Ice Station Nautilus by Rick Campbell Page A

assets. The last U.S. submarine that sunk was USS Scorpion in 1968. Every SUBMISS since then has been a false alarm. Until we’re confident North Dakota has sunk, I recommend we not mention anything unless we’re queried.”
    “I agree,” the president said. “Draft something for my review,” he instructed Sikes, “in case the story breaks.”
    “There’s one other thing to consider,” Brackman said. “If North Dakota was trailing Dolgoruky, there’s the possibility they collided. If that’s the case, the Russian submarine may have also sunk. You might want to call President Kalinin to inform him we’re initiating rescue efforts and they should verify their submarine is okay.”
    “The Russians already know,” Admiral McFarland said. “They’re a member of ISMERLO, the International Submarine Escape and Rescue Liaison Office, which is a consortium of every country that operates submarines. They know we’re mobilizing to rescue one of our submarines beneath the polar ice cap.”
    The president replied, “I’ll call President Kalinin first thing in the morning, Moscow time.”
    Admiral Riley concluded his brief with sober words. “This is a nightmare scenario—a submarine sunk under the polar ice cap, with no ability to escape to the surface or let anyone know where they are. We’ve narrowed the search area to a hundred and twenty thousand square miles. However, that’s almost as big as California. The probability we’ll find North Dakota in time is slim to none.”

 
    20
    USS MICHIGAN
    It was just before midnight aboard the guided missile submarine USS Michigan, outbound from the Trident submarine base in Bangor, Washington. Seated in the Captain’s chair on the Conn, Captain Murray Wilson surveyed the watchstanders in the Control Room as they completed preparations for a trip to periscope depth. The submarine’s Officer of the Deck, Lieutenant Barbara Lake, stood on the Conn between the two lowered periscopes, waiting for the towed array to steady after the submarine’s baffle clearance maneuver.
    Michigan was halfway across the Pacific Ocean, headed to its operating area along China’s coast. After China’s recent transgression, attacking Taiwan and Japan, the United States was keeping as much firepower as possible within striking distance. Loaded aboard Michigan, in eighteen of her twenty-four missile tubes, were 126 Tomahawk missiles, seven per tube. Also aboard Michigan tonight were two platoons of Navy SEALs as well as two SEAL Delivery Vehicles inside dual Dry Deck Shelters attached to the submarine’s Missile Deck.
    Lieutenant Lake had ordered Michigan shallow, to 180 feet, preparing to head to periscope depth to catch the broadcast, turning to check for contacts in the baffles.
    “Sonar, Conn. Report all contacts.”
    A few minutes later, Sonar reported, “Conn, Sonar. Hold no contacts.”
    Wilson was not surprised; they had not held a contact for over a day as Michigan traversed the Northern Pacific, not far from Alaska’s Aleutian Island chain.
    After obtaining permission to proceed to periscope depth, Lake announced, “Raising Number Two scope,” then reached up and twisted the periscope ring above her head clockwise. After the periscope finished its silent ascent, Lake snapped the handles down and adjusted the optics, selecting low power with her right hand and maximum elevation with her left. She twisted the periscope left and right, verifying it rotated freely.
    “All stations, Conn,” Lake called out. “Proceeding to periscope depth.”
    Sonar, Radio, and the Quartermaster acknowledged as Lake placed her right eye against the eyepiece. “Helm, ahead one-third. Dive, make your depth eight-zero feet.”
    The Diving Officer repeated Lake’s order, then directed the two watchstanders in front of him, “Ten up. Full rise fairwater planes.”
    Michigan tilted upward and rose toward the surface.
    “Passing one-five-zero feet,” the Dive announced.
    As Michigan ascended,