Yet, as the incident with Natasha had proven, all through these frantic times his life had been somehow lacking.
Leonov had assumed this emptiness was caused by his lack of a wife and family of his own. But Ivan Novikov had lifted the blinders from his eyes and shown him that a woman wouldn’t be the object to fill this void. Rather, it proved to be his long-dormant political zeal that was to give him new hope and direction.
At Navikov’s suggestion, Leonov had accompanied the zampolit to Petropavlovsk’s Red Banner Naval Museum. Here, while walking the hallways, deserted except for a large group of curious school children, they studied a pictorial history of the Soviet Navy’s long climb to greatness. The chronicle began in the early part of the eighteenth century, when Czar Peter I founded the city of Leningrad at the eastern end of the Gulf of Finland, and built a fleet to fight the Swedes. The armada achieved notable success, yet for the centuries that followed they had few great victories to boast of. This non effectiveness became most apparent after a humiliating defeat at the hands of the Japanese Navy during the war of 1904.
It wasn’t until after World War II that individuals such as Sorokin had emerged to lead the ineffective fleet to greatness. Hearts swelling with pride, Leonov and Novikov gazed upon a firsthand account of the ships comprising the current Soviet Navy. Able to hold their own in any ocean in the world, the fleet included a diverse mixture of sophisticated attack and missile-carrying submarines, massive aircraft carriers, heavily armed cruisers, sleek destroyers, and dozens of support vessels and warships of other classes. Almost overnight, the navy of the Soviet Union went from being a mere coastal defense force to the world’s foremost naval power.
Leonov was in the midst of expounding on this when Novikov led him into an empty hallway and, in a hushed tone, told him of a conspiracy that threatened the fleet’s very existence. His heart pounded as the zampolit relayed to him what he knew of General Secretary Viktor Rodin’s plans to disband this awesome force once and for all.
Prompted by an insanity that they couldn’t begin to fathom, Rodin actually thought that Russia could disarm itself without fearing a threat from the imperialists.
His voice quivering with passion, Novikov swore that all he was revealing was true, told to him personally by various members of the government occupying the highest, most respected offices. The zampolit almost broke into tears as he reflected upon the great sacrifices the Rodina had made to achieve this pinnacle of naval success. To strip it bare now, with a mere promise by the Yankees to do likewise, would be the act of a madman! Leonov heartily agreed.
Outside the museum, though the arctic wind still blew in frigid gusts, Leonov hardly noticed the cold as Ivan Novikov revealed an operation designed to defy their Premier’s foolish scheme.
Counterforce was a project whose simplistic vision would change the world for all time to come. Well versed in the strategy underlying a surgical nuclear first strike, Leonov shivered in an awareness of the brilliance of the scheme. With a minimum of bloodshed, the earth’s population would be free to reap the benefits of a single communist order. Surely, a few casualties now would be nothing compared to the slaughter that would soon. follow in the wake of Rodin’s sellout.
Without a single misgiving, the senior lieutenant had pledged to aid the zampolit in all that he asked.
After an oath of secrecy was exchanged, Leonov had followed Novikov into the bowels of Petropavlovsk’s KGB headquarters. Here he received an intricate briefing.
As Leonov now climbed the flight of stairs leading to the Vulkan’s attack center, he thought back to these events and shuddered. Before that encounter he had only been half alive. Since then, weak, selfish emotions had been wrenched from his body and buried in the wastes of a past life. Today, it was a new, enlightened Vasili Leonov who walked the sub’s deck.
No longer would base emotions get in his way. Now he had a goal to lead him unerringly onward. And how swiftly the attainment of this goal was proceeding!
At the moment, only a few short hours stood between the Vulkan and its final launch position. Not even the vessel’s weapons chief was included in their plotting.
The ultimate test of their power had come when the captain melted right before their eyes. Petyr Valenko was representative of all that was lacking in the officer corps. Unable to comprehend the grandeur of their vision, the captain had attempted a feeble show of resistance. It was because of the weakness of his convictions that he had subsequently failed. Conscious that no further obstacle now lay between them and their great scheme’s attainment, the senior lieutenant soundlessly ducked through the attack center’s open hatchway.
Leonov quickly spotted a familiar figure hunched intensely over a computer monitor screen in the compartment’s far wall. His puzzlement turned to concern as he realized that the console was for the warhead targeting system. Since the which man had no business there, the senior lieutenant snuck up behind Stefan Kuzmin and carefully peered over his shoulder. Only after catching a glance of the screen’s contents did Leonov break the hushed stillness.
“Interesting reading, isn’t it Comrade Warrant Officer?”
Startled, Stefan looked up with a shock. Before he could reply, Leonov said, “Spare me the excuses, Kuzmin. I’m well aware that the material you’re reading is of the utmost sensitivity. In fact, there are only three individuals on the Vulkan who are trusted with this particular access code. For such a traitorous act, I could shoot you right on the spot. But perhaps you’d — like to tell me what this is all about, before forcing me to such an extreme.”
Cautiously, Kuzmin turned to meet the senior lieutenant’s hard stare.
Perceiving that Leonov was too smart for any type of lie, he decided to confront him with the truth.
“I think there’s some confusion here as to who’s the traitor. Comrade Leonov. You didn’t really think that you could get by with this mad scheme, did you?”
“Whatever are you babbling about, Kuzmin? Quit changing the subject and tell me how you got this access code!”
Kuzmin took a deep breath and replied matter-of factly “We are most aware of your mutinous desires, Comrade Senior Lieutenant. I am to inform you that you no longer have control of this ship to do as you want.”
Leonov took a step backward and stifled a laugh.
“So now you’re giving me orders. Comrade Warrant Officer? Answer my original question, or risk instant arrest on charges of treason!” Deciding to go ahead with his bluff, Kuzmin said, “The Captain has informed us where the real source of treason exists. Both yourself and Ivan Novikov are asked to surrender without further violence.”
Unable to constrain his rising impatience, Leonov’s face reddened.
“That’s enough of this impertinence!
You are to consider yourself under detention. As of this moment, you are relieved of all your duties as warrant officer.”
As Leonov reached out to activate the intercom and enforce these orders, Kuzmin stood and knocked his hand away.
“Why, you insolent fool! I’ll see you hung for this!”
The Senior Lieutenant moved in to pin Kuzmin down. The which man was not about to surrender so easily. Stepping aside, he deflected Leonov’s hand with his left forearm, then jabbed him hard in the abdomen with his right fist. The blow temporarily knocked the wind out of Leonov. As he bent over, struggling for breath, his reddened face contorted into a painful sneer. Still gasping for air, Leonov managed to stand and swing out with a series of vicious left jabs.
Surprised by the quickness of Leonov’s recovery and his punches, Kuzmin stepped into a powerful right hook aimed squarely at__his““Jaw. Two more punches connected with his mouth and his nose. As blood streamed into his mouth, the which man knew he’d have to do something drastic to bring the senior officer down. Since he had always been a much better wrestler than a boxer, he tucked his head down and charged forward.
The attack center’s cramped confines served as his ally. In an attempt to step
away from Kuzmin’s charge, Leonov stumbled over a deck-mounted chair and went crashing to the floor. The warrant officer took immediate advantage and flung himself down on Leonov’s stunned body. Rolling him onto his back, Kuzmin was able to pin down his left arm.
Leonov was aware of his desperate situation. In a last-ditch effort to save himself, he reached out with his right hand and blindly groped along the floorboard.
He could hardly believe it when his fingers latched onto the cold steel shaft of a large wrench. For once he was thankful for the sloppy incompetence of the crew member who had left the tool there. Utilizing the last of his strength, he swung the wrench upward and cracked its tip into the side of his adversary’s head. There was a dull thud and a loud groan as Stefan Kuzmin crumpled to the floor, unconscious.
Leonov hastily pushed the inert body off of his own.
Oblivious to a variety of throbbing aches and pains, he managed to stand and briefly scanned the damage done by their scuffle. No equipment appeared disturbed, yet the deck was wet and sticky from the blood that still streamed from the which man nose and mouth. That could be cleaned up soon enough, and there would be no sign that the battle had ever happened.
The senior lieutenant reached into his pocket and pulled out a roll of white surgical tape. Before applying it to his victim’s wrists and ankles, he turned to pick up the intercom. He activated the handset and spoke into its receiver breathlessly.
“Comrade Novikov, it’s Leonov. We seem to have one small problem.
Stefan Kuzmin has somehow stumbled on to our plans…. No, I’m almost certain that this is an isolated case. If you can get down here with a stretcher and blanket, we can wrap up what’s left of the mwhm&n and dump him with the captain…. Yes, Comrade, that’s an excellent idea.
By announcing that both men have come down with infectious hepatitis, who would question a proper quarantine? Please get down here quickly, though.”
As he hung up, Leonov exhaled a sigh of relief.
Once the warrant officer was stashed away, nothing would stand between them and their goal. With this thought in mind, he bent down and began wrapping Kuzmin’s wrists together.
For a full hour, Petyr Valenko waited beside the unconscious body of his friend. Aware of the passing time, he knew that unless Kuzmin came to soon, he’d have to initiate the vital task that still faced them alone.
He had feigned unconsciousness when the zampolit and the senior lieutenant had arrived with the ouch man bruised body. Thankfully, they had left quickly and Valenko was able to rise and begin ministering to his fallen friend.
Finding Kuzmin’s pulse strong and steady, Valenko had unwrapped the bonds and began working on the facial cuts that still oozed blood. The nastiest looking wound was a large, hand-sized bruise that started at the lower left side of Kuzmin’s skull and stretched down his neck. Most likely this was the blow that had led to his present comatose condition.
After treating him the best he could, Valenko began his present vigil, ever aware of each passing second. If he was going to act, it would have to be within the hour. He could tell from the loud drone of the Vulkan’s engines, that they were continuing to their launch position at flank speed. The fact that this position was located in the eastern most portion of their patrol sector proved that their targets were not limited to America’s west coast. Because of the limited range of the SS-N-18s, each kilometer that the Vulkan moved east brought the warheads that much closer to being able to cover the entire continent.
Unable to rely on the help of his crew, Valenko knew that he would have to stop this insanity by himself.
Though he would have preferred to have the which man assistance, it didn’t appear that Kuzmin would be able to rise to the occasion.
Valenko reflected on the great responsibility that rested on his shoulders and inwardly trembled. To fail would mean the possible loss of untold millions of innocent lives. Though he had some knowledge of the assumed effectiveness of a surgical nuclear strike, he doubted that the West would be totally decapitated.
Surely portions of their command and communications systems would still remain operational. Infuriated by this unwarranted attack, the Americans would strike back with every warhead they could muster.
Their Trident submarines alone contained enough destructive capability to give the Motherland a fatal blow. Since these vessels were extremely difficult to track down, they could lie in waiting for months, biding the moment until revenge would be theirs.
Try as he could, Valenko failed to determine the motive that had inspired such a crazed scheme. The Premier had come out strongly against any first use of nuclear weapons. Valenko had met him only a few days before. Not only did Viktor Rodin seem to be a man of his word, he also appeared to be sincere about his present mission. Hadn’t the summit with the American President been convened to make such an attack even more of an impossibility? And why time this blow to coincide with the General Secretary’s visit to America?
There was no doubt that a dangerously sick minority was responsible.
Most likely holding high positions in the seat of the government, these conspirators genuinely believed that Rodin was the traitor for sincerely desiring peace.
Valenko had long ago come to terms with the awesome killing potential inside of the Vulkan’s missile magazine. A trained, loyal warrior, he swore to protect the Rodina without undue questions. As he viewed the current situation, there was little doubt that the Motherland’s most dangerous enemies were inside the Vulkan’s hull. No matter the risks, he had to stop them before the peace of the entire world was needlessly threatened.
Again he checked his watch and realized it was time to move. As he splashed cold water on his face, Valenko was aware of a stirring in his bunk. Quickly, he looked back into the cabin’s interior. Meeting his hopeful stare, was a dazed but conscious Stefan Kuzmin. The captain ran to his side as the which man struggled to sit up.
“Easy now, Stefan. You took quite a blow.”
Valenko caught the warrant officer as he fell back dizzily.
“What happened. Captain?” Kuzmin said weakly.
“The Senior Lieutenant and the zampolit brought you in about an hour ago. I don’t know what hit you, but for a while there I was afraid that you’d never snap out of it.”
Gradually, Kuzmin’s eyes focused.
“An hour ago, you say? Have they released the missiles yet?”
Relieved that Kuzmin’s concussion wasn’t as serious as he had feared, Valenko helped him sit up.
“No, Comrade, we still have at least sixty minutes before the Vulkan reaches the launch point.”
“Then we still have time to stop them,” Kuzmin said with a bit more strength.
“I pulled up the information that you asked for, and first-strike targets have indeed been selected. Leonov caught me in the attack center. I’m afraid he knows that we’re on to them.”
“You’ve done your job well, my friend. Now, it’s up to me to make certain that those SS-N-18s go nowhere.”
“Oh, but Captain, you’ve got to let me help you!”
the which man pleaded as he struggled to stand.
Caught by a wave of dizziness, he was forced to reach out and steady himself against the wall.
“Nonsense, Stefan. You are in no shape to leave this room.”
Ignoring Valenko’s pleas, Kuzmin took a deep breath and stood up straight. This time, his balance remained steady.
“It will take more than a little knock on the head to keep Stefan Kuzmin down,” he said as he gently rubbed the left side of his neck.
“So you really think that it’s not too late to stop them. Captain?”
Realizing the warrant officer’s stubbornness, Valenko grinned.
“We can do it, Stefan. Don’t forget-there’s that new godchild of mine who I swore to protect.”
“Well then, what’s the plan?”
Valenko turned and pointed to the air-conditioning ventilation screen.
“The way I figure it, we’d better not count on the crew for any help.
Who knows what the zampolit and the senior lieutenant have been feeding them? That means that we’re on our own. Are you certain that you want to go through with this, Stefan? That trip down the shaft is hard enough uninjured.”
Kuzmin managed a smile. ‘“I wouldn’t miss this trip for the world Captain.”
Valenko smiled in return.
“If you’re really capable, I certainly won’t turn down the help.
Between the two of us we’ll have double the chance of succeeding. I think it’s better if we split up. Would you like to have a go at cutting the firecontrol system?”
“I sure would,” Kuzmin affirmed.
“Good. You hit the taiga. I’ll go forward. Each of us is only going to get a single chance. We’ve got to make it a good one.”
Once more Valenko checked his watch.
“We’d better be going, my friend.”
Fully alert now, the which man pivoted and began his way over to the wallmounted shaft, with the captain close on his heels.
For Seaman Third Class Valeri Balashikha, the day was turning out to be a most confusing one. It was at times such as these that the nineteen-year-old, dark eyed Uzbek cursed his misfortune at having been drafted into the navy. Not only was his current duty ridiculously monotonous, but his commanding officer was in the foulest of moods. This was most unlike the weapons chief. In the past, Yuri Chuchkin had been someone whom the young conscript respected. Always fair with both his praise and complaints, the chief had been more like a friend than a superior.
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