Page 94 of Enemy Within

“Well done, Roller. Take us up to periscope depth.”

“Periscope depth, aye.” Roller’s biceps shook, but his hands were steady on the control yoke, working in tandem with the planesman.

Ballast blew as an alarm rang three times.Honolulubegan to rise. Anderson stood by the periscope well, and when it rose, he ducked down and swept in a circle, scanning the ice above. He pulled back. “Mr. President. Care to take a quick look?”

Jack ducked down and pressed his eyes to the scope. Floating ice chunks the size of small cars bobbed in the seas, colored from soot black to gem-like turquoise to arctic white. Swells sent slurry overHonolulu’s rounded black deck, leaving trails of ice like snow covering a driveway. The bob and weave of the ocean returned, the roll and sway of the deck beneath his feet as the sounds of a million ice cubes cascading against the hull plinked and rattled through the Conn. Jack stepped back.

Roller moaned, his head in his hands. “I hate the swells.”

Anderson clapped Roller on the shoulder as he made his way toward the central hatch, leading to the bridge on the sail. “Have Commander Ross meet me on the deck. X-O, bring the presidents up once I secure the bridge. Boomer, keep a steady lookout. Call at the first sign of anything that isn’t an organic.”

The executive officer helped Jack and Sergey into life jackets as Ethan and Sasha hovered nearby, pale and looking like they’d regretted eating breakfast. Of the two of them, Sasha looked worse. He kept both hands on the railing and seemed to struggle to keep his stomach down. Ethan, as always, was rock-solid and focused entirely on Jack.

“Be careful,” Ethan breathed as Jack passed, heading for the hatch leading to the bridge. Jack nodded and kissed his cheek. Behind him, he caught Sasha’s furtive clasp of Sergey’s hand, his tight squeeze, and Sergey’s small, radiant smile in return.

He waited for Sergey on the ladder, just beneath the open hatches leading out to the bridge. Biting salt air whipped down into the tower, and above, a circle of battleship-gray sky hung low, almost close enough to touch.

“Congratulations,” he said, leaning his shoulder into Sergey. “I’m happy for you. And proud of you.”

Sergey smiled slowly. He kept his eyes ahead, fixed on the ladder. “Sasha would want me to say that I have no idea what you are speaking of.” His eyes flicked to Jack. “But I will say thank you. And, that I needed your kick in my ass. It is the best thing you have ever done for me, Mr. President.”

Laughing, Jack started to climb again, through the sail and onto the small open bridge. Water drained from the base of the bridge, but slurry ice still made the deck slippery. Below-freezing water slicked over the hull in rushing sheets. Mist and swirling fog rose from the hull like curling smoke, the heat ofHonoluluturning the frigid Arctic waters to steam. Around their slushy breach in the ice cap, a bitterly frozen white wasteland stretched as far as the eye could see, as if the whole world were frozen. Beyond that, fog descended, blurring the horizon into a canvas of smeared lead and dirty snow.

Biting winds blew off the ice sheet, swept up the side ofHonolulu, and snaked around his neck and down his spine. He shivered, curling around himself as memories of frozen water closing over his head and his face pressed against the cold, slick underside of a frozen river went off like torpedoes in his mind.

Sergey stood beside him, close. He wrapped his arms around Jack, rubbing his hands briskly up Jack’s arms. Anderson and his executive officer filled out the rest of the small bridge, both of them surveying the fog-shrouded landscape. On the deck, crewmen in life jackets and foul weather gear scurried down the rounded hull, heading for the jammed rudder. The damage was obvious from the sail. A deep gouge had ripped a chunk of the rudder clean off, and debris had jammed into the gears and spaces of what was left. It would not be an easy fix.

“Contact,” Anderson said as he peered through his binoculars. “Looks like a research station. Maybe two. Oil exploration site, maybe?”

Sergey nodded. “There are many in these parts. RusFuel has contracts for the Arctic.”

“I’m not seeing any movement. No signs of life.” Anderson squinted at Sergey. “What was their status before the coup?”

“Operational. Spring and summer are the prime seasons for exploration. We had just started getting their first reports of the season in Moscow.”

One eyebrow arched high on Anderson’s thin face. “Looks like nobody’s home now.” He passed the binoculars over.

“How far are we from Madigan’s position?” Jack’s breath fogged in front of his face as he spoke.

“October Revolution Island is down that bearing.” Anderson pointed into the fogbank, but Jack couldn’t see anything. “The middle of three arctic desert rocks that Russia claims. They form the entrance to the Kara Sea.”

“How solid is the ice between here and Novaya Zemlya?” Sergey used the Russian name for Severney Island, the crooked finger of land that sheltered Madigan inside the Kara Sea.

“Packed in. Siberia’s been pushing larger ice sheets into the Arctic every year. It’s solid for hundreds of feet, and then tapers to brash ice in parts.”

Sergey hummed. Jack watched him. “What are you thinking, Sergey?”

“Those stations arc all the way into the Kara Sea. We could use them. Hop our way down closer to Madigan’s location.”

“We go overland, andHonolulumoves under the ice? See if we can get a good look at Madigan before we make our move?”

Sergey nodded.

They both turned to Anderson.

Anderson sighed, like a man being told to do the impossible with a shoestring. “We’re not up to an undersea dogfight. Not with this.” He jerked his chin toward the busted rudder. “Until we get ourselves repaired, the overland route is the next best option. We’ll stay here to support you while you recon.”

“Thank you, Captain.