Ice Station Nautilus (5 page)

Upon entering Compartment Two, Stepanov returned to the Central Command Post. Captain Lieutenant Evanoff was on watch again, and First Officer Pavlov was also present, supervising the watch section. As long as an American submarine was in the vicinity, either he or his First Officer would be in the Command Post. Stepanov stopped beside Pavlov at the navigation table and examined the chart. According to the latest oceanographic report, they were approaching the edge of the Marginal Ice Zone.

Stepanov turned to his Watch Officer. “Captain Lieutenant Evanoff. Slow to ten knots and station the Ice Detail.”

USS
NORTH DAKOTA

Commander Tolbert leaned against the navigation plot in Control, monitoring Master One’s course with concern.
Dolgoruky
was headed into the Marginal Ice Zone, a hazardous area for submarine operations. At the fringe of the polar ice cap, wave action and ocean swells broke off edges of the ice floes, creating a zone of broken ice extending outward over a hundred miles.

It wasn’t the ice floating on the surface that concerned Tolbert. It was the random icebergs scattered throughout the Marginal Ice Zone. Over three thousand icebergs were produced each year in the Barents Sea, breaking off glaciers on Svalbard, Franz Josef Land, and Novaja Zemlja, accompanied by the calving of glaciers on the east coast of Greenland. Most of the icebergs were small, but the larger ones descended several hundred feet, occasionally deep enough to ground on the bottom of the shallow Barents Sea.

Tolbert called to his Weapons Officer, Lieutenant Mark Livingston. “Officer of the Deck, set the Arctic Routine.”

Livingston repeated back the order and issued commands to his watch section. After settling in behind
Yury Dolgoruky,
Tolbert had returned
North Dakota
to a normal watch section rotation, with each watch augmented with a Section Tracking Party comprised of an additional fire control technician to monitor the plots, a Contact Manager, and a Junior Officer of the Deck. By setting the Arctic Routine, Tolbert had ordered additional sonar consoles manned and the Deck and Conn split, with Tolbert and the XO alternating as the Conning Officer.

After a briefing from the Weps, Tolbert relieved him of the Conn, announcing to watchstanders in Control, “The Captain has the Conn, Lieutenant Livingston retains the Deck.”

The Quartermaster acknowledged and continued preparations for entering the Marginal Ice Zone. He energized the submarine’s topsounder and fathometer. The topsounder would send sonar pings up from one of four hydrophones mounted on top of
North Dakota
’s hull: two on the sail and one each on the bow and stern. The topsounder would detect ice above and provide warning if an ice keel descended toward them. To help avoid the occasional small iceberg,
North Dakota
would run deep, closer to the bottom than usual, using the fathometer to ensure they didn’t run aground.

One of the sonar watchstanders shifted consoles, preparing to energize
North Dakota
’s High Frequency Array, the forward-looking under-ice sonar mounted in the front of the sail, which would detect ice formations ahead. The sonar technician entered the requisite commands, bringing the console on-line, then cast furtive glances toward the ship’s Captain.

Tolbert knew what he was thinking.
North Dakota
’s topsounder and fathometer weren’t detectable, emitting narrow high-frequency beams that bounced back to
North Dakota
after reflecting off the ocean’s surface or bottom. That was not the case with the High Frequency Array, which sent pulses out in front of the submarine. Having set the Arctic Routine, Tolbert had to make the decision he’d been putting off—whether to energize the under-ice sonar and risk being detected.

Commander Tolbert announced his decision. “Attention in Control. We will not use our under-ice sonar. We’ll let the Russians pick a path through the Marginal Ice Zone, and follow directly behind. Carry on.”

Tolbert added, “Pilot, come to course three-five-five.”

The Pilot entered the new course and
North Dakota
turned slightly left. Tolbert had been trailing the Russian submarine with an offset to starboard, but needed to trail directly behind while in the Marginal Ice Zone.

After
North Dakota
eased into position behind the Russian submarine, Tolbert turned back to the north. Moments later, the Quartermaster looked up from the electronic chart and announced, “Entering the Marginal Ice Zone.”

7

MARGINAL ICE ZONE

YURY DOLGORUKY

Yury Dolgoruky
continued her steady trek north at ten knots. Thus far, the topsounder had detected only sporadic chunks of sea ice floating above them, while the bottomsounder reported the smooth, shallow bottom of the Barents Sea, averaging only 230 meters in depth. However, Stepanov was focused on
Dolgoruky
’s Ice-Detection Sonar display, which displayed objects in front of them as a colored blotch. Different colors represented the intensity of the sonar return, with red indicating a large, deep, or dense formation.

Unfortunately, ice-detection sonars were not very good at determining the depth of the object, which is what ultimately mattered. The color of the ice was key. As
Dolgoruky
closed on the object, shallow ice keels would recede upward and exit the top of the ice-detection beam. As it receded, the color would change from bright red to darker, cooler colors until it faded to black.

The Ice-Detection Sonar used a simple geometry algorithm to determine if the obstacle was a threat. If the ice didn’t change from red to another color within a certain distance—the Minimum Allowable Fade Range—Stepanov would have to turn or go deeper. The display was black; there were no ice formations ahead.

Several hours after entering the Marginal Ice Zone, Stepanov approached his First Officer.

“If an American submarine is following us, where are they?” Stepanov asked.

Pavlov answered, “They are directly behind us.”

“Why?”

Pavlov replied, “They are not using their under-ice sonar, afraid we will detect it. They are using us to chart a safe path through the Marginal Ice Zone.”

“Correct,” Stepanov replied. “That is what I needed to determine.”

When Stepanov did not amplify, Pavlov asked. “What is your plan?”

Stepanov replied, “We will use their lack of under-ice sonar against them.”

“How do we do that?”

Stepanov smiled. “We continue north, under the polar ice cap.”

USS
NORTH DAKOTA

As
North Dakota
continued north, Tolbert stopped by the navigation plot, examining the multicolored curves on the display. They were midway through the Marginal Ice Zone, passing between the archipelagos of Svalbard to the west and Franz Josef Land to the east. If
Dolgoruky
held her northern course, she would slip beneath the polar ice cap in a few hours.

“XO.” Tolbert summoned his Executive Officer, who joined him at the navigation plot. “Draft a message to CTF-69, advising them we’re tracking
Yury Dolgoruky
and might proceed under the polar ice cap.”

Lieutenant Commander Sites acknowledged and headed into Radio. The message was quickly drafted and Tolbert reviewed it, releasing it for transmission.

“Officer of the Deck, prepare to proceed to periscope depth. We have one outgoing.”

8

WASHINGTON, D.C.

Seated at her desk in her West Wing office, National Security Advisor Christine O’Connor looked up from her computer display. Through her windows, she could see the Eisenhower Executive Office Building. Called the
wedding cake
by some due to its layered, palatial facade, the building housed the vice president’s ceremonial office. A heavy snow had started falling this morning, and a thick blanket was already coating the ornate building.

The white landscape reminded Christine of the scenery around Moscow, which pulled her thoughts back to the document on her computer monitor; her report on nuclear arms reduction negotiations between the United States and Russia. The report detailed the agreements reached to date, the differences to be resolved, and the one issue Russia was unwilling to negotiate. She had her suspicions as to why, which she would lay out during her 9 a.m. meeting with the president.

Her thoughts were interrupted by a firm knock on her door. “Enter,” she said, and the door opened, revealing a Naval officer in dress blues, with four gold stripes on each sleeve.

Captain Steve Brackman was the president’s senior military aide. There was no one on the president’s staff she had worked more closely with, agreeing on almost every issue. When engaging in battle with other staff over national security issues, it helped having the military on her side. A few months ago, when Brackman approached the end of his two-year tour, she had talked him into extending, not wanting to risk dealing with a replacement with opposing viewpoints.

“Good morning, Christine. The president’s schedule has changed and he’d like to meet with us now.”

Christine glanced at the document on her computer. She’d have to finish and send it to the president later. After grabbing the notepad from her desk, she joined Brackman and headed down the seventy-foot-long hallway and entered the Oval Office. The president was seated at his desk, and Kevin Hardison, the president’s chief of staff, occupied one of three chairs facing him. Christine settled into the middle seat while Brackman sat beside her.

The president closed the folder on his desk and looked up at Christine. “How was your trip?”

“We made a lot of progress,” Christine replied, “but there are many items left to resolve.” She spent the next few minutes briefing the president, concluding with the one item upon which the United States and Russia completely disagreed.

“For some reason, they refuse to allow inspections of their new Bulava missiles or the Borei class submarines that carry them. They want to count launchers and not warheads.”

Hardison interjected. “They want to go back to the way warheads were counted in the original START I treaty?”

“Correct. At least for their Bulava missile.”

The president frowned. “Do you think it’s because it can carry more warheads than we expect?”

“Exactly.”

The president turned to Brackman. “What do you think?”

Brackman replied, “It could be that, or because it can decoy or even destroy incoming anti-ballistic missiles.”

The president said to Christine, “Their Bulava missile
must
be subject to inspection. It’s not negotiable.”

“Under the New START treaty,” Hardison reminded him, “we already have authorization to inspect missiles and board their Borei class submarines once they make their first deployment.”

“That isn’t their interpretation,” Christine replied. “They maintain the treaty does not allow inspections of missiles or submarines that were not operational when the treaty was signed.”

“Peel this onion apart,” the president replied, looking at Christine. “Give me your appraisal of what we’re allowed to inspect under New START and include an intelligence analysis of the Bulava missile.”

“Yes, Mr. President. I’ll meet with ONI tomorrow.” Turning to Brackman, she said, “You should join me.” Having a former ballistic missile submarine commander accompanying her might be useful.

9

ARCTIC OCEAN

YURY DOLGORUKY

Nicholai Stepanov leaned over the navigation table next to his First Officer, examining the topography of the surrounding water.
Yury Dolgoruky
was two hundred kilometers under the polar ice cap, steady on a northern course. Water depth was two hundred meters, leaving only a thin column of water to operate in, made even narrower by the random ice keels. Even though the underside of the polar ice cap was mostly flat, ice keels descended at unpredictable locations. The ice cap was not a solid sheet of ice, but a piecemeal collection of ice floes jammed together by the wind, currents, and waves. Where the edges met, they frequently buckled upward, creating surface ridges, and downward, creating ice keels that could descend sixty meters.

The ice floe edges did not always meet, creating leads, narrow gaps covered by a foot of slush, within which submarines could surface. There were also polynyas, ice-free holes the size of a small lake, often large enough for two or more submarines to surface. They were rare, however, with submarines almost always surfacing in leads or punching through a thin section of ice. As a result, submarines monitored the ice thickness during their transit, annotating locations where the ice was thin enough to break through.

Although the ice above was thick, they could still receive radio messages. Stepanov had deployed
Dolgoruky
’s VLF—Very Low Frequency—antenna, a one-inch-thick cable trailed behind the submarine several hundred meters. But the floating wire antenna could only receive; it could not transmit. As
Dolgoruky
headed deeper under the polar ice cap, Stepanov recalled his operational directives. He could not go much farther north.

The topsounder operator’s report pulled Stepanov from his thoughts. “Ice thickness, ten meters.” He listened intently as the Starshina Second Class announced, “Ice thickness, twenty meters,” followed rapidly by “forty meters,” then “sixty meters.”

The ice stabilized at sixty meters, then receded. This was the deepest ice ridge they had passed; deep enough to suffice.

Stepanov addressed his First Officer. “When we detected the American submarine, you wanted to shift to the electric drive and launch a mobile decoy. I said then was not the right time. Remember?”

Pavlov nodded and Stepanov continued, “Now is the right time.” He turned to the Command Post Watch Officer. “Load a mobile decoy in tube One and man Combat Stations.”

USS
NORTH DAKOTA