Arctic Wargame - Страница 21

Domingo soaked up Bryan’s explanation, acknowledging his attention with the occasional nod.

“On the other hand, our DEW, the Distant Early Warning system, had over seventy radar stations, communication centers, radio signal interception towers, the works. From Nome, Alaska in the west, and all the way to Thule, Greenland in the east, no snow goose could flap its wings without beeping its position on our radars. Regardless of the ongoing dismantling, we still have countless eyes in the sky, our stealthy satellites. So, what do you think?”

“Fascinating, but I still think we’re here for a higher mission.”

“Dude, the only thing high here is you.” Brian deepened his voice again and dragged his words as he said, “You sure that’s only coffee in your cup, and you didn’t sweeten it up? Huh, you know what I mean?”

“You’re hilarious, you know,” Domingo replied with an annoyed groan.

“I thought you were acting stupid when you first asked your question.”

“The one about what we’re doing here?”

“Yeah, bro, yeah, that one,” Bryan continued in his mocking voice.

“No, I’m really curious. I wonder if the Russians are ever going to make a move. If this is, as you say, the new oil rush, shouldn’t they be here already, to beef up their claims?”

“Oh, the Russians are here, all right. There’s always a submarine or two in international waters and sometimes in the Canadian waters. They’re just like sharks, circling around their prey, waiting for the right moment to clamp shut their jaws. I’ve no idea when and if all hell will break loose, but I hope it’s not on my watch. The thing is the Russians know it’s a war they can’t win. We’ll kick their ass in the end, of course, but the blood cost will be so high, I don’t think our generals we’ll send us into battle. Unless, the Russians throw the first punch, but, like I said, that’s unlikely.”

“So, what about the oil then?”

“Oh, the Russians are trying their hand by launching all kinds of scientific expeditions, geological, topographical, measuring the continental shelf, and all that science bull. They’re playing nice, for the time being.”

Domingo reluctantly took a sip of his coffee, and his distorted face showed its bitter taste.

“If it’s so bad, why do you keep drinking it?” Bryan asked.

Domingo swallowed his poison and opened his mouth to explain the long-term effects of caffeine withdrawal. But the phone ringing on Bryan’s table took away his chance. Bryan rolled his eyes, waited until the third annoying buzz, and punched the hands-free button. “Yes, Dave, what can I do for you?”

“Bryan, what’s the hold up there? You playing Solitaire?”

“Dave, step out of your cave, and into the digital age. Solitaire was hip in the eighties! Call of Duty, baby. It’s all the thrill now.”

Dave snorted. “Makes sense. The only weapons you’ll ever shoot are in video games. In real life, you troubleshoot our network and fight viruses. That gets your blood pumping, doesn’t it?”

“You got it, Dave. What’s your trouble today? Can’t find your computer’s start button?”

Domingo grinned, suppressing his laughter. Technical Sergeant Dave Manning called them — or ‘badgered’ them, as Bryan considered the calls — every time he needed some assistance with the communication satellites of the base.

“I found the start button just fine. Thanks for your concern. We’ve noticed some movements earlier today over the coastline of southeast Ellesmere. Helicopter flights.”

“Yeah, you didn’t read the memo?”

“What memo?”

“The one about the Arctic wargame. Denmark’s engaged in some High Arctic military maneuvers over the weekend and next week, depending on the weather conditions.”

“Do you know what gear they’re bringing?”

“A few planes, Lynx choppers, and two icebreakers. They may carry out a few missile tests overland. Nothing of interest to us, since we’re not invited to their party. Too bad, ‘cause it would have been lots of fun and a good break from this monotony.”

“The chopper in question is not a Lynx, and it’s flying over Canadian airspace.”

“Maybe it’s a Cormorant of the Canadian DND?” Bryan suggested.

“It can’t be. Our radar imaging shows something of a smaller size, probably a civilian chopper.”

“Isn’t it too early for expeditions this year?”

“I don’t know. There’s always a crazy son of a—”

“All right, all right. I’ll point one of our satellites in that area for close-up shots,” Bryan said and tapped the mute button on the speakerphone. “Most likely it’s nothing, but I’ll do it, or he’ll badger us all day,” he said to Domingo, who shrugged with indifference.

“We last traced this chopper over Cape Combermere. We lost it soon afterwards because of a heavy overcast in the region.”

“Cape Combermere? That’s only one hundred and forty miles east, so it shouldn’t be too difficult to get some images, if the chopper’s still around.”

“Bryan, I was thinking it would be a good idea to send in a drone.”

“Why do you want a drone if I’m gonna get you the shots through the satellite?”

“In case the thick clouds don’t let you get clear images.”

“You’ll have to run this by the commander. He’s responsible for dispatching aircraft, whether they’re remote controlled or not.”

“I know, but I’ll need your support, in case he asks for your opinion, which I’m sure he will.”

“OK, I’ll back you up on this, Dave, but only ‘cause you’re asking nicely, and I’m getting curious. The last two weeks have been so dull. A little excitement would make me feel alive again. What do you think, Domingo?”

“Whatever you say, boss,” Domingo replied with a nod.

Cape Combermere, Canada

April 12, 1:10 p.m.

It was quite an exaggeration to call the two wooden pieces secured together with polyester fabric paddles. Still, at the bow of the raft, Justin rowed as fast as possible, careful not to splash Carrie and Anna sitting at the stern and sculling through the icy waters. The only useful objects salvaged from the Danish depot were a few logs and wooden boards, in addition to an abundance of tent liners. Justin and Carrie had built a makeshift raft, barely buoyant, but sufficiently stable to carry the weight of the crew. Steered by their determination and helped by the current, they were flowing southbound, about one hundred and fifty feet from the closest ice floes.

“Push away from the ice, quick,” Justin said, moving his paddle to the left and pulling hard on it.

“Careful, easy,” Carrie said, counterbalancing Justin’s swing by leaning to her right.

They avoided the collision with a large piece of drift ice. The waters were open, unlike a few miles farther back, when the narrow leads in the ice floes meandered in sharp curves. They had seen two icebergs so far, fairly small and a few hundred feet away. The raft was holding up against the fast moving current and the occasional high wave. Still, their rafting downstream was not without problems. Justin had dipped his hands a few times in the ocean by mistake and was suffering from the bitter bite of the frigid waters, in addition to the general numbness in his hands and feet. Anna could hardly control her shivers.

“How long… how long has it been?” Anna’s voice was controlled by her jolts.

“About an hour or so,” Justin guessed. “I’m sure we have done several miles. The current is carrying us south pretty fast.”

“So… how much… how much longer do we still have?” Anna asked.

“A little more,” Justin replied. “Just a little more.”

“We may need to stop soon for a short break,” Carrie said.

“That may not be wise.”

“I know, Justin, but it may be necessary.”

“I don’t see how, since we’ll not be any warmer on the ground.”

“We can make a snow shelter.”

“No, we can’t waste time. Things won’t get better if we make a shelter, and it’s only gonna get colder as the night falls. We have no food. Our only hope is to paddle.”

“Paddle to where?” Carrie drove her paddle into the water and pulled it towards her with a long, powerful stroke.

Anna coughed a wheezing gasp and fought to keep her fingers wrapped around the end of her paddle.

“South. Toward people. Toward safety.”

“Really? You really think we can make it?”

“Yes, Carrie. We’ve got to hope, OK? We’ve come so far. We can’t give up now. We’ve got to keep trying.”

“Let’s stop for a break. Just ten, fifteen minutes.”

“No, we can’t. It will be difficult to anchor the raft on the fractured floes. In the water, we’re out in the open and more visible than if hiding in a shelter.”

“Visible? You really think someone is actually going to rescue us?”

“Justin, can we stop, please?” Anna whispered, tilting her head to the left.

“How about we go on for another half an hour or so?” Justin asked.

“I guess… I feel kind of warm now, so… yes, we can continue,” Anna replied.

“No,” Carrie said and leaned over to Justin. “She’s sinking deeper into hypothermia,” Carrie whispered in his ear. “We may lose her. We need to stop. Now!”

“Hey, look at the bird, a cute little bird,” Anna said playfully, pointing straight ahead.

“Maybe it’s already too late,” Carrie muttered, shaking her head. “What bird, Anna?”