Kirov II: Cauldron of Fire

“It is a slow leak, sir. Nothing the pumps cannot handle for the moment, but it could get worse, particularly as we continue to run the engines near full like this. If you could give me some time, a few hours, I might get a better look at the damage. I can’t get men in there when the ship is at thirty knots.”

This weighed heavily on Fedorov. They could not afford to lose the great advantage of speed. Still wary of Force Z at his back, he told Byko that they would have to maintain this speed for another two hours, but when they had put more distance between the ship and their pursuers, he would cut power to any speed he advised. As long as Rodenko could still see the enemy behind them, they could take any action necessary before a threat closed the range. This was the one great advantage Kirov still had at her disposal. She could both see and fight her enemies at very long rage range, like an aircraft carrier might do in WWII. Her only problem was that when she sent out her missiles to attack, they never returned.

That matter settled, he was about to exit the bridge when the second message came in, this time from Nikolin at communications. The young Lieutenant was sitting at his station, weary, but dutiful nonetheless as he waited for his shift to end. Then he heard something odd in his headset, and it drew his attention, a steady beeping which he soon realized was old Morse code. At first he thought to ignore it as simple signals traffic from the many ships and bases in the region around them. But being curious, he decided to listen in. The message seemed to be repeating itself, over and over. He began to decode it, writing the letters down on a note pad he had been doodling on, but it made no sense when he assumed the language was English. Perhaps it was being sent by a Spanish operator, or even French. Then something in his innately Russian head heard a Russian Morse code, with its unique melodies that would be used to convey their special alphabet. He immediately began to make sense of the signal, writing the letters down in large capital letters. The signal faded slightly, but repeated. Dash—dash—dash… dot—dash—dot—dot… He had written that last set of letters below the first, and then put them together, staring at them, quite surprised: НИКОЛИН. It repeated three times, and two short words followed.

“Captain…” he said tentatively. “I have just received an odd message.” Both Fedorov and Karpov turned, waiting.

“Well don’t just sit there with that stupid look on your face, Nikolin,” said Karpov. “What is it?”

“Well sir…It’s in Morse code and I’ve written down the letters, but it’s Russian Morse, sir, and look what they spell!”

Karpov walked over to his station, somewhat annoyed, but when he looked at what Nikolin had written he turned for Fedorov, clearly bothered by what he had seen.

Half way out the aft hatch Fedorov waited. “Well, what is it?”

“My name,” said Nikolin. It repeats three times and then sends two more words: ‘you lose.’ It repeated three times, sir. Then I lost the signal.”

“Russian Morse code? Your name?”

“My surname, sir—Nikolin. Everyone calls me that. No one ever uses my given name. But sir…” he bit his lip, and then launched his missile. “I was playing cards with Orlov below decks on my last leave after dining yesterday. I thought I had a winning hand, sir, two pair, but then Orlov drew one last card and…Well, that was all he said to me: Nikolin, Nikolin, Nikolin—you lose. Then he laid down his cards and there were five spades…”

~ ~ ~

An hour later both Fedorov and Karpov were with Volsky in the sick bay, their faces grim and worried.

“I thought I had a headache before,” said Volsky. “Then the missiles and gunfire started again. Now this! Why didn’t you report this Orlov business to me earlier?”

“I’m sorry, Admiral,” Doctor Zolkin spoke up. “That was my doing. Fedorov gave me the news while you were sleeping. I thought it could wait.”

“Then what does this mean? Orlov is alive? Nikolin believes that he sent this Morse code?”

“He does, sir,” said Karpov. “And I tell you it would be just like Orlov to do such a thing. He must have bailed out before we targeted the KA-226, and now he’s goading us. We got the helicopter, so you have nothing to worry about on that account.”

“Yes, we got the helicopter, now all I have to worry about is Orlov! The man may not be a historian like Mister Fedorov here, but he knows enough to cause real problems if he opens his mouth.”

“Who would believe anything he said? Besides that, he’s in Spain, and speaks only Russian. No one could even understand him. Yes, he’ll cause a little trouble. He’ll need food, and money, and he’ll have to find new clothes. So he may hurt a few people until he gets what he wants, and then he’s more than likely to just get himself drunk in a bar, and attract the attention of the local authorities. They’ll arrest him and he’ll be detained for the duration of the war. Perhaps it will do him some good.”

“We might hope so,” said Volsky, “but I have read the file on this man when I took command of the ship. He was mixed up with some very shady characters before he came to the navy. He is cagy, and ruthless. Look how he planned his escape. We may have much more to fear in this situation than we realize. It would not be surprised if he evaded capture, and then what might he do? I can tell you one thing. He will not stay in Spain. He will try to make his way to Russia if he can, and then we get real trouble.”

“He’s a long way from Russia, through a lot of enemy occupied countries.”

“Even if he is captured and detained, what happens after the war ends and they release him?”

Karpov frowned. “We just sent the last KA-40 out an hour ago to scout the straits. It’s due back soon, and we could send a detachment of Marines to look for Orlov. Send Troyak after him. He’ll get the job done.”

“That may not be as easy as it first sounds,” said Fedorov. “Where would they look? Orlov could be anywhere along that coast east of Cartagena now, or well inland if he made it to shore. The signal we received was too brief to get a fix on his location. Finding him may be impossible. It is not like we can simply send Troyak over to make discrete inquiries. None of the Marines speak the language either, and for that matter that whole scenario is simply not practical. I had a bad feeling about this the moment we fired those S-300s. This may have implications we can scarcely imagine now.”

Admiral Volsky shook his head. “I have the same feeling. The man will cause nothing but misery and trouble. Perhaps there is nothing we can do about it beyond hoping that his bad temperament gets him jailed as Karpov suggests, or even killed. I know that is a hard thing to say or wish on one of our own, but there is little more we can do now.”

He looked at them, a weariness in his eyes. “Now for the rest of your bad news. What does Byko say?”

“Flooding below the waterline near the propulsion shafts.” Fedorov was blunt and to the point. “He wants us to reduce revolutions so he can get men inside near the shafts, and put out divers to seal the leak on the hull again. It must have been splinter and concussion damage from those near misses. It aggravated the initial damage there when the helicopter was jettisoned.”

“Can we make these repairs safely?”

“We have been running at thirty knots since midnight. In that time we fought our battle and moved well west. We are now ninety nautical miles from the Straits of Gibraltar. Force Z is sixty nautical miles southeast of our present position, and making fifteen knots in a slow circle. They are gathering all their remaining ships and covering the carriers. Even if they turned to try and engage us again, that gives us at least three hours for Byko to get men in the water and effect repairs before we would have to move again…Unless they release their cruisers and destroyers to pursue us.”

“If they head in our direction we can discourage them at long range if need be,” said Karpov. “Remember, our deck guns can range out to 50,000 meters if need be with radar guided round tracking. That long range ammunition is very limited, but we have a couple hundred rounds in the magazines.”

“Very well,” said Volsky. “Tell Byko to get started.”

“His men should be in the water in ten minutes, sir.”

“And what does our helicopter report? We must have received telemetry by now.”

Karpov looked at Fedorov, clearly uneasy. Then the young Captain spoke up, his manner somewhat discouraged, and almost apologetic. He had been surprised by the Italian battleships earlier, but this was an even harder blow.

“I’m afraid we have more trouble ahead than we do behind us. Our KA-40 had a good look west of Gibraltar