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Commander Tolbert announced his decision. “Attention in Control. We will not use our under-ice sonar. We’ll let the Russians pick a path through the Marginal Ice Zone, and follow directly behind. Carry on.”

  Tolbert added, “Pilot, come to course three-five-five.”

  The Pilot entered the new course and North Dakota turned slightly left. Tolbert had been trailing the Russian submarine with an offset to starboard, but needed to trail directly behind while in the Marginal Ice Zone.

  After North Dakota eased into position behind the Russian submarine, Tolbert turned back to the north. Moments later, the Quartermaster looked up from the electronic chart and announced, “Entering the Marginal Ice Zone.”

  7

  MARGINAL ICE ZONE

  YURY DOLGORUKY

  Yury Dolgoruky continued her steady trek north at ten knots. Thus far, the topsounder had detected only sporadic chunks of sea ice floating above them, while the bottomsounder reported the smooth, shallow bottom of the Barents Sea, averaging only 230 meters in depth. However, Stepanov was focused on Dolgoruky’s Ice-Detection Sonar display, which displayed objects in front of them as a colored blotch. Different colors represented the intensity of the sonar return, with red indicating a large, deep, or dense formation.

  Unfortunately, ice-detection sonars were not very good at determining the depth of the object, which is what ultimately mattered. The color of the ice was key. As Dolgoruky closed on the object, shallow ice keels would recede upward and exit the top of the ice-detection beam. As it receded, the color would change from bright red to darker, cooler colors until it faded to black.

  The Ice-Detection Sonar used a simple geometry algorithm to determine if the obstacle was a threat. If the ice didn’t change from red to another color within a certain distance—the Minimum Allowable Fade Range—Stepanov would have to turn or go deeper. The display was black; there were no ice formations ahead.

  Several hours after entering the Marginal Ice Zone, Stepanov approached his First Officer.

  “If an American submarine is following us, where are they?” Stepanov asked.

  Pavlov answered, “They are directly behind us.”

  “Why?”

  Pavlov replied, “They are not using their under-ice sonar, afraid we will detect it. They are using us to chart a safe path through the Marginal Ice Zone.”

  “Correct,” Stepanov replied. “That is what I needed to determine.”

  When Stepanov did not amplify, Pavlov asked. “What is your plan?”

  Stepanov replied, “We will use their lack of under-ice sonar against them.”

  “How do we do that?”

  Stepanov smiled. “We continue north, under the polar ice cap.”

  USS NORTH DAKOTA

  As North Dakota continued north, Tolbert stopped by the navigation plot, examining the multicolored curves on the display. They were midway through the Marginal Ice Zone, passing between the archipelagos of Svalbard to the west and Franz Josef Land to the east. If Dolgoruky held her northern course, she would slip beneath the polar ice cap in a few hours.

  “XO.” Tolbert summoned his Executive Officer, who joined him at the navigation plot. “Draft a message to CTF-69, advising them we’re tracking Yury Dolgoruky and might proceed under the polar ice cap.”

  Lieutenant Commander Sites acknowledged and headed into Radio. The message was quickly drafted and Tolbert reviewed it, releasing it for transmission.

  “Officer of the Deck, prepare to proceed to periscope depth. We have one outgoing.”

  8

  WASHINGTON, D.C.

  Seated at her desk in her West Wing office, National Security Advisor Christine O’Connor looked up from her computer display. Through her windows, she could see the Eisenhower Executive Office Building. Called the wedding cake by some due to its layered, palatial facade, the building housed the vice president’s ceremonial office. A heavy snow had started falling this morning, and a thick blanket was already coating the ornate building.

  The white landscape reminded Christine of the scenery around Moscow, which pulled her thoughts back to the document on her computer monitor; her report on nuclear arms reduction negotiations between the United States and Russia. The report detailed the agreements reached to date, the differences to be resolved, and the one issue Russia was unwilling to negotiate. She had her suspicions as to why, which she would lay out during her 9 a.m. meeting with the president.

  Her thoughts were interrupted by a firm knock on her door. “Enter,” she said, and the door opened, revealing a Naval officer in dress blues, with four gold stripes on each sleeve.

  Captain Steve Brackman was the president’s senior military aide. There was no one on the president’s staff she had worked more closely with, agreeing on almost every issue. When engaging in battle with other staff over national security issues, it helped having the military on her side. A few months ago, when Brackman approached the end of his two-year tour, she had talked him into extending, not wanting to risk dealing with a replacement with opposing viewpoints.

  “Good morning, Christine. The president’s schedule has changed and he’d like to meet with us now.”

  Christine glanced at the document on her computer. She’d have to finish and send it to the president later. After grabbing the notepad from her desk, she joined Brackman and headed down the seventy-foot-long hallway and entered the Oval Office. The president was seated at his desk, and Kevin Hardison, the president’s chief of staff, occupied one of three chairs facing him. Christine settled into the middle seat while Brackman sat beside her.

  The president closed the folder on his desk and looked up at Christine. “How was your trip?”

  “We made a lot of progress,” Christine replied, “but there are many items left to resolve.” She spent the next few minutes briefing the president, concluding with the one item upon which the United States and Russia completely disagreed.

  “For some reason, they refuse to allow inspections of their new Bulava missiles or the Borei class submarines that carry them. They want to count launchers and not warheads.”

  Hardison interjected. “They want to go back to the way warheads were counted in the original START I treaty?”

  “Correct. At least for their Bulava missile.”

  The president frowned. “Do you think it’s because it can carry more warheads than we expect?”

  “Exactly.”

  The president turned to Brackman. “What do you think?”

  Brackman replied, “It could be that, or because it can decoy or even destroy incoming anti-ballistic missiles.”

  The president said to Christine, “Their Bulava missile must be subject to inspection. It’s not negotiable.”

  “Under the New START treaty,” Hardison reminded him, “we already have authorization to inspect missiles and board their Borei class submarines once they make their first deployment.”

  “That isn’t their interpretation,” Christine replied. “They maintain the treaty does not allow inspections of missiles or submarines that were not operational when the treaty was signed.”

  “Peel this onion apart,” the president replied, looking at Christine. “Give me your appraisal of what we’re allowed to inspect under New START and include an intelligence analysis of the Bulava missile.”

  “Yes, Mr. President. I’ll meet with ONI tomorrow.” Turning to Brackman, she said, “You should join me.” Having a former ballistic missile submarine commander accompanying her might be useful.

  9

  ARCTIC OCEAN

  YURY DOLGORUKY

  Nicholai Stepanov leaned over the navigation table next to his First Officer, examining the topography of the surrounding water. Yury Dolgoruky was two hundred kilometers under the polar ice cap, steady on a northern course. Water depth was two hundred meters, leaving only a thin column of water to operate in, made even narrower by the random ice keels. Even though the underside of the polar ice cap was mostly flat, ice keels descended at unpredictable locations. T
he ice cap was not a solid sheet of ice, but a piecemeal collection of ice floes jammed together by the wind, currents, and waves. Where the edges met, they frequently buckled upward, creating surface ridges, and downward, creating ice keels that could descend sixty meters.

  The ice floe edges did not always meet, creating leads, narrow gaps covered by a foot of slush, within which submarines could surface. There were also polynyas, ice-free holes the size of a small lake, often large enough for two or more submarines to surface. They were rare, however, with submarines almost always surfacing in leads or punching through a thin section of ice. As a result, submarines monitored the ice thickness during their transit, annotating locations where the ice was thin enough to break through.

  Although the ice above was thick, they could still receive radio messages. Stepanov had deployed Dolgoruky’s VLF—Very Low Frequency—antenna, a one-inch-thick cable trailed behind the submarine several hundred meters. But the floating wire antenna could only receive; it could not transmit. As Dolgoruky headed deeper under the polar ice cap, Stepanov recalled his operational directives. He could not go much farther north.

  The topsounder operator’s report pulled Stepanov from his thoughts. “Ice thickness, ten meters.” He listened intently as the Starshina Second Class announced, “Ice thickness, twenty meters,” followed rapidly by “forty meters,” then “sixty meters.”

  The ice stabilized at sixty meters, then receded. This was the deepest ice ridge they had passed; deep enough to suffice.

  Stepanov addressed his First Officer. “When we detected the American submarine, you wanted to shift to the electric drive and launch a mobile decoy. I said then was not the right time. Remember?”

  Pavlov nodded and Stepanov continued, “Now is the right time.” He turned to the Command Post Watch Officer. “Load a mobile decoy in tube One and man Combat Stations.”

  USS NORTH DAKOTA

  In the fast attack submarine’s Control Room, Lieutenant Commander Sites, who had been stationed as Command Duty Officer for the midwatch, finished briefing Commander Tolbert.

  “Contact is steady on course north, speed ten, range five thousand yards.”

  “You are secured as CDO,” Tolbert said.

  Not much had changed in the last six hours. Dolgoruky was still plodding along at ten knots, headed north. As Tolbert considered the Russian captain’s intentions, traveling so deep under the polar ice cap, he surveyed the activity in the Control Room. The Navigator was on watch as Officer of the Deck this time, along with Lieutenant “JP” Vaugh as Junior Officer of the Deck, in charge of the Section Tracking Party. It was quiet in Control, not much going on. Tolbert settled into the Captain’s chair in front of the navigation plot, preparing for a long, but hopefully uneventful day.

  YURY DOLGORUKY

  “All compartments report ready for combat.”

  Stepanov acknowledged, and Captain Lieutenant Evanoff added, “A mobile decoy has been loaded in tube One.”

  To evade the American submarine following them, Stepanov would launch one of his two mobile decoys. The decoy had a “swim-out” feature—it would propel itself out of the torpedo tube instead of being ejected. This was critical for two reasons: the swim-out capability eliminated the loud torpedo tube launch transient, which would alert the American submarine that Dolgoruky was up to something. Secondly, if the Americans detected the launch transient, it was possible they would conclude a torpedo was being fired at them and counterfire.

  Captain Lieutenant Evanoff followed up, “Request decoy presets.”

  “Set course one-eight-zero,” Stepanov replied, “ten knots, depth one hundred and forty meters. Set under-ice sonar transmissions—on.”

  Evanoff relayed the settings to the fire control Michman, who entered the parameters into his console. Stepanov checked the clock. It had taken four minutes to man Combat Stations and load a decoy.

  Stepanov made the announcement loudly, so everyone in the Command Post could hear. “This is the Captain. I have the Conn. Steersman, left ten degrees rudder, steady course one-eight-zero.” He turned to his Watch Officer. “Open muzzle door, tube One.”

  USS NORTH DAKOTA

  “Sonar, Conn. Possible contact zig, Master One, due to upshift in frequency.”

  Tolbert noted the Sonar Supervisor’s announcement, then stood and moved behind Petty Officer Tom Phillips, assigned as the Plots Operator for the Section Tracking Party. Phillips studied the time frequency plot, watching the tonal slowly increase, then steady up.

  Phillips spoke into his headset, “All stations, Plots. Twenty knot upshift in frequency. Contact has either reversed course or is more broad and has increased speed. Analyzing.”

  Lieutenant Vaugh, seated at the command workstation as Junior Officer of the Deck, examined the time-bearing plot on his display. After noting the bearings to Master One were drifting left, he announced, “Confirm target zig, Master One. Set anchor range five thousand yards. Contact has turned to port and is on a closing trajectory.”

  A moment later, the Sonar Supervisor reported, “Receiving high-frequency ice-detection pulses from Master One.”

  Dolgoruky was definitely headed toward them.

  YURY DOLGORUKY

  “Steady on course one-eight-zero,” the Steersman announced.

  Stepanov acknowledged the report, then checked the geographic display on the fire control console. He had turned with a ten-degree rudder, putting Dolgoruky on a reciprocal course with a slow turn to the west. The last thing he wanted was to run into a submarine trailing them. The water column was very narrow, with only 140 meters between the ocean bottom and the lowest ice keels. After taking into account safety margins to the bottom and ice above, Stepanov figured both submarines were traveling at the same depth or close to it.

  It would not be long before they would learn if the American submarine was still following them. He waited for a report from Hydroacoustic, but the Command Post speakers were silent. Another minute passed without a report, then a voice broke the silence.

  “Command Post, Hydroacoustic. Hold a new contact on the towed array, designated Hydroacoustic seven, a sixty-point-two-Hertz tonal, ambiguous bearings one-six-zero and two-zero-zero.”

  Stepanov responded immediately—they were approaching the sixty-meter-deep ice ridge.

  “Prepare to Fire, tube One.”

  His crew executed the order quickly, and in less than a minute, Stepanov received the report from Captain Lieutenant Evanoff. “Ready to fire, tube One.”

  “Launch decoy, tube One.”

  The fire control Michman announced, “Decoy launched from tube One.”

  Stepanov ordered, “All stop. Shift to electric drive.” He glanced at the under-ice sonar. The ice keel was five hundred meters away. Stepanov followed up with, “Secure all sonars.”

  The watchstanders complied and the Steersman soon announced, “Propulsion has been shifted to the electric drive.”

  Dolgoruky had gone quiet, securing its main engines and sonars. There was one thing left to do. “Steersman, back one-third. Compensation Officer, set Hovering to fifty meters.”

  Dolgoruky slowed, rising toward the ice.

  USS NORTH DAKOTA

  “Conn, Sonar. Picking up transients from Master One.”

  “What kind of transients?” the Navigator asked.

  The Sonar Supervisor answered, “We detected a faint broadband transient, which lasted for ten seconds. It wasn’t metallic—it sounded more like cavitation. But there’s been no change in Master One’s frequency that would correlate to a speed increase.”

  As Tolbert tried to figure out what Dolgoruky was up to, he examined the sonar screens. Dolgoruky’s fifty-Hertz tonal was coming in stronger than ever now that Dolgoruky had turned toward them and was closing. How close would she get? He examined the geographic plot on Petty Officer Phillips’s display. Dolgoruky was headed south at ten knots, with a CPA of two thousand yards.

  Tolbert had a problem. At two thousand yards, Nor
th Dakota would likely be detected. But to open CPA range, he’d have to turn away, no longer following in Dolgoruky’s track. There was no way he was going to travel blindly under the ice cap, yet at the same time, he didn’t want to activate his under-ice sonar, giving away North Dakota’s presence.

  That was his dilemma. Activate his under-ice sonar and ensure counter-detection, or let Dolgoruky close to two thousand yards and hope for the best. Neither was a good option, but he chose the lesser of two evils. He would stay on course.

  However, he could improve the odds North Dakota passed by undetected. “Pilot, all stop.”

  North Dakota’s main engine turbines, reduction gears, and propulsor stopped spinning. Slowly, North Dakota coasted to a halt.

  YURY DOLGORUKY

  As Dolgoruky rose slowly toward the ice canopy, Stepanov monitored his submarine’s depth and speed. They had risen to ninety meters, approaching zero knots.

  “Steersman, all stop.”

  The sixty-meter-deep ice keel would soon be between Dolgoruky and the American submarine. For Stepanov’s plan to work, the American submarine had to stay on the other side of the keel, and that depended on whether Dolgoruky’s decoy fooled them.

  As Dolgoruky rose to seventy meters, the Hydroacoustic Party Leader made the report Stepanov hoped for. “Command Post, Hydroacoustic. Ten knot downshift in frequency from Hydroacoustic seven. Contact is slowing or turning away.”

  The American submarine had either stopped or turned ninety degrees. When the decoy passed by, the American captain would hopefully turn and follow, staying on the other side of the ice keel.

  The Steersman called out, “Depth, sixty meters, zero knots.” Dolgoruky’s ascent slowed, and a moment later, Stepanov received another welcome report. “Command Post, Hydroacoustic. Loss of Hydroacoustic seven.”

  The ice keel was now between the two submarines, and if Dolgoruky could no longer track the American submarine, the Americans could not detect Dolgoruky.

  “On ordered depth, fifty meters,” the Steersman announced.

  Dolgoruky hung motionless beneath the ice.