Kirov III: Pacific Storm

danger of major surface engagement, but he was in no position to contradict Yamamoto under the present circumstances. He expressed his concerns, and now proffered a brief bow acceding to the Admiral’s wishes.

“In that event, sir, I would suggest an escort of several cruisers and at least three destroyers, all with the speed to form a scouting force and screen for Yamato. And perhaps we should send Hiei as well.”

“That will leave only Fuso to support the planned landing on Guadalcanal. No. If this ship cannot engage and sink a British battlecruiser then we had no business building it. Yamato will be sufficient, but yes, we will detach cruisers Yura, Nagara and Jintsu, along with three destroyers. It will be my intention to move west at once, and I wish to be well south of Milne Bay by dawn.”

“That will mean running at high speed all night, sir.”

“Yes, it will. See that the orders are given. Now…Where will Hara and Furuichi be at dawn tomorrow?”

Kuroshima shifted, then set his mind to the plotting table, extending a wand and gently pushing two carrier models as he spoke.

“Sir, assuming Hara has no problem transiting the Strait, he should be north of Cooktown and 170 miles west of the enemy. Approximately here. As for the Ryuho group, it will be about 175 miles southeast, approaching the enemy’s present course head on. Both carrier forces will be within easy strike range.”

“And where do you anticipate we could be at that time?”

“About here, sir. A hundred and fifty miles due east of where we expect the enemy given their present course and speed.”

“A little too far for even our guns.” Yamamoto smiled.

Genda spoke up now. “Sir, Hara should coordinate an air strike at dawn.”

“And lose the remainder of his aircraft?”

“That may not happen this time,” Genda suggested. “That ship was hit before and it can be hit again. Hara must buy us the time we need to close and engage with Yamato.”

“My thinking exactly,” said Yamamoto. “And once we have dealt with this ship we will be in a perfect position to cover and support the second wave troops in the Coral Sea. Do I hear any objection?”

No man at the table spoke further.

~ ~ ~

The rain slowly abated as Kirov slipped southeast, resolving to a fine humid mist in time, and drifting patches of fog hugging the quieting seas. The principle officers took advantage of the calm for much needed sleep, all except Nikolin, who had spent the night dozing at his radio station, in and out of sleep as he monitored the increasing radio traffic. He could not decipher some of the code words used, but it was clear to him that ships and planes were talking to one another, calling to one another in the night, and he imagined men up in search planes now, their eyes darkly scanning the grey horizon, looking for enemy ships, perhaps looking for Kirov as well, with bad intent.

A little before three in the morning he got a message from engineering. Dobrynin was reporting his maintenance procedure was completed without complications.

“Very well,” he said. “I will inform the senior officers at the next shift.” Then he forgot about the matter, settling into his chair again and quietly dozing off.

Two hours later a bleary eyed Karpov came slouching onto the bridge, and a watchman saluted.

“Captain on the bridge,” he said, sticking to protocols.

“As you were,” said Karpov, then he yawned heavily, moving slowly to Kalinichev. “Anything to report?”

“Without the Fregat system our range is limited,” said Kalinichev. “But I did get a return on a surface contact with our Top Mast radar at 02:00 hours, sir. I keyed its position, course and speed, and the predictive plot algorithm would have it here, sir, a little beyond the range of that antenna now.”

Moments later Fedorov appeared, and yet another captain was announced on the bridge. He joined Karpov, near the radar station as other senior officers were slowly appearing to relieve the night shift. Rodenko was back, and Tasarov shuffled in to take up his post at sonar. The burly Samsonov was an early riser. He had just come from the mess hall and a good breakfast, and now was well settled into his station at the CIC.

“That predictive plot will probably be the carrier group that attacked us earlier,” said Fedorov.

“We could go have a look with the KA-40. It proved invaluable yesterday. It may be wise to get an Oko panel up and have a look around this morning.”

“I agree,” said Fedorov. “See to it, will you Captain?”

“Sir,” Karpov tapped off a three finger salute and went to rustle Nikolin from his daydreaming and have him send the order down to the helo bay. Nikolin blinked, chasing the sleep from his eyes, and then remembered the message from Dobrynin.

“I’m to tell you that Chief Dobrynin has completed his maintenance operation, sir,” he said.

“Yes, yes,” Karpov waved a hand. “Good enough. Just get that order out for the KA-40, Mister Nikolin.”

Twenty minutes later the Helo was up, its twin rotors beating fitfully as it increased power with a roar and gained elevation. With every foot it rose, the range of its radar increased in a slowly expanding arc. At 05:10 hours it was high up over the ship, its Oko panel deployed and beginning to feed telemetry to Rodenko’s station.

Rodenko settled in, his eyes focusing on the screen as he toggled switches to receive the data stream. What he saw was most disheartening.

“Con, Radar. Multiple airborne contacts inbound in two groups. Large signal returns east-northeast at 150 miles and closing at 200kph. A second group southeast, range 170 and closing. Recommend Air Alert One.”

Karpov shrugged, looking at Fedorov. “Sleep time is over,” he said. “It looks like we have uninvited guests for breakfast. Air Alert One. Sound battle stations.”

The long night was over. The sound of the alarm was a shrill warning that cut through the warm dawn and sent a chill down Fedorov’s spine in spite of the apparent calm on the seas around them. He looked out the forward view panes, noting the vermillion sky lightening to the east, and suddenly the day had a grim and sallow tinge to it with the realization that men were going to fight and die here soon. How many planes this time? How many men? They had thirty-five SAMs left in the dark silos beneath the forward deck.

Part VIII SHADOW DANCER

“Shadow is ever besieged, for that is its nature.
Whilst darkness devours, and light steals.
And so one sees shadow ever retreat
to hidden places,
only to return in the wake
of the war between dark and light.”

? Steven Erikson, House of Chains

Chapter 22

Lieutenant Akira Sakamoto was up on the flight deck early, standing in the warm