Neither submarine was required to surface. Instead, buoys carrying antennae for extremely short-range communications were floated to the top. They could be neither seen nor heard unless an errant satellite had appeared directly overhead.
“You gave away a lot of the beans, Hal,” Reed began.
“Didn’t have a choice. At least, not from my point of view. I had a good target. There was more than one of them out there… just trying to even the odds a bit.”
“Don’t bother yourself with excuses. Sooner or later, they had to figure out your range capabilities.”
“I can do a lot better than that,” Snow replied impatiently.
“Keep it to yourself for now. They’ve got more attack boats coming over the pole. You’re going to have plenty to keep you busy. Have you been in touch with that other Alfa?”
“Never did have it,” Snow answered. “You sure that’s what it was?”
“We picked up something on him, maybe because we were still ahead of you.”
“Anything how?”
“Went silent after he fired. What little we had on him disappeared after we decided to get together with you. Sonar thinks he went deep, probably stayed under four or five knots.”
“I can’t figure out why we didn’t hold him,” Snow wondered.
“You picking up a lot of biologies?” He was referring to the sound of sea creatures, like the clicking of shrimp.
“Just a second,” Snow responded. He was back momentarily. “Yeah, quite a bit up ahead…”
“That’s him,” Reed interrupted. “Tell your boys that there’s very little life under the icepack, just ice noise. If they compare what they’re hearing now to their tapes, they’ll find out it’s man-made — some new kind of noise-makers, kind of similar to ours. Danilov’s just screening himself while he beats it off a little farther. I’ll bet you convinced him that he’d better sneak up next time.”
“Like a cat,” Snow concluded. He paused for a moment, then inquired hesitantly, “You still going to let me proceed independently, or do I have to tail you?”
“We’re going to stay close enough so we can talk again if we have to. It’s crazy for Houston to stay out in front now that Danilov has an idea what you can do. We’re going to play with the computer here, try out all our ideas with two subs now instead of three. We’ll stay about twenty-five miles on each other’s beam for the time being. When you pick something up, then I’m going to cut around one side or the other — sort of flanking them,” Reed added.
“I’m going to be your eyes and ears,” Snow concluded matter-of-factly.
“Until there’s something to shoot at, yes.”
Andy Reed’s plans to review his arctic strategy on the computer changed somewhat after his conversation with Snow. Their discussion had troubled him to a degree. Imperator’s captain was the most dependable man the consortium could have appointed. He possessed a natural ability to command literally anything, according to his psychological profile. His talent with submarines and men was legendary in a peacetime navy. Never in his career had he broken the chain of command or questioned his orders, though it was well known that he would later say exactly what he thought about the performance of others, a lack of political sensitivity that might have contributed to his inability to achieve flag rank, critics said.
Imperator had destroyed Soviet forces in the air and on the surface, and now had dispatched a Soviet submarine. In accomplishing the latter, Snow had compromised his own position, the sensitivity of his sonar, and the range and accuracy of his rocket-assisted torpedoes. There had been two Soviet submarines firing on Helena—one now understood exactly how dangerous Imperator could be and had gone silent, waiting, hoping Snow might be drawn into an impetuous act.
The decision to fire had been Snow’s. No one had dictated when he could use his weapons systems. Andy Reed admitted to himself that he’d considered launching if he’d acquired a firm target. But he could not have found that lead in the ice without phenomenal luck. There appeared to be no cut-and-dried answer to that one. When you have been taught all your professional life to destroy targets of opportunity, especially when you might be the next target, how could all the positives and negatives be balanced?
What concerned Reed more was the truculence that had been evident when he questioned Snow’s rationale for firing. Snow had just been too matter-of-fact. There had been no discussion with his senior, no explanation of the factors involved in making the decision. That was so unlike the Hal Snow he’d known over the years that Andy Reed determined to keep a much closer watch on Imperator’s commanding officer. Every submariner was on his own in a situation similar to the one Snow had faced, but Reed knew a great deal of soul-searching should be involved in a mission such as this before revealing one’s position.
Novgorod was about four hundred miles northeast of Prudhoe Bay, heading quietly eastward just below the ice. Her mission was to prevent Imperator from turning toward the Northwest Passage as an alternative route, and to make sure that none of the American submarines attempted a sweep to the north along the arctic islands to get behind the Russian forces.
The water near the surface was less saline and extremely cold, and sound waves tended to bend upward as a result. Therefore, a submarine hovering just under the ice possessed an advantage. It was much easier to detect another at a lower depth and, in a shooting match, torpedoes had much more difficulty detecting a target when the background was obscured by ice. Sea life was limited that far north, making for superb listening conditions. What extraneous noise existed came from the ice itself. It could grind or break with a pop, a splash, or a fizz. Sonarmen classified the sounds with such names as “bergie seltzers” and “growlers.”
Novgorod had been cruising independently since Danilov detached her days before. The submarine had poked her antennae to the surface in polynyas at the designated times for her message traffic, but she had sent nothing but her own position reports. A recent message from Danilov indicated that there was now a distinct possibility that one or more American submarines could be sweeping in her direction. The result had been a series of boring lectures from the political officer concerning American designs on the homeland and the necessity of stopping the American submarines before they got beyond the pole.
Novgorod remained as silent as possible. Nothing was allowed that might create extraneous noise, and no maintenance could be performed without the commanding officer’s permission, which then usually required another officer to supervise the process directly. Meals were of the simplest kind, prepared with the intention of eliminating any sound that might pass through the hull.
“Captain, sir.” One of the sonarmen appeared in the control room and saluted. “We have a contact to the southeast.”
“Classification?”
“I am sorry, sir. We have nothing specific at this time. My officer insisted that you should be informed as soon as anything—”
“Very well,” the captain interrupted. “You have done the correct thing. You may return to your duty.” As the man turned on his heel, the captain added, “Fifteen minutes. Inform your officer that I want classification in fifteen minutes. He will report to me personally.”
The political officer insisted on remaining by the captain’s side. He had no doubt that he knew almost as much about submarine warfare as most of the other officers on board, having been with this commanding officer for more than two years. The captain had no interest in discouraging him, since the political officer really did little to interfere. While he had so far concurred with the captain on all decisions, he was required to report directly to his own superiors after each cruise on the activities of each officer.