Kirov Saga: Armageddon (Kirov Series) (16 page)

Rodenko felt a stab of discontent with that, the same worrisome
feeling that this whole adventure was going to cause far more harm than any of
them imagined. His conscience nagged that he should speak up and push on this,
yet the boundaries of rank and military protocol were hard barriers, and a
Captain on his ship was God in his paradise. Yet Zolkin’s words returned to
him: ‘
You must do your duty, but yet you are still Starpom, and second in
command here now. Your voice counts, so if you have anything further to say
about the matter, you must say it to the Captain’s face…’

“You mean to engage their entire fleet tomorrow, sir?”

“Of course, that is the point of this operation, Rodenko. Once I
have neutralized the Japanese Navy, all things are possible here. Can you
imagine the news finally reaching the Tsar in St. Petersburg? When he learns a
single Russian ship has defeated the entire Japanese Navy and restored the
balance here, that will certainly raise a few eyebrows. Then we can start
getting things done.”

“What things, Captain? What is it we will do, exactly, after we
put another ten or twelve ships out of commission here? What kind of new
history will we be writing?” His voice had just enough of an edge to it to indicate
his disapproval, but if Karpov heard it, he chose to ignore it.

“Leave that to me. First we patrol the Yellow Sea and I will send
messages to that effect regarding the quarantine. When St. Petersburg realizes
Port Arthur is cut off and cannot be resupplied easily, it will seem a ripe
plum for the taking.”

“Are you certain about that, Captain? This Russia was somewhat of
a wild beast after they lost the war in 1905. The country was war weary, and
trouble rising in Europe overshadowed everything else. That and the revolution
slowly building steam might mean the Tsar won’t do anything here at all.
Instability was the prevailing condition of the day. There was even a rebellion
in Vladivostok and they had to declare martial law there in 1905 just after the
war. Uprisings continued off and on through 1907.”

“We can use that energy to our advantage, Rodenko. Those uprisings
were not well led. They arose from grievances within the ranks over poor
treatment, repressive rules and restrictions, bad food.”

“You plan on sending the ship’s chief chef ashore, sir?”

“Don’t be ridiculous. All this tells us is that there is good dry
kindling there should the authorities, the Mayor and others, not accede to my
wishes. It will be necessary to secure two ports in this region, Port Arthur is
the first, and once I deliver that, Vladivostok is the real plum that will
fall. I must establish authority there to proceed any further.”

“That could take a good deal of time, sir, and you will need
strong support on the ground there. The ship can sit in the harbor and use its
deck guns to make a show of force if need be, but we can’t control the city
with 200 naval infantry. The garrison there had 60,000 men! There were units of
the 10th Siberian Rifle Division, Cossack Cavalry Regiments, Railroad
Brigades…”

“I see you have done some reading in Fedorov’s books. The obvious
thing to do is to recruit those units to our banner. Well, there will be time
enough to choose the best course after this naval battle is won. But unless we
do win it, none of those options present themselves. To win you must fight,
Rodenko. That should be obvious. You fight, you defeat your enemy, and then you
dance in the wreckage. I know that sounds cold to you, even heartless, but it
is what I call victory. Are you ready for that? It is easily within our grasp
here. You saw how quickly we dispatched that squadron today. We will do the same
tomorrow. Look…the island splits his available force in two and allows us to
defeat them in detail. So that is exactly what we will do. What do we need to
steer to come here?” The Captain pointed at the northern tip of Tsushima
Island.

Rodenko was not satisfied, but business was business, and war
fighting was his job. He had signed on to a battlecruiser, not a luxury liner.
Though he had real misgivings about the Captain’s state of mind, and his plan
in general, he could see no clear way to impede it at the moment. So he spoke
by reflex, his eyes scanning the digital map and making quick calculations, but
the sound of his voice seemed hollow to him.

“We might best come west a bit first, steering about 260 until we
reach a point in the center of the straits. Then turn thirty points to port and
steer 230.”

“Make it so, Rodenko. You may also recall the KA-40 now. I think
we have adequate situational awareness, and the Fregat system should see
anything that tries to get close to us from here on in. If we need helo support
to monitor enemy movements on one side of the island or another, we’ll launch
again later. For the moment, we’ve lingered here about six hours now. Make
twenty knots. How long before we would reach the island?”

“A little over seven hours, sir. It looks to be about 275
kilometers.”

“Very well, let’s get headed southwest on 260 degrees, and I think
the two of us can both get a little rest for the next six hours. You can leave
instructions with Fedorov…I mean with the navigator.”

Rodenko nodded, noting the Captain’s obvious slip of the tongue.
“I miss him too, sir, we all do.”

“Yes, well it can’t be helped now, Rodenko.”

“I wonder where he is?”

“Probably still in the Caspian trying to figure a way to get the
Anatoly
Alexandrov
home in one piece with Orlov. I can’t imagine he’s very happy with
us now either. Believe me, it was not easy to disappoint him. I was privy to
plans you were unaware of long before this. I was there when Fedorov first dreamed
up his idea to go after Orlov and brought it to the Admiral. I thought it was
foolish then, and it certainly seems foolish now. Orlov was never anything to
be concerned about.”

“No sir…It seems we are the thing he is most concerned about now, but
what if they can’t get home?”

“He was trying so hard to right the wrongs and preserve his
history intact, Rodenko, but it was clear to me that was no longer possible.
Yes, we are the issue now. I was responsible for much of what happened before,
and I remain responsible for that now as we speak. Don’t you see? It’s me—not
Orlov, not Fedorov or Volsky, and not even that goddamned war we were trying to
prevent. It’s
me
. All history now turns in the gyre I spin. I am the man
that fortune bows to now. But this is the way it has always been in history. A
man sees opportunity and he reaches for it. He makes a difference. He changes
things. He becomes great. I am one of those men now, Rodenko. Fedorov could
never see what I saw.”

Yes, thought Rodenko. A man sees opportunity and he reaches for
missiles tipped with nuclear warheads. But he could not voice that now.

“And what about the Admiral, sir?”

“Volsky? He was a good and wise man, but too cautious. He was not
really willing to take the big risk that I saw necessary to achieve the victory
I speak of. Perhaps he would not approve of my choices here. He may even feel I
have betrayed his trust. Yet I see things another way. If you go to war a
half-hearted warrior then you come back from it in a coffin or body bag. This
is war, Rodenko. It isn’t nice and it isn’t moral either. Yes, Fedorov’s
history books are all about to be re-written here. Well, if he does get home he
can read all about it, though we will never see him again. By the time he gets
there we will all be in our graves.”

“Strange to think of it that way, sir.”

“Indeed,” said Karpov. “This is where we live out our lives now,
Rodenko. I hope you are prepared for that. Once we achieve our goals here those
lives could be quite comfortable. We’ll have power—real power—and not just here
on the ship. I intend to establish a strong outpost on land and rally the
troops in the east to my flag. Believe me, it will give Fedorov something to
read when if he gets home.”

“Suppose he won’t leave it at that, sir.”

“What do you mean?”

“He’s a resourceful man, and very determined. It took a lot of
guts to do what he did, going back with two Marines and crossing half the
continent to find Orlov. Suppose he decides he can’t allow us to proceed here?
Suppose he tries to come back after us?”

“On what?
Varyag
is sunk.
Orlan
is gone.
Admiral
Kuznetsov
uses diesel powered boilers. There are no more nuclear powered
ships left in the fleet here and only a handful of submarines that were all out
to sea when that volcano blew us into 1945. They are probably locked in a death
struggle with the Americans even now as we speak.”

The Captain was heading for the citadel hatch. “Come then, let’s
get something to eat in the officer’s dining room. I’m always hungry after a
good fight.”

Part V

The
Matador

“In
bullfighting there is a term called querencia. The querencia is the spot in the
ring to which the bull returns and as the bullfight continues, and the animal
becomes more threatened, it returns more and more often to his spot.
As he returns to his querencia, he becomes more predictable. And so, in the
end, the matador is able to kill the bull because instead of trying something
new, the bull returns to what is familiar. His comfort zone.”

―
Carly Fiorina

Chapter 13

The
death struggle Karpov spoke of was about to begin, though he
could not know that from where he sat. The outcome of that struggle would
determine much, for Anton Fedorov was, indeed, a very resourceful and
determined man.
Kazan
moved southwest as Fedorov suggested, until they
were about twenty kilometers off the coast of Wonsan harbor. Dobrynin said the
interference seemed to diminish somewhat, but kept asking that they continue
west.

“Just a little farther,” he said. “I think things are starting to
clear up and we can begin our operation soon.”

“Yes, well we will soon cross into North Korean territorial
waters, Chief, so we can’t go much farther west. This is a fairly dangerous area.
We will have to go south.”

They picked up a few North Korean diesel subs on sonar, but there
was no indication that they had been detected in turn. Then something quite
unexpected happened. The boat’s sonar man Chernov had been listening to a small
surface flotilla that had deployed from Wonsan as
Kazan
approached. They
were very close to it now, and Gromyko even took the risk of sneaking a peek at
it from shallow depth.

“Looks to be a couple of trawlers and one large merchantman,” he
said to his
Starpom
, Belanov.”

“What are they doing out here?”

“Who knows? Perhaps they are fishing, eh?”

There was no evidence that they were up to anything that might
cause alarm, until Chernov heard something in the water he could not quite
recognize.

“Con. Sonar. I have an undersea contact now, very close, very
small, on that same heading, bearing 270 true. It’s moving, but very slow.”

Gromyko scratched his head. “Too slow to be a torpedo, eh?”

“Too small to be one of their diesel boats, sir.”

“It doesn’t sound like they are fishing either,” said Belanov.
“Could they have seen our periscope?”

“I doubt that,” said Gromyko. “Could it be a submersible? Do you
have any transients from the sea floor?” He was thinking there may be some kind
of salvage operation underway, as he had noted cranes on the larger commercial
vessel in the flotilla”

“No sir, no transients, but I’m on passive systems now.”

“You should have heard it well before this, Chernov. Is something
wrong with your ears?”

“No sir. I think it was just launched from that flotilla.”

“From one of the surface ships?”

Gromyko was running down the possibilities in his mind. Was it possible
that the North Koreans had detected them and floated a mine or depth charge?
Could it be a torpedo that misfired? Neither seemed likely, but something
occurred to him that made more sense.

“This might be one of those damn min-subs of theirs,” he said
aloud. “Chernov, look that up in the database.”

“Aye, sir. I have it now…
Yono
Class. Twenty-two meter
length and just 130 tons. Maximum speed 8 knots. They use those for special
forces operations, sir.”

“Could be a training mission,” Belanov suggested.

“Could be a pain in the ass,” said Gromyko, running his hand over
his short cropped hair. “Very well, ease us away from this flotilla. Helm, come
right five by five degrees. Make you depth 100 meters.” He wanted a gradual
turn to starboard with a five degree down bubble to slowly descend to the new
depth.

“And just in case they get lucky, the boat will come to battle
stations. Quietly please.”

“Aye sir,” said Belanov. “Battle stations. Our red lights are on.”