Calling to claim victory in this final skirmish.

President Gregor Smitrov lay on the wardroom table on board the Toledo, drifting in and out of consciousness. The slight pitching and rolling of the deck indicated to him that the submarine must be at periscope depth somewhere in the winter waters of the Barents Sea. Doc Halliday confirmed it while fussing with his patient’s dressings.

Smitrov dimly remembered hearing the explosions, feeling the boat shaking furiously at some time in his stupor. He expected to awaken to feel the cold inrushing of seawater.

They must have survived. They were surfacing. That meant that his Navy had lost the battle in the fjord. He had never been so joyous over a defeat.

The IV was still dripping saline into his veins as Smitrov took the radiotelephone handset from the American sailor and clutched it to his ear. His voice was weak and it cracked as he spoke. Each utterance taxed him to the maximum. The muscles under his pallid skin tensed in pain with every move. Everything depended on him being able to talk for a few minutes more.

The man fought with all his willpower to stay alert, to overcome the drowsiness from the painkiller he had been given. He had to remember the proper authenticators and code words. He had to be able to prove he was who he said he was, despite the raspy, weak voice. He had to be able to convince those to whom he talked that he had not been drugged or that he might be delirious from his wounds. The fate of his country, even of the world, depended on him staying lucid just a little longer.

Doc Halliday watched his patient. He threw an occasional disapproving glare at Joe Glass.

Glass shrugged. There was nothing he could do. There was too much at stake right now. They all knew that Smitrov had to take command of his armed forces and stymie Durov before the rogue admiral gained even more power. The longer Smitrov waited, the more time Durov had to consolidate his power base and coerce others to join him.

The first communication was to the United States. President Brown related the missile launch and the reaction in Moscow. Smitrov formally requested the Americans provide him with assistance in the battle against Durov and his supporters. After a few minutes’ hurried conversation, the two leaders broke away. Each had plenty to do.

“Captain, is it possible to please shift frequencies now so that I may speak with my Security Council?”