Kirov Saga: Armageddon (Kirov Series) (29 page)

“…Vladivostok. Over. Repeat. This is Captain Anton Fedorov on
station K-11 Vladivostok. Calling Kirov, come in. Over.”

Fedorov! What was he doing on this channel? Nikolin quickly
checked the signal vector on his automatic Radio Magnetic Indicator and noted
the bearing as almost true north. A quick look at a chart told him the signal
was right on axis for Vladivostok. How did he get there? Just days ago he was
in the Caspian on shortwave. His heart leapt and he looked to see where Karpov
was, standing near the Plexiglas situation map with Rodenko. The glow of the
illuminated digital map traced lines over the features of the two men, drawing
the map of the region on their uniforms and faces. Then some inner instinct
whispered a warning to him. Whatever this message was, it was coming at a
critical time. It was important, and so he reached over and toggled a switch to
record the transmission, and also placed a backup on a memory key.

“Captain,” he said. “I have HF traffic on the coded military
signal band!”

He saw Karpov’s head turn, his eyes narrowing, a cloud of
suspicion on his face. “A coded signal? On our standard HF channel?”

“Yes, sir. It’s Mister Fedorov calling again. He’s in Vladivostok!”

“What?” Karpov was moving now, stepping quickly from behind the
Plexiglas screen. “Vladivostok?”

“Shall I put it on speaker, Captain?”

“No, Mister Nikolin. I’ll take this call personally. Busy yourself
with the weather data for the moment. This is command level business.” Karpov
waved him from his chair, and Nikolin retreated to the weather monitor, looking
furtively over his shoulder as the Captain settled in and quickly put the
headphones on. His hand was unsteady as he reached for the handset, thumbing
the send button.

“Fedorov! What are you doing on this channel?” Karpov’s voice was
low, a raspy whisper as he spoke, his eyes looking up to chase any curious
glance from bridge crew members away with an angry stare.

“Captain Karpov! Fedorov here. I report that we were able to
return successfully to our home year, and I have flown to Vladivostok with the
control rods. Over.”

“But what are you doing
here
, Fedorov. How did you get back
to 1908 again?”

“Just as I left before, Captain. We used the reactor test bed at
the Primorskiy Engineering Center, and Dobrynin was able to calibrate it to
reach this year. I am now in an old cottage in Vladivostok, with a military
radio set. There is someone with me who wishes to speak to you. Please hold...”

Karpov waited, a thousand thoughts swirling in the hiss of the
background noise. Then a familiar, low voice came through his headset, and he
knew exactly who it was.

“Captain Karpov. This is Admiral Leonid Volsky. I have accompanied
Mister Fedorov on a most remarkable journey here, and I hope I do not have to
tell you why. Your decision to intervene here is most unwise, and as Admiral of
the Fleet I am now giving you a direct order to cease and desist. The
consequences of anything you may do here are simply too severe. Bring the ship
here, Mister Karpov, to Vladivostok. We have control rods with us that can get
you safely home. This is a direct order from me to you. Beyond that, Moscow has
also been informed and this order comes directly from the entire naval board. Over.”

Karpov’s pulse pounded at his temples, his eyes casting about in
sharp, nervous movements. He had to think quickly. What could he say to buy
more time? “That is not possible,” he said in a low whisper. “We are at the
edge of a major engagement!”

“Then use your speed and break off that engagement, Captain. This
is an order! What in God’s name are you doing here, Karpov? I have heard of
mission creep but this is outrageous! We know what you did in 1945. You and
your ship must return home at once! You were gifted with command of the fleet
flagship, with my trust in you, and the fate of that ship and crew is now in
your hands. In exchange for that honor you gave me something I thought you
considered of great value at that time—your word and promise. And do not tell
me the men have decided this course. You as Captain are responsible. You must
return Kirov and the men home safely. This is imperative!”

Karpov hesitated, a tormented look on his face. “That is my
intention, sir,” he lied. “But to do that I must assure there is a safe home to
return to. We could not do that before—not in 2021 or in the 1940s. But here I
can accomplish everything we hoped to achieve. I am within an hour of changing
the entire course of history in the Pacific! Japan will never rise as an
imperial power. The Second World War will never be fought here. Don’t you
understand?”

“Com. Radar.” Came the report from Kochenko. “Range is now18,000
meters and closing.”

“Karpov. Listen to me. We have seen the history. The change will
be more than you realize. It will be catastrophic! You must desist at once and
obey this order. We can explain everything to you at Vladivostok.”
Volsky could here Karpov
trying to argue with him and so he lied as well, hoping to convince him his
attempt to re-write history would end in failure.

The Captain squeezed the handset, hunching over Nikolin’s desk to
mask his voice. “We are in battle!” he rasped. “I do not have
time
for
this, Admiral. The ship is in jeopardy! I will contact you after we conclude
this action and the ship is safe.”

“No, Karpov! Break off now! Do not engage! I repeat. You are
ordered to disengage and withdraw at once. This is critical! If you fail to
obey, this order falls on your Starpom, and should he fail to heed this
command, then it falls to the next senior watch officer on the bridge, Mister
Samsonov, through Tasarov, and then to Nikolin. If no man among them stands up
and obeys, then I hereby appoint Dr. Zolkin as the ship’s commander, whether he
knows a thing about operations or not. At least his judgment will be sound. Do
you hear me, Karpov? It is vital that you comply at once!”

Then, just as the Admiral was finishing his urgent order, Karpov
heard something quite unexpected in the background, another voice, another
name, and his face registered alarm, even as his heart pounded out a warning
and the rapid pulse of imminent danger.

*
* *

Aboard
Kazan
the Admiral had been huddling with Fedorov,
both men with headsets on at the communications station, their faces drawn and
serious. Captain Gromyko was standing by, hands on his hips as he listened to
the transmission being played over the comm speaker. Even as Volsky repeated
his urgent order, a
Mishman
stepped through a nearby open hatch with a
clipboard.

“Captain Gromyko, sir. I have the maintenance log for—”

Gromyko whirled about, his eyes wide, arm extended as if to stop
the man. Fedorov twisted in his seat holding a finger to his lips to indicate
silence as the Admiral finished. There was a brief interval of quiet. Then they
heard Karpov’s voice come back, quick and urgent.
“Very well, Admiral…Karpov
out…”

“Captain Karpov?” The Admiral thumbed his send button. “Are you
there, Karpov? Respond. Over.” There was nothing on the channel but the dry
hiss of background static.

*
* *

Aboard
Kirov
the Captain set the handset heavily on the
comm panel, his other hand reaching up to slowly remove the headset. He stood
up, and the torment in his eyes fled like storm clouds before the wind. Now
they were dark and empty, a cold, lifeless expression on his face, cheeks drawn
beneath his sallow gaze as he stared out the forward viewport. He seemed to be
standing in the midst of a great void, an emptiness of the soul, his shoulders
hunched and stooped. Then he straightened, taking a long, deep breath as if to
draw in energy from the tension of the moment.

“Mister Nikolin. There will be no further signals traffic over the
HF Military band until this action is concluded. Understood?”

“Yes, sir.” Nikolin looked like a schoolboy being dressed down,
and returned to his post.

The Captain walked deliberately to the flag briefing room, quietly
closing the door behind him. The eyes of the bridge crew followed him,
particularly Rodenko where he still stood by the digital situation map, the
lines of distant ships now glowing softly red on the screen.

Inside the briefing room alone, the Captain now moved with urgent
swiftness. He activated a system monitor and quickly typed in a password to log
on to the fleet manifest. His hands were unsteady as he typed, backspacing to
correct two errors. The words on the screen finally scrolled up,
GROMYKO,
IVAN, CAPTAIN of the 1st RANK,
Karpov’s finger ran across to the column
indicating current fleet assignment. There it was….SSGN
KAZAN
…

Karpov tapped the name of the ship with a taut finger, and the
display quickly called up the profile:

Yasen
Class
,
Boat No. 2 -
SSGN
Kazan
.

Commission
Date. June 15, 2015
. (Modified Severodvinsk)

Displacement
: 12,800
Submerged, Length: 120m, Beam: 15m, Draught: 8.4m

Propulsion:
One
modified KPM Pressurized Water Reactor

Speed:
20 Knots
Surface; Submerged: 35+ Knots. Test Depth: 600m

Compliment:
32
Officers, 58 Enlisted

Current
Loadout:

16 x
3M-54E Klub P-900(VLS)

16x Onyx
P-800 (VLS)

8x650mm
Torpedo Tubes (83R ): Load of 24

2x533mm Torpedo
Tubes (82R): Load of 16

2 x Veter
Rocket Assisted Torpedoes (RU-100 Nuclear Capable)

6x Veter
Conventional Long Range Rocket Assisted Torpedoes

Additional
Munitions
: VA-111 Shkval (6)

Special Warheads
:
Classified

The longer Karpov looked at the data the more the blood seemed to
drain from his face. They were
lying
…They were
not
in Vladivostok
as Fedorov claimed. They did
not
use the test bed reactors at the Primorskiy
Engineering Center. They were here, now, aboard one of the most lethal attack
submarines in the navy. Now the full measure of what was happening here
suddenly rose in his awareness like red heat.

They were out there in the silent darkness of the sea, hidden like
a venomous adder that had crept quietly into his bunk, and there might be
nothing more than the faint, sibilant hiss of the torpedoes as they fired to
warn him of imminent destruction. They are trying to
kill me
, he
thought, his mind at the edge of a barely restrained panic.
They are trying
to kill us all!

He leaned heavily on the counter, and then he remembered it, the
service revolver he had secreted away there a week ago after they had first
displaced to this time period. It was as if he anticipated trouble here,
possibly a restive crew or opposition from one or more officers. Certainly
Zolkin would oppose what he planned to do, though he felt he could handle that
challenge. Rodenko, however, was another matter. He was
Starpom
, and in
that position had a great deal of authority, and he had been somewhat squeamish
of late, raising objections and questioning decisions at almost every turn.

So Karpov quietly placed a service revolver behind the chart box
in the plot room, and now he stooped to retrieve it, slipping the belt around
his waist and concealing the weapon beneath his service coat. He sighed,
feeling better, but noticed a discernible nervous jitter in his hand.

A goddamned submarine!

Part IX

Trials

“The
time to take counsel of your fears is before you make an important battle
decision. That's the time to listen to every fear you can imagine!”

―
General George Patton

Chapter 25

Nikolin
returned to his station, a nervous look on his face. He sat down,
eying the Captain with a furtive glance, and when Karpov withdrew to the flag
briefing room he fixed his headphones in place and reached for the message
recording bank. His hand hesitated briefly as he wondered whether he should
play the recording back, but curiosity overwhelmed him and defeated his
caution. Who would know? It would seem as though he were just monitoring signal
traffic. So he toggled the switch to replay the message, listening with
surprise and then growing alarm as he realized what was happening. Fedorov was
in Vladivostok with Admiral Volsky! The Admiral was ordering the ship to
disengage and return to that port at once!