Kirov (9 page)

“I
wish it was something that simple, Dmitri.” It was plain the Admiral was quite
distressed. He quickly shared details of the situation with his physician, tipping
his head to one side when he had finished, and feeling better already just to
have unburdened himself. “It is the strangest situation I have ever
encountered. What do you make of it, Dmitri?”

“What
you suggest about
Orel
suffering the same fate as
Kursk
makes a
lot of sense to me, assuming we go by the official story. But this business
about
Slava
is somewhat puzzling, is it not? Neither ship responds to
communications hails? Then you will have to conduct a thorough search. Better
Slava
than
Orel
. Easier to find a surface ship than a submarine, and also
easier to spot any sign of flotsam.”

“We’ve
sent the KA-226 out, but they have seen nothing conclusive yet.”

“I
see,” said Zolkin. “And the explosion?”

“I
am thinking we have lost
Orel
,” Volsky said heavily.

“An
attack?”

“Karpov
believed this. I am not so sure.”

“Any
deliberate attack would not happen in isolation, Leonid. A surprise attack upon
a Russian naval task force would be a major international incident, yes? It
would have to have some context to make any sense.”

“Things
were getting very difficult in recent weeks, my friend,” the Admiral explained.
“Why do you think we are out here for live fire exercises? This business in
Georgia has the Americans all up in arms again. They want the place to keep the
back door firmly closed on Iran, yet the presence of three of our motor rifle
divisions just over the border is most unsettling for them. They rattle their
sword, so we rattle ours.”

“A
little more talking and a little less rattling would be so much better,” said
the Doctor. “Have you tried listening on shortwave to see if the world has gone
crazy again?”

That
very simple idea had never occurred to Volsky. If there had indeed been a
surprise nuclear strike upon his homeland then something as simple as a short
wave radio might provide information he needed. Why not simply tune in civilian
radio stations and monitor that traffic for a while? Nikolin had been on
secured military channels all this time.

“Good
idea, Dmitri. Now…can you give me something for this headache?”

“Certainly,
but I don't think it's the headache that's really bothering you.” The doctor
gave him a cursory examination to assure himself that the Admiral had not
banged his head on the bulkhead. Then he looked at him with a warm expression
on his face, puttering amongst his medication trays to fetch a couple of
aspirin. “That's a lot of crew to be worried about now out there on
Slava
and
Orel
. It's a heavy burden to carry them on your back, but if this was
an accident, Leonid, you can do little more than what you have suggested.
Investigate the matter thoroughly, satisfy yourself as to the whereabouts of
these two ships, and then report home to Severomorsk.”

“Karpov
is edgy again,” said the Admiral. “He is convinced this was a deliberate
attack.”

“Perhaps
so, but why? The political situation was deteriorating, why else would we be
here shooting missiles in the middle of nowhere like this, just as you say. But
it was not all
that
bad. I do not think the world is crazy enough to
start World War III. We are still really not over the scars left by the first
two.”

The
Admiral nodded, forcing a smile.

“Don't
let Karpov get under your skin,” said the doctor. “He's your canary in the
mineshaft. Listen to him, but use your best judgment. He'll fret and fume for a
while, but things will settle down soon enough, you'll see.”

“I
had best get back to the bridge,” said Volsky. “This idea about the shortwave might
allow us to get our bearings again. Have you looked outside? Did you see the
ocean?”

“Every
crewman who has come in here in the last half hour was talking about the sea
conditions. We should feel fortunate that Rodenko’s weather report was wrong
today, that’s all. And perhaps it is merely an algae bloom. Such things are not
that uncommon. The ocean is as temperamental as Karpov,” said the doctor. “It’s
just a mood. It will pass.”

Volsky
nodded, heading for the bridge, but the doctor’s suggestion would soon raise
many more questions than it answered.

Chapter
5

Back
on the bridge
ten
minutes later, the Admiral asked his radioman Nikolin to tune in anything he
could find on the short wave that might shed light on the situation, but the
result confused them even more. There was nothing on the radio bands at all. Every
wavelength was awash with the soft hiss of background static. This went on for
another half hour until the stubby first Lieutenant sat up suddenly, his hand
at an earpiece as he reported with a smile.

“Signal!
I have Moscow on long wave. Just heard the call sign ID. Very strange, Admiral.
They signed off as Radio Moscow.” That station had been renamed ‘Voice of
Russia,’ years ago.

“Well,
at least Moscow is still there,” said the Admiral.

“But
they are playing oldies but goodies! It reminds me of the old military music they
would broadcast whenever there was a crisis. Here, have a listen…” He toggled a
switch and the sonorous swells of Tchaikovsky’s violins played over his
speakers. The sound touched a deep nerve in Volsky, triggering an old childhood
memory. He was just a young boy at the time of the Cuban Missile crisis in
1962, but the radio had droned on and on with similar music for hours, and the
deep memory carried a vaguely ominous undertone.

“Surely
there must be some news being reported,” he said. “Dial in a few more regional
stations. Try Oslo or Reykjavík, or perhaps even the BBC in London.”

Nikolin
seemed more and more perplexed the longer he searched however. “It's very
strange, sir,” he reported. “No commercials! Just music from Oslo, Beethoven
this time…Nothing much of anything from Reykjavík, and the BBC is droning on
with some old World War II documentary. They're playing speeches by Churchill
and congratulating themselves over the sinking of the German battleship
Bismarck
.”
Nikolin was skilled in three languages and could easily interpret the English. “It’s
the same all across the band. Lots of commemorative radio traffic about the
war. Is this an anniversary of some important event?”

Volsky
smiled. “Ask Fedorov. He’s the historian aboard ship.” His young navigator was
a book worm of sorts, and a bit of an Anglophile in spite of the fact that
Britain was a clear enemy of Russia in the year 2021.

 “Fedorov
will tell you how much the British love their history,” said Volsky. “Well,
keep listening to the BBC. When the documentary concludes perhaps we will get further
news. But from what you have told me it does not sound like there's any major crisis
underway, much less a nuclear war. That news would be on every channel if it
were so. The North Atlantic appears to be quietly sleeping under this damnable
ice fog, or perhaps they are all at dinner, as we should be.”

He
started away, then remembered something, reaching into his coat pocket. “Good
job, Mister Nikolin,” he said with a wink. Then he lowered his voice. “Put that
in your pocket.” He handed him back his iPod.

“The
fog is breaking up ahead, sir,” said Karpov. “Seas appear to be rising again as
well. Barometer is down twenty points from last reading, and falling.”

“Confirmed,”
said Rodenko. “I have clear readings on my weather Doppler returns now. The
front I was tracking is there again… but it has
moved
, sir.”

“Don’t
surprise yourself to find the wind moves, Mister Rodenko,” said Volsky.

“Yes
sir. But the winds are out of the northeast now. It was tracking from the
northwest before.”

The
Admiral waved at Karpov and Orlov, prompting the two men to approach. He settled
back into the command chair and folded his arms thinking out loud. “We have
found no evidence of
Slava
, nor the slightest whisper or sign of
Orel
.
Severomorsk has not returned our signals, and we can tune in nothing but
nonsense on the radio.” He shared Nikolin’s report with them and the three men
huddled together speaking quietly with one another.

“This
explosion we experienced may have had something to do with
Orel’s
demise,”
said the Admiral. “That at least makes some sense to me. But the disappearance
of
Slava
is very troubling. I'm inclined to agree with you Karpov, she
may have been attacked. But if that is so, then why can't we find the slightest
trace of her, and why would our enemy break off the attack upon our ship and
leave us at large?
Slava
was a relic.
We
are the target they
would most want to strike, without question.”

“Perhaps
it was a warning, sir,” Karpov suggested. “Sinking an old rust bucket like
Slava
makes a point, but does not sting quite so much. And a near miss on
Kirov
also makes a very direct point. If they have done this I am thinking it must be
the work of an American submarine, sir,” said Karpov.

In
his mind, Karpov saw the situation as he might view any impending quarrel with
potential rivals. Once he had struck a particularly effective blow at a senior
Gazprom manager by first discrediting one of his assistants by making sure some
important statistics he needed for a report were delayed, and then savaging the
man at a briefing by using those very same numbers to flay his report. The
incident cast a shadow on the senior manager, making him wary and suspicious,
and showing him his own vulnerability. It put fear into him, and fear had a way
of slowly sapping a man’s ambition and strength. Clearly someone had struck a
hard blow, not directly at
Kirov
, but at her weaker companion ships. It
was a maneuver Karpov inherently understood, as he had practiced the tactic
many times in his checkered past.

 “Remember,
I correctly put the ship into a high speed evasive turn sequence just after the
initial detonation.” He held up a finger to emphasize the word ‘correctly.’ “I
was not about to wait and hear from Tasarov that a torpedo had acquired us.”

The
Captain had started a maneuver known as ‘cracking the whip.’ When threatened by
a torpedo, a surface ship would increase to flank speed and make a series of
high speed turns to port and then starboard and back again in order to create a
series of overlapping wakes behind the ship. It was a potential defense against
wake homing torpedoes, which might become confused in the churning seas and
veer off in the wrong direction as they tried to follow a wake.

“You
also wisely gave the order for active sonar just minutes after the explosion we
detected,” the Captain continued, buttering up Volsky’s dark bread for a
moment. “Perhaps these maneuvers were enough to give this submarine second
thoughts.”

“It
was you who argued against active sonar, Karpov,” the Admiral reminded him,
seeing how he had cleverly lumped that high speed maneuver in with his own
decision to go to active pinging.

“Yes
sir, but given the situation I can only assume the enemy knows we are aware of
him now and has broken off his attack for the time being, though he may be
tracking us, very stealthily, very quietly, waiting for just the opportunity to
strike again. It could be one of their new
Virginia
class submarines,
sir. Tasarov would not hear it easily in these conditions, if at all.”

“Then
you are suggesting we resume active anti-submarine operations? Orlov, what do
you think?”

“I
agree with the Captain, sir. It's the only explanation that makes any sense.”

“You
do not think
Orel
suffered an accident
?”

“That's
possible, sir. But the disappearance of
Slava
leads me to believe
something else is going on. I recommend we get one or both KA-40s up now that
we have recovered the KA-226. If what Karpov suggests is true, the activity may
keep this submarine from any further ideas about attacking. The Captain ordered
a high speed turn right after the explosion. That was followed soon after by
active sonar.” He repeated Karpov’s own logic. “Now we have slowed and the sea
conditions have improved. Yet this would give the appearance that we are lying
low, listening and waiting. Launch the KA-40s, Admiral. If this submarine believes
we are still actively looking for him, aware of his presence, then he will
think twice, even three times, before he dares strike at
Kirov
again.
And if he does, we punch him in the face.”

It
was much like Orlov to play the devil's advocate in any situation like this,
and to assume the worst possible potential outcome in any scenario. It was also
typical of him to ratchet up the matter by taking some more direct action.
Lying low and listening on passive sonar was a long and often boring procedure
for him. He much preferred the more direct application of an active sub hunt,
using the helicopters like a pair of bloodhounds to sniff out the foe while the
ship waited with a strong fist of reprisal. “So we should have the torpedoes
active and ready,” he said, referring to
Kirov’s
own anti-submarine
torpedo defenses.