Cold Choices

Time (1800 Moscow Daylight Savings Time) today. Centered on Latitude 73° 10’ North and Longitude 047° 50’ East, it is a circular area fifty nautical miles in diameter. All aircraft and vessels are required to remain clear of this area so that units of the Russian

Navy can conduct submarine rescue operations. The ministry said that the zone will remain in effect until further notice.

“Ministry spokesman Captain Second Rank Aleksandr Perchov was asked about the presence of foreign naval units in the exclusion area. Will they be asked to join the rescue? He stated that foreign naval units would be asked to leave, since they would be unfamiliar with Russian rescue procedures.

“All vessels and aircraft are required to obtain permission from the Naval Ministry before moving through the exclusion area, and the ministry has already stated that permission will only be granted in cases of demonstrated need.”

USS Winston S. Churchill

Parker had been after Patterson for an interview, and this seemed like the perfect opportunity. Public media could be an unreliable channel, but this time she knew the Russians would get her message.

They’d decided to use the wardroom as the venue. Her stateroom looked more like a college dorm room, and with Baker pushing Churchill at twenty knots, the wind made the weather decks impossible.

Adams had his own small video rig. The small light next to the camera cast an unusual glow over her, but she focused her attention on the reporter, almost shadowed in comparison. She fought the impression that he was an inquisitor. She wanted her story to be told.

“Dr. Patterson, what effect will the Russians’ exclusion zone have on U.S. operations?

“USS Churchill will of course remain outside the zone. We still intend to launch our helicopter tomorrow morning, which will be picking up injured men from USS Seawolf. We have notified the Russian Naval Ministry, through official channels, of our intentions.” She smiled, carefully, just a little, trying to think friendly thoughts. “We are sure they won’t object to a mission of mercy.”

“What about Seawolf herself? She’s right in the center of the exclusion zone. The Russians said she must leave.”

“We disagree. Seawolf has to remain there. According to international convention, the first vessel arriving at a maritime incident is the on-scene commander. International law, as well as common sense, requires that Seawolf remain with Severodvinsk until Captain Rudel can transfer command of the rescue to another, more capable vessel.”

That was a long speech. Patterson was sure none of it would be in the sound byte on the evening news. But she also knew a full transcript would be on the web within hours. She waited for Adams’s next, obvious question.

“What will Seawolf do once Commander Rudel does turn over command? Will she go home? Will there be an investigation?”

Patterson ignored the last question, and focused on her message. “Seawolf was carrying three, now two, advanced unmanned underwater vehicles. They have obviously been very useful. Besides transferring carbon-dioxide-absorbing chemicals to help keep the Russian sailors alive, they have made a detailed survey of Severodvinsk’s damage and position on the seabed. This information would be invaluable to any rescue effort. Seawolf needs to give this information to the Russians.”

“Why haven’t they sent it already?” asked Adams.

Patterson smiled. “Remember? All their radios were damaged and don’t work. The data will have to be hand-delivered to the Russian commander.”

Adams concluded. “So someone from Seawolf has to meet with the Russians personally.”

“Exactly.”

Adams shut off his camera and grinned. He didn’t say anything to Patterson, but she knew he had his sound bite.

Petr Velikiy

The admirals’ plot was a space designed to manage a three-dimensional naval battle. Most of the displays were dark now. They weren’t at general quarters, and aside from a few helicopters aloft, everything was quiet. In spite of an airtight ASW search, they hadn’t found any western submarines, in their path or trailing them.

Admirals Vidchenko and Kurganov ostensibly took turns watching the task group’s progress, but often both were present, planning, refining, and discussing scenarios with each other.

The messenger had found them both there, with another question from Moscow. He had two copies.

Vidchenko spoke first. “Tell Moscow there’s nothing we can do about the helicopter.”

Kurganov nodded his agreement, but after the messenger left, he told Vidchenko, “You know, that’s not exactly correct.”

The submarine admiral looked surprised. “None of our weapons or sensors will be in range of Churchill or Seawolf by the scheduled flight time tomorrow.”

“We will have a Ka-31 radar helicopter up tomorrow morning. Its radar will cover the entire exclusion zone and more.”

“True, so we can track their flight. That’s useful information, admiral, but a radar helicopter can’t stop them.”

Kurganov knew Vidchenko well enough by now to risk a small criticism. “You’re still thinking like a submariner. We could request a pair of Mi-28s from the Army. They could fly out to Petr tonight and refuel. In the morning they would be vectored by the Kamov to an intercept. They could force the American to turn around.”

Vidchenko nodded his understanding. The Mi-28 Havoc was a heavily armed attack helicopter. They wouldn’t even need to carry antitank missiles. Their 30mm cannon would convince a Seahawk pilot to turn around.

Kurganov continued. “We could also request interceptors from the Air Force. They could be guided by the Ka-31 as well, although they wouldn’t have as much time on station as the Army helicopters, and their options would be limited, but. ”

He didn’t have to continue. A helicopter, any helicopter, would stand no chance at all against two jet fighters. If it came to that.

“Good. Request the fighters, and make sure they are armed, but make it clear they will only make an overflight. They will not be interfering with the flight in any way. It will be good training for both the Kamov and the fighters. And it will let the Americans know what we could have done if we had wanted to.”

“Why?” Kurganov asked.

Vidchenko patted the map, right over Severodvinsk’s plotted position. “Because I believe them when they say they transferred air regeneration chemicals to Petrov’s boat. It’s too outrageous a lie to make up. It would have been so much easier for the Americans to just leave. So, since they helped our people, I will let them fix their radios and evacuate their wounded.”

Kurganov looked surprised. Every plan they’d drawn up hinged on finding the American boat and driving her off. This was not a trivial task. Most tactics were designed to kill a sub once it had been detected and localized. Playing underwater keep-away was much harder.

Vidchenko reassured him. “I don’t hate the Americans, but they have no business in the Barents. I know the strategic reasons why they send their boats into these waters, but they are intrusions nonetheless. If Seawolf had kept out, eighteen Russians and one American would still be alive.

“We will make sure the Americans don’t create any more mischief.”

Olga Sadilenko’s Apartment, Severomorsk, Russia

They’d settled on Olga’s apartment. It was closer to the train station, and only two floors up.

Most of the activity was in the living room. Some of her furniture had been pushed aside, or moved into the bedroom. That was Olga’s headquarters, a constant stream of women entering with questions and leaving with wisdom.

The bedroom was small, but like many Russians, she’d filled it with vivid color. She loved tropical fish, and