Arctic Fire
Authors: Paul Byers
Tags: #thriller, #adventure, #action, #seattle, #new york, #water crisis, #water shortage, #titanic, #methane gas, #iceberg, #f86 sabre, #f15, #mariners, #habakkuk, #86, #water facts, #methane hydrate, #sonic boom, #f15 eagle, #geoffrey pyke, #pykrete, #habbakuk, #jasper maskelyne, #maskelyne
ARCTIC FIRE
Paul Byers
Published by Fortress Publications at
Smashwords
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TABLE OF
CONTENTS
Praise for ARCTIC FIRE
“A new twist on a classic battlefield ploy finds
an iceberg controlled by a megalomaniac on a collision course with
NYC. A provocative blend of fact and fiction that explores issues
surrounding a critical natural resource, fresh water,
Arctic
Fire
is bound to leave readers thirsty for more.”
—
Rick Chesler, author of
kiDNApped
and
WIRED KINGDOM
“Audacious and ambitious,
Arctic Fire
burns with action, and chills with the possibilities of what the
future may hold. A thriller not to be missed!”
—
Sean Ellis, author of
INTO the BLACK
“A madman's insatiable quest for power could
level a major American city and kill thousands, ushering in a New
World Order.
Arctic Fire
is a thrill-ride that will leave
you breathless.”
—
Jeremy Robinson, bestselling author of
INSTINCT
and
THRESHOLD
© 2011 Paul Byers. All rights reserved.
Smashwords Edition
This is a work of fiction. Names, characters,
places and incidents are products of the author’s imagination or
are used fictitiously and should not be construed as real. Any
resemblance to actual events, locales, organizations or persons,
living or dead, is entirely coincidental.
No part of this book may be used or reproduced
in any manner whatsoever without written permission, except in the
case of brief quotations embodied in critical articles and reviews.
For more information email all inquiries to:
[email protected]
Visit Paul Byers on the World Wide Web at:
www.paulbyersonline.com
Cover illustration by Andy Wenner,
www.auroraartcompany.com
Cover and interior layout by Stanley J.
Tremblay,
www.findtheaxis.com
Author picture taken by Star Morris,
www.ratstarcreative.com
To my Mom and Dad…
Gertie and George Byers
Thank you.
ACKNOWLEDGMENTS
There are many people I need to thank who helped
me bring
Arctic Fire
to life. First, I would like to thank a
man who is a dying breed in his skill and knowledge of the written
word. He has taught me that words are precious. He is also a
private man, who lives a quiet life and wishes no public
recognition, so I offer this anonymous thanks to you sir.
To Karen Beasley, for her editing and insightful
thoughts on the plot and characters. Colonel John Frisby and
Captain
Carmine R. Bassano,
both retired
officers of the United States Air Force, who helped me with the
technical jargon for the Red Flag chapter and to Steve Hinton of
the Planes of Fame Air Museum (www.planesoffame.org ) for his
invaluable help with my research for the F-86 Sabre.
Technical thanks to Stan Tremblay for his help
in formatting and interior design of the book and in helping me
spread the word. It’s always good to have an expert in your
corner.
I want and need to thank my wife Cheri and my
children Alyssa and Adam (you too Luke) for allowing me the time
and space I needed to complete Arctic Fire. Without your love and
support, it never would have happened. Also to my brother Mark for
his continued belief in me and pushing me to always do better.
A special thanks goes to Andy Wenner for his
fantastic design of the book cover. I only hope my story reads as
good as his cover looks.
And finally, I would like to thank you, the
reader. Thank you for taking your precious time and money and
investing it in this book. I hope you enjoy reading it as much as I
did writing it.
April 14
th
, 1912
“Up scope,” the Kapitan called out. As he waited
patiently for it to rise, he began humming
Alexander’s Rag Time
Band
quietly to himself. It was a catchy tune he’d first heard
last year when he was in America, assigned as a navel attaché in
Washington D.C. Though it was frowned upon in some circles back
home in Germany, he was becoming a fan of this new style of
American music. When the scope reached chest height, he turned his
cap around, flipped down the handles and peered into the eyepiece.
Still humming, he slowly turned the periscope, sweeping the ocean,
searching for his prey.
It was a moonless night and the sea was a glassy
calm, a beautiful, yet somehow disturbing sight. The sea was
supposed to be alive, always moving, pulsating, teaming with life,
but tonight the waters were flat and stiff, as if she had lain down
and died and rigor mortis had set in. In his nearly twenty years
before the mast, he could remember only one other time when the sea
was this stagnate.
In the old days of tall ships and sailing with
the wind at your back, some would have called this a becalmed sea,
an omen of bad things to come. But these were modern times; man no
longer needed the wind to move across the sea, or in this case,
under it. Men of the twentieth century no longer believed in such
things as becalmed seas, monsters that rose from the depths to
devour whole ships or the likes of the
Flying Dutchman
. But
in spite of modern technology and his belief in logic and sound
reasoning, he had seen things at sea that would set a prudent man’s
mind wondering.
Then he saw her, and at that moment, all
thoughts of superstitions evaporated in an instant. Even with the
moon refusing to show her face, and even peering through the tiny
lens of the periscope, it would have been hard for a blind man not
to see the magnificence of the ship as she sliced through the plate
glass sea.
Festive lights shone through nearly every
porthole on the floating city, piercing the darkness and reflecting
off the mirror sea, making it look like two ships traveling side by
side. He estimated that she was still several kilometers off,
giving them plenty of time to maneuver and get into position. These
were ideal condition to evaluate the new system.
“Status, Mr. Kappel?” the Kapitan said, unable
to take his eyes off their prize.
“The boat is handling like a lumbering whale
full of blubber Kapitan. Even with the calm seas, five knots is the
best we can manage with all the added weight of the scaffolding and
ice, and you can forget about trying to turn. So, if you just want
to go straight, and go slower than my dead grandmother, then
everything is shipshape…sir.”
First Officer Barrett Kappel snapped to
attention and mockingly saluted the Kapitan after his report. He
then rolled the cigar butt from the left side of his mouth to the
right, as if that were the proper military way to do things. Though
smoking was never allowed on a submarine, the first officer was
never found without a cigar sticking out of his mouth.
Kapitan Claus Haufmann peered around the
periscope with amusement in his eyes and a smile on his lips as he
looked at his first officer. “Now Barrett, I know you don’t much
care for this assignment but you know it is necessary. Discontent
and unrest are sweeping across Europe like a rising breeze, a
breeze that I fear will soon turn into a hurricane, and we must be
ready. This observation mission will be critical to tracking the
movement of enemy shipping, both military and civilian, and doing
it without being seen.”
Haufmann paused and stretched as he spoke. He
was tall by any standards, but at six-foot-two, he was a giant for
a submariner and was constantly bending and stooping as he
contorted his lanky frame inside the confining bowels of their
steel whale.
“Camouflage,” Haufmann continued, as he rubbed
the last kink out of his neck, “…is the art of seeing without being
seen, and what better place to hide than in plain sight? Yes, the
scaffolding surrounding the boat and refrigerating unit installed
to generate and maintain our facade of being an iceberg certainly
weighs us down, but I believe the benefits of blending in with our
surroundings outweighs our ability to be able to move faster than
your dead grandmother.
“Come Barrett, see for yourself. Helm, port two
degrees, let’s get a little closer.”
“Port two degrees,” echoed the helmsman.
Kappel stepped up to the periscope to look while
the Kapitan continued. “Remember, Barrett, this is just a
prototype, a training mission to see if it is feasible. But just
stop and think about it. How valuable would it be to be able to
monitor the enemy’s ship movements, to know exactly where their
ships are at all times and to be able to strike at will from
seemingly nowhere?”
“My God that thing is big!” Kappel said in awe.
He stepped away from the periscope. “I understand Kapitan, it’s
just that I’d hate to have our shark turned into a wallowing
flounder.”
“So do I my friend, but sometimes sneaking in
the back door is better than trying to bash down the front door.”
Kapitan Haufmann peered once again through the periscope. “She’s
making good speed. Send up the lookouts. We’ll maintain course, get
to within two hundred meters, then let her slip past us.”
“Aye sir.” Kappel looked toward the back of the
boat and barked. “Lookouts one and two, topside now!”
From the stern, two young sailors spilled into
the control room like puppies trying to run across a linoleum
floor. One was wearing a white, fur-lined parka with white
binoculars hanging from his neck; the other was wearing a dark blue
parka.