Kirov III: Pacific Storm k-3

by John A. Schettler

  On the bridge, Captain Karpov walked over to the Admiral’s chair, a smile on his drawn face. “Have we finally found your island, Admiral?”

  Volsky laughed. “I’m not so sure. This one doesn’t seem large enough for the crew, and I don’t see any palm trees—or pretty young girls. Perhaps we will keep looking, but I think we have finally reached the edge of paradise at long last. The world north may be blighted by the insanity of war, but there is no sign of it here. If our luck holds we may find my island in due course. Anything on the map that looks promising, Fedorov?” He craned his neck, looking for his Starpom, the ex-navigator who had proved such an invaluable pillar during their last ordeal in the Mediterranean Sea. He found him staring up at the ship’s chronometer, a worried expression on his face.

  “Fedorov, what are you doing there? A watched clock never chimes.”

  “This one will,” said Fedorov. “We’ve been sailing eleven days and eighteen hours since we left St. Helena.”

  “Yes, and all we have had these last days at sea are endless empty hours. Why are you counting them?”

  Fedorov said nothing for a moment, though he wore a look of obvious concern. “Will the shore parties be long?”

  “What? The shore parties? Oh, I would think they will finish up in a few hours. Would you like to go ashore yourself?”

  “Me sir? No, I think it best to stay on the ship just now. In fact, I think it would be wise to make certain we get all the men back aboard as soon as possible.”

  The Admiral frowned, his eyes admonishing beneath his heavy brows. “What is it now, Fedorov? What are you worried about?”

  “The time, sir. We’re nearly at the twelve day mark, and… well every twelve days we have moved in time. We may still be moving for that matter. It could be that we have not yet settled in the here and now, if you follow me, sir. If that is the case, I would like to make sure we have everyone aboard well before midnight. And I think we had better tell Dobrynin in engineering to keep a good ear on the reactors. They act up every time we have moved into the past.”

  Volsky’s expression faded. “Dobrynin is running a maintenance operation now. Don’t worry about the reactors. As for the men, there will be many who might prefer to stay right here,” he mused. “If given the choice of this island or another ride on this ship, I might be sorely tempted as well. But let us suppose you are correct.” He turned, leaning towards the communications station. “Nikolin!”

  “Sir?”

  “Radio Sergeant Troyak and have him wind up his detail as soon as possible. I would like every man aboard by 20:00 hours. It will be getting too dark for safe operations ashore in any case.”

  “Yes,” said Karpov. “If any man is tempted to drop anchor here we had better be wary. Let us not forget Orlov.”

  “Agreed,” said Volsky. “Mr. Karpov, can you signal those men fishing from the foredeck and see if anyone knows how to snorkel?”

  “Sir?”

  “Yes, see if they can find us a few nice fat lobsters, or even crabs. I’m tired of galley food and the taste of something fresh would do us all some good. Anyone care to join me for dinner?”

  Rodenko, Tasarov and Samsonov were quick to make their reservations, and though they would enjoy their seafood fest that night, time had other plans for them.

  ~ ~ ~

  It would be many long hours before they realized what had happened. Troyak’s men searched the island for anything else of use, skirting along the white strands to more rocky shores where they saw images of strange creatures carved in the red stone. They searched every building, finding some magazines and newspapers, all in English, and they brought them back to the bridge for the officers to review. Fedorov found them of particular interest.

  “At last!” he said enthusiastically when the Marine corporal brought them in. “Now we find out what happened!” He took them eagerly. There was a copy of the NT News out of Darwin and his eye immediately ran to the date: 15 September, 2021, and the headline was dark and ominous. Fedorov knew just enough English to know what it meant:

  WAR ESCALATES!

  MAJOR ACTION IN SOUTH CHINA SEA!

  RAN FRIGATE SUNK!

  “Nikolin,” Fedorov said excitedly. “Read this and translate, will you?”

  Nikolin took up the paper and read, his eyes dark and serious as he translated. “Hostilities escalated today in the South China Sea with a nuclear ballistic missile attack on the US Carrier task force Eisenhower. It was reported that up to ten missiles, were used in the strike, at least two with nuclear warheads, and five ships were sunk in the attack: Eisenhower and four escorts, including RAN escort frigate Darwin which was operating as part of a combined fleet security force. United Nations Security Council was quick to condemn the action as a flagrant escalation, though any formal resolution was vetoed by both China and Russia.”

  Fedorov’s face registered real surprise, and both Karpov and Admiral Volsky drew near, looking at the newsprint with obvious misgiving.

  “People are still firing nuclear missiles at battle fleets,” said Volsky…No offence meant, Karpov.”

  Karpov nodded. “None taken, sir. But it does feel somewhat odd to realize I was the first man with his finger on the trigger like that—and just a matter of seven weeks ago in the actual time we have lived out here on the ship, yet it seems another life to me now.”

  “It is another life, Karpov,” said Volsky. “You’re another man now, and better off for it.”

  “Aye, sir.”

  “There’s more, Admiral,” said Nikolin, continuing. “SinoPac representatives claimed the US task force was violating territorial waters, which American representatives immediately denied. Ambassador Stevenson stated categorically that the fleet was sailing in international waters and vowed the strongest possible measures would be taken in reprisal. The attack followed the controversial sinking of the sole Chinese aircraft carrier Liaoning on September 7th, presumably by torpedo attack from an American submarine as the carrier embarked from Dalian and entered the East China Sea south of the 38th parallel. Analysts believe the attack may have been a reprisal for the sinking of the American attack submarine USS Key West by a Russian cruiser August 28th in the Pacific, as well as a warning to the Chinese not to press their demands for full integration of Taiwan into the People’s Republic of China. Tensions between SinoPac and the West have been high since the loss of a Russian ship in the Arctic Sea in July and several incidents involving both Russian and British planes in the waters around Iceland.”

  “Nothing seems to change,” said the Admiral. “Our pilots have been thumbing their noses at the Americans for decades, and they have done the same with us. What else, Nikolin?”

  The young Lieutenant continued. “It was also learned that US Naval forces have now put to sea on full war alert, sailing from ports on the east and west coast of the United Sates and that the US was now on a full wartime footing. Meanwhile, missile attacks continue on the beleaguered isle of Taiwan after hostilities began there earlier this week, further ramping up the tension. No use of nuclear weapons has been reported. NATO representatives in Europe have also detected a large Russian buildup along the German border, and increased activity at bases in Poland.”

  “So it began in Asia,” said Karpov. “The Chinese patience ran out with Taiwan and the Americans sunk that old relic we sold them after they lost that sub.” The Liaoning had been originally built by the Russians, laid down as the Riga on December 6, 1985 and eventually launched as the Varyag, The ship was never really completed, lacking electronics, weapon systems and other key components. When the old Soviet Union broke up it was given to Ukraine and began to rust away, eventually stripped of most useful equipment before it was put up for auction. An enterprising Chinese businessman bought the hulk under the pretense he was hoping to create a floating theme park with it at Macao, and it was summarily turned over to the Chinese authorities, refitted and completing sea trials in 2012.

  “That ship was built at Nikolayev
South,” said Fedorov. “Shipyard 444. That’s a very unlucky number for the Chinese. It looks like it was ill fated after all. I wonder why the US targeted that ship for reprisal.”

  “I was slated to serve on that ship,” said Volsky. “Better to die in battle than sit there as an amusement park like Minsk and Kiev.”

  The Chinese had also acquired those aging Russian carriers. Minsk, once the heart of the Russian Pacific Fleet, had been docked at Shenzhen to create a theme park called “Minsk World” for Chinese tourists, and Kiev was now the centerpiece of the Binhai Aircraft Theme Park at Tianjin. The Russian Navy had become a laughing stock, their once proud ships now places for Chinese tourists to amuse themselves… Until the new Kirov was launched.

  “This could have been one of a number of incidents that preceded a general war,” said Fedorov. “So it didn’t happen during the first cold war. The future we saw was the result of a war fought in our day, and just after we displaced in time. It looks like Russia and China squared off against the West and it came to more than harsh words in the Security Council.”

  “So nothing really changed,” said Karpov. “It was still old unfinished business where Russia and the West are concerned. As for China, this attack against Taiwan was inevitable. I have no doubt that the Americans were moving that carrier group up as a show of force. The Chinese taught them a lesson. Good for them. Is there any further news?”

  “That looks to be the latest paper. Apparently whoever owned those homesteads on the island took off for the mainland soon after this date. I suppose if we investigate the other towns to the north we may find more news sources like this.”

  “I think we must do this,” said Volsky. “As much as I hate to discover more ruined cities, for the sake of the men, I think we must discover what really happened—how this business ended.”

  “We have already seen how it ended,” said Karpov, “and thinking I was the man who started it has not been an easy thing to carry.”

  “Don’t be too hard on yourself, Captain,” said Volsky. “The choice to use nuclear weapons in war was not ours this time, not yours either. What chills me now is the thought that we can never get back to our old lives again. This is our world now. This is home, gentlemen, all that’s left of the world after the war that began in 2021. We slipped out the door just before it happened, like a thief in the night, but now we live with what remains—if anything does remain.”

  “So much for our visit to paradise,” said Karpov.

  Chapter 3

  Kirov sailed north that night, passing Port Hedland just before dawn, but seeing no sign of life there. They were well out to sea again, some fifty miles off the Australian coast and heading north for the small port of Broome at about 18:00 hrs when Fedorov saw the ship’s chronometer finally pass through the twelfth full day. It was a tense moment for him, though the other officers were not aware of it and many were below decks at the time on rest shifts. He wanted to be on the bridge when the second hand swept out the last of the twelve day interval, and was peering keenly through the viewports for any sign of a discoloration or disturbance in the sea. Yet he saw nothing, and a call to engineering also reported no fluctuations or odd vibrations from the reactors. All seemed as it was before, and he watched the sun rise on August 24, year still unknown, without realizing that the ship was about to cruise through an unseen barrier, completely imperceptible, through the reefs and shoals of nowhere to a place where the rising sun they would next see would be something quite unexpected.

  They moved northeast, bypassing Derby as it was deep within King Sound, and soon they were entering the calm waters of the Timor Sea, skirting the sculpted red rock and terraced hills of the Kimberly Coast, near the famous Montgomery Reef off Doubtful Bay, which just seemed to emerge from the sea at low tide, revealing opalescent strands of pearly white and aquamarine tide pools fringing the green islands. Night fell, and it was just near dawn again on August 25 after they navigated the Bonaparte Archipelago, and rounded the capes at Bougainville and Londonderry north of Wyndham. As the sun rose, Rodenko began to see some odd signal returns to the northwest, about a hundred and fifty kilometers off the coast of Timor Island.

  “It comes and goes, sir,” Rodenko explained. “I think I’m seeing something at about 250 to 300 kilometers out near maximum range on the Fregat-MAE-7 system, then I lose it, and I can get no clear signal processing on the POYMA data unit.”

  “A signal return at that range would have to be an aircraft, yes?” Admiral Volsky was back on the bridge and and sitting squarely in his chair watching the distant Australian coast shrouded by haze, his island reverie interrupted by Rodenko’s report.

  “Yes, sir. I can only see surface contacts out to about 120 kilometers.”

  Volsky thought for a moment, wondering, and thinking discretion would be advised, no matter what their present circumstances might indicate—that they were still adrift on an empty sea in an equally empty world. “Perhaps we should investigate this further with the KA-40. What does my Starpom think?”

  “I don’t like it, sir—the signal fading in and out like that. It leads me to suggest we keep everyone, and everything, aboard and simply await further developments.”

  “I see…” Volsky gave his First Officer a long look, then nodded his approval. “Very well, we will keep all our eggs in one basket for the moment. But I was climbing a ladder a few weeks ago and got a very rude awakening. Let us bring the ship to condition three alert, and I think we should make an announcement. The crew has had a good long rest on the voyage from St. Helena. You may do the honors, Mister Fedorov.”

  “Aye, sir. If you wish.”

  Fedorov made a short statement over the ship’s PA system, announcing that they were receiving some unusual traffic on the radar and a precautionary drill to battle stations was in order. They could almost hear the collective groan from the crew, and initial response was sluggish, but in time midshipman and warrant officers were reporting to the bridge as one station after another was cleared for action, and the crew stood its level three watch on all systems. Fedorov saw Samsonov activating panels in the Combat Information Center.

  “What are you doing, Samsonov? We have no hostile contacts for the moment.”

  “Correct, sir, but a level three alert requires me to key and initiate all systems and report general readiness for action.” The big man continued working even as he spoke, his arms moving as if in unison with the ship’s systems, human servomechanisms opening toggle guards and flipping switches to feed life to his CIC panels. A few seconds later he finished, finally swiveling his chair to face Fedorov and make his report.

  “Sir, I report all systems nominal, and our current missile inventory now reads as follows: Moskit II, nine missiles; MOS-III, nine missiles; P-900 cruise missile system, eight missiles; S-300 SAM system, thirty-five missiles; Klinok SAM system, thirty-seven missiles; Kashtan system has not been used and is at full load-out; Shkval torpedo System, six available; Vodopad tubes with UGST Torpedo System, fifteen available; 152mm deck guns, eighty-six percent; 100mm deck gun, ninety-eight percent; close in defense systems, ninety-four percent.”

  “Thank you, Mister Samsonov.”

  Admiral Volsky looked at his First Officer, frowning. “Running a bit thin on SSMs.”

  “We’re lucky to have even those available, sir. But it’s the SAM systems I am more concerned about for the moment. Seventy-two missiles is a fairly weak air defense umbrella.”

  “We still have good munitions for close in defense,” said Volsky. Both the Gatling guns and the Kashtan-2 system seem to be well provisioned.”

  The Admiral looked out the forward view panes, taking in the glorious seascape and the distant silhouette of the Australian coast, broken by green archipelagos of sandstone islands circled by reefs in the clear blue waters of the Timor Sea. “I must tell you that I was very tempted to drop anchor permanently when I got a look at that Montgomery Island, Fedorov. Aside from the missing native girls, it was as close to p
aradise as any man is likely to get on this ship. And now here we are squinting at the radar screens, flipping switches and rattling off missile inventories.” As he spoke he quietly gestured to Fedorov to come closer, and when the young officer was at his side he leaned heavily on one elbow, inclining his head and speaking in a lowered voice. “Alright Fedorov…What are you worried about. Out with it, but quietly please.”

  Fedorov blinked, then clasped his arms behind his back and spoke just above a whisper. “The interval, sir. We are well into our thirteenth day now, and all seems well…but it does not feel well, if that makes any sense. I don’t like that signal fading in and out like that. And I would not be surprised to find that the ship is not yet stable, or confident that we still remain in a time beyond the year listed in that newspaper, 2021.”

  “Explain this interval business to me again.”

  “Well, sir, the initial accident that shifted our position in time occurred on 28 July and just as we rolled into 9 August, the detonation of the warhead Karpov fired shifted us forward in time again, or so we believe. Twelve days later we were in the Med, and shifted backwards, only a year later. Twelve days after that we disappeared just as we reached St. Helena.”

  “And with no nuclear detonation to help us on our way,” said Volsky.

  “That is what bothers me, sir. The shift was not accompanied by those strange effects as before. It was almost imperceptible, and the only way we realized it was when Rodenko’s radar began to malfunction. That same interval was reached again as we left Malus Island, and we have been cruising for some time with no signs of any further shift. Everything seems the same—the sea is naturally this color, and not altered by the strange effects we experienced before, but it does not feel the same. I can’t explain it, Admiral. I’m just worried about it.”