Kirov II: Cauldron Of Fire (Kirov Series) (13 page)

“Go then,”
said Volsky. “And Mister Karpov—when you get there, and inform Fedorov of his
new rank and position, don’t forget to salute.”

Karpov smiled.
“I will click my heels, sir.”

Volsky
laughed again, but it subsided with a wince of pain. “Can we still that claxon?
My head is killing me. And Doctor, you may give me your shot now. If you have a
few hours sleep for me in that syringe I will be a new man myself.”

Fedorov
was as surprised as anyone else when
the citadel hatch opened and Karpov stepped onto the bridge, a Marine Guard in
his wake. He had been staring up at the aft Tin Man video display, watching the
chaotic effort to fight the fire there and seeing the desperate effort of the
men as they heaved the KA-40 over the side just before it exploded. Now he and
the other officers turned, equally surprised, and Karpov looked down, fighting
his shame, then found resolve and straightened to attention in a way he had
promised, literally clicking his heels as he saluted.

“Sir,” he
said formally. “I am ordered here by Admiral Volsky, and with the new rank of
Captain Lieutenant. I am to inform you that you are hereby promoted to Captain
of the Third Rank, and the Admiral wishes you to assume formal command of the
ship until such time as he is fully recovered. I have asked him, and I now ask
you, to accept me as your first officer, and I pledge that I will serve you to
the best of my ability.” He held his salute as he spoke.

 Fedorov
returned it, astonished, but inwardly relieved by this development. He had been
distracted by the explosion aft and almost forgot that the ship was engaged.
When he remembered the incoming aircraft he was thinking what to do next when
Karpov appeared. The enormity of these events was a lot to process at once, but
he maintained his composure and turned to Karpov, nodding.

“Very well,”
he said, imitating the Admiral again. “Now hear this,” he said to the bridge
crew. “I formally accept command of battlecruiser
Kirov
until such time
as the Admiral returns to duty, and I hereby accept, and appoint, Captain
Lieutenant Karpov as my First Officer. He will advise me and second my
decisions according to protocol. Understood?”

The men
nodded, particularly his senior officers, Rodenko, Tasarov, Samsonov. “Mister
Karpov, please work with Rodenko to monitor the status of an incoming air contact
and use your best judgment as to how to deal with it to ensure the safety of
the ship. I must coordinate with Byko on the comm-link to assess what has
happened aft.”

“Sir!”
Karpov saluted again, and went immediately to Rodenko’s Fregat radar station to
get on top of their present tactical situation. Rodenko felt his presence
looming over him, but something seemed different in the man now. That edge of
haughtiness was gone, and the arrogance. Instead he looked and saw Karpov
scanning the readout with the quiet, cool assessment of a trained naval combat
officer, and he was glad, relieved even, to have the burden taken from him. He
had advised Fedorov as best he could, but in truth, his specialty was radar.

“Samsonov,”
said Karpov, “You used bank seven on the Klinock system?”

“Aye, sir,”
said Samsonov, and the mood of the bridge tamped down to business as usual. “We
only got off three missiles before the misfire.”

“All three
hit, in spite of the damage to the main ship borne guidance radars. But we have
lost time with this misfire and Rodenko is still showing three airborne
contacts, very close now. We will have to switch to the Gatling guns, but they
may need tracking assistance.”

“Aye, sir.
Activating close in defense system.”

Melville-Jackson
emerged from the bank of low flying
clouds, his radar man shouting out the contact: “Three-o’clock, Jackie and Five
miles out!”

“Roger that.
Put your fish in the water now boys, and let’s get moving. We’ve bitten off
more than we can chew from the looks of things. This is no cruiser. It’s a
bleeding battleship! Look at the damn thing!”

Two of the
three planes still had torpedoes, and there was no sense in trying a strafing
run with his shattered flight now. He pulled the stick back, breaking round in
a sharp turn. Then he caught a glimpse of the distant enemy ship as he emerged
from a cloud, and could clearly see a fire aft. Perhaps one of his boys got a
torpedo in the water after all! A moment later he heard Stanton calling “fish
away,” but no word from Dobbs in the other Mark I.

Stanton’s
shot was four kilometers out, just inside the maximum range for this torpedo,
and then he turned on Jackson’s heading. But Dobbs kept running on, bearing in
on the target to get a better shot. Jackson saw something flash out of the
corner of his eye and craned his neck to get a look behind him. The dark
silhouette of a warship lit up with the firing of a single gun, a Bofors from
the looks of the volume it poured out, but it was lethally accurate. A hail of
fire swamped Dobbs plane and it was riddled and on fire in seconds. He quickly
lost control and went into the sea.

“Damn!” said
Jackson. His squadron was decimated—worse than decimated. What in hell were
they shooting at us? He had his cameras running the whole while, and hoped the
footage would be valuable if he could get it home safely. “Bad day’s work”, he
said to Stanton on the radio.

“Bloody hell!”
came the return. “Let’s get out of here.”

“Torpedo
in the water!”
Tasarov called out loudly. “Two signals, both running true!”

Karpov,
turned to Fedorov near the comm-link. “Mister Fedorov,” he asked. “Will these
torpedoes home in on the ship’s hull?”

“No,” said
Fedorov, “they will run true as aimed to their maximum range, and only detect
the hull for purposes of detonation. They have no active tracking radar or
sonar components. You can avoid them by maneuvering the ship.”

 “Helm, come
hard to port and all ahead full!”

“Aye, sir,”
came the echo, “Hard to port and ahead full!”

The ship
went into a high speed turn, leaning heavily in the sea and surging forward
with renewed speed. Karpov wanted to get as far off the torpedo bearing as
possible, and he was easily able to maneuver the ship out of harm’s way. Then
he went to the viewport, looking for his binoculars, pleased to find them
hanging just where he had left them, so long ago it seemed now. A quick scan
satisfied him that the evasive maneuver had worked. He saw the two torpedo
wakes well off the starboard side of the ship and breathed a sigh of relief.

“Two
airborne contacts withdrawing,” said Rodenko. “I think they've had enough,
sir.”

Karpov
nodded. “Let us hope this is the last we see of them for while.” And then to
Fedorov he said. “Captain, how is the situation on the aft deck?”

Fedorov had
just finished being briefed and had a grim expression on his face. “Not good,”
he said. “The KA-40 caught fire when the missile failed and they had to
jettison it over the side. I don’t know how they managed that, but they did.
That secondary explosion we heard was probably the fuel tanks going up. If the
ship is in no further danger I suggested we slow to ten knots and get divers
down to have a look. Byko tells me the aft Horse Tail sonar has been badly
damaged and we may have sustained further harm from that explosion.”

“I confirm
that,” said Tasarov. “I have a red light on the aft sonar system, but the
forward bow dome is still returning good signals. It looks like we won't be
able to deploy the Horse Tail variable depth sonar, but at least our jaw isn't
broken. And if we still have the other two helicopters in working order we can
use their dipping sonar as well.”

The ship
utilized a variant of the older Horse Jaw low-frequency hull sonar system,
principally deployed in a prominent bow dome and along the forward segments of
the hull. But the aft quarter also allowed for the deployment of additional
sensors towed by a long cable which allowed them to move the devices to
variable depths and listen through thermal layers when necessary.

Fedorov
shrugged, stepping to the center of the command citadel and resting an arm on
the Admiral's chair. Karpov drew near, and clasped him on the shoulder. “We are
no longer in any immediate danger,” he said.

“Glad to
hear that,” said Fedorov. “It seems like I've been on my feet for hours now.”

Karpov
smiled. “Get used to it, Captain.” Then he looked at the Admiral's chair and
gestured. “Have a seat, Fedorov. The ship is yours now.”

“Thank you,
Captain,” said Fedorov, and he slipped quietly into the chair, realizing it was
the first time he had ever sat there. Something about the moment stayed with
him the rest of his life. He was commander of the most powerful ship in the
world, at least for the moment.

Chapter 9

Three men
showed up at sick bay, and Zolkin was
surprised when he saw Orlov among them, his face black with soot, and bleeding.
He also quickly noticed his hands, clenched and held tightly near his soiled
sweatshirt, as if protecting them from further harm. His wool cap was still on,
and pulled low on his forehead, and he looked every bit the threatening, brute
of a man that he had been while serving as Chief of Operations.

But for
Zolkin, a man in medical need was his charge and duty, and he put aside his ill
feelings for Orlov and got him quickly onto a cot for some much needed first
aid.

“Well, I
hope you don’t plan on getting into any boxing matches with those hands, Orlov.
How did this happen?”

Orlov
grimaced as the Doctor applied antiseptic and bandages, but the burns were not
severe. He told Zolkin of the fire, and the effort to ditch the helicopter
before it exploded. The other two men in for minor bruises and burns heaped
praise on Orlov, and not because they feared any reprisal on his part if they
failed to do so. In the heat of a dire emergency Orlov had instinctively acted
to save the ship, risking his own life and the lives of all the men he called
to action with him, but narrowly averting that fate by a matter of seconds. Yet
the fact remained that he was seen as a hero by the men for what he did, and
Zolkin thought this good for a change, and a positive first step for Orlov in
his new post.

“In spite of
what I might wish to say to you on other matters,” he said, “I put that aside
now and congratulate you for your courage. Two other men were here before you
with tales of your herculean feat. The Admiral will be pleased when I tell him
what you have done.”

When the
other two men had been dismissed Orlov pressed the Doctor with a question.
“What has happened, Zolkin? I have heard nothing. What were we firing at?”

“Don’t ask
me. Yes, I was in the briefing and can tell you that the ship has moved again,
backward, into this mess of a war that we blundered into. Fedorov was able to
pinpoint the date as August 12, 1942, a full
year
after our first
adventure, to put things lightly. Apparently there is a lot of shooting going
on south of us, and he’s maneuvered the boat into the Tyrrhenian Sea to avoid
it. But, as you can see, we have been spotted. You are not the only officer
wounded. Volsky is in the next room, sleeping at last again.”

Orlov
lowered his head.

“I was a
fool, Zolkin,” he said in a low voice. “Karpov duped me, that snake, and I fell
for his
vranyo
hook, line and sinker. If I ever get my hands on him—”

“Now,
now—that will do you no good either, Orlov!” Zolkin wagged a finger at him,
admonishing.

“Let him rot
in the brig, then. At least I have a post, and some measure of rank left.”

“Don’t
become perturbed, but Karpov was sent to the bridge as acting First Officer to
Fedorov. The Admiral may not recover for some days yet, and we were under
attack. What does Fedorov know about naval combat? Nothing. Karpov pledged to
serve faithfully if given a second chance, and the Admiral sent him up.”

Orlov shook
his head. “It was his doing!” he said. “All his doing!”

“Don’t hold
yourself blameless, Orlov. You had a choice to make and you chose wrongly. If
it is any consolation to you, Karpov was also reduced in rank three levels. He
is Captain Lieutenant now, under Fedorov. I expect they will make a formal
announcement when this business settles down. For your part, you have done
something right in that action just now. Good for you. Now don’t let the bear
in the kitchen over Karpov and keep your wits about you. You are a natural
leader, Orlov, but you let your anger get the best of you all too often. Think
about that—and don’t get any more stupid ideas in your head about Karpov. There
is a limit to Volsky’s forbearance. He has given Karpov a chance to redeem
himself. You now have yours.”

He looked
over the top of his glasses and smiled. “I’ll tell Troyak that you are to rest
those hands for at least 48 hours. In the mean time—find a good book, or better
yet, a good meal. Your rank as Lieutenant still gets you into the officer’s
mess. And while you are at it, mending a few fences with the men would be in
order as well.”