Kirov Saga: Armageddon (Kirov Series) (36 page)

“The man is insane if he would fire on us like that, and if he
tries it again, we’ll be ready for him, right Samsonov?”

“Sir?”

“I want all S-400 batteries active and enabled at once. Put the
deck guns on automatic and have them engage contacts at 15,000 meters or less.
Then key up the
Vodopad
torpedo system, four tubes. We have been given
no choice and we must defend ourselves. Tasarov! Find me that goddamned
submarine!” The Captain was staring at his sonar man now, a sinister look in
his eye.

Rodenko realized that Karpov would not listen to reason, and that
the subtleties of protocol would not avail him here either. Karpov was going to
ignore the Admiral’s order, and more, he was making ready to do battle with
him! The Captain’s blind insistence on this course, his overweening desire to
strike a decisive blow to smash the history that had brought so much strife and
sorrow to Russia, were his only concern. He knew that Karpov would not hesitate
to fire
Kirov’s
ASW torpedoes, and that
Kazan
would hear that and
immediately retaliate. They were seconds from a situation that no man alive
could forestall or control once those weapons were fired, and now Samsonov was
the key synapse in the chain of command. Instinctively, reflexively, he was
reaching to enable the weapon systems on his command board, and Rodenko knew he
had to act.

“Belay that order! You will stand down, Samsonov.”

“Stay out of this, Rodenko! Mind your place! This is your last
warning. You are so concerned over orders here, but can’t seem to hear one when
it’s given to you. Now either second my orders or stand aside and keep your
mouth shut. Understood?”

“No, sir. I cannot second this order and I will
not
stand
aside.”

“Then you are relieved! Go below at once and commiserate with
Nikolin. The two of you have been nothing but trouble for days.”

“No, Captain, I will not. I have heard a direct order from a
senior officer, and you have failed to comply. As
Starpom
of this ship
that order now falls on me. I must relieve
you
sir, if you do not
comply.”

*
* *

“What
are they doing out there,” said Volsky, his voice edged with
impatience. “Anything?” He looked to the communications station now, hoping to
hear that
Kirov
was signaling them.

“There has to be some confusion on the bridge,” said Fedorov.
“That warning shot will have certainly surprised Karpov, and he must now know
we are not at Vladivostok. The question is whether or not he can master his
demons. I believe he will be preparing defensive measures now.”

“Yes, and the
Vodopad
system is all he has that could
bother us this far away. But I do not think he has located us yet, even with
our missile launch.”

“Probably not, given all the surface noise from those ships to the
south. But he will at least have bearing and general range.”

“This does not bode well. If he fires I cannot take any further
risk that one of those rocket torpedoes will find us, even if they have proved
unreliable in the past. So here we have it, that cold reflex of war. A push on
the shoulder becomes a shove, and that becomes Orlov’s punch in the face. The
next thing we know we will feel the shock wave of another nuclear detonation.
We fled to this distant past because that was precisely the situation we were
facing in 2021, only it was not just this single submarine at stake, and not
just
Kirov
, but the whole world waiting for the missiles to fire. This
is but a microcosm of everything we set in motion. All that darkness is sitting
right here. Yes, we are the demons from hell that we all shirk from in fear.
Words fail us, then out come the clubs, knives and guns. This time it will be
missiles.”

Fedorov’s eyes were sad and troubled. Then they seemed to kindle
with newfound fire, the light of another idea there, and he leaned forward.

“Admiral…There may be another way we can handle this.”

“Oh? I would certainly like to hear it, Mister Fedorov, but I
think you must be quick about it. The longer we go without a message back from
Kirov
,
the darker the swells in this turbulent sea.”

“We have Rod-25 aboard, and we discovered that the radius of its
effects is far greater than first believed. When the
Anatoly Alexandrov
shifted forward from 1942 we took a Soviet fishing trawler with us over a
kilometer away! That was how we managed to find Orlov. Those British commandos
I told you about had him on that trawler.”

“Yes, yes, and what does that have to do with this situation now,
Fedorov?”

“Sir…
Kazan
is a very stealthy sub. If we could get close
enough, we could initiate the procedure again and possibly take
Kirov
with us, willing or not!”

The Admiral looked at him now, raising his heavy eyebrow. “You
mean our shift would pull in
Kirov
as well? Are you certain this would
work?”

“Nothing in all this business is certain, sir. But it is one last possibility
short of a missile barrage laced with nuclear warheads.”

Volsky folded his arms, inclining his head to Captain Gromyko now.
“Just how quiet can this boat be, Captain?”

The hot potato was now in Gromyko’s hands, and it was very
uncomfortable. “Well, Admiral…I turned on a heading of 215 and began a high
speed sprint just after we fired. As Fedorov says, there is a great deal of
surface noise, and that island is now masking our position. Even at high speed
we are very quiet, as long as that bearing aft doesn’t give us away.”

“What if
Kirov
used the
Vodopads
?”

“I believe I could evade them, sir. They would likely fall well
behind us near our missile firing point, and if any were lucky enough to lock
on I could probably outrun the damn torpedo at the pace we’re going now.”

“How close could we conceivably get to the ship without being
detected. Don’t forget,
Kirov
has the
Shkval
system as well, and
it is much more lethal than the
Vodopads
. They can range out fifteen
kilometers at 200 kph. That means he could hit us with one in under five
seconds at that range and you certainly cannot approach at high speed.”

“No, sir. I will slow to 10 knots on final approach.”

“Well we must not forget the man sitting at sonar out there.
Tasarov is very good. If he hears us…”

Fedorov spoke now, knowing that this was their last chance to
avoid a cataclysm here. “We have his heading, sir. He is steering right for the
southern tip of Iki Island. He knows from our first radio communication, and
from our warning shot, that we are to his north.”

“And so he seeks to put the island between us and the ship. I have
seen him use this tactic before.”

“Yes, sir. He did the same thing just after that accident on
Orel
that first displaced us in time. He wanted to get the ship north of Jan Mayan
and use the island as a shield against those contacts we had to the south.”

 “Do not forget the KA-40s,” Volsky warned. “They could be up
there dropping sonobuoys as we speak.”

“There must be a good deal of confusion and doubt aboard
Kirov
now, sir,” said Fedorov. “They had to hear your orders. Karpov said the crew
voted to stay here, but that was before your direct order to the contrary. I
would bet there is some tension over all of this, perhaps even conflict
aboard.”

“Unfortunately Sergeant Troyak is here, and I do not think Karpov
will make the same mistake twice and allow the ship’s Marines to settle the issue.”

“Just the same, sir, if we have any chance to attempt this and
succeed, now is the time to act. Otherwise it is your hand on our missile key,
and Karpov with his.”

“If it comes to that choice,” said Gromyko, “I can fire at any
point as we head southwest, but realize if we have to use a special warhead the
blast effects could be up to five kilometers wide. I’ll need some room. It is
very shallow in the Iki Channel and Genkai Sea. If I had to fire I would prefer
to do so soon.”

Volsky passed an agonizing moment in the silence of his mind. He
remembered that night in Vladivostok just after the meal he had shared with
Fedorov and Karpov. The Captain was another man then, rehabilitated, a phoenix
risen from the ashes of everything he had done in the North Atlantic. Now he
counted on them both to find a way to save the world and prevent the war they knew
was coming.

He had rushed to a waiting taxi for the ride out to Naval
Headquarters Fokino when the alert was sounded and the fleet was called to
arms. The memory was still as fresh and cold in his mind as the cool night air
when he rolled down the window, beckoning Karpov near.

“We both know what is happening now,”
he had said to the
Captain.
“We may have plugged one hole in the dike by sparing that American
sub, but now the water seems to be coming up over the top. Remember, you are
acting Captain of the battlecruiser Kirov. Don’t let Kapustin and Volkov push
you around. And one more thing… Fedorov… Listen to him, Captain. Listen to
him.... Do what you must, but we both know that there is something much greater
than the fate of the ship at stake now, something much bigger than our own
lives. We are the only ones who know what is coming, Karpov, and fate will
never forgive us if we fail her this time.”

“Fedorov will stand right beside me, Admiral, and we will do
everything in our power to prevent that future we saw together. I promise you.”

“I’ll have faith in you both…There’s one more thing…”
The Admiral recalled how drew
out his missile key, removing it and slowly handing it to Karpov. Their eyes
met, a thousand words unspoken, and then he nodded at his Captain, raising his
heavy hand in a salute, which Karpov returned briskly with a farewell smile. He
could still see the Captain turn and rush away to the nearby quay where the
dark threatening profile of the world’s most powerful surface action ship rode
quietly at anchor. He was animated with energy, and there seemed to be hope in
every stride he took as he approached the gangway.

What had happened? Where had that hope gone? Was it the stress of
combat with the Americans in 2021, the jolting shock of that Demon Volcano and
the realization that the ship was again lost in time, marooned, with no way
home? And then how was it
Kirov
was sent hurtling further into the past,
to 1908? Was Kamenski correct in thinking that Rod-25 had been trying to work
its way home to this year all along—the year of Tunguska?

In an instant he knew what had happened. Karpov had spoken the
same cold logic to him long ago, aboard
Kirov
when he first asked him
why he had tried to take the ship. The Captain had been surly, disrespectful,
but he finally spoke his mind.

“What future are you talking about, old man?”

Volsky remembered bringing his fist down hard on the thin wood of
the table, and the sullen Captain started with the unexpected blow
. “Address
me by name and rank, Captain! You are talking to the Admiral of the Northern
Fleet!”

“Admiral of the fleet?
What fleet is this you presume to command now, comrade? We are
one ship, lost at sea, and lost in eternity. God only knows where we are now,
but I can assure you, the fleet is long gone, and there is no one back home in
Severomorsk waiting for us to return either. It’s all gone, Volsky. Gone!
Understand that and you have your fat fist around the heart of it. If you want
to understand what I did you need only open your hand and look at it. All we had
left was this ship, and no one else seemed to have backbone enough to defend it.
If I had not taken command it is very likely that we would all be at the bottom
of the sea now—have you considered that? So do what you will. Choke me. Shoot
me!... I had my hand on the throat of time itself and I let it slip from my
grasp. Don’t you understand what we could have done with this ship?”

The man found himself in 1945, and he fought. Now he is blown into
1908 and here he fights again, only now he believes he can finally win. Here
the siren song of temptation is simply too great for him to resist. Then we
return, with the one thing he has always feared most, a submarine. Now I think
he will fight again. I have never seen him run, or quail in the face of combat.
So I must either raise my sword now while we have the advantage and every
prospect for success, or take the grave risk that Fedorov suggests.

Could we get there undetected? Even if we could get close enough,
would Rod-25 have the power to sweep us both away into the chasm of time again?
Can Dobrynin control the reaction under these circumstances? Even if he can,
where will we end up? Will we get home? Will there be any world left there at
all when we arrive? Will it all be charred and burned as it was before? …
It’s
all gone, Volsky. Gone!... I had my hand on the throat of time itself and I let
it slip from my grasp. Don’t you understand what we could have done with this
ship?

He glanced at the ship’s chronometer, seeing the second hand of
the clock moving swiftly on. He had to decide.