Nemesis (24 page)

“Come
along, Fedorov. To the bridge! And don’t you open your mouth and say a single
word of what happened ashore, or I’ll relieve you and throw you in the brig.
Understand? As for Volsky, I know you were fond of him, but don’t fret. He’ll
get along fine with Admiral Golovko, and I’ll check in to see to his wellbeing
from time to time.

They
made their way up, and the familiar sight of the ship and crew, the passages
and ladders, were all a balm to Karpov. The quiet hum of the ship’s equipment
was a soothing sound to him. He was finally back in his own element again, done
with makeshift field phones he would have to crank up to call Bogrov on
Tunguska
,
and done with shouting through voice tubes. He was back in the digital world
again, the world of electronic marvels, solid state micro circuitry, the
radars, sonars, and in control of real weapons again. No more cumbersome
unguided RS-82 rockets as his only techno wonder for Volkov. Now he had real
power, absolute power, and by god or the devil, he was going to put it to good
use.

When
they reached the bridge, Rodenko announced him, giving him
a searching look, greatly surprised, particularly when he saw the massive hulk
of Grilikov following the Captain and Fedorov through the hatch. Who were these
men in their strange dark uniforms. Even the Captain was oddly dressed. “Are
you alright sir?”

“Of
course, Rodenko. I just slipped and cut my cheek, that’s all. My uniform was
soiled, and I needed a change of clothes. Our hosts were quite accommodating.
Now then, the Admiral was called to Moscow on urgent business. I have been
appointed commander of the ship, and will make a formal announcement to the
crew shortly.”

Rodenko
hesitated briefly, thinking, and then spoke. “Very well, sir. Will the Admiral
be rejoining us here soon?”

“I’m
afraid not. There is no knowing how long he will be occupied in Moscow. We’re
taking the ship to Vladivostok as originally planned after the live fire
exercises. Make ready to get the ship underway.”

“Aye
sir. Then we are returning to the Norwegian Sea to complete the exercises? What
about
Slava
and
Orel?”

“Don’t
clutter you mind with that. I will give you a full briefing in the morning.
Mister Fedorov will plot a course to the Kara Sea. There we will make a
rendezvous prior to our mission to Vladivostok. Everything will be clear to you
after our morning briefing.”

He
looked around, seeing the other men looking at him, and noting the uncertainty
and surprise in their eyes. They were clearly anxious, and still more than a
little confused. Lessons from the battle off Iki Island whispered to him now,
and he knew he was going to have to rely on these men, and gain their loyalty
and cooperation. So he spoke up, moving from man to man now.

“Nikolin,
I will be meeting with you in the morning as well, to go over some message
protocols. We will be in regular contact with home based stations.”

“Very
good, sir.”

“Mister
Samsonov, I trust the ships weapons are in good working order?” He passed a
moment there, remembering how it was Samsonov at the very end, the last straw
when he stood and refused to obey his commands any longer. He could never allow
that to happen again.

“Aye
sir, but we’re still quite heavy with those reloads. Martinov has been working
them into the magazine, but it’s very tight.”

“Excellent.
Run me out a one page report on the current inventory—all systems please, right
down to the deck guns.”

“Aye
sir. We’ve only fired that one missile from the Klinok system, full load on
everything else.”

“Excellent,
but run the report anyway. And will you join me at my table for breakfast in
the officer’s dining room?”

“Me
sir? Certainly sir. And thank you sir.”

“Don’t
thank me until you see what the chef puts out tomorrow!” He tapped the man’s
brawny shoulder. “In fact, I’ll want the entire bridge crew present at 06:00
for the morning briefing. I’ll conduct it at breakfast. Rodenko, where is
Mister Orlov?”

“He’s
below decks, sir. Seeing that the crew stays put, as the Admiral ordered.”

“I see.
Well then… I think I had better let the crew know something, and save them all
a few bruises. Oh… one more thing. This man here is Sergeant Grilikov. He’s aboard
with a special security contingent we’ve taken on for this mission. The fewer
questions asked of these men, the better. It is a matter of state secrecy, as
I’m sure you will understand. Tomorrow morning you will all learn more.”

Karpov
looked around, noting the men’s reactions and looking for any sign of trouble
that he might need to tamp down early, particularly from Fedorov. For the moment,
all seemed well. So he took a deep breath, slowly removing his leather gloves
and taking in the bridge, a chorus of different emotions running through him
now. These men had seen everything he had done, his darkest self, and in the
end they had all betrayed him. The memory of how they stood, one by one, like
rows of terra cotta warriors, frozen in their stony condemnation, was still a
haunting reminder of how fickle they might be. Their service was not
unconditional, he knew, their loyalty not something that he could buy, or beat
into them with men like Orlov and Grilikov. That was the hardest lesson he had
learned, and he would not make the same mistake twice. He could not afford to.

Now he
had what came to few men, a second chance to live the most challenging time of
his life over again, and see it to a favorable outcome. He could not spoil that
chance, or squander the tremendous opportunity that was now beneath his feet.
These were good men here, capable men, brave men all. He knew that now, yet he
also knew that they had not yet been forged in the fires of combat, and the
months ahead would bring many hard moments. Not one of them knew yet what they
had lost when sailing home this day, and not one knew what might be gained in
its place. This would be their last night of innocence.

Tomorrow
they die, he thought, at least to their old selves, the men they were when this
ship sailed into the Kola Bay. We shall see what I can make of them now, and
what they become when they learn the truth. There is much they cannot know, the
whole long, sad tale. I must prune that tree and give them only what they need
to know to come to grips with this new reality, and the long sea route through
the Arctic channel will be the time for them to all learn what has happened.
For now…

He eyed
the Captain’s chair, walking over slowly to place his hand on the seat, an old
habit, for he always checked to see that it was cold before he took his place
there, with no remnant of another man’s warmth. It was pleasantly cool to the
touch, and he smiled, knowing that he would never have to stand in Volsky’s
shadow again, or wait to take his place in that chair. Then he sat down,
savoring the moment as he might savor a sip of the finest wine or brandy, a
smile on his face. Slowly, he reached for the overhead intercom handset, and
thumbed the switch.

“This
is the Captain,” he said in a strong and clear voice. It was not the Admiral
speaking now, nor the Viceroy of the Western Oblasts of Free Siberia, but the
Captain, and no man ever exulted more in a seeming demotion than Karpov did at
that moment.

He had
gone into the tumult of the sea, falling deeper into ruin than most men ever
could, and he was devoured by the beast of his own ambition. Long days he
languished in the belly of that beast, a misery of his own making, just as
Jonah had when swallowed by the behemoth. Yet he was spewed from the belly of
the beast, and found new life, also a life of his own making, and even in the
face of utter annihilation, he had survived and overcome the battle with fate
itself.

Now
here he was in the temple again, the holy bridge of the battlecruiser
Kirov
.
It was his temple, and he was its grand high priest, this he knew, and no one
would ever take that from him again.

He
smiled.

*

It
was a very hard night for Fedorov. He plotted the course to
the Kara Sea, and the ship departed, the sound of distant artillery fire still
the muffled edge of uncertainty in the gray of the Arctic night. It was the
same route they had taken after their first meeting there at Murmansk with
Sergei Kirov. Then they had gone out at Admiral Golovko’s behest to chase away
an impudent German raiding party, dueling with the pocket battleship
Admiral
Sheer.
Where were they going this time? What did Karpov mean to do?

They
were going east, that much he knew, to Vladivostok. That could only mean one
thing. The Japanese controlled that port. None of the men knew it, but Karpov
certainly did, and the course he now set for the ship was sure to bring them
into conflict again with Imperial Japan. Was the Captain still set on setting
right the mistakes he made in the past? Was he holding some grand vision of
restoring Russia as a Pacific power, and rolling back the encroachment of the
Japanese Empire?

The
days ahead would be very dangerous. Japan was now preparing to enter the war,
and at the height of its naval and military power. They would sweep all before
them, raging across the South Pacific with one victory after another. Within
six months the empire would expand until it reached the stubborn shores of
Guadalcanal. It was there the U.S. Navy would draw the line, and then the real
war would begin for Japan.

Yet
something told him Karpov had other plans for His Imperial Highness in Tokyo,
for Tojo, and Yamamoto, all the men who inherited the power forged by the great
naval victories of Admiral Togo. What was he planning. Certainly
Kirov
was a formidable power at Sea. They had come unseen out of the Timor Sea, and
right into the midst of a major Japanese offensive operation in the Coral Sea,
and virtually wrecked the entire left pincer of that force.

Yet
even with the magazines burgeoning with missile reloads, the Japanese Navy was
no foe to underestimate. They had six fleet carriers that could carry over 60
aircraft each, and four more light carriers. There were eleven battleships,
including the ship he had personally fought,
Yamato
, and her sister ship
Musashi
would soon join the fleet as well. Their naval aviation Corps
was second to none, with over 1500 well trained pilots. And they would fight,
relentlessly, with a determination and endurance that was rarely seen in any
fighting force of the world.

How
could Karpov hope to challenge such a powerful navy, even with the technical
superiority
Kirov
possessed? Was he counting on the one weapon that had
finally seared and destroyed Japan’s will to continue the war, the nuclear fire
of an atomic bomb? What nightmare was he planning to unleash upon this
unsuspecting world? How could he, now a lowly ship’s Navigator, prevent what he
saw looming to the east?

I have
to get control of this ship again, he thought darkly. We did it twice before,
and perhaps we can do it yet again. Yet now, his chief ally and support was
gone with the removal of Admiral Volsky from the equation. The thought Volsky
was out there was one small comfort to him. If he could get that Key to Admiral
Tovey…

He
could not think on that now, his mind frantically running down his options
here. Karpov had come aboard with a strong contingent of security men, all clad
in those sable black uniforms with dark fur caps. And their leader, this
Sergeant Grilikov, was a sight to behold, well over six feet tall, solid
muscle, a neck thicker than his own thigh, and a foul temper to make that brawn
very troublesome. If Orlov was bad, this Grilikov was worse by far!

I’ve no
allies here yet, he thought grimly, though I know the men who would eventually stand
up and resist Karpov’s megalomania. Doctor Zolkin might hear me, if I can
convince him of what has happened. Yet now he suspects I’m borderline
psychotic! It was all I could do to convince the Admiral, and what could Zolkin
do in this situation? He stood up to Karpov before, a moral counterpoint to the
Captain’s ambition, and yet look what Karpov did on the bridge at the end…

Nikolin
was sympathetic. He had been a part of the subtle conspiracy that had led to
the Captain’s fall. It was he who discovered that order from Volsky, and
secretly spread the word to the other bridge officers. Rodenko is reliable, and
clear headed. I might find an ally there. And then there is Sergeant Troyak and
his Marines.

He
passed a moment thinking about that. Troyak was essential in their effort to
foil Karpov’s first attempt to take the ship. Now Karpov had done the very same
thing, and apparently succeeded, in a strange echo of their first coming to
these troubled waters. If there was any man aboard who might stand against this
Grilikov, it would be Troyak, and the modern Day Black Death he commanded was a
lethal force, though they would be outnumbered on the ship three to one by
Karpov’s security men. What to do here? He realized that he was in the early
stages of planning a mutiny against perhaps the most dangerous man in the world.
Would it eventually come to that, and end up in a desperate gun battle right
here on the ship between the Black Death and the sable coated storm troopers
protecting Karpov?

At the
moment my situation is still very precarious, he thought. Note how Karpov
tested and taunted us in Severomorsk when he first appeared. Everything he said
was perfectly comprehensible to me. Thank God Volsky reacted as he did. If
Karpov ever learns that I really know everything that has taken place…. He
shuddered to think what might happen, and to realize that his own life was
dangerously at stake now if he set himself on this path.

Yet he
could see no choice. He knew what was coming in the days ahead, and if he did
not find a way to stop Karpov, God only knew what might happen when he reaches
the Pacific with this ship.

Where
to start?

Nikolin.
Begin slowly. Nikolin is going to be privy to all signals traffic to and from
the ship. I can use him to find out what Karpov might be planning. I may even
be able to convince him to send out another coded message to Tovey. I don’t
know what the British could do in this situation, but they do have assets in
the Pacific, at least they will until December when the Japanese attack.