299: Chapter 299 Standoff at the Icy Sea

The "North Star" has entered the Arctic Circle.

The sea surface is no longer an open expanse of deep blue, but is instead dotted with floating ice of all sizes. The small ones are like tabletops, the large ones like houses, reflecting a blinding white light under the sun.

The hull collides with ice floes from time to time, emitting a low roar. It isn't the crisp sound of metal striking metal, but a dull thud, like two giants wrestling underwater.

In the cockpit, Chen Haisheng stares at the radar screen.

First Mate Liu Yuanhang points to a blip on the screen: "Captain, this is the '50 Years of Victory', five nautical miles away from us."

The blip on the screen is clearly visible, moving slowly.

Liu Yuanhang zooms in on the screen. Another blip appears—larger, brighter, flickering at the edge of the screen.

"This is..."

The radar operator's voice tightens: "Identification signal... US Navy, 'Roosevelt' carrier strike group. Eighty nautical miles away."

The cockpit falls into a deathly silence.

Chen Haisheng stares at that blip, saying nothing.

Liu Yuanhang asks in a low voice: "What do they want to do?"

Chen Haisheng doesn't answer. But he knows the answer: deterrence.

To make the "North Star" afraid, to panic the crew, and to make the cooperation between Xingchen and Russia waver at the last moment.

But Chen Haisheng is clearer about one other thing: if they really wanted to take action, they wouldn't just stop eighty nautical miles away.

They are drawing a red line. As for where this red line is, it's up to the "North Star" and the "50 Years of Victory" to find out.

The command cabin of the nuclear-powered icebreaker is much larger than the "North Star's".

Captain Igor Sokolov stands on the central command deck, fifty-five years old, with broad shoulders and a wide back, and a scar on his face from his youth. He is wearing the dark blue uniform of the Russian Navy, his chest covered in medals—proof of his thirty years of service in the Northern Fleet.

He stares at the radar screen, his eyes as cold as ice.

The executive officer stands by his side: "Captain, the 'Roosevelt' is approaching. It's seventy-five nautical miles away."

Sokolov doesn't turn back: "Tell the 'peter the great', full speed ahead. Tell the 'North Star', follow me closely, do not deviate from the course."

He picks up the radio, his voice steady but carrying an unquestionable power: "'Roosevelt', this is the Russian Northern Fleet's '50 Years of Victory'. You are approaching a civilian merchant ship that we are escorting. Please state your intentions."

A moment later, English with an American accent comes through: "'50 Years of Victory', this is the US Navy's 'Roosevelt'. We are conducting routine training in international waters and have no intention of interfering with your navigation."

The corners of Sokolov's mouth lift slightly, a sneer: "Then please maintain a safe distance."

"We will."

The radio cuts off.

But the blip on the radar screen is still getting closer.

Seventy-three nautical miles. Seventy-one nautical miles. Seventy nautical miles.

Sokolov watches that blip, saying word by word: "Activate the ship's full audio and visual warning system."

The executive officer pauses: "Captain, that's a... that's a warning measure for military vessels."

"I know," Sokolov says. "Activate it."

The sun still hangs on the horizon.

The Arctic polar day never sets for twenty-four hours. The sun draws a low arc in the sky, never sinking below the horizon. The light is an eerie gold, dyeing the sea and ice sheet in an unreal, warm color.

But for the crew, this "eternal daylight" is more unsettling than the night.

In the "North Star" cockpit, everyone is staring at the northern sea.

First Mate Liu Yuanhang is the first to see it: "Captain, there, over there!"

On the horizon, a huge gray silhouette is emerging.

That is the "Roosevelt" aircraft carrier.

It is 332 meters long, with a displacement of 100,000 tons, and its deck is packed with F-18 "Super Hornet" carrier-based aircraft. It doesn't get close, just follows from afar. Like an orca staring at its prey, unhurried and steady.

Chen Haisheng picks up the binoculars.

On the carrier deck, green lights flash—that is the aircraft dispatch signal. Several F-18s are being moved to takeoff positions by tractors.

"What do they want to do?" The second mate's voice trembles.

Chen Haisheng puts down the binoculars, his voice calm: "They want to make us afraid."

He turns to the helmsman: "Maintain course, speed unchanged."

The helmsman's hands are trembling slightly: "Yes, Captain."

At 2:00 AM the next day, the "peter the great" arrives.

On the radar screen, a new blip approaches at high speed from the northeast.

Identification signal: Russian Northern Fleet, nuclear-powered cruiser "peter the great".

It is 252 meters long, with a displacement of 25,000 tons, carrying twenty P-700 "Granit" anti-ship missiles—each one capable of sinking a 100,000-ton aircraft carrier.

Chen Haisheng lets out a long breath.

For the first time, he realizes that he is also nervous.

Over the radio, Russian comes through, with a heavy accent:

"'North Star', 'peter the great' is in position. From now on, you have two Russian warships on each side. We will intercept any moves by the Americans."

Chen Haisheng: "Received. Thank you."

He looks out the window.

The massive hull of the "peter the great" is passing on the left. The anti-ship missile launch tubes on the deck are clearly visible, each as thick as a utility pole and ten meters long.

On the right, the anti-submarine ship "Severomorsk" is also in position.

Four Russian warships escort the "North Star" in the middle.

At 10:00 AM, an F-18 takes off from the "Roosevelt".

It doesn't climb, but flies low over the sea, like a blade grazing the skin.

Then, it sweeps over the "North Star".

Distance: less than three hundred meters.

The shockwave makes the cargo ship sway slightly. The teacups in the cockpit jump, and water spills all over the table.

Chen Haisheng's face is livid.

This is a provocation. A naked provocation.

Over the radio, Sokolov's voice is as cold as Arctic ice: "'Roosevelt', your carrier-based aircraft flew low over a civilian merchant ship, violating international navigation rules. Please stop immediately."

The US side responds, with a flippant tone: "'50 Years of Victory', our aircraft is conducting a routine patrol and has not endangered your safety. Please continue your voyage, do not be nervous."

Sokolov is silent for three seconds.

Then he says: "Last warning."

He turns to the executive officer: "Launch the Ka-27. Tell the pilot to meet them, but do not collide."

Executive officer: "Yes."

A moment later, a Ka-27 helicopter takes off from the deck of the "peter the great".

It doesn't detour, but flies directly toward the F-18 that is still circling.

The two aircraft stand off over the "North Star", less than five hundred meters apart.

In the cockpit, everyone is holding their breath.

The Ka-27 pilot does not back down. He hovers steadily in the air, the propellers churning the cold air.

The F-18 circles opposite for two laps, then turns around and flies back to the "Roosevelt".

Sokolov's voice comes over the radio, with a hint of imperceptible pride: "'North Star', continue forward. They have left."

Chen Haisheng: "Received. Thank you."

He turns to Liu Yuanhang: "Notify all crew members, continue the voyage. It's alright now."

But in his voice, there is a tremor that even he himself didn't notice.

At 4:00 PM, in the command cabin of the "50 Years of Victory", the encrypted communicator rings.

Sokolov picks it up, listens for a minute, then hangs up.

The executive officer asks: "What does Moscow say?"

Sokolov is silent for three seconds, then says: "Moscow's order: Protect the 'North Star' at all costs."

The executive officer pauses: "At all costs", in military terminology, means only one thing: you can open fire.

Sokolov stands up and walks to the radar screen.

The "Roosevelt" is still seventy nautical miles away, following unhurriedly.

He takes a deep breath: "Activate the fire control radar. Lock onto the 'Roosevelt'."

The executive officer's face changes: "Captain, this..."

"This is an order."

The fire control radar activates.

Invisible electromagnetic waves shoot toward the aircraft carrier seventy nautical miles away, locking onto the target.

In the "Roosevelt" bridge, the radar warning system starts screaming.

Captain James Carpenter turns around abruptly: "What's the situation?"

The radar officer's face turns pale: "Captain, the '50 Years of Victory's' fire control radar has locked onto us!"

Carpenter pauses for a second.

A fire control radar lock means the other side has completed the firing calculations and can open fire at any time.

Although the "50 Years of Victory" is just an icebreaker and does not have anti-ship missiles, the political implication of this action is extremely clear: the Russians are prepared for war.

The executive officer asks: "Captain, should we counterattack?"

Carpenter is silent for three seconds.

He is a career soldier who has served in the Navy for thirty years, having experienced the Gulf War, the Afghanistan War, and the Iraq War. He knows the taste of war, and he also knows where the threshold of war lies.

"No," he says, "they are just drawing a red line."

"What do we do?"

"Keep following. But don't let the aircraft get any closer."

He pauses, looking at the slowly moving blip on the radar screen:

"Let the White House handle it. This is not a captain-level issue."

For the entire next day of the standoff, the ships of both sides maintained a distance of about ten nautical miles, neither side backing down.

The F-18 and the Ka-27 circled in the sky, like two eagles that never land.

The "North Star" maintained its course, north, and further north.

In the cockpit, the crew hadn't closed their eyes for thirty-six hours.

Chen Haisheng stands by the window, watching the Russian warships on both sides.

He remembers thirty years ago, when he first started sailing, the old captain told him:

"The rules at sea are determined by the range of the cannons. In times of peace, everyone talks about the law. In times of war, it's about who can get a shell onto your head faster."

At that time, he thought the old captain was too pessimistic.

Today, for the first time, he truly understands this sentence.

Liu Yuanhang walks over and hands him a cup of hot tea: "Captain, you should sleep for a while. I'll keep watch."

Chen Haisheng takes the tea but doesn't drink it. He looks out the window: "I can't sleep."

Liu Yuanhang is silent for a moment, then asks: "Captain, are you afraid?"

Chen Haisheng doesn't answer.

He looks at the "Roosevelt" aircraft carrier in the distance, looking at those tiny figures busy on the deck.

"Afraid," he finally says, "but even if I'm afraid, I have to keep going."

Liu Yuanhang doesn't ask again.

They stand together by the window, watching the sun that never sets.