Cold Choices

was that Manning and Bover were suffering severe motion sickness. Tech Sergeant Hayes would eat with the crew in the galley, and Parker and the reporter Adams were gratefully absent.

As sailors in crackerjacks served breakfast, starting with Patterson, introductions ran around the table, down one side and up the other, ending with Churchill’s XO, a wiry-looking man with a crew cut named Hampton.

“Everyone on Churchill understands that this is a rescue mission. They’ll help you with anything you ask, Doctor.”

“Your crew’s already been very generous, Captain. I’m still amazed that you found places for us all to sleep last night.”

Baker smiled, but he didn’t look happy. “The XO will refine the sleeping arrangements today. We were fine with four extra riders. Eight was a stretch, but we were ready — we thought. But eleven! Doctor, we simply don’t have that many spare bunks.”

Lieutenant Commander Hampton added, “We’ll be rigging hammocks later this morning.”

Patterson waited for him to smile, and realized he was serious.

Hampton saw her expression. “Really. They’re good for your back. We’ve got some volunteers already.”

“The XO has also added your people to our watch, quarter and station bill.” Baker explained, “It says where each of you should go for different situations or emergencies. For example, when we’re at General Quarters, I assume you and Commander Silas will want to be with me in the combat information center.”

Patterson nodded silently, and Baker continued, “And for Abandon Ship stations, you and Miss Matsui and Miss Parker will be with me and the command team in the whaleboat.”

“God forbid,” Patterson answered.

“And you’re welcome to hear eight o’clock reports with me every morning and evening while you’re aboard. It will keep you apprised of our material condition and planned evolutions. For instance, we will practice abandon-ship drill along with several others this afternoon. And we will be running surface tracking and antimissile problems in CIC from now until we get closer to the Russians.”

“We aren’t going into battle, Captain.” Patterson said it automatically, and then realized he could see it as a criticism. She quickly added, “Can you tell me why you think that’s necessary?”

“I’m uncomfortable, Doctor. I can be honest about it. We’re one ship, not a formation. We’re going further north than most Navy surface ships ever get, and I don’t know anyone on this ship who’s been north of the Norwegian Sea, including me. There’s the weather.” He leaned forward a little. “And a Russian battle group reportedly just left port, heading for the same spot we’re going.”

Patterson remembered something in the message she’d read. “Why is it important that the Russians aren’t emitting any electronic signals?”

Baker was eating, and motioned to Hampton. “Because if they’re transmitting, we can locate them. The type of signal they’re radiating can help us identify the exact type of vessel as well,” the XO explained.

The captain added, “And if I was leaving port in formation in heavy-weather, I’d sure as hell have my navigation radar on. He’s using something we call EMCON — emission control. The Russian commander is deliberately taking a serious risk to deny us information about his movements and composition. He’s on a wartime footing.”

Baker sat back in his chair. “I know what my rules of engagement are, but until I see his, we’ll run drills.”

“When will we see them?” Patterson asked. “Will we reach the collision site before they do?”

“I don’t know, Doctor. We don’t know their precise location. The site of the collision is about three hundred and thirty nautical miles to the northeast from their base. The slowest ship in the formation is Mikhail Rudnitskiy. She can make what, fifteen knots?” Baker looked at Hampton.

The XO shrugged. “Downhill, maybe.”

“All right, we’ll assume a fourteen-knot base speed. Under normal conditions, they’d reach the spot in about twenty-four hours. Since the storm is still clearing along the northern Russian coast, that will slow them down a little. So add another hour, maybe two until they’re out from under it.”

He paused for a moment, then answered Patterson’s unspoken question. “We’re twenty-four to twenty-six hours away at our present speed of twenty knots. I’ll speed up when the weather’s clear, but in these seas, twenty-five knots is the best I can do, and we’ve got five hundred miles to cover.”

Patterson felt like she’d already lost the first move. “What will they do?”

Russo spoke from further down the table. “Declare an exclusion zone. It’s SOP for any rescue operation. Unfortunately, they can use it to keep us out, and Seawolf, too, if they find her.”

Hampton followed Russo’s logic. “Chase away Seawolf and they’re screwing themselves.”

Silas added, “Seawolf has already found Severodvinsk and is attempting to provide them with supplies. I’d say they’ve done their bit. If the Russians want her to leave, that’s their problem.”

Russo shook his head. “It’s never that easy. Having that sub and her UUVs on the scene would be very useful. The data they can provide the rescue force may be the main thing that saves Severodvinsk’s crew.”

Silas wasn’t convinced. “Ma’am, Rudel will surface and report after he’s re-supplied Severodvinsk. I recommend that if he’s successful, you order him out of there. His boat is badly damaged, and the Russians already blame him, and us, for the accident in the first place. Limit our involvement and our risk.”

“I can’t talk to him, not yet. He’ll report to SUBGRU Two,” Patterson replied.

“Then have Admiral Sloan give the order. He’ll follow your lead.”

“Rudel is the on-scene search-and-rescue commander,” Russo argued. “He can’t leave until he hands over control to the Russians.”

“He’ll have to surface to do that,” Silas pointed out. “They’ll be able to see the damage to Seawolf.”

“That’s not a bad thing,” Patterson said.”Seawolf’s damage supports her side of the story.” She turned to Baker. “And this is a rescue operation, during peacetime. Run your drills, Captain, but the Russians aren’t fools. They won’t shoot at anyone. There’s no reason to.”

“I can’t make that assumption.”

“Agreed, but we can take steps to make it less likely. We are going to broadcast our position, in the clear, every half hour, explicitly state our actions, and Rudel’s as well. In fact, we are going to generate a constant stream of messages to the Russians, to the Norwegians, to everyone who will listen.”

“My intention was to use EMCON ourselves, Doctor.” Baker didn’t look happy. “I’d like to keep the Russians in the dark as long as we possibly can.” He paused. “It gives us more freedom of action, and limits theirs — it creates uncertainty in their plans.”

“Which in this particular instance is bad,” Patterson replied. “We don’t want any uncertainties in a rescue mission.”

Russo supported her argument. “If we tell the world exactly what we’re doing, we can actually limit the Russians’ political options. We also reduce the chance that they will blame us for anything by being totally open about our actions.”

At this time, they’d nearly finished breakfast, and others were waiting to eat, including Parker and Britt Adams from Skynews. As Patterson got up, she headed over to Joyce Parker, who at first tried to avoid her until she realized that Patterson intended to speak to her. The doctor even had a pleasant expression. “Miss Parker, after you and Mr. Adams have finished your breakfast, please see me in our cabin. There’s some important work you can do for me.”

USS Seawolf

With the supply loadout finalized, allocated, and triple-checked for total weight and trim, the torpedomen transferred the payload from the deck next to La Verne into Patty. It would be the UUVs last mission. The Russians would pull her inside to unload her, but there was no way for them to launch her again.

Without warning, Captain Rudel came down the ladder. Both Jerry and Palmer stood and faced their CO, but the fast-approaching deadline dictated that those working continue. Rudel handed Palmer a thick envelope,