Kirov Saga: Armageddon (Kirov Series) (4 page)

“Yes, that was what Khrushchev called it, Kuz'kina Mat, Kuzka’s
Mother. The CIA called it ‘Joe 111,’ and I knew it as Project 7000, but I
suppose it was the real ‘mother of all bombs.’ There has never been a bigger
one. Well, you will be surprised to learn, Mister Fedorov, that we first came
to understand that time displacement was possible as early as October 30, in
the year 1961, on the day that bomb went off. That was sixty years ago, and I
was a very young man back then.”

He explained how they realized nuclear detonations could cause
tears in the fabric of spacetime, and Fedorov listened intently, hearing the
details of this now, even though Chief Dobrynin had disclosed some of this to
him earlier.

“Then have we done this before? Have we moved things in time?”

“We have tried,” said Kamenski. “Sometimes without success, and
other times without even knowing or intending it, as in the case of your ship
vanishing last July. Yet the real question you wish to ask is something more,
Mister Fedorov. You want to know what could have happened to change the course
of history—not by much, just a month in this case between the first and
thirtieth of December in 1934, but in that brief interval lies a profound
mystery. Yes?”

* * *

The
last of the three helicopters arrived on
Admiral Kuznetsov
,
this one carrying the prize, Admiral Volsky, Kamenski, and Rod-25. Fedorov and Troyak
brought one spare rod on another helo, and Dobrynin and Orlov accompanied the
third, with Zykov riding along for security.

The Admiral came dressed in a simple Lieutenant’s uniform, and he
gave orders that nothing was to be removed from the helicopter for at least an
hour, knowing the Americans would be watching the ship closely from space.

“I know very well how good their spy satellites are,” said
Kamenski. “Ours are good as well. I have read headlines on newspapers using
satellites in space! This is a wise precaution. Seeing the Admiral of the Fleet
get off a helicopter here would certainly raise a few eyebrows.”

“Yes, and this uniform makes me feel young again,” said Volsky,
smoothing out his jacket sleeve. “We are going to put on a little show for the
Americans,” he smiled. “Of course they have been watching us very closely since
that last engagement. At present we believe they think
Kirov
was
destroyed along with the other ships that vanished after that demon of a
volcano erupted. Well enough. They have seen us withdraw the
Admiral
Kuznetsov
and they are watching that ship very closely.
Kazan
has
replenished secretly in the underground submarine tunnels, but they will be
looking for her. I have no doubt that they are watching with satellites in
spite of the ashfall and cloud cover. The area north of the volcano has not
been affected much. Therefore it would be most unwise to attempt to surface
that boat to take on our special cargo.”

“Then how will we get there?” asked Kamenski.

“We are going to have to use a submersible rescue vehicle, The
AS-28 is available and we can move it into the
Admiral Kuznetsov
task
force for the show I have planned.”

“Where is
Kazan?”
asked Fedorov.

“Right beneath
Admiral Kuznetsov!
The Americans have been
looking all over for that submarine, but to no avail. They have been trying to
get a peek at my cards, but I have stacked my last two Aces, even though I risk
losing both to a single warhead. Yet I reason if that were to happen, then the
worst would be upon us and it would be down to the strategic missile forces in
the end. So I have hidden
Kazan
below the carrier. Now we must arrange a
little theater. The Americans will be watching us, so I am moving one of the
diesel subs into the region quietly as well. Our Submarine Rescue Vessel
Sayany
can carry the AS-28 submersible to the scene, and we can quietly load the
control rods aboard at night. We board the AS-28 and let it move out a few
kilometers on the surface with the
Sayany
. Then we submerge with it and
maneuver back to
Kazan
. After we have successfully boarded the sub with
our cargo, then we’ll send the AS-28 back to
Sayany
and surface the
diesel boat right there for the Americans to see.”

“Ah, very clever, Admiral,” said Kamenski. “You will make it seem
like the AS-28 was performing some kind of rescue operation on the diesel
submarine, perhaps delivering some needed part or piece of equipment.”

“Precisely, and while they are watching the show,
Kazan
can
slip quietly out the back door and head for the Sea of Japan.”

Chapter 3

Offutt
Air Force Base, Nebraska, was a very busy place that morning.
Once the center of the US Strategic Air Command (SAC) it was a warren of
underground bunkers and command facilities that were now the heartbeat of the
U.S. Strategic Command, (USSTRATCOM). Over the years it had seen some memorable
events in both war and peace, and had been heralded in film and fiction for its
strategic importance in time of national crisis. Henry Fonda was there in the
cold war classic “Fail Safe” and Peter Sellers held forth there in Doctor
Strangelove as he learned to love the bomb.

On this day it had a very important mission to ready, and one that
might fit neatly into the script of either of those two old movies. For among
other units stationed there, the base was home to some very special aircraft
that would soon rise into the skies in an ominous prelude to what might happen
soon after. They were not stealthy, sleek, black-tiled warplanes, or high
flying hypersonic reconnaissance planes. In fact, anyone who might have seen them
taxi from their secure hangers onto the wide tarmac near the 55th Bomb Wing
Headquarters building would recognize their familiar silhouettes at once. One
man who saw them that day was in no way surprised when their big engines began
to turn over, the sound rolling across the field and reverberating amid the
squat concrete buildings housing high level command facilities.

“Hear that?” said Airman First Class Ernie Mason. “I told you they
would be flying today. The E-4 hanger doors were open at 04:00 hours this
morning.”

“You were up at four AM, Mace?” His buddy Airman, James Suder was
still working his first cup of coffee that morning, looking tired and needing
sleep.

“I had the night shift. Took some down time at the Old Stripes
Club, but there was no one there but old stripes. Good name for the place.”

“There a lot better clubs in Omaha,” said Suder. “Shark Club,
Goodfellas, Whisky Tango.”

“Well who can get to Omaha and back on a thirty minute leash,
Suder? I had the duty. We had to go over those engines with a fine toothed comb
last night. So I knew the spooks were going to be up today.”

“Spooks?”

“That’s what I call them. They only fly the damn things when all
hell is about to break loose. Scares the crap out of you because the only reason
they made the damn things is to make certain someone survives to send Emergency
Action Messages if we get toasted here on the ground.”

“What’s on the tarmac this morning?”

“E-4B
Nightwatch
is out there making noise right now. We
had to work over the RC-135 Rivet Joints plane and the E-6B Mercury TACAMO
plane too.”

“Jeeze Louise! That’s some serious business, Mace.”

The E-6B looked like a white Boeing commercial airliner, and the
Nightwatch
plane actually was a commercial airliner, a big 747 jumbo jet with the telltale
porpoise hump and nose and a bright blue stripe down each side of the fuselage.
It didn’t seem dressed for the part it was to play as the “Doomsday Plane,” an
airborne command and control plane for the civilian leadership in the event of
a major national emergency.

“No shit, Sherlock,” said Mason. “You can bet the
Nightwatch
will be heading east to find the President somewhere. And the Air Force brass
will be in the E-6 by now. STRATCOM building looks like everyone left for a
funeral or something. All the offices are shut down. There’s nothing but
janitors mopping up over there now.”

“They probably all went into their gopher holes,” said Suder.
“They’re all underground by now, which is where we should be. If the President
is going airborne with the rest of the stripes, then you and I had better find
us a couple cases of bravos and dig a hole ourselves. The proverbial shit is
about to hit the  fan, my friend.”

“Well hell, Suder. Did you think we were going to take that crap
the Chinese pulled over the Pacific coast lying down? Hell no! I think we’re
going to toast something to let them know what’s up. Any bets on what they do?”

“Rumors say they might hump Shanghai or some other big city over
there. But you know the drill—they throw one, then we throw one, then they
throw a few more and on it goes. This business has been wound up tight for the
last nine days. Something is about to give, I tell you. Can’t you feel it?”

“Yeah, I’ve had the same feeling. I don’t think we’re going to
back off on this one. It’s pedal to the metal from here on in, and that means
you and I will either be real busy or very dead in the next 48 hours. Well, I
say we make it through.”

“How do you figure, Mace?”

“We made it through the alien attack in
Independence Day
.
We stopped those wacko alien ships in
Battleship
, and we beat the pants
off ‘em in
Battle: Los Angeles
and
War of The Worlds
, and even
kicked ass in
Signs
—swing away, Merrill…. Merrill…Swing away!” He made
as if he were holding a baseball bat ready to swing on the first alien that
showed its snout.

“Right, we always win against the aliens,” said Suder. “But this
time we’re not up against them. This time it’s
us
, the good old
primates. We’re going to swing away alright, but those planes out there might
end up being the only things left around to see what happens.
Nightwatch
…good
name for the damn thing.”

*
* *

High
above the Pacific, NROL-52 was up and running, a replacement sent
up the previous day for a bird the Chinese had taken down with their surprise
ASAT attack. The Americans had seen to it that they would not lose any more of
their precious satellites, at least not at the hands of the Chinese. They had
sent their B-2s in with a devastating fast new cruise missile and blasted all
the key satellite launching facilities the Chinese relied on. To express their
displeasure, the Chinese escalated by sending a sub launched missile over the
US Pacific coast and, though the resulting EMP burst was not as devastating as
originally thought, it had taken down power grids from Seattle to San Diego.

 Watching the latest developments very closely from space, 2nd
Lieutenant Matt Eden was on the duty roster again that day at the Naval
Intelligence Center. He had already lost one bird, and wondered how long this
one would fly as he monitored the regrouping of the Russian Red Banner Pacific
Fleet. He was told to look for the principle surface combatants, but thus far
the only capital ship of note he had been able to identify was the
Admiral
Kuznetsov.

It was time to make his scheduled report to the Deputy Watch
Commander, and he punched up line two on his phone set.

“Deep Black Ten, sir. Lieutenant Eden reporting on RB1.”

“Anything new, Lieutenant?”

“Yes sir, but communications with the satellite have been
difficult. There’s a considerable electromagnetic disturbance from that
eruption and it’s propagated through the atmosphere into space. The high
altitude EMP burst didn’t help either, but at least our bird was over the
horizon at the time and the system wasn’t fried. Our optics are still nice and
sharp. Lucky for us the ash fall has been blowing south, otherwise we couldn’t
see a thing.”

“I don’t need a weather report, Lieutenant. What’s up with the
damn Russians?”

“Sorry sir. The flotilla was regrouping and replenishing in the
Sea of Okhotsk, but that operation appears to be concluded now. They transited
the Gulf of Sakhalin and moved into the Tartar Strait off Sovetskaya Gavan and
Vanino. There’s been some helicopter activity around the carrier but it looks
like they were just delivering a few missile canisters. Now they have moved
what appears to be a sub tender into the area. I’ve sent the digital imagery to
Section Four for analysis.”

“Any sign of that hot submarine PACCOM is still looking for?”

“Nothing has surfaced, sir. But I’ll watch this tender and see
what it’s up to. Where there’s smoke, there’s fire.”

“Good enough, Lieutenant.”

Eden hung up the phone and returned to his console, deciding to
take a closer look at the new arrival. What would they need a sub tender out
here for unless there was a submarine nearby, and possibly one in difficulty? Could
this be a blood trail from the submarine Naval Intelligence is all hot and
bothered about? Perhaps it was wounded in action on its first sortie, and is
licking its wounds in sheltered waters until help can arrive. The Russians sure
moved that sub tender there in a hurry. My data points indicate it was making
sixteen knots, and that is the top of the scale for that class ship.