Kirov III: Pacific Storm

The one remaining factor was this: did Kirov have enough warheads left to put damage on the target sufficient to ‘mission kill’ or sink it before Yamato obtained that one lucky hit that could cripple its enemy?

With the sudden appearance and attack by the Japanese night fighters concluded, Karpov now returned to Samsonov, intent on his principle target.

“Reset range to target data feeds,” he said his breath now controlled as he imposed calm on himself.

“Target at 32,300 meters and closing.”

“We’ll continue with two Moskit II missiles now. Give me one for low level attack but key elevation at the number two strike setting. Then I want the second set for plunging descent. Clear?”

“Aye, sir, missiles keyed to targets and ready.”

~ ~ ~

Admiral Yamamoto arrived on the bridge just in time to see them coming, two bright lights in the sky, faster than any plane he had ever seen. It was astounding! One came surging in at sea level, and the second fell from the sky like a flaming meteor, a bolt of lightning thrown from the Gods above. The sea skimmer hit first, rising ten feet just before it hit the ship to just barely clear the main weather deck and strike amidships, twenty feet to the left of the fire still raging from the P-900 attack. Seconds later the ship was rocked again and the plunging missile came down from above, falling on the aft section where it struck right atop the armored six inch gun turret mounted just behind the main guns, penetrating with its tremendous kinetic impact and a 450kg warhead. The smaller turret was a total loss, and a large secondary explosion blasted against the back of the more heavily armored number three turret, shaking it badly, though its massive armor was not compromised.

Only the armor on that six inch turret had prevented the missile from plunging deeper into the ship, and while the secondary explosion was serious, it was not fatal with the much smaller rounds stored beneath the turret in a well protected magazine. It was only the ready ammo that had already been lifted higher into the turret itself that detonated in the second explosion. Elsewhere, the sea skimmer took out two 127mm batteries on the port side of the ship, then struck the main superstructure behind them, and flailed the tall inclined smoke stack with tearing shrapnel. Kirov had scored a powerful reprisal to the damage done to her own engine ventilation system, but the fires aboard Yamato were now much more severe.

Undaunted, the battleship charged ahead toward her enemy, and Admiral Yamamoto spoke in a firm controlled voice. “We will not allow this to go unanswered. Fire your main guns, Captain. Fire at once!”

Thirty seconds later they heard the bugles sounding over the roar and commotion of the firefighting effort aft. They were a warning for all crew members that the massive main turrets were about to fire their guns in anger at an enemy ship for the very first time. Yamamoto saw the two forward batteries elevate their barrels, rotate a few degrees to port, and then the night was ravaged by the enormous blast of six 18.1 inch guns. Any man who had not heeded the brave bugle call in warning was thrown from his feet, some knocked unconscious by the tremendous concussion.

Yamato had thrown her first punches, a strong right hook followed by an uppercut meant to find and demolish her foe, and end the battle in one titanic blast.

Part XI SHADOW ON THE SEA

“Ships that pass in the night, and speak to each other in passing,
only a signal shown, and a distant voice in the darkness;
So on the ocean of life, we pass and speak to one another,
only a look and a voice, then darkness again and a silence.”

~ Henry Wadsworth Longfellow

Chapter 31

Down in the heart of the ship, Admiral Volsky sat with Dobrynin, watching the digital readouts for neutron flux levels in the core. The Chief Engineer fingered his monitor, pointing out a violet line. “You see that variation is ten points high, yet it is not sustained. Look how it pulses up and down, almost like a heartbeat.”

“And this only happens after you run this maintenance routine? Have you checked the earlier records—data from our sea trials before this mission?”

“I have, sir, but I had no such readings in the past until… Well until we installed that new maintenance control rod. It’s the number twenty-five rod, sir, and we installed a new one at Severomorsk just before we set sail for the live fire exercises. I ran maintenance on the number thirteen rod, and dipped number twenty-five for the first time about six hours before that incident with the Orel.”

“I see,” said Volsky. “It looks like thirteen was our lucky number, or unlucky, depending on how you look at it I suppose. Then every time you have used it since we have experienced these odd time displacements.”

The rumble and roar of the missiles firing above was a pointed distraction, their eyes looking up to the ceiling, as if seeing the battle begin through the many decks above them.

“What could be so special about this rod twenty-five?”

“I don’t know, sir. All I can say is that these variations occurred after it was installed.”

“Well, knowing this much is a good deal more than we knew before. Thank you, Chief. It was your keen ear for the equipment that put us on this trail. Now Fedorov thinks we can choose where and when we move the ship, in time as well as space, and from the sound of things I think he is getting eager to hurry on from this year and say goodbye to the 1940s for good. Listen, Dobrynin. Fedorov gave me this list earlier. He wrote down the times he believes we have moved and he wanted to compare it to the time log on your maintenance procedure. I think he is counting hours now, yes? He wants to know the average time between the completion of the procedure and our time displacements. Can you calculate it?”

“Certainly sir. Just give me a minute, I’ll have Mister Garin take care of it.”

Minutes later they heard the firing of yet another missile, and Volsky knew the sound of the weapons as well as Dobrynin knew the song of his reactor.

“That was a P-300 SAM,” said the Admiral, “the last one we had.” They heard a distant explosion, then the droning wail of aircraft engines growling louder, the chatter of machine gun fire followed by the sharp whirring rattle of Kirov’s close in defense systems.”

All Volsky could think of was that a seaplane had attempted to make an attack on the ship. Then Dobrynin’s eyes were pulled to a yellow warning light on his reactor panel.

“What’s this,” he breathed. “We’re losing ventilation pressure on the turbines.” He began fiddling with some controls, but it was not long before Byko reported that the main shafts at the rear of the tall central con area had been perforated by a strafing attack. It wasn’t serious, he said, but it was going to cause some variation in the pressure for a while.

“One of the rounds must have penetrated a little deeper,” he said over the intercom. “I’m putting some men on it now.”

“That will cost us some speed,” said Dobrynin. “You’ll lose two or three knots. I’ll see what I can do.”

They soon heard something Admiral Volsky had hoped he would never have to listen to again, the sound of a heavy caliber main gun shell screaming through the night, aiming for his ship. The distant swoosh and explosion of