CARRIER 9: ARCTIC FIRE By: Keith Douglass

The operations officer looked uneasy. “So what are we supposed to do

with them?” he asked nervously. “One, maybe two people–sir, the submarine

is small.”

Rogov stared at him. “And there could be others still outside. A

poor job of planning, and one that I will remember.” The operations

officer turned pale. Rogov reached out and slapped him across the face.

“Remember that. Pray that is the worst you will receive.”

The senior Cossack turned and strode over to the far end of the ice

cave, stopping two feet before the two prisoners. He stared down at them

accusingly, as though it had been their own fault they had been caught.

Finally, the beginnings of an idea demanded to be considered. He almost

dismissed it, then reconsidered. The beginnings of a cruel smile started

on his face. It might work–it just might work at that. Abruptly, he

turned and walked over to his operations officer. “There will be a change

in plans.”

“Sir?”

“I have something else in mind. Something more valuable than whatever

petty bits of international politics we can glean from these two prisoners.

Who is our expert on American aircraft carriers?”

The operations officer started to ask a question, then apparently

thought better of it. He pointed toward the man who’d been serving as

interpreter. “Ilya. He has been on board several, in addition to studying

their structure and characteristics in our military command school.”

“Get him.” Rogov waited impatiently for the interpreter to reach him.

The interpreter was among the youngest of the team members, barely

three years in Spetsnaz. His nervousness was apparent on his face. He

saluted respectfully and waited for Rogov to speak.

“How secure is an aircraft carrier?” Rogov demanded.

The interpreter looked startled. “At sea, sir?” he stuttered.

“Virtually impregnable. There’s no way to approach it-”

“Forget that part,” Rogov instructed. “Once we are on board, how

difficult would it be to move about the ship?”

“I was on board one once at sea, as part of an exchange program,” the

interpreter said. “Aside from the weapons storage areas and the

engineering plant, most of the important spaces are located immediately

below the flight deck. There are numerous passages down into that area, in

addition to entries from the sponsons and walkways ringing the ship. But

if I had to plan an operation, I would proceed directly from the flight

deck down the ladder at the island. The combat direction center and the

admiral’s quarters are within easy reach then.”

“Draw out a diagram. Have all the men study it. As complete as you

can remember.” Rogov turned away, dismissing him.

The interpreter hurried back to join the rest of the team, relieved to

be out of the presence of the stern hetman of the Cossacks. The aircraft

carrier–he sucked in his breath, feeling his anxiety grow. Surely the

hetman could not be planning to–no, he decided, it was out of the

question. Not even a complete battalion of Spetsnaz would undertake an

assault on an aircraft carrier.

Still, there was a reason that Rogov had been placed in charge of this

operation. And if he wanted a map of an American aircraft carrier, that’s

what he would give him. He reached back into his rucksack, drew out a pad

of paper, and began sketching.

Sikes found that Morse code came back to him quickly, even though it

had been years since he last practiced. White Wolf slowed down and

sketched in the essential details of the Inuits’ attempted attack on the

camp. Sikes carefully schooled his face to blankness, masking his surprise

at the daring and ingenuity of the native islanders.

“Wait, listen,” he began tapping out, interrupting the account of the

assault.

Sikes listened carefully, trying to follow the corrupted Cossack

dialect that was so similar to Russian. He caught a few words here and

there, and then one phrase made his blood run cold. American aircraft

carrier. He watched the younger officer take his leave from the man in

charge and begin drawing something on a piece of paper. While he was

watching, he tried to tap out a hasty explanation to his fellow prisoner,

not certain how accurate his code was but hoping that the essential details

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