Ice Hunt

Punctuating her words, gunfire erupted outside. The guard was down on one knee, firing. “Go!” he hollered at them.

The driver hesitated half a breath, then jammed the accelerator himself. “Hang on!”

“C’mon, Fernandez!” the seaman in the backseat yelled to his buddy.

Out on the ice, the guard rose to his feet and backed up. His rifle barrel steamed. More laser sights zeroed in on the fleeing Sno-Cat. He turned and ran for the cab. But when he was within a couple steps, he tripped. His right leg flew out from under him. He hit the ice and slid, leaving a red trail behind him.

“Fernandez!” The seaman leaped from the cab. He raced over to his partner, grabbed his collar, and hauled him after the Sno-Cat.

The driver slowed enough for the pair to catch up.

Jenny rolled into the backseat and helped grab the injured man.

Once both men were hauled inside, Fernandez yelled at the driver. “Kick this piece of crap in the ass!” He seemed more angry at being shot than scared. He pounded a fist on the seat.

The other man kept pressure with both gloved hands on his buddy’s thigh. Blood welled between his fingers.

The Sno-Cat churned across the ice. Jenny stared ahead. The lead vehicle had disappeared into the ice fog. If only they could do the same…

Rockabilly continued to blare from the speakers. Snow crunched. Then a sharp whistling cut through everything.

“Shit,” the driver swore.

The blast erupted just ahead of them, spattering the Sno-Cat with chunks of ice. The windshield cracked with spiderwebs. They were momentarily blinded.

Instinctively, the driver ripped the wheel around. The top-heavy Sno-Cat tilted up on one tread, skidding. Through the smoke, Jenny saw what the driver had been attempting to avoid.

A hole lay blasted through the ice. Ten feet down, water and ice sloshed. Steam roiled up from the edges of the blasted pit.

The Sno-Cat continued its icy slide toward the deadly pit, still up on one tread, fishtailing. Jenny was sure they’d never avoid the fall. Still the driver fought the wheel.

No one breathed.

But miraculously, impossibly, the stubborn vehicle stopped just at the edge of the hole’s shattered lip.

The driver swore — half in relief, half in restrained panic.

The tilted Sno-Cat slammed back down onto both treads, rattling Jenny’s teeth. A booming crack resounded with the impact.

Jenny’s heart clenched. “Out!” she choked, reaching for a door handle — but it was already too late.

Like a glacier calving from a coastline, the section of ice under them fell away. The Sno-Cat followed, rockabilly blaring, and toppled end over end into the icy ocean.

10:38 A.M.

USS POLAR SENTINEL

Perry stood in the control bridge. The entire crew held their breaths. All eyes were on the monitors and equipment. Perry leaned beside one screen. The image was a digital feed from one of the exterior cameras. Half a mile away, the shadow of the Drakon floated, limned within a pillar of light shining through the open polynya. The enemy sub showed no indication that it sensed its smaller shadow.

“Captain.” Commander Bratt spoke from the fire control station, whispering. He wore a pair of headphones. “We’re picking up weapon fire on the hydrophones.”

“Damn it!” Perry grumbled under his breath. A fist formed.

Bratt made eye contact with Perry. “Orders?”

From first sonar contact, the Polar Sentinel had followed the Akula-class submarine as it bore down upon Omega, running silent and fast. Without armaments, they had no way of defending themselves or mounting an offense against the larger, armed vessel. And without surfacing, they had no way to warn the drift station. So they had played ghost with the other boat.

“I’m detecting a missile launch!” the sonar supervisor hissed.

On the screen, a section of the ice roof suddenly blew downward with a bright flash, as if a meteor had punched through from above. They didn’t need the hydrophones to hear the blast echo through the waters.

A moment of stunned silence followed.

“I think that was the satellite shack,” Bratt whispered, one finger resting on a vectored map of the Omega station.

They’re isolating the station, Perry realized. The station’s satellite transmitters and receivers were its only link to the outside world — except for the Polar Sentinel.

“What do we do?” Bratt asked.

“We need to get our mouths above water,” Perry answered, raising his voice. “Commander, order the boat back to the Russian ice station. We’ll broadcast the situation from there while we evacuate the civilians. That will surely be the Russians’ next target.”

“Aye, sir.”

Bratt began issuing hushed orders to the diving crew. The helmsman and planesman trimmed the boat and brought it about. They glided the sub silently away.

Explosions still echoed, ringing down through the ice. The noise helped cover their retreat. Though, in truth, they could’ve escaped even if it had been dead quiet. Designed with the newest silent propulsion system and a thicker sonar-absorbing anechoic coating, the Sentinel was all but invisible to most means of detection. She slid away without any outward sign that the Drakon even knew she was there.

As they left, Perry watched the video screen. The column of light faded behind them until there was just darkness.

Bratt called over to him from the boat’s diving station. “ETA to the Russian base is thirty-two minutes.”

Perry nodded and stared around the bridge. Every face was grim, angry. They were running away from a fight, but it was a battle they couldn’t win. The Polar Sentinel was the only means to evacuate the station.

Still, as he stood in the center of the sub’s control bridge, an overriding fear turned his insides to ice. Amanda…She had left yesterday for the ice station, to settle some dispute between the geologists and biologists, but she had been scheduled to return to Omega this morning. Had she already returned? Or was she still at the ice station?

Bratt stepped over to him. “The Russians aren’t going to need much time to lock Omega down, especially considering the lack of defenses there. After that, they’ll be hauling ass over to their station.”

His XO was right. It wouldn’t leave them much of a window in which to evacuate the civilians. He cleared his throat. “Commander, assemble a quick-response team. Under your lead. Have them suited up and ready to offload as soon as we surface. We need everyone out of there ASAP.”

“Will do, Captain. Do you have a timetable for the evac?”

Perry considered the question, judging the speed of the other sub and the meager defenses of Omega. He needed as much time as possible, but he couldn’t risk having his boat caught on the surface.

“Fifteen minutes,” he said. “I want us diving again in exactly fifteen minutes.”

“That’s not much time.”

“I don’t care if you have to yank folks naked from the showers. Get their asses into the Sentinel. Don’t worry about equipment, supplies, nothing. Just get everyone on board.”

“It’ll be done.” Bratt turned sharply, already shouting orders.

Perry stared after him. Around the bridge, everyone busied themselves at their stations. Alone with his own thoughts, his worries for Amanda grew. Where was she?

10:44 A.M.

ICE STATION GRENDEL

Deep in the Crawl Space of the station, Amanda followed Connor MacFerran’s broad back. After arranging for