Chapter 18
Arctic
Despite referring to itself as a “near Arctic state,” China held no territorial claims whatsoever above the Arctic Circle.
Nevertheless, it had a vital need for shorter sea routes to Europe, and an unquenchable thirst for raw minerals to feed its manufacturing monster.
Among the elite in Beijing, the new Polar Silk Road was a natural extension of its long-standing Belt and Road Initiative.
With the Arctic Ocean becoming ice-free for longer periods each year, those countries that maintained a presence in the region gained an immense economic advantage.
So far, there wasn’t a ton of competition.
Out of necessity, Russia had long been the leader in Arctic maritime operations.
Canada and the Scandinavian countries took it seriously and had solid capabilities.
At the back of the great-power pack was the United States.
Its Coast Guard operated two rust-weary icebreakers, both nearly fifty years old, that spent long stretches in port for repairs and refurbishing.
Attempts to replace them with newer, more powerful vessels stuttered regularly in Congress—one more can senselessly kicked down America’s strategic road.
The balance of their new orders was being carried out below deck.
One team of technicians was readying their most sensitive towed sensor array, and another was preparing a robotic sub for a deep dive.
The classification level of the tasking, along with the suddenness of its arrival, was enough to paint a very serious picture.
Something incredibly important had ended up at the bottom of the Arctic Ocean. And the powers that be in Beijing wanted to get their hands on it.
Yong was going to make sure that happened.
Snow Dragon 2 was his first command, having spent his junior officer days aboard a handful of maritime surveillance scows. That might have been the zenith of his career had he not married well.
His new wife, Li-Mei, was shapeless, uninteresting, and the only daughter of the vice chairman of China’s Central Military Commission. What his bride lacked in allure, her father more than compensated for with prospect. It was a trade-off Yong was happy to make.
At the most recent promotion board, he had been vaulted to a command billet above dozens of more accomplished officers, and like all good careerists, he felt no regret in having done so.
His father-in-law had made their pact crystal clear: Get your one year at sea, give us a grandchild or two, and the sky is your limit.
That one year, the minimum required for further advancement, would end in less than a month. For Yong, it couldn’t come fast enough.
He was tired of the sea. The cramped quarters, the shitty food.
And the weather—God, the weather. When the new orders had arrived hours ago, he’d considered sending a message to his father-in-law asking if Snow Dragon 1, which was a thousand miles south, and on her way back home, might be given the job.
He’d decided against it. The time-critical nature of this mission was obvious.
And even his father-in-law had superiors to answer to.
Three more weeks, Yong thought, pulling up his collar against the cold. Then the only ice I’ll ever have to see again will be in a glass filled with extremely expensive bourbon.