Kirov III: Pacific Storm

“Then if we run south east as we have been what is the likelihood these two groups will intercept us?”

“Very high,” Fedorov did not mince words here. “I’ve shown you the predictive plot. We’re going to have to fight if we hold this course, I can assure you.”

“Then I suggest we fire up our time machine again,” said Admiral Volsky. “Suppose we turn northwest at ten knots while Dobrynin completes the procedure again. How long before they would catch up to us?”

Fedorov tapped the screen, entering some data and then called up the predictive plots. “The procedure takes at least two hours. We got very good results last time. The effects were almost immediate, but there is no guarantee that will happen now, even if we do shift in time again. So assuming the worst… we hold at ten knots for a little over two hours, then increase to full battle speed. Yamato will gain thirty four miles on us in the first two hours, but then they lose five miles each hour thereafter. If they are nimble and pick up our new heading quickly, then we would have four hours, perhaps five before we are confronted by Mutsu and Nagato coming down from the Torres Strait. Then all bets are off. If we haven’t displaced in time again within that time frame then we could be facing both pursuing groups, as well as Mutsu and Nagato southwest of Port Moresby.”

“And if we continue on our present heading?”

“Then they will cut us off much earlier, three hours, maybe four at the most.”

“That’s barely enough time to run the procedure. It takes at least two hours, longer if there are any complications.” Volsky was deep in thought now.

“I have one other possibility,” said Karpov, looking at the situation he would probably have to fight in any case. “What if we start the procedure immediately, turn south by southwest now. That takes us away from Yamato, the slower enemy group, and makes it more difficult for that ship to catch up with us. The other group is just these three cruisers. I can smash them with what we still have in the missile silos.”

“And those carriers?” Volsky pointed.

“We can beat off fifteen planes if that is all they have. Our CWIS system is superb, even if we can’t engage them at long range. And we still have one S-300.”

“Make a run towards those carriers and we will be hitting a nerve,” said Fedorov. “If the Japanese got hurt badly by the Americans, then they will do everything possible to protect their remaining carrier assets. There are two more light cruisers and ten destroyers escorting Hara’s task force. We’ll have to assume they would attack with that entire force. That’s a lot of work for the deck guns. Some of those ships will get close enough to get their torpedoes off—unless we want to use our remaining SSMs.”

“I like our chances to the northwest better,” said Volsky. “There’s still a lot of sea room between our position and New Guinea. Let’s turn north, start the procedure at once, then we can dance, gentlemen, and see if we can evade them. We don’t have to enter the Solomon Sea. We can just work our way east again and then southeast into the South Pacific. Any objections?”

It seemed the one option that would buy them the most time, and so Fedorov and Karpov agreed. The orders were cut and the ship came about smartly on a new heading, true north.

~ ~ ~

Down in the reactor room Dobrynin received the order and shook his head, turning to the system engineer on duty.

“Prepare to begin rod replacement procedure,” he said calmly. “Rod number seven.”

“Again, sir? We just ran the procedure for rod eight a few hours ago. Isn’t the interval twelve days, sir?”

“Very astute, Mister Garin, but no questions, please. Begin the procedure for rod seven at once. This comes right from the bridge. Monitor your temperatures carefully. ”

He walked to Koslov’s station, taping his monitor panel. “Keep a good eye on your prompt neutron flux, Mister Koslov. Very well, let us begin. I will initiate in five minutes. Start the data recorder please.”

The nuclear engine at the heart of Kirov was a delicate balance of a fission reaction that wanted to increase exponentially being carefully controlled by the insertion of rods made of materials that would absorb the excess neutrons generated by the fission. It was all about temperature in the end. The reactor temperature had to be kept within a narrow range by these rods, supported by a system of constantly circulating purified and de-ionized water. The water would circulate through the core, absorbing heat, then pass through a heat exchanger in a series of “U” tubes that were in turn cooled by a secondary water flow inside that chamber. This water was allowed to boil to generate steam, and this is what turned Kirov’s turbine engines. In effect, the reactor was a nuclear pressure cooker of sorts, and the temperature, pressure and heat were all critical variables in the mix.

The withdrawal of one of the control rods would naturally increase the fission reaction, so a replacement rod was inserted first, rod number twenty-five. At this point the temperature would drop enough that power output to the turbines would be very limited, and the ship could run at no more than a third of its rated speed. Both the insertion of Rod 25 and the and removal of Rod 7 were slow, careful procedures. One rod lowering, the other raised in an effort to maintain a steady control function on the reaction. A misstep could cause catastrophic results.

Dobrynin sat down in his chair, closed his eyes and began to listen to the machine he had operated for so many years. The sound of the reaction was like a song in his head by now, and he knew every note, every cadence and rhythm, his highly trained ear slowly listening to the nuclear symphony.

Sometime later he hear it, a strange note in the score, like a flute that had run off on its own, soaring above the clarinet section, a lilting phrase that remained in harmony with the overall song, but was clearly never sanctioned by the conductor.

There it is again, he thought. Was it something in the system, the coolant flow, or perhaps in Rod 25 itself? That rod was the one common denominator in all of these strange flux events—Rod 25. He focused his mind on the wayward notes, following their rise and fall, a strange new soloist in the orchestra.

“I think we have a little flux reading now, yes Mister Garin?”

“Right sir, just as before, but nothing serious, sir. It is well within limits.” How could the Chief Engineer know what his gauges were reading, he wondered? He was twenty feet away with his eyes closed.

Something was happening here that Dobrynin did not quite understand, but he knew that Admiral Volsky would soon want to know what it was. Perhaps after this I will suggest we have a look at Rod 25, he thought to himself. Then, thinking of Volsky, he opened his eyes, picked up the comm-unit, and called the bridge.

“Dobrynin here. The procedure is now underway. Please hold at ten knots or lower for the next two hours… And tell Admiral Volsky I can hear it again. He will know what I mean.”

Chapter 27

Yoshida was up in his E13A, designated “Type Zero Reconnaissance Seaplane” by the navy, and called simply “Jake” by the Allies. He had been quietly shadowing the distant ship on the horizon, keeping a careful distance as ordered. He had heard the stories of sky serpents that reached for a plane and devoured it in a single bite! Now he noticed the shadow on the sea seemed to grow larger, a telltale sign that the ship was turning, briefly presenting its full silhouette. He sighed, realizing he would have to close the range now to ascertain the new heading, and fed power to his engine as he banked.

Some minutes later he had a fairly good read on the ship’s course by again aligning his plane with the distant white wake and reading his own compass. Due north, he thought. The ship has turned. Where could it be going? Nothing north, except perhaps the last Australian outpost at Milne Bay.

He turned to his radio man, telling him to send the new heading. “No change in speed,” he added. The ship seemed to be in no particular hurry. If it knew what was hunting it, perhaps it would be running at high speed now. Then again, every ship and plane that had ever encountered this demon had either died or sustained serious damage. He mastered his curiosity, resisting the urge to get closer and see this Mizuchi for himself. No, he thought. I have no desire for an unplanned sea landing. You may tickle this sea dragon’s tail, but don’t provoke it. Yoshida was a very wise man.