Hiding in the Wind
Barents Sea, west of Novaya Zemlya Archipelago
October 30, 2033
“Doctor Goodson,” Captain Altorov called, looking at the bridge’s digital radar display, “good news?”
“Good news?” laughed Goodson dryly, a geophysicist from the National Snow and Ice Data Center. “There's less of that than the sea ice. Observations are worse than I thought they’d be, sir. It seems the sea ice still hasn’t recovered much at all since its minimum in September.”
“How bad?” Altorov sighed, eyes focused on the radar.
“Minimum in September is sort of misleading. Only a few thousand square miles have been gained. Nearly nothing has returned… We’re at just over six million square miles of loss, and seemingly…” Goodson paused, clearly upset by his data. “...holding.”
“Where are you seeing those small gains occurring, doctor?” Altorov asked, retaining a firm, focused voice.
“Encouragingly, we’re seeing them in the Chukchi Sea, north of the Bering Sea Dam. That strip of rock may just be starting to work,” the doctor said, allowing himself a small grin of hope.
“The high temperature yesterday at the North Pole was almost ten degrees Celsius,” said Doctor Jackson, a climatologist from the World Meteorological Organization, chuckling in disbelief. “Anymore and we can start opening up winter vacation homes atop what’s left of the ice pack,” she said, shaking her head as the spray from a large wave spattered across the bridge’s windows. “This storm will only serve to keep the ice broken up for longer."
A strong low pressure center was moving north towards the pole, away from their ship's position, the UNS Unity; a purpose built double hull polar exploration vessel designed for multi-month journeys at sea. Clouds and snow were diminishing quickly as the storm moved off but the waves were not, some reaching as high a thirty feet. Most on board were used to it by now, leaning into and against the pitching and rolling of the ship.
“We have acquisition of Saildrone 1’s signal again, captain,” the communications officer announced from their station. “Range, twenty-one miles dead ahead.”
“Well that is some much needed good news then,” Altorov said, trying to be cheerful against the dismal conversation.
“Oh thank goodness,” said Lieutenant Coulter, a member of UNIRO Engineering Corps, assigned to the ship's compliment in order to determine the viability of the new Arctic geoengineering project meant to rebuild sea ice. “That was our last one. Damn storm left us one. We need its on-board data recordings if we’re going to move forward with any type of accurate assessment.”
“Captain Altorov!” a crewmember called loudly.
“Yes?” the captain answered, sensing whatever his crewmember had to say wasn’t good.
“If the drone’s current position is correct then it has wandered into the territorial waters of the Russian Socialists Republic…”
Everyone on the bridge froze, the only sound for several seconds being waves crashing against the Unity’s inverted bow. Heads slowly turned to Altorov for guidance.
“We dare not follow it, captain,” Doctor Jackson warned. “Not after their withdrawal from UNIRO and the arms treaty. Remember what they said if anyone went near them?”
“We’ll be fired upon,” said the crewman who initially noticed the drone’s politically precarious position.
“It’d be the world against them if they did,” Goodson said.
“Yeah,” Doctor Jackson said, nodding her head nervously. “They’ve been worthy of watching ever since the old Russian Federation government fled to the archipelago after the revolution in 23’.”
“I’m well aware of the history behind all of this everyone; after all, it was the brave actions of one of our which that lead to that revolution… Captain Canderlaria,” Altorov said thoughtfully. “In another life I was also one of the soldiers that stormed the Kremlin to get rid of what is now the RSR.” The Unity’s captain took a deep breath and exhaled slowly. “They’ve had almost no contact with the outside world since they left UNIRO four years ago,” he stated. “As misguided as they are, I don’t think the country wants to have its first contact with the outside world be a military engagement with an unarmed research vessel filled with scientists, especially when they know everyone is watching. Can we pilot the drone back to international waters ourselves?”
“Negative, sir,” the communications officer said. “Saildrone is not answering to our commands. It must be damaged.”
“A call to UNIRO Command perhaps before we proceed?” Coulter suggested over his shoulder to Altorov.
“Or a friendly call directly to the RSR government?” Altorov countered, raising an eyebrow. “Maybe this is a way we reopen peaceful dialogue. As much as it goes against my personal opinions about them, peace on all sides is certainly best.”
“Captain!” screamed the rescue officer manning the ship’s radar. “An inbound object of extremely high speed has been launched from the Novaya Zemlya Archipelago, tracking straight for us, sir!”
“They’re mad,” Doctor Jackson scoffed nervously. “Missile?!”
“General alarm!” Altorov ordered. “Helm. Change course to - ”
“Captain, wait! Object isn’t going to hit us… It’s… It’s heading for the Saildrone!”
“Get visuals of impact, best you can,” Altorov pointed to a crewman over wailing alarms. “UNIRO Command will want any bit of evidence against the RSR when we relay this senseless attack to them. I guess I spoke much too hopeful of them.”
“Impact in three… Two… One.”
“Contact with Saildrone has been lost, captain,” the communications officer sighed.
“Hail the RSR government, all frequencies,” Altorov demanded, a subtle tone of anger in his voice that he attempted to hold back to remain professional in front of his crew. The old, burning hatred he had felt years ago was trying to well up once more.
“Captain Altorov,” Doctor Goodson said, giving his full attention to a data readout on a computer console.
“…Doctor?” Altorov waited.
“I think I may know why our drone was just destroyed…”
“Why?” Lieutenant Coulter asked, stepping over to the doctor.
“The ship’s environmental sensors are picking up radiation levels forty times higher than normal background levels. I think we just sailed into a radioactive plume, sir. We need to recall everyone inside and get them all as deep inside the ship as possible. PPE has to come on as well if these levels hold for much longer. Iodine tablets, everything.”
“This could explain why we lost contact with the other drones,” Coulter surmised. “They found something the RSR didn’t want them to find… And they destroyed them.”
"Exactly," Goodson nodded gravely.
“Belay the order to hail the RSR,” Altorov said to his communications officer. “Get me UNIRO Command and the UN Security Council, now. Helm. Get us as far away from here as possible upwind, best possible speed. The next thing they target could very well be us. Lieutenant Coulter.”
“Yes, sir?”
“Deploy a float probe overboard. Should be small enough to be undetectable by anyone watching from the RSR. I want it relaying radiation data to the Phoenix 5 network so we have a log of what is going on.” Captain Altorov turned his head, looking warily out the bridge’s windows at the never ending white caps, as if trying to see the distant and apparently hostile archipelago nation dozens of miles away. “We need to know what they’re hiding in the wind.”
Cover photo credit: Paul Nicklen, National Geographic Creative