“He certainly did,” replied Laurie Lansing somberly. “And believe me when I tell you that no one valued human life more than he did. For you see, he was my father, and it was his untimely death that kept me from making those final checks as he would have done.”
Genuinely moved by her revelation. Matt Colter shook his head.
“I’m sorry. I had no idea such a thing had taken place.”
“You have nothing to apologize for. Captain. I guess I should just have been a bit more forceful in my appeal to the admiral to hold the Defiance in port a little longer. But with my father’s sudden passing and all, I’m afraid that I didn’t put up much of an argument.”
“Understandably so,” reasoned Matt Colter. “If anyone’s to blame, it’s the admiral for failing to heed your warnings. But that’s water over the dam. We survived our confrontation with the ice pack, and now it appears we’ll both be getting a second chance. How many hours will the repair effort take?”
“I should be able to give you a fully operational unit in approximately three more days. Most of the work will concern reprogramming the computer interface, though there was a bit of structural damage caused when the sail struck the ice. That must have been some impact.”
“You don’t know the half of it,” observed Matt Colter. “But fortunately the Defiance was built with just such punishment in mind. Though I wouldn’t want to have to needlessly put my crew through such an experience again. We’re going to be having enough nightmares about those collisions as it is.”
Any response on Laurie Lansing’s part was cut short by the shrill buzz of the sail’s intercom unit. Quick to pick up the black handset. Matt Colter spoke into it.
“Captain here… Sure, Lieutenant, I’ll be right down.”
As he placed the receiver back in its cradle. Colter politely excused himself, then started to return below.
Only when he was nearly halfway down the narrow ladder did he realize why the control room crew had appeared so dapper earlier. They had seen the type of woman who was working in the sail, and were doing their best to give her a good impression of them.
Grinning at this thought, he jumped off the final two rungs, and expertly slid down the ladder’s shiny steel handrails to the deck below.
Colter was surprised to find his XO waiting for him beside the fire-control panel. Al Layman looked serious, and the captain sensed trouble.
“What are you doing back here so soon, Al? I thought you’d be well on your way to Nantucket by now.”
Meeting the captain’s greeting with a somber scowl, the XO answered him directly.
“I wish that was indeed the case, Skipper. But I bumped into the admiral’s aide while I was in the Officer’s Club making those reservations, and he dropped off this packet he was about to bring over to the Defiance. I’ll bet my pension it’s sailing orders.”
As he handed Matt the sealed envelope, the XO added.
“Thank the lord I didn’t call Donna and let her know about the trip I planned. One more heartbreak like that and it would have meant a divorce for certain.”
Not paying this remark much attention. Colter tore open the envelope and removed several typed documents. After skimming the top sheet, he handed it to his second-in-command, commenting, “They’re sailing orders all right. And it looks to me like Command wants us out of here as soon as we can restock our stores and get the men back from shore leave.”
“Does it say where we’re off to?” quizzed Al Layman.
Hastily reading the rest of the packet, the captain answered, “Looks like it’s the Arctic again, my friend. Says here that we’ll be getting additional orders while at sea.”
“But the ice machine,” protested the XO. “They can’t send us up there again with one unit on the fritz and the other still inoperable.”
Matt Colter replied while studying the packet’s last sheet.
“Command realizes that, and is authorizing us to continue the repairs while we’re underway.”
“They want us to take that civilian repair team to sea with us?” asked the XO incredulously.
“They sure do, Al. And you don’t know the half of it. One of the members of that repair crew is one of the most gorgeous women I’ve ever laid eyes on.”
Al Layman rubbed his forehead.
“Oh, swell. A dame on board and more ice to boot. Perhaps you could convince the admiral to leave the woman behind where she belongs.”
“I seriously doubt that, my friend,” replied Colter with a sigh. “Because these, orders aren’t just coming down from COMSUBLANT. They’re originating from no less a place than the White House!”
Approximately 2,100 miles northwest of the sub base at New London, Connecticut, lay the picturesque village of Banff. Situated on the far western border of the Canadian province of Alberta, Banff was cradled in a magnificent Rocky Mountain valley, that was a hiker’s paradise in the summer and a skier’s delight in the colder months of the year.
In addition to a variety of excellent hotels and resorts, Banff was also home to an Army cadet-training facility. Here in the brisk mountain air, young men and women prepared for a career in the military.
Though this compound was usually closed down at summer’s end, it was occasionally opened to accommodate branches of the Canadian armed forces that wished to train troops in the vicinity. This proved to be the case on a cool, crisp fall morning, as a group of twenty-two soldiers lay snug in their bunks catching the tail end of a sound night’s sleep.
Oblivious to their contented snores, a pair of khaki-uniformed figures gathered at the head of the barracks. One of these individuals was tall and thin, with short brown hair and a creased, weatherworn face. The other was several inches shorter, with stocky build, smooth brown skin, and rather long, straight black hair. It proved to be the taller of the two who stepped forward. With the first light of dawn just visible through the window behind him, this man’s voice boomed out deep and strong.
“Good morning, lads, rise and shine! I hope you enjoyed your little slumber party, because it’s time to do your thing for God, Queen, and country. So out of those bunks boys, and look sharp. Because you’re Arctic Rangers, the best damn soldiers in the north woods.”
Looking out as his men began groggily stirring from beneath their woolen blankets. Lieutenant Jack Redmond turned and briefly grinned as he caught the black, steady gaze of his second-in-command.
“Sergeant-Major Ano! Get this bunch of worthless scalawags off to the showers and then dressed and into the mess hall. I want them waiting for me on the parade ground in full battle gear by 0800. And then we’ll soon enough see what Canada’s best are made out of!”
Leaving the task of further motivating the young squad of soldiers to his capable Inuit subordinate, Jack Redmond smartly pivoted and left the barracks.
Once outside, he hurriedly crossed the manicured parade ground. The pine-scented air was nippy, and just hinted at the frigid winter that would all too soon be upon them. Proof of this rapidly approaching season lay clearly visible on the lofty mountain tops that surrounded the valley, for the snow line was steadily working its way down the tree-covered slopes.
While wondering if the section of wilderness he had chosen for that day’s maneuvers was snowbound as yet, the forty-three-year-old veteran commando ducked into the adjoining mess hall.
Once inside this cavernous structure, Redmond headed straight for the cafeteria-style serving line. A single, potbellied cook stood behind the steam table.