Kirov II: Cauldron of Fire

The bridge phone rang and a midshipman indicated that there was a call from HMS Rodney on the wireless. That was odd, he thought as he went to the wireless room to see about it. To his great surprise, it was Deputy Commander of the Home Fleet, Admiral Fraser.

“Good day, Neville” came the voice. “Sorry to interrupt lunch, but there’s been a development.”

“I assumed as much,” said Syfret.

“Yes, well I haven’t got all the details yet, but Admiralty contacted me directly and asked me to brief you. Hush, hush and all. Now I won’t say anything more on the wireless, but if you would be kind enough to let Rodney come up on your starboard side, I’ll swim on over for tea and fill you in. And, oh yes, after this we’re to lock everything down and go W/T silent.”

Syfret raised an eyebrow at that. W/T stood for ‘Wireless Transmission,’ and apparently this would be the last authorized transmission until further notice.

“I’ll put the word out, Admiral,” he said. “And we’ll fall off to 10 knots while you come aboard. It will be Earl Grey at 15:00. One lump or two?”

“Straight up for me, Admiral. I think we’ve already had our sugar on this outing. But more on that later. That’s is all.”

~ ~ ~

Fedorov was standing tensely on the bridge of Kirov, his mind finally set. The surge of adrenalin thrummed in his chest, and he pursed his lips tightly, jaw set. Karpov waited, holding his breath, and then Fedorov turned to the helm and gave an order.

“Helm. Come round to two-three-zero degrees southwest and ahead full,” he said, a slight tremor in his voice.

“Aye, sir, my rudder is left and coming around for steady on two-three-zero. Speed thirty knots.”

He turned to Karpov, noting a jaunty glint in his eye. “Captain, you have your race. We’ll hold this course until about 17:thirty hours, then come left to 200 degrees and run past Cabo de la Nao and southwest to Cartagena. From there its back on 225 for the run into the Alboran Sea. Force Z has a good lead on us, and is probably near Algiers by now. By the time we make our next turn they should be approaching Oran. We might be able to pick them up on the long range radar, but if we can’t see them, I think we should send up the scout helo to have a look south. I want to nail down their position, course and speed so I can calculate our best course from that point. And I’m saving those last two knots just to keep something in reserve if we need it.” Kirov could make all of 32 knots if pressed to full battle speed.

Karpov smiled. “You have made the right decision, Captain.” He said it proudly now, his eyes alight as he clasped Fedorov on the shoulder. “Now you know,” he continued. “Now you know what it’s like.”

“We’ll have some quiet for the next ten to twelve hours, I think,” said Fedorov. “I’ve made my decision, but I think it best I inform the Admiral. Understand that if he countermands my order…”

Karpov shrugged. Volsky… There was yet one more hurtle they had to leap, as if the long race south to a near certain rendezvous with a British battle fleet was not enough. His first thought was to accompany Fedorov and put in his opinion on the matter, but then he realized that this was Fedorov’s bone to chew. He had asked him to stand up and be Captain of the ship, and he did so. He would leave the matter to him.

“I think the Admiral will listen to your reasoning, Fedorov. He respects you, and that is worth a great deal. Give him your mind on this matter, and Volsky will do what he thinks best. I’ve come to a new understanding of the man. Yes, he may take the reins from your grasp again soon, but as you walk down to sick bay, feel them in your hands, Fedorov. You are riding the tiger’s back now. Yes? And you will never forget it.”

“Very well, Captain. Can you hold here for a few more minutes? I’ll relieve you at zero-one-hundred hours.”

“Aye, aye, sir.”

Karpov raised two fingers in a brief salute. Then he turned to the mishman and said in a clear voice: “Captain off the bridge!”

The men saluted as he went, and yes, he never would forget how it felt—so very different this time. He was the Captain. Not just one of three or four officers on the ship who held varying degrees of that rank. He was the Captain of Kirov, flagship of the Northern Fleet, and it felt good.

He was not long reaching the sick bay, and found Admiral Volsky looking much better on the cot, his cheeks reddening up again, eyes brighter, and that look of agonizing pain gone from his face.

“Mister Fedorov!” The Admiral greeted him, “You have just missed another good meal.”

“Something tells me he has a nose for good borscht,” said Zolkin. “They made it right this time, cooked it up yesterday so all the flavors would blend correctly—carrots, parsnips, turnips, good cabbage and of course, the roasted beets!”

“It smells wonderful,” said Fedorov. He removed his cap and took a deep breath.

“Sir,” he began. “I have increased to thirty knots with the aim of trying to reach our objective before the British fleet can return to Gibraltar.” He stood stiffly, hat tucked under his arm, waiting.

Volsky was still cleaning his hands with a white linen napkin. “I see,” he said. “Go on, Mister Fedorov.”

The young captain explained his reasoning, and Volsky listened quietly, saying nothing. “It will be close,” he said. “Even at thirty knots we may not get by them in time, but I won’t know that until I have an exact fix on their position, course and speed.”

“And how close will we be to this Force Z?” He looked at Zolkin for a moment. “It sounds dangerous, eh Dmitri? Force Z.”

“That will depend on a number of things,” said Fedorov, “whether they have sighted us and marked our heading; their position, their orders, and perhaps even their curiosity may all figure in the mix. But I must be honest and say that there is not much room in the Alboran Sea. We will be in the bottle neck, but there is still much more room there than we will find at Gibraltar in the straits.”

“Assuming we can get by them, we will of course outrun these ships?”

“Their big ships, yes. The battleships would have no chance to catch up with us if we take the lead in this race. They could pursue with their lighter ships, but not far, and they are much less a threat to us than those 16 inch guns. We have a number of factors in our favor sir. They have the lead at the moment, but I checked the service records on the battleships. HMS Rodney is having trouble with her boilers and steering mechanism. It has been an ongoing problem with the ship for the last several months and apparently was aggravated with all the maneuvering required when the convoy came under air attack. I would be surprised if she was capable of any more than fifteen knots, and we have twice her speed now. Nelson could probably get up twenty knots, but I think they would want to keep their battleships together.”

“Agreed,” said Volsky. “And what other cards do you see us holding?”

“We may have an advantage of surprise. They may not have a fix on us and our sudden appearance could hamper their response. Then we could try our ruse as a French ship and perhaps buy a few crucial minutes, or even hours. It is my intention to go in weapons tight unless we are immediately threatened. I want to use our speed, sir. That is our primary weapon now.” He paused a moment, then nodded as he spoke.

“Of course I understand you were considering negotiations, Admiral. I must tell you that I have come round to the belief that they will be fruitless. I cannot see the British taking any less than days to sort this out with us, and one question will likely pile in on top of another. There will be no expedient solution for us in my opinion. If, however, you wish to countermand my decision, I will support you in any way I can during any negotiation you may choose to initiate. For now, I have chosen to act first, and talk later if we must. If I have made an error, sir we can reduce to twenty knots at any time.”

Volsky looked at him, a smile brightening in his eyes. “No, Mister Fedorov. You have made no error. You have made a command decision, and I will support you. You have my approval to carry out your planned operation, but please keep me informed.”

Fedorov stood just a little taller. “I will, sir. Thank you, sir.” He smiled. “Then if you will excuse me, Admiral, I must check with Dobrynin and make certain we can run at high speed without any difficulties, and then I am scheduled to relieve Mister Karpov on the bridge.”