Kirov III-Pacific Storm (Kirov Series) (22 page)

“Do you recall a conversation we had
in the sick bay some weeks ago when I gave you a direct order that none of the
nuclear warheads were to be mounted on missiles?”

“You’ve spoken with Martinov,” said
Karpov.

“I have.”

“Sir, it must have been obvious to you
that I countermanded that order when I fired that MOS-III.”

“
Disobeyed
that order, Karpov.
Don’t mince words here.”

“Very well, I will not argue the
point, and yes, I ordered Martinov to mount two warheads, one on the MOS-III
and one on a P-900 cruise missile. I think I have given you reason enough as to
why I did this. I do not say I am correct to have disregarded your order, but
there it is.”

“Damn right,” said Volsky, clearly
upset. “Yes, I was well aware of this transgression, at least insofar as the
MOS-III was concerned, but so were you, Karpov. And all these weeks the second
warhead has been sitting on missile number 10 in the P-900 bays, and you said
nothing!”

Karpov breathed deeply, his chin
raising, then clenched his jaw, silent for a time. He looked down. “It would be
just like me to say I assumed that you discovered the warhead earlier, and had
it removed,” he began in a low voice. “But that would be a bowl of
lozh
,
just another lie from the man I was back then, and it would seem so right to me
to serve it up to you. I would have seasoned it with reasons and arguments and
justifications. But I will not lie to you now, Admiral. I remembered what I had
done when we began using the P-900 missiles in the Med. I wondered if the warhead
was still there, but did nothing more about it. It’s been in the back of my
mind, and I must say that I haven’t given up the thought of what we might do
with it. I was just hinting about it with Fedorov. He seems to think we could
run afoul of a large air/sea battle in the Coral Sea, with many more ships and
planes to contend with than we have missiles for. I’m sorry, sir. I should have
brought the matter up with you.”

Volsky looked at him for some time,
then he nodded. “Very well… I am going to tell you I did
not
have that
warhead removed, as insane as that now sounds. It’s still there, Captain, on
the number ten missile, so have a care if we have to use cruise missiles again.
The system has been reset to require two keys before it is used, however. I
have one around my neck, and Fedorov has the other.”

“As it should be, sir.”

“Yes, as it should be, the commanding
officer and his
Starpom
make any decision as to the deployment of
tactical nuclear weapons. But we are in a combat zone now, and the hole in the
roof of the aft battle bridge has made that painfully apparent, not to mention
the line of men waiting for Doctor Zolkin. I have already suffered combat
injuries myself, and spent a good deal of time with Zolkin in the sick bay. So
it has occurred to me that it is entirely possible that we may be hit again
before we find safe waters, and also possible that key officers might die. You
understand?”

“I do, sir.”

“In that event the normal protocols of
rank will still apply. Should I be killed in action, Fedorov will immediately
advance from
Starpom
to Captain of the ship, and you will immediately
advance to
Starpom
as his Executive Officer. In fact, those are your
presumed ranks whenever I am not on the bridge. The two of you performed ably
in the Med, your cooperation was exemplary. You asked me to give you a chance
and I did so. I will not say that I have been in any way disappointed with your
performance, but I wonder, Karpov…Is there any remnant of that old man still
alive in you?” He gave his Captain a searching look.

Karpov met his gaze, unflinching. “A
man may never purge himself entirely of his bad habits and faults, Admiral, or
fully atone for his sins. But if he is a man, he can control himself and do
what is right. This you have taught me well enough.”

“No, Karpov,” Volsky poked a fat
finger on the other man’s shoulder. “That you learned on your own.” He smiled,
obvious absolution in his eyes now.

“I tell you this because it may
happen, by one circumstance or another, that you find a missile key around your
neck again one day. Then you will have to decide what you have learned or
failed to learn, particularly if I am no longer here to weigh in on the matter
with this substantial belly of mine.”

Karpov smiled, relieved by the tack
the Admiral had taken. What could have been another bitter argument, a
scolding, retribution and the revisiting of that dark old stench of shame, had
instead become something more akin to a discussion a father might have with a
son, and one he had every hope for. Karpov appreciated Volsky more than ever
now, and realized why he was so loved by the men.

“I would hope to find the courage to
be half the man you are, sir, if I ever do find that key around my neck again.”

“Yes…” said Volsky. “If God dies, then
we see how the angels fare. In some sense that is true for all of us now in
this God forsaken world.” And he said nothing more. The distant rumble of
thunder told them that they were being fired on again. Volsky opened the hatch,
and the two men stepped out onto the bridge in time to see four tall geysers
rise from the sea, directly abreast of the ship, though a thousand meters off
their port side.

“Port fifteen,” said Fedorov turning
the ship towards the enemy rounds. He looked over his shoulder at Karpov and
Volsky. “I believe they have finally found the range, Admiral.”

Volsky nodded. “It is time we do
something about it then,” and he looked at one of his archangels, Michael with
his gleaming sword. “Mister Karpov…”

 *
* *

Captain
Iwabuchi saw the first missile easily
enough. He had been watching through his field glasses, eying the tall
silhouette of the enemy ship ahead, still far away, but a real and tangible
thing now, not the stuff of legends and lore.
Mizuchi
was a battleship,
of that much he was certain. And as powerful as they were, any ship might die.
He had every mind to kill this one, and avenge the loss of
Haguro
, not
to mention Hara’s planes and pilots.

His pursuit squadron had closed to
about 28,000 yards, still a long shot for his guns, but within their effective
range.
Nachi
was 500 meters off his starboard side, and
Myoko
an
equal distance off his port side, the three ships in line abreast, now charging
at
Kirishima’s
top speed. He had assembled his war demons on the bridge
with him: gunnery officer Koshino, and secondary battery commander Ikeda.
Supply officer Kobayashi was on the battle bridge, marking off rounds fired.
Flood control officer
Kyshichi
Yoshino was also
standing by the voice tubes in the event the ship took any serious hit
requiring his attention. His Executive Officer, Koro Ono, was standing by the
helmsman, ready to maneuver the ship.

Then they saw the first rocket, and
Iwabuchi finally knew what Captain Kiyota aboard
Nachi
had been talking
about. He had called it
Raiju
, the thunder beast that falls from the
sky, the lightning wolf that haunted children’s dreams back in the homeland on
stormy nights. A good name for it, he thought, what speed!

Then the missile came at his ship like
an arrow, his eyes widening as it roared in to strike his forward turret dead
on, exploding in a massive brilliant orange and black fireball. The ship rocked
with the blow, metal shrapnel flaying the tall pagoda superstructure, and
shattering one window on the bridge. It was as if the gods had hurled metal
brimstone at his ship, and when the main explosion finally cleared he could see
that the forward turret had been jarred half off its barbette, one gun canted
upward by the concussion. The turret itself had a large blackened indentation
there by the twisted gun barrel, the place where the hard tip of the warhead
must have struck.

Now fires fed by excess jet fuel broke
out on the forward deck all around the turret, and he knew the heat there must
have killed every man inside. One shot, one hit, but with what? This was no
anti-aircraft rocket! This was a demon from the blackest of all hells set loose
on him.
Raiju
was not word enough for it. His face reddened, anger
surging.

“Return fire!” he yelled, watching the
guns of the number two turret train and then belch their own fire and brimstone
at the distant enemy ship, their concussion helping to snuff out fires on the
forward deck, so great was the blast wave of the guns.

Spotters on the high main mast of the
pagoda watched the rounds hit, slightly long, their blue dyed waterspouts
churning into the sea about 500 meters off the port side of the enemy ship. It
seemed a feeble response given the impact and shock they had just sustained.
Lookouts were already shouting orders through voice tubes to the fire control
men below, and the turret was re-training to correct even as the heavy shells
were being hoisted and shoved into the
breech
,
followed by four powder bags required for the range.

Then Iwabuchi saw the dark shadow of
the enemy ship wink at him, almost like signal lamps, one, two, three. Seconds
later he heard the whine of incoming shells, amazed to see two rounds fall not
twenty meters off his port side. Then the main pagoda mast was struck hard by
one, then a second explosion, more windows shattering on the bridge. The last
two rounds were near misses to starboard.

“Those were small caliber rounds!”
shouted Ikeda, surprised at their range and accuracy. He had not expected that
his own secondary batteries would come into play in the engagement until they
closed well inside 18,000 meters, but it did not seem as though they were
gaining on the ship any longer. In fact, when
Kirishima’s
main battery
fired again, the spotters clearly called the rounds short. The enemy ship was
again slipping away.

Wink, wink, wink. More rounds were
loping into the sea, this time one hitting the main mast above the bridge and
taking down a watch station, and another striking well below, where it started
a small fire. A third round hit close off the port side scudding against the
main belt where it did little harm to the thick eleven inch armor there.

The Captain was enraged. It was as if
the other ship had stepped up and delivered a hard fist to his nose with that
first blow, and now followed it with the insult of these lighter slaps in the
face. He considered ordering his cruisers to go to full speed and close the
range on this beast, but realized they would only be peppered by these long
range secondary batteries for at least an hour while they struggled to get in
close, just as Captain Kiyota had reported. The accuracy of the enemy’s weapons
was uncanny! Every round they fired had been pointedly targeted at his own
ship, a certain message that they knew where the real threat in his task force
was.

Frustrated and angry, he clenched his
fist, ordering his last forward battery to fire again. It was more for honor’s
sake than anything else. The rounds were falling short again. This
Mizuchi
was slowly pulling away. It had lingered to see if he would dare engage, and
delivered one hard blow to test the mettle of its pursuers. Iwabuchi
reluctantly gave the order to cease fire.

“Twenty-eight knots,” he said darkly,
listening to his old engines straining. How much longer could they keep the boilers
fired up like this and run at high speed? The heavy cruiser
Tone
was
rushing to join him, and he would soon have three fast cruisers again.
Tone
could make 36 knots and she also had six seaplanes for scouting and shadowing.
He knew that the enemy would not be able to slip away, not today.

What ship was this? Certainly not the
Renown
as he first thought. There had been no fire from any large caliber gun, only
these jabbing pricks by what seemed no more than a six inch round. But that
rocket weapon was truly fearsome. This ship had real power, he knew. He could
not catch this beast, but by all gods and kami he would not give up the chase.
He would follow in the wake of this demon if it took every last drop of fuel,
and if he ever did close the range he would kill it quickly and mercilessly…or
he would kill himself trying.

 *
* *

“
That
got their attention,”
said Fedorov. “I think they are falling off in speed a bit.”

“Confirmed,” said Rodenko. “I would
estimate the battleship is now at 28 knots.”
Kirov
had gone to full
battle speed earlier, and now had a four knot advantage on the enemy.

“Any sign those cruisers are getting
curious?”

“No, sir. They are matching the speed
of the battleship at the moment. But my readings aft are not precise. I’ve been
using targeting radars of secondary systems, and I also painted the ship with a
laser.”

“Looks like they put the fire out
quickly enough,” said Fedorov, “but the last few salvos were only from one
turret. We may have knocked that forward turret out, at least for the time
being. This ship has four twin turrets, so half its firepower is out of the
battle as long as they have to pursue us like this. It doesn’t seem like
they’re giving up the chase either. The man may have a real bone to pick,
Captain. I think we are safely out of range now, and I suggest we cease fire.”