Ice Station Nautilus by Rick Campbell

Commander Roger Swenson; the Electrical Division Chief, Mike Moran; and two first class electrician’s mates, Art Thompson and Tim Brandon. Thompson was working on a condensate pump controller, while Brandon was repairing one of the pumps.
    The covers were off both controller cabinets, and as Chief Moran aptly described it, they were a hot mess. Almost every circuit card had been damaged, some with charred components, while other cards were more difficult to diagnose. Even the smallest component gone bad could prevent operation. Supply didn’t have a spare for every card in the controller, forcing Thompson to triage the cards with no spares. He had picked the best one between the two controllers, and was now diagnosing which components had been damaged. The cards were laid on a rubber mat, keeping them away from dripping water, and he was taking measurements with a multimeter.
    Brandon was working on the pump. Normally, a wetted pump had a decent shot of returning to service. However, Number One Condensate Pump had been running for several hours, and when its hot internals had been doused with twenty-nine-degree salt water, the pump had turned into a rotating molten fireball. Number One Condensate Pump was unrepairable.
    That left the second pump. Unfortunately, Number Two Condensate Pump had turned on when its partner tripped off-line, starting up at the same time it was submerged in seawater. It had fared much better, but its stator had been damaged. There was little Brandon could do to fully repair it, but he was giving it his best shot.
    Chief Moran was supervising the two first class Petty Officers, studying the controller schematic in the tech manual. At the end of the day, they didn’t need to fully repair a controller and pump. The pump just had to run. Moran was figuring out how to circumvent the bad components that could not be replaced.
    Moran had his four best electricians working the problem. Thompson and Brandon had this twelve-hour shift and Bowser and Radek the other. By the time the electricians were done, the controller and pump were going to look like little Frankensteins, pieced back together. Tolbert didn’t care as long as they came alive when the switch was flipped, and that the repairs were completed before the battery was expended.
    The Engineer Officer wasn’t much help when it came to controller and pump repairs, but there was nothing more important than restoring the condensate system, so he hovered in Engine Room Forward like an expectant father.
    “Eng, how much longer?” Tolbert asked.
    The Engineer looked at Moran. The chief must have felt eyes on him, because he looked up from the schematics. “Three, maybe four days.”
    Moran’s response hit Tolbert in the gut. The battery would be drained in one day.
    “You’ve got twenty-four hours, Chief,” Tolbert said. “Make it happen.” Tolbert often challenged his subordinates to meet tight schedules. This time, however, it didn’t work.
    “It can’t be done, Captain,” Moran replied. “We’re going as fast as we can. Three or four days is what it’s going to take.”
    Tolbert looked to his Engineer, but Swenson confirmed his Chief’s assessment. “It’s the best we can do, sir.”
    “Then we need to solve the battery problem,” Tolbert said.
    The Engineer replied, “We need to preserve enough power to complete a reactor and engine room start-up. I recommend we open the battery breaker.”
    Tolbert considered his Engineer’s suggestion. North Dakota would become completely dead—a cold metal carcass beneath the polar ice cap. However, he could think of no alternative.
    “All right,” he said. “I’ll let the crew know what’s going on. In the meantime, you’ll need to set up to continue repairs using emergency battle lanterns.”
    *   *   *
    A few minutes later, Tolbert entered the Control Room. Even though the tactical systems had been deenergized, he had left the normal underway watches stationed; they were