Ice Hunt

The beast roared as light burst around it, blinding all its senses. It pawed at its stung face.

As Bane leaped to their side, Je

Kowalski kept a watch behind them until they rounded the corner. “It looks like it’s heading back out.” He faced Je

The way quickly became steeper. They were soon sliding headlong down the chute. Je

After a minute, Tom called out to them, his voice echoing, “I’ve reached the end! It’s not much farther.”

He was right.

The light brightened, and Je

Tom stood by one wall. His finger traced a green diamond painted on the wall. “I think I know where we are…but…” He swung his flashlight back to the floor. Someone had spilled red paint.

Bane, his hackles still raised, sniffed at the marking.

Je

It was still fresh.

Kowalski shook his head. “We should’ve never left that damn drift station.”

No one argued with him.

Master Sergeant Ted Kanter lay in the snowdrift, half buried, dressed in a polar-white storm suit, covered from head to foot. He stared through infrared binoculars toward the U.S. research base. He had watched the Russian submarine surface fifteen minutes ago, steaming into the blizzard gale.

He lay only a hundred yards from the station. His only communication to the outside world was the General Dynamic acoustic earpiece clipped in place. He wore a subvocal microphone taped to his larynx. He had made his report and continued his watch.

He had been ordered to remain at alert but to make no move.

Such had been his orders since arriving.

A quarter mile away, two white tents bivouacked the remainder of the Delta Force advance team, minus his partner, who lay hidden in a snow mound a couple yards away. The six-man team had been stationed here for the past sixteen hours, flown in and dropped in the dead of night.

His team leader, Command Sergeant Major Wilson, designated Delta One for this mission, was with the rest of the assault team at Rally Point Alpha, four miles away. Their two helicopters were covered with Arctic camouflage, hidden away until the go-order was given.

In position this morning, Kanter’s team had watched from close quarters as the Russian submarine had arrived with the dawn. He monitored as the soldiers swamped the drift station and commandeered it. He had watched men killed, one shot only forty yards from his position. But he could not react. He had his orders: watch, observe, record.

Not act, not yet.

The mission’s operational controller had left standing orders to advance only once the go-code was transmitted. Matters had to be arranged, both political and strategic. In addition, the mission objective, nicknamed the “football,” had to be discovered and secured. Only then could they move. Until that moment came, Kanter followed his orders.

Fifteen minutes ago, he had watched the Russians leave the boat. He had counted the shore party, then added that number to the complement of hostiles previously stationed here, keeping track of the Russian forces.

Now men were returning. He squinted through his scopes and began counting down as the men returned to the sub and vanished through hatches. His lips tightened.

The pattern was clear.

He pressed a finger to his transmitter. “Delta One, respond.”

The answer was immediate, whispering in his ear. “Report, Delta Four.”

“Sir, I believe the Russians are clearing out of the base.” Kanter continued to subtract forces as additional men climbed over the nearby pressure ridge and headed to the docked sub.

“Understood. We have new orders, Delta Four.”

Kanter tensed.

“The go-code has been activated by the controller. Ready your men to move out on my order.”

“Roger that, Delta One.”

Kanter rolled back from his hiding spot.

Now the true battle began.

Perry paced the control bridge of his submarine as it raced under the ice. No one spoke. The crew knew the urgency of their mission, the risk. The plan was almost impossible to fathom. He knew that even if he succeeded, it could cost him his captain’s bars. He didn’t care. He knew right from wrong, blind duty from personal responsibility. Still another question nagged: Did he know bravery from simple stupidity?

While en route to Omega, he had come close a hundred times to calling the Polar Sentinel back around, ordering it to return to the safety of the distant Alaskan coast. But he never did. He simply watched the distance to their destination grow smaller and smaller. Had captains of the past been plagued by such doubts? He had never felt so unfit to lead.

But there was no one else.

“Captain,” his chief whispered to him. The Polar Sentinel was baffled and soundproofed, but no one dared speak too loudly lest the dragon in the waters should hear them. “Position confirmed. The Drakon is already surfaced at Omega.”

Perry crossed to the man. He checked their distance to Omega. Still another five nautical miles. “How long have they been there?”

The chief shook his head. Up until now, details had been sketchy. Without going active with their sonar, staying in passive mode, the exact whereabouts and location of the Drakon had been fuzzy. At least they had found the other sub. Still, that narrowed their own window considerably. The Russians must already be evacuating the station. According to the intercepted UQC communication, the captain of the Drakon would blow the base once he began his descent. The Russian captain wouldn’t risk damaging his own boat during the conflagration.

But what was the time frame?

His diving officer, Lieutenant Liang, stepped to his side. His features were tight with worry. “Sir, I’ve run the proposed scenario over with the helm crew. We’ve wrangled various options.”

“And what’s the time estimate for the maneuver?”

“I can position us in under three minutes, but we’ll need another two to rise safely.”

“Five minutes…” And we still have to get there.

Perry glanced to their speed. Forty-two knots. It was blistering for a sub ru

He calculated in his head the time to reach Omega, to get in position, to orchestrate the rescue…and escape. They didn’t have the time. He stared at his chief. If only the Drakon hadn’t already been in position, weren’t already evacuating Russian forces…

Liang stood quietly. He knew the same. They all did. Once again, he prepared to call their boat around. They had made a run for it, but it was hopeless. The Russians had beaten them.

But he pictured Amanda’s smile, the crinkles at the corners of her eyes when she laughed, the way her lips parted under his own, softly, sweetly…

“Chief,” Perry said, “we need to delay the Drakon’s departure.”

“Yes, sir.”

“I want you to ping the other boat with active sonar.”

“Sir?”

Perry turned to his men. “We need to let the Drakon know someone shares their waters. That someone is watching.” He paced, ru