Dominic Conlon - Arctic Firepath

Here it encountered water for the first time in the form of bilge, slopping between the inner and outer hulls. The outcome was devastating. The melt vaporised the water, causing an explosion which punched a hole through the outer hull. As the vessel descended below four hundred metres, seawater rushed in, meeting the corium head on. An enormous blast occurred, vaporising the ship and the sea for half a kilometre in diameter. The sudden and intense transfer of heat caused the water to separate into its constituent elements of hydrogen, oxygen and super-heated steam. Well above the auto-ignition point of the mixture, the ball combusted in an altogether bigger eruption.

The corium experienced a heat spike, and as the sea filled the vacuum it met the thermal barrier generated by the nucleus. There the saltwater boiled off into superheated steam, pushed ever closer to the incandescent core by the weight of the surrounding Ocean. The whole cycle began again, causing another large detonation as the hydrogen ignited in the oxygen-rich mixture.

Sean could hear a rumble even above the roar of the aircraft engines. It sounded like a vast train coming to a halt and he felt the effects as the big aircraft became airborne. The entire plane staggered with the force of the blast. The pilot recovered, and Sean shot a look through the port hole.

Dark clouds scudded in the sky and it appeared to be raining out there. Two kilometres away the sea erupted. An expanding sphere of superheated steam and vapour rose violently from the depths. He could hardly believe his eyes as an immense dome formed over the ocean.

The aircraft turned away, still clawing for height as the leading edge of the compression wave hit. The aircraft dropped 300 feet vertically and a collective groan of fear echoed around the interior. Now nose down, the plane continued to dive to the earth. Some people began to assume the crash position, heads bent forward, arms covering their heads. Sean stared out of the window as the ground rose up to meet them. Oxygen masks popped from the overhead lockers, and some of the passengers emitted loud screams.

Sean held his breath and gripped the seat in front of him. A certain sadness settled over him, and an odd thought flashed through his mind. To have come all this way, to have achieved so much, just to die in the closing moments of the mission. Hardly fair, but then that was the price he had to pay for getting his kicks. Almost immediately he was overcome by shame; hundreds of other people were bound to the same fate, and his first instinct was for himself.

The pilot applied maximum thrust and the airframe vibrated with the complex forces battling for the lives of the passengers. Slowly, the nose began to rise, barely two hundred of feet above ground. The aftermath of the compression front gave the huge aircraft a boost in forward speed, and they rose quickly away from the certainty of imminent death.

Sean turned to look at Khostov. He appeared relieved, a small smile playing around his lips. ‘Do you think it worked?’

Khostov turned to gaze through the window. ‘I don’t know. We’ll only find out after lots of tests.’

They settled back in their seats, and Sean gingerly removed Grigori’s document from the water-tight pouch of his survival suit. The paper was untouched by the soaking he had taken when trying to free the helicopter. He scanned the pages, puzzling over the Cyrillic. ‘Perhaps you could help me Alexei, my Russian is a little rusty.’ He passed the manuscript to Khostov with his good hand.

Khostov smiled. ‘It’s the least I can do for you.’

The British Prime Minister put down the newspaper and rose to greet Presidents Donahue and Duskin. They were back in the same meeting room, and Prime Minister Ashdown began with an apology.

‘I know it’s the last day of the summit and most of the other leaders have left for their respective countries. I really do appreciate your cooperation in remaining behind for a chat.’ The PM gestured to the newspaper. ‘I see that speculation is mounting as to why the Presidents of America and Russia are meeting with me.’

‘It’s also mounting with me,’ replied Donahue stiffly. ‘I can’t see any other reason for us to meet. We’ve all said what needs to be said.’

The PM paused. ‘Perhaps.’ He studied the Russian President. ‘I’ll come to the point. I have information on good authority that your order to send an ice-breaker into the northern Arctic was just the tip of the iceberg, so to speak.’ The PM smiled at the unintentional pun. ‘Your Russian icebreaker was intended to be the first in a series of ships. Following that, you planned to send a floating nuclear power platform which would in turn provide the energy required for a deep water rig to extract oil and gas at depth.’

The Russian President rolled his eyes and looked hopelessly at the American President.

‘I know this, because I have the secret orders transmitted to Captain Grigori of the icebreaker LK-80.’

The PM switched on the TV, showing a copy of the orders in Cyrillic script. He scrolled through the pages, stopping at one in particular. ‘You will note the co-ordinates: ninety degrees north, zero degrees west. The co-ordinates of the North Pole.’

President Donahue looked on bemused, and thankful the PM was pointing the gun at the Russian President for a change.

‘Few know that the North Pole is directly over part of the Lomonosov ridge, an area your Russia scientists have argued belongs to Russia as an extension of the Russian continental shelf. Russia has been trying to claim this territory for many years.’ He observed the Russian President. ‘Your government supported an expedition to plant a titanium flag there on the sea floor, way back in 2007. The men who accomplished that mission were brought back as heroes.’

The PM fingered the black file. ‘If you thought this information would be deeply damaging to your position, then the contents of this file are much worse.’ He regarded the American President. ‘You too.’

He indicated the chairs. ‘Please sit gentlemen.’ Both Presidents eyed each other and sat. ‘You have a choice facing you today concerning my initiative to develop the Arctic in a sensitive and environmentally friendly way.’

He turned so he could see them both. ‘Or I will let the world know what’s in this file.’

He pushed the folder deliberately to one side. ‘I require both your nations to pledge their support for an environmentally friendly and sustainable development of the Arctic. I will give you a year from today to negotiate and settle on a new treaty with members of the Arctic Council — Canada, Denmark, Finland, Iceland, Norway and Sweden. The treaty will put the indigenous peoples of the far north first, followed by the wild life and environment. The committee will setup a procedure to approve and licence developments from any nation who wants to drill for oil, gas or minerals, making these principles paramount. A licence will only be granted if 6 out of the 8 countries agree. A member cannot vote for a licence on its own behalf. The 200 nautical limit of economic development will be relaxed only at the discretion of all 8 member states.’

The PM placed a single page of printed copy in front of each President.

President Donahue sighed. ‘Terrance, I’m tired of your blackmail. What do you say Pavla?’

The Russian President paused in thought. Ashdown drew the black folder towards him and opened the cover. Inside were about eight pages of closely typed notes. He flicked over a page, drawing his finger down the margin. ‘Very well.’

‘What do you want in exchange?’ President Duskin interrupted.

The PM snapped the file shut. ‘The money paid for development licences will be used by the Arctic council solely to improve the safety and livelihood of the Arctic communities and wildlife.’