with metal and fire as few other ships of her day could. Years later it would be vastly upgraded to 150 guns to defend against her real nemesis, enemy planes, but it had nowhere near that number at this point in the war.
The ship was built like a massive steel castle. Her huge gun turrets with three 18.1 in barrels each were mounted two forward and one aft. Her central con tower, main mast, superstructure and stack were then surrounded by what looked like several concentric circles of armored gun positions. In all there were twelve more 152mm 6.1 inch naval guns in four tripled turrets, twelve more 127mm 5 inch guns, eight 25mm triple barreled AA guns and four more 13.2mm AA machine guns. Most every gun on the port side of the ship was blasting away now, but it did them little good.
The second missile was too fast to be targeted and killed by a concentrated stream of AA fire, and only random chance would see it possibly struck by a round as it made its dancing approach to the ship at low altitude. The fire control officers watched in awe as the low aimed gun rounds plowed into the sea—and then before they could think to redirect, the missile plowed into the ship. The second hit was slightly higher, approaching the upper weather deck but still catching the side armor, though the explosion seemed more severe. Part of the 200mm armored deck was ripped up and sent flailing against the base of the main pagoda con tower, knocking out the open top twin 127mm gun there, and leaving every man at that station dead. The rest of the blow fell on the heavy side armor, which again weathered the hit, charred and bruised, but unbroken.
Instinctively, the ship turned its big turrets toward the source of the lights in the sky, and the long thin streaks of smoke that marked their low level approach, luminescent in the light of the rising moon. But up on the bridge the ship’s Rear Admiral Takayanagi had already taken the initiative to turn the ship, steering at an angle to those long thin ghostly trails. The turn also leaned out his profile if the enemy was seeking to spot him in the night. It would make little difference, but at least he now knew where the enemy was. He could see flaring bright light and luminous smoke on the far horizon when the demon rockets fired, and a few more degrees off his port side he noted the angry glow of fire, his own cruiser screen still burning in the distance.
Somewhere beyond the charcoal edge of night, hiding from the moon and still wrapped in gossamer thin shadows, battlecruiser
“Two hits amidships,” a watch stander reported, pointing at the HD video being fed from the Tin Man. The cameras were set to infrared, and the silhouette of the enemy ship glowed in strange hues of white and green, as it might be viewed through night optic goggles.
“Range closing fast now,” said Rodenko. “I’m reading 32,000 meters.” The combined speed of the two ships was now almost sixty knots as they closed, though the angle they were riding toward a distant intercept point diminished the range somewhat slower.
“Any change in speed?” Karpov asked.
“No, sir. The target continues at 27 knots.”
“It will take more than a couple hits, Captain” said Fedorov. “I doubt if we seriously hurt them at this point.”
Karpov thought for a moment. “The P-900s are not as easy to program for a plunging descent, but the Moskit-IIs can be altered. We ordered them programmed for either low level attack or plunging fire, did we not?”
“Sir, I have three available with altered programs. The remainder were kept on the high speed sea-skimming setting for use against smaller ships.”
Three may just do the job, thought Karpov. They’ve obviously shaken those two P-900’s off. “Switch to the Moskit-IIs. It’s time we poked some holes in their deck.”
“Programming,” said Samsonov.
“Those three destroyers are still bearing on our position, sir,” Rodenko put in. “They are due south at 28,000 meters, just beyond the that crippled cruiser screen.”
“All things in time,” said Karpov. “First we stop this battleship.”
Karpov spoke as if the result were a foregone conclusion, but he was soon to find out that there were few certainties in life, and even fewer in war.
Chapter 30
Lt. Commander Yasuna Kozono was a very enterprising man. He had been trying to find a way to up-gun his new J1N1-C “
What he wanted was a better cannon on the fuselage to compliment the six smaller 7.7 mm Type 97 machine guns on his wings. He was so adamant about it that he secretly set about to install the guns himself in a field-modified version of the plane, hoping Central Command would never be the wiser. He would come to call his new model the
The navy was chasing a sea dragon, and had called up to Rabaul to see if they could send any help. As the light faded they feared their ship launched seaplanes would not be able to keep watch on the enemy ship, and asked Rabaul if they had a night fighter or two to send in support. It so happened that they had exactly two, all the planes Kozono had, and he would send Endo in one, and fly the second himself, eager to convince the navy that his planes should be rolled into more significant production. Tonight he would get his chance.
As the sun began to set he fired up his twin 14-cylinder air-cooled radial piston engines and slowly taxied down the palm fringed runway, looking over his shoulder to see Endo right behind him. The two planes roared into the sky, climbing quickly and banking towards the setting sun, heading southwest to wait for the moon. It would be a long and possibly dangerous flight, out to the limit of the plane’s operational range, though Kozono had been wise enough to request drop tanks to extend his mission slightly. They would fly down the long curved island of New Britain, then over the Solomon Sea, tipping their wings to the rising moon a little over an hour later. Soon they would come to the shadowy folds of Papua New Guinea, crossing that landform to enter the Coral Sea. It was at least 800 kilometers out, and his effective combat radius was a little over 1120. That would leave him limited time on target, and he hoped he would find this enemy ship quickly, and surprise it if he could.
He opened the throttle a bit cruising at 300 kph. Three hours later he would find what he was looking for, strange lights on the sea, wild arcing trails in the sky, something moving at a blistering rate of speed far below them, explosions, the light and fire of a battle at sea.
“Endo,” he called on his short range radio. “Do you see that? What is it?”
“Must be a plane in a fast dive,” said Endo. “Let’s get down and find out for ourselves. There! At three o’clock. That’s a ship! It must be the one we are looking for. Let’s give them a little more moonlight!”
“That sea plane is getting very close,” Rodenko said again as Karpov conferred with Samsonov.
The Captain looked up, frowning. “How close?”
Rodenko squinted at his scope. “Speed increasing to over 450kph. Bearing on our aft quarter now. Range 35,000 meters and closing.”
Fedorov turned suddenly, his face concerned. “Over 450kph? That’s no seaplane!”
“Sound air alert one!” Karpov was quick to react. “Move Samsonov, forget the battleship for the moment.
