Initially, at ranges half a day apart from each other, the six submarines appeared shy participants in a slow-motion dance. Their speeds remained essentially the same, yet their pace appeared to increase as they drew closer. The Soviet boats split, one on a northerly heading to cross Imperator’s projected path, the other continuing on intercept approach. By a simple signal, Reed directed Olympia to impede the progress of the first one while Houston and Helena continued on a course to interpose themselves between Imperator and the second sub. She was one of the titanium hulled Alfas capable of diving deeper than any American boat. The choreography of this underwater dance now took form.
But nothing was instantaneous at those distances; the strategy evolved over three watches. Soon night cloaked the ocean surface when Reed ordered Houston to alter course, wedging her now between Imperator and the Soviet. Reed noted that the Soviet submarine approaching Olympia was rising to the surface at about the same time, and would be communicating with her base at Petropavlovsk — which was unexpected — indicating to Reed that she was seeking new instructions. Since the Russian submarines would be under specific orders regarding Imperator, the only purpose for communicating would be a change in those orders. He had no idea Imperator had already eliminated one problem in her path.
Carol Petersen was dozing on the wardroom sofa when someone dropped roughly onto the opposite end. She stirred but didn’t open her eyes. It should have been obvious to anyone that she was sleeping. But whoever was on the other end obviously intended to talk with her. She waited, not moving.
Snow wondered whether she was playing games with him, or really was still asleep. He began tentatively, “Carol… Carol…” Then, more firmly, “Carol… I need the assistance of a computer genius… along with a little goodwill.”
She smiled before opening her eyes. “Then it’s just for business you’re waking me out of a sound sleep, Captain?”
“Well, yes…” Men on submarines wouldn’t think of responding to their captain in that manner. He was very glad, perhaps relieved, that only the two of them were in the wardroom.
“Now what if I’d been in bed in my stateroom?” She was grinning to herself, but now there was no expression on her face. “Would you have called me… or would you have come in like you just did and bounced on the end of my bunk?” Her eyes remained tightly shut, but there were traces of amusement at the comers of her mouth.
“I suppose…” There was a moment’s hesitation, then he continued, “I guess I would have called down to you.”
Sensing the awkwardness in his last words, she was immediately sorry. She opened her eyes and smiled. “I’m just kidding.” She ran a hand through her hair. “I hope I wasn’t mean.”
“No. Not at all.” His words remained tentative.
She could tell by the expression on his face that he didn’t expect to be treated this way aboard his own command. “I really am sorry. I guess I’m just punchy when I’m catching forty winks. Let’s face it. You’ve never been at sea with a woman before. If it didn’t make you uneasy sometimes, you’d be a very strange person.”
Now it was Snow’s turn to be wary. There was something enticing about Carol Petersen, something he’d toyed with since the day he’d first met her. One part of him, the part he desperately wanted to exercise right this moment, was pure submariner; there were some technical questions to discuss with a member of his crew. The second part was the hungry male who found this dark-haired woman more appealing than any he’d encountered in many years — was she that appealing? Or just the only available female? But in the back corridors of his mind lurked the Hal Snow he understood best, the one who had been divorced twice and was too street-smart.
“We’ve got company,” he said. Her eyebrows rose in question. “Two Soviet boats, one an Alfa who’s probably trying to get well under us, another Victor to the north trying to cut us off at the pass. Andy Reed’s running some interference for us… and it is his game,” he emphasized. “But I’d like to play some games of our own with that computer of yours. No telling when we might be on our own. Now’s the time to see what your baby can do for us.”
“Do I have time to grab something first… like a cup of coffee?”
“Sure.” Then he added, “Having any second thoughts about Caesar?” He had to reassure himself of what that computer, or better yet Carol Petersen, could accomplish before they dived under the icepack. His reasoning never changed: the computer had to be double-checked — just in case. In his mind, no computer possessed the innate instincts of a true submariner.
“The only second thought I have is that I don’t have someone else trained to handle that monster when I’m grabbing a nap.”
“This is only the second day. Imagine when—” he began with a note of authority.
“Don’t bother,” she reacted. “I can imagine what it’s going to be like after we’ve been at sea for a week. Come on, let’s get it done.”
Caesar was located on the lowest deck directly under the control room, and just forward of the reactor compartment in one of those sterile, doctor’s office-looking rooms. Four remote units were located on the right as they entered. The opposite wall contained windows that looked in on the gray, upright boxes containing Caesar, The other wall was literally a giant cathode ray tube.
“Are we going to run anything serious from here, or just play?” Carol inquired as they stepped inside.
“Play,” Snow answered casually as his eyes roamed about an area of his command that he knew less than he should about. “Play games, as in war games. But we’re going to create the scenario here.”
Carol switched on one of the remotes and punched in her code, “Are you concerned with the guests who seem to be joining us?”
Snow nodded.
“Okay. We probably want to use the big screen. I assume you want to move them around the ocean a bit?”
“There’s one element that bothered me from the start of this whole operation, maybe because it never seemed to bother the consortium. I’m the target… or Imperator’s the target… for the Russians, whether you consider the boats coming in now or the ones who’re going to be waiting under the ice. Andy Reed’s commanding the operation, calling the shots, but I’m stuck here riding the target and I’m not often going to be able to talk with him or read his mind. I’m going to have to act independently under certain circumstances — Andy and I talked about this before — and I like to anticipate…”
“You want to consider an infinite number of possibilities open to you by considering an infinite number of reactions available to your opposition.” She grinned. “I could keep you here a week and Caesar here would keep spitting out possibilities until you cried for mercy.”
“No, that’s not it so much. I know pretty well what their boats are capable of and know how their captains are trained. I’ll provide the probabilities, and Caesar can take it from there.”
Carol Petersen glanced over her shoulder as she tapped basic data into the computer. “I thought you’d been programmed for every possibility, Captain Snow. Is there something they actually left out?” It was impossible to tell if she was serious or joking.