Red Ice by William C Dietz

Author:William C Dietz [Dietz, William C]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Published: 2018-11-13T05:00:00+00:00

Chapter Twelve

The Chukchi Sea

C aptain Marvin Soto was sitting on his raised chair, staring out over the frost covered bow, as the icebreaker Northern Dawn steamed south. The hull shuddered and spray flew as the ship broke through a six-foot high roller and pitched forward. The bow sank, the stern rose, and the process started over again. Would the temporary repairs to the superstructure hold? Soto hoped so. The Bremerton shipyard was a long way off. Once the Dawn arrived Soto would see Maria and the children for the first time in many months. “Captain?”

Soto turned to find that the ship’s first officer, Lieutenant Commander Leo Baxter, was standing next to him. “Yeah, Leo … What’s up?”

“A distress call, sir … An air force F-15E Strike Eagle was shot down southwest of here. The pilot survived. The folks at Elmendorf want us to pick him up.”

Search and rescue. That was the kind of mission the Northern Dawn specialized in. “The pilot is alive,” Soto said. “That’s good. Is he in the water? Or is he on land?”

There were islands to the southwest. Tiny things for the most part. But people were shipwrecked on them from time to time.

“In the water,” Baxter replied. “But he’s wearing a dry suit. ”

There was reason to hope. Without a dry suit the average person would perish in a matter of minutes. But, with a good suit, the pilot might last for as long as 24 hours. “Excellent,” Soto said. “Set the appropriate course.”

“We have,” Baxter assured him. “And Lieutenant Olson is preparing to launch the remaining Dolphin. But there’s a problem.”

Soto made a face. “Oh goody. And what, pray tell, is that?”

“A Russian trawler is headed for our pilot. At its present rate of speed it’s going to reach the area before the Dawn does. PACOM believes that the trawler is a spy ship.”

Soto considered that. Had the Russians been able to eavesdrop on American radio communications? Such transmissions were encrypted, so it seemed unlikely.

But when the Russian pilot shot the F-15E down it would have been SOP for him to report both his victory, and the position of the shoot-down. If they could, the Russians would snatch the American flier, and parade him in front of their cameras. It would make for a nice piece of propaganda. Soto was reminded of the Heath incident. He swore. “Ask the chief if we can make more revolutions.”

Baxter prided himself on anticipating such orders. “He can, sir … But, because of the six- foot seas, it won’t add more than a couple of knots to our speed.”

Soto glared at him. “You’re starting to piss me off, Leo … What am I going to have for lunch?”

Baxter’s face remained expressionless. “A grilled cheese sandwich, sir. And a cup of tomato soup.” The bridge crew laughed.

“You got lucky,” Soto said. “Increase our speed by two knots. Launch the Dolphin as soon as Olson is ready. Maybe we can snatch the pilot out from under the trawler captain’s nose.”

The red helo lifted off fifteen minutes later and sped away.

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