Kirov III: Pacific Storm

the heavy rounds in the sea was also audible, and it gave him no comfort to think that shells the size and weight of his car back home were now being hurled at his ship.

But Kirov had nothing to fear from those huge rounds for the moment. It was a much smaller shell that would cause the problem, just a twenty millimeter round that had pierced the ventilation shaft down low, near the base of the main con mast, and traveled inward deep enough to nick a small metal hose that was carrying the outflow from the reactor’s secondary cooling water cycle. The water was used to generate the steam that would drive her turbines. It seemed a small wound compared to the damage the ship had suffered earlier, just a pin prick in fact. But it was to have far graver consequences. Pressure dropped. The heat in the steam reaction changed with the reduced water flow. For a time the steam would actually increase with the added temperature, but the heat was rising too rapidly there and the water flowing through the U tubes that would eventually return to the reactor core was getting too hot.

Temperature and pressure are part of the delicate balance in any reactor core, and Dobrynin was soon to have more on his hands than a strange neutron flux.

~ ~ ~

The big rounds fell wide and very long, as Fedorov expected the first salvo would. There was virtually no chance the opening salvos would find their target under these conditions, and he was surprised the ship had even fired with the range at 28,000 meters. The British battleship Warspite had managed a stunning hit on the Italian dreadnought Giulio Cesare at 26,000 yards, and the German battlecruiser Scharnhorst had achieved the same with a long range hit on the carrier Glorious, but these were rare events for the record books, and seldom achieved in most combat at sea.

He knew that spotter planes would be calling out the shell falls even now, and watching Kirov’s wake closely to note any curvature that would indicate a new heading change. It would take some time for the enemy to slowly adjust her fire and find the correct range and bearing, and in that time Kirov had to punish the ship so badly that it could no longer pose a threat.

Thankfully they still had the means to do so. They could already see the fires flaring up amidships on the HD video screen, and knew they had hurt their enemy, putting more missiles on this target with four hits than any other ship they had fought, yet its speed was undiminished, and there was obviously nothing wrong with her guns. Yamato was still a dangerous threat.

Karpov noted the fires himself, reaching up to adjust the fit of his cap briefly. “Missiles remaining?” he asked calmly.

“Six Moskit-IIs still ready sir. Four P-900 cruise missiles; five MOS-III.” They were down to fifteen missiles.

“I read three small contacts closing to 24,000 meters” said Rodenko. “Those must be destroyers.”

“Very well. Activate forward deck guns, both the 152mm and 100mm guns please. Engage those targets at once.”

The Captain wanted to pepper the destroyers well beyond the range of their small deck guns, but he was forgetting the enemy torpedoes, and minutes after the deck guns had begun their work he saw Tasarov stiffen, eyes alight, and his own heart leapt with the thought that they now also had a submarine to contend with.

“Torpedoes in the water!” said Tasarov, “multiple contacts. Three, now five… now eight contacts from a bearing of 225 degrees.”

“Submarine?”

“No, sir. Those must be off those destroyers.”

“I’ll handle this,” said Fedorov. “Helm, left rudder twenty. Come to 45 degrees northeast.”

“Helm answering and coming around on 45 degrees, sir, aye.”

Fedorov was turning his backside to the torpedoes, presenting the slimmest possible target. Though the Long Lance torpedoes could easily close the distance, he had little fear they would find his ship. They could not home on his wake, and all he had to do was watch carefully for their approach and steer an evasive course if necessary. He knew the Japanese destroyers had fired in anger more than anything else, as their own ships were straddled with Kirov’s accurate gun fire.

“Two more Moskit-IIs on the battleship,” said Karpov firmly. “Same program, above and below. We’ll give them another one-two punch.”

“Aye sir,” said Samsonov, “missiles firing.”

Yamato was going to suffer again, but even as the sleek missiles leapt up and declined to their aiming points, the men on the bridge saw the night horizon ripped open yet again as the enemy guns sought them in the darkness. The bright backwash of the missile firing lit the ship up, and the sharp eyes aboard the crow’s nests tuned their superb night optics another few points to the good.

Yamato’s second salvo would also miss; Kirov’s would not. The Sunburns struck the ship aft again, one slamming directly into the massive rear turret this time, and the second plunging down on the broad fantail where it hit one of the huge cranes and exploded before its armor piercing warhead could strike the 200mm deck armor. The deck was still buckled downward with the explosion, and the missile fuel now ignited another fire aft, right in the midst of the seaplane tending operations. No more spotting planes would rise to search for the enemy, and two that had been spotted on the catapults were immolated.

As for the aft turret, it had been turned to face the distant unseen foe, and the missile struck just beneath the leftmost gun barrel, flush against its hardened faceplate of 26 inch steel. The gun barrel was jerked upwards by the explosion so violently that the gears used to elevate and depress it were broken and made inoperable. The crew inside the turret took a fearful pounding, and new fires were raging outside their massive armored shell, but the armor held. Seven men had been knocked senseless, yet others were crawling up from the depths of the huge magazines below, to take their place. Two of the three guns could still be fired. The turret was still in the fight.

Damage control chiefs shouted reports to the bridge. The first fire amidships had been quelled, only to be restarted again when the Sunburns rekindled it. Thick black smoke still poured up from the heart of the ship, adding darkness to the night as the angry fires burned. Now desperate crews were rushing to fight the fires aft, where one of the two seaplane catapults, which would have been the height of a five story building if stood on its end, now jutted at a near 90 degree angle from the ship, bent and twisted.

Aboard Kirov, Fedorov skillfully maneuvered the ship as a fan of eight torpedoes approached, and when the danger had passed he returned to a heading of 67 degrees. The three Japanese destroyers would not get a chance to fire their second torpedo salvo. Now all three of Kirov’s accurate 152mm guns were pounding them. Hamikaze was dead in the water. Maikaze was burning amidships, her captain dead. Nowaki fared a little better, making smoke in a futile attempt to screen the other ships. Her decks were already crowded with survivors from the cruiser Jintsu, and her Captain Kora thought the better of pressing his attack under these circumstances.

“Those destroyers have been stopped at 20,000 meters,” said Rodenko. One is dead in the water, the others are withdrawing.”

“Well enough, secure deck guns,” said Karpov. “Any speed change on the primary contact?”

“No, sir. They are still making just under 27 knots.”

“As are we,” said Karpov. “Helm, I thought we were at full battle speed.”

“Sir, my indicator is ahead full.”

“But the reading is 27 knots,” the Captain turned to Fedorov, raising an eyebrow. “You are correct about this ship,” he said. We’ve put six harpoons in this whale and still it comes undaunted. But our speed is off, and that is a matter of some concern.”

“I’ll see about it,” said Fedorov.

“We’ll hit them again. Another round, Samsonov. Same as before. One above, one below.”

“Just a moment, Captain,” Fedorov interjected. “Hold up, Mr. Samsonov.” His mind had been on evading the Long Lance torpedoes the enemy sent his way, then it suddenly occurred to him that they had Long Lances of their own!

“We’ve been attacking this ship’s superstructure since the hull is so heavily armored. But there’s another way to pierce the hull—what about torpedoes? We have torpedoes, don’t we?”