Cold Choices

“Then I will speak with you again in half an hour, Captain, and God bless you.”

“I hope so. We’ll need all the help we can get.”

Petr Velikiy

When he heard the topic, Admiral Borisov had followed Patterson’s advice and cleared the flag plot of everyone but Kurganov and their two deputies. He didn’t know what would be worse: Hearing some bizarre scheme that was doomed to fail, or having to hope again.

Lindstrom was on the screen five minutes early, fidgeting in front of the TV camera, then Patterson and Baker sitting together, and finally Rudel, looking hurried, almost breathless. His watchstanders had reported Seawolf surfacing ten minutes earlier.

“Admiral, Doctor, Captain, Mr. Lindstrom, thank you for agreeing to listen to me. My officers and I have a plan that has a good chance of working. But we will need help to make it work, and I’m open to any suggestions that will improve it.”

Borisov spoke first. “Petrov and his men will not be able to move into the chamber for much longer. Even if they move in now, they will not be able to release it if they are unconscious.”

Rudel asked, “What is your best estimate of their CO₂, level?”

“They could start losing consciousness in as little as eight hours. Some perhaps as long as fifteen.”

“Then we need every welder and engineer in the rescue force. It would be best if we tied up alongside Halsfjord. Is that acceptable, Mr. Lindstrom?”

Lindstrom looked off-camera and spoke in Norwegian briefly. “Yes, port side. Bow-to-bow?”

Rudel shook his head. “No sir, bow-to-stern. We need your aft fifty-ton crane to lift out the damaged forward array structure once it is detached. Perhaps Pamir and Altay can moor outboard of us. Detaching the forward arrays and cleaning up the surface will take the most time, and anything we can do to speed that up will help.”

Kurganov added, “Rudnitskiy will join you as well. She has divers for the underwater work.”

“What about cushioning the impact?” Lindstrom asked. “We could construct a framework of timbers that would fit over your bow. My men could fabricate it on deck while others are cutting away the arrays and their mountings.”

“How long?” Rudel asked.

“No longer than it takes to remove the sonar structure,” Lindstrom answered. He looked to the side and spoke in Norwegian. “And we’ve just started.”

The two Russians spoke briefly, then Borisov said, “We assume you will also be reinforcing your pressure hull.”

Rudel shrugged. “We will do what we can, but space is limited.”

Borisov spoke again, smiling. “I noticed during my visit to Seawolf that the shoring in your electronics space was wooden, with brackets spot-welded in place.”

“That’s correct.”

“Russian damage-control shoring is steel, in prefabricated sections, with threaded brackets on the end to ensure a snug fit. Would they be of use to you?

Rudel smiled. “I’d gratefully accept them, gentlemen.”

“Can this be done in time?” Kurganov asked. “On our boats the main hydroacoustic array and its mounting weigh over ten tons.”

Rudel answered, “Things come apart a lot faster than they go together.” He smiled. “And we don’t have to worry about being neat.”

Severodvinsk

Petrov hadn’t expected a call from Borisov so soon. It had been only an hour or so since the last conversation. The final good-byes would come later, so he assumed the admiral wanted to ask about the carbon dioxide levels. Useless, really, but there was nothing else to do.

“Captain Petrov, prepare to get your men back into the escape chamber.”

“What? I just finished getting my men out of it. They will be much more comfortable in the hull.”

“Rudel has a plan to right your boat.” Borisov started describing it, but Petrov grasped it almost immediately, and cut off the admiral. “Is he insane? Have you all lost your minds? We don’t need another boat next to us.”

“He is convinced this will work, and he has convinced all of us as well: Lindstrom, Patterson, everyone. Work has already started.”

“Can I speak to him?” Petrov asked.

“Seawolf is already surrounded by other vessels. With all the noise, I doubt if her underwater telephone would even function. You should see it, Aleksey. It would amaze you. Foreign vessels, including a Russian salvage and rescue ship, surround an American nuclear submarine preparing it for this effort. Workers from three countries cover the bow like ants. And there are over half a dozen divers underwater right now with their cutting torches blazing, a dozen more standing by.”

Borisov’s description fired his imagination. Petrov’s first surprise had worn off, and his mind had begun to consider the plan more dispassionately. Would it work? The problem with believing in that plan was that Petrov and his men had already begun to accept their fate. He didn’t know if they could hope again, or withstand the fear that came with it.

The admiral described Rudel’s plan in more detail, and explained, “You must move up into the chamber as soon as you can, while your men still have the strength to do so.”

Petrov answered, “Some of them have taken sedatives. I’ll have to see what Balanov can do to rouse them. And the extra activity will drive the carbon dioxide levels even higher.”

“We’ve factored that into our calculations. And we’ll need hourly updates, to check those figures.”

“You’ll have them, Admiral. And tell Rudel to make a careful job of it. No rushed work. That’s when accidents happen.”

The White House

President Huber didn’t mind the budget meeting being interrupted, but he had a vital meeting with an industry group in fifteen minutes that he couldn’t ignore. Wright had insisted the call was extremely urgent.

“Sir, I’ve just spoken with Dr. Patterson. There’s to be another attempt to save the Russian sub.”

“What?” Huber’s voice showed more confusion than was expected from a chief executive. “You told me not half an hour ago that there was nothing more to be done. My people are working on a statement of condolence now.”

“They still need two statements. They are making hurried preparations now, and should be ready in about six or seven hours. Petrov and his men could begin to lose consciousness in as little as eight.”

“That’s cutting it a little close,” Huber observed.

“It’s a last-minute thing, Mr. President.” He described how Rudel would use Seawolf to push Severodvinsk upright. “And the Russians are completely on board. There is some risk, sir, but Dr. Patterson says she’s been reassured by Rudel and other qualified engineers that everything will be done to reduce it. And no, she doesn’t have a number.”

“I asked her to keep me informed,” Huber grumbled.

“And she’s doing so, sir.”

“And like before, the only control I have is to order her to stop.”

“You could give that order, sir. You took control of the situation by sending good people.”

“And they’ll try in six hours?”

“That’s the estimate as of now, sir. If this works, it will be successful immediately.”

“Keep me informed.”

Halsfjord

Rudel and Shimko stood on the aft deckhouse, looking down at the fantail. The Norwegian rescue ship had enough room aft to land a large helicopter. Now the floodlit surface was cluttered with men and a gridwork of timbers. The heavy lengths of wood were carried aboard the rescue ship for just such a circumstance. A strong framework could be quickly assembled to reinforce a damaged ship, or construct a cofferdam.

Rudel could see that the box-frame-like structure was well along. Lindstrom explained how it would be attached to the hull. “The welders will attach plates at the front edge of the hull. Stubs on the edge of the