Able Seaman Peter Harris had been on watch for the last three hours. He was sure he was becoming snowblind. Gazing out at the expanse of whiteness, he wasn’t really sure what he was looking for. “Signs of the enemy” was the order but how could he tell, trapped in this seemingly endless ice flow? No smoke rose above the frozen walls around him and any movement of the jostling blocks made it difficult to tell what was real and what was an illusion created by refracted light. Even the giveaway rumble of engines was muffled by the huge blocks of ice colliding. Harris rubbed his eyes and still saw the blank blue-white of his surroundings. As he looked out again, without warning a grey dagger-like shape broke the colour void. Within seconds he had sounded the alarm and the Albion Cruiser was alive with sailors beating to quarters. Silently, Harris hoped that the enemy had been as clueless about their proximity as he was. He would soon find out how prepared they were.
