the surface. We're working on trying to repair the damage to the receivers and masts, but it’s going to take a long time.'

The XO scratched an ear. 'Any possibility of using the dorsal hatchway?' This was a small opening on the upper surface of the sub near the tail.

Jago frowned. 'We've thought about that. If we patch the cables in the ducts we might be able to send up an aerial through the hatchway. As far as we know it's still operational.'

The XO faced the Captain. 'Once we get an aerial up, we should be able to communicate in both directions using HF, UHF or VHF.'

'I agree Thomas.' The Captain made up his mind. 'Make this your first priority Jago. The sooner Groton realises our predicament, the better.' He eyed the remaining officers. 'That's all for now. You've got a lot to do. Let's reconvene in two hours.'

They began filing out of the meeting, but the XO remained behind.

'Yes, Thomas?'

'The icebreaker deliberately rammed us Captain.' The XO could barely conceal his anger. 'All the men will know by now he intended to sink us.'

'I understand,' he replied softly. ‘But we must concentrate on surviving as long as possible for the rescue.'

'We still have some power, sir. We could operate our weapons systems — long enough to target the ship.'

'He can't do any more damage than he already has. And we need all the power for our life support systems. Don't forget your priorities Thomas. Your duty must be to your men first. There will be a reckoning when we get out of this mess. Until then your job is to protect the safety of your officers and crew.'

The XO glanced down at the water sloshing about his feet. 'Yes sir, I apologise.' After a second he looked up. 'Ah Commander, speaking of survival, you left a few things out of your pep talk — like the rescue will take much longer than we've got.'

The Captain eyed his Executive Officer. 'I did leave it out Thomas. But I didn't forget.' He paused. 'I don't want to crush everyone's hopes just yet.'

After identifying a Russian observer at the funeral, DD turned his attention to his pet project TRIP WIRE. It was not working out as he had planned. When he conceived the design he saw himself like a spider, sat on the side of its web, waiting for the slightest tremor to alert him to a lead. But the database he had constructed to find Khostov positively vibrated with alerts— so many he felt overwhelmed.

He had no option but to plead for resources from the police. One force was tasked with serving Internet Providers with warrants to obtain the contents of emails sent by various ex-Russian residents. Another followed up twitter posts referring to the word Maskhadov. So far, all the TRIP WIRE events were perfectly innocent, and DD was starting to regard the web site as a failure. His mobile rang.

'Is this Daniel Davis?'

'Yes, who is this?'

'Detective Inspector Anita Marshall. I’m working on the murder of two Russian couples. I met one of your colleagues, Sean Quinlan.' She paused, uncertain how to continue. 'Do you know him?'

'Yes, of course' replied DD.

'He told me to contact you if any developments occurred.'

'Something's happened?'

'Dorset police rang me after I asked them to check on one of the deceased's assets — a yacht called the Anastasia.'

'OK.'

'She’s normally berthed at the harbour in Weymouth, but now it’s missing.'

'Ah. Thank you for the info — is there anything else I should know?'