Larry Bond - Dangerous Ground

“Ivan, form a barrier running east from the northern tip of Novaya Zemlya and then move it south. You should find the submarine as he attempts to escape.”

Admiral Ivan Sergetev nodded in acknowledgment, but not agreement. “If we can get the barrier formed before he slips through. If he moves at high speed. ”

“Sonobuoys will pick him up,” Kirichenko interrupted. “And there will be stragglers and units that are too far out of position to reach the initial barrier line. Have them form a second line running northeast. If he’s able to evade the first barrier, he may relax and we’ll trap him with the second.”

The deputies for aviation, surface ships, and submarines were all writing furiously, but so was Kirichenko’s supply officer. He raised his hand politely and waited for the Admiral’s permission to speak. Supply officers in the Russian Navy these days usually brought bad news — and this time was no different.

He spoke cautiously. “Admiral, our operating funds do not allow this type of deployment. We could use up our entire year’s training budget in a few days’ operations. And stores are critical. We’ll have to dip into war reserves for enough sonobuoys, and I’m not even sure we have enough fuel on hand to fill everyone’s tanks.”

“Then send them out half-full.” Kirichenko let him finish, but just barely. “And then get more fuel, and we’ll send out tankers if we have to.”

Kirichenko paused after answering the supply officer’s objections, then spoke to the entire staff. “I don’t care if we spend every ruble in the Fleet, including the stash under your mattress, Andrei.” Everyone smiled at the joke, but they also looked worried and puzzled.

Kirichenko was a commanding figure, tall with a long, angular face that had been weathered not only by the elements but the weight of command. That contrasted with his blond hair. So far it was hard to see how much of it had gone gray.

“We’ve had penetrations of our waters before, and the West thinks that with us facing hard times they can enter our territory at will. Captain Orlov says there are ‘multiple sources.’ It sounds like there is more than one submarine, possibly several. Why would they need so many if they weren’t making some sort of major effort against us?

“They’re not expecting a massive response, and a massive response is the only way to deal with this type of attack. Our training budget just became our operating budget, and Andrei, this sounds like exactly the time to dip into war reserves.”

The admiral leaned forward a little, driving home his point to the staff. “And think of what happens when we catch him! We will make the Americans and the others respect our waters and prevent who knows how many future incursions.”

He turned to the supply officer. “And consider this, Andrei. What better way to get more funding for our Fleet than showing what we can do? With a success like this, I guarantee that I’ll be in Moscow the next day, demanding that they give us enough support to operate the Northern Fleet properly.”

Then he dropped his bombshell. “And Andrei, also use war reserves to make sure that every ship has a full load of ordnance, not just antisubmarine, but gun and missile ammunition as well. I want these intruders caught, and if they don’t respond to our challenges, then they will be sunk.”

Everyone looked surprised, but his deputy, Admiral Sergetev, was the only one who spoke up. “Sir, the chance of catching them in territorial waters is. ”

“I don’t care if they’re in our waters when you find them. They were in our waters, and we have the array data as proof.” He spoke more formally. “If the intruding submarines do not answer your challenge or comply with your instructions, you will attack with all your weapons and sink them. The Kara Sea is shallow. The hulk of a Western sub is just as convincing as a live one and will make our point about the sovereignty of Russian territorial waters even more effectively.”

Sergetev, maybe because he was the one who would actually control the operation, risked another question. “Sir, are you formally changing the Fleet’s Rules of Engagement?”

Those rules had been drafted by the Naval Staff and approved by the highest levels of the Russian government. They described in excruciating detail when and under what conditions a Russian naval unit could fire at a foreign one. Every naval officer in the Fleet was expected to be able to quote them verbatim. In the past, only intruders actually encountered in territorial waters could be engaged, and then only after several challenges and if there was evidence of hostile intent.

“I’ve already spoken to Moscow and they’ve approved the change for this specific incident. They are not happy with the idea of several Western submarines in our territory. Of course, if this doesn’t work out well, I’ll be the one explaining to Moscow.”

That had the effect he’d expected, and the staff looked more willing to carry out the order, almost excited. Moscow’s approval of the Admiral’s orders removed any misgivings they might have had.

“I want reports on the status of all units and expected sailing times in an hour. Ivan, I want your search plan an hour after that. As of this moment, gentlemen, the Northern Fleet is at war. Dismissed.”

Kirichenko watched his staff leave the room, almost at a run. Good, they were motivated, and the lie about Moscow’s approval had effectively dealt with any reservations.

He remained in the briefing room, sipping his tea and studying the charts that covered the walls. Calculating distances and times, he tried to visualize how the prosecution would develop, where the detection might take place. How could he organize the hurriedly assembled units to best effect? He’d spoken in positive terms to his staff, because they needed him to be positive, but he’d been too long in the Fleet to know what the odds were of finding a submarine that did not want to be found.

And this one had to not only be found, but sunk. He had no idea why the sub was there, but if they were, he knew what they’d found.

Right before the breakup of the Soviet Union, as a new Captain First Rank, he’d supervised the disposal of hazardous materials under the aegis of Soviet Military Intelligence, the GRU. He’d directed the dumping of spent fuel, old reactors, and all manner of dangerous items. Being a good officer, he’d made it his business to learn the details of each load.

One load, a barge full of canisters, had attracted his attention. While disposals were handled by the GRU, the material to be disposed of always came from other agencies: the armed forces, medical organizations, or the Ministry of Atomic Energy, Minatom. They all handled or produced radioactive material as a part of their functions, and thus had to dispose of radioactive waste.

But this barge didn’t make sense. According to the paperwork, it carried canisters full of radioactive waste from Minatom, but the authorizing signatures were by GRU officers, not Minatom officials. And the barge had not come from any of the Minatom facilities. Oh, the paperwork said it had, but then he’d checked with the tug that had brought the barge to Arkhangel’sk. It had come up the Dvina River from well inside Mother Russia. Minatom’s waste always came by rail in special cars and was then loaded onto barges for disposal.

At first, he suspected smuggling or possibly espionage. Perhaps someone had cached sensitive equipment or precious metals on the barge, presuming that nobody would want to closely inspect radioactive material. Classified equipment could be sold to the West. Corruption and graft were nothing new in Russia, and the cracks appearing in the Soviet Empire just multiplied the opportunities for enterprising individuals.