“Good. Get the weather report while you are at it, and see what they know. Do it now.”
The intercom sounded a single tone and they heard the voice of Chief Byko reporting that the submersible operation was ready for launch.
“Order them to proceed, Mister Orlov.”
“Aye sir.”
Fedorov knew that Nikolin’s call on any normal channel to Jan Mayen would go unanswered. That would only deepen the mystery, and he knew it was his first real chance to get control of events here. It had been his suggestion that they take a helicopter to that Island that was key in providing real evidence that something profound had happened to the ship. None of those installations he had just talked about were there in 1941, not even the landing strip that was used by Norwegian Hercules cargo planes to supply the island. There was only a small Norwegian weather team, always wary of imminent German attack.
It did not take long for Nikolin to report no contacts, and Fedorov was watching the Admiral very closely to gauge his reaction. He nodded, settling into the Captain’s chair, just as Karpov was announced.
“Captain on the bridge!”
“As you were, as you were.” Karpov huffed in, all business, stepping to the Admiral, and giving Fedorov a sideward’s glance as he passed.
“Any news?” he asked brusquely.
“Nothing. Nikolin reports the same old war stories, and we can’t even raise the Norwegian weather station on Jan Mayen.” Volsky gave him a searching look.
“This is most irregular, Admiral. Nothing on the BBC? Nothing from Severomorsk? Nothing from Iceland or Norway?”
“Only the same stories we heard last night. They are still commemorating the war years.”
“Nonsense,” said Karpov, looking around, scanning the sea through the viewports. “And still no sign of Slava? Well, when we get that submersible to the bottom of the sea, we may finally get to the bottom of this little mystery as well. I fully expect to find wreckage there, and if this is so, then our situation here takes on a rather dark tint. Are we at battle stations? I heard nothing on the intercom.”
“We have no contacts within Fregat range, and Tasarov certifies no undersea threat. So I see no need to put the ship on a wartime footing until we know more.”
Karpov seemed unhappy with that. “We lose both Orel and Slava, and can no longer raise Severomorsk, or anyone else for that matter, and you see no need to take precautions? We should be more careful, Admiral.”
“Let us test your supposition, Mister Karpov. The submersible is in the water now, and on the way down. They will use both radar and sonar down there to give the seabed a good looking over. If there is wreckage, they should find it with no difficulty, as it would still be very warm on infrared. If we do find wreckage, then we have another scenario on our hands, but until I can determine what happened here, we will not yet assume it is World War Three.”
There it was, thought Fedorov. Karpov’s instinct for battle was not really misplaced, yet the Admiral’s caution and calm served to keep a lid on things. Fire and ice. He saw the Captain fold his arms, shoulders hunched, his eyes tight.
“Consider the situation carefully, Admiral,” he said. “there was clearly a detonation of some kind before we lost contact with Orel. The fact that now, more than 24 hours later, we still have no GPS or satellite links, is very telling.” He looked Fedorov’s way now. “Correct Lieutenant? I see you are finally back at your post.”
“Correct sir. No GPS or satellite data. No Loran-C out of Jan Mayen, though that signal has not been much used since 2006.”
“So you are plotting manually?”
“Yes sir, Petrov had correct coordinates.”
“Good….” Now Karpov lowered his voice slightly, speaking to the Admiral as Fedorov strained to hear their conversation.
“No satellites. Why is that, Admiral? We have gone over our equipment here from top to bottom. It is not a system failure. If those satellites are up there, then we should be able to bounce a signal off of them and get a response. But we get nothing! What does that tell you?”
“I agree, it is most alarming,” said Volsky. “Yet here we sit, the flagship of the Red Banner Northern Fleet, and surely a prime target of any war aim if a conflict were underway. Yet we have been cruising in circles over Slava’s last reported