Seas of Crisis

The rows of AN-94s all around him gave the compartment, and the discussion, a surreal quality. Added to the browbeating by this Kurzin-cum-Brezhnev persona confronting him, Jeffrey started to feel disoriented.

Kurzin came so close that Jeffrey smelled the onions lingering on his breath. “Be glad, be very glad, that it’ll probably be the Russians who feel defensive, conciliatory. Your job is to convey wrath and resolve, not merely your own but your nation’s, and your nation’s commander in chief’s. A commander in chief who by then will have full power to push the button. Use that.”

“Uh, right.”

“And leave your moral qualms out of it altogether. Deception and bluff in a war situation aren’t lies, they’re necessary tools, and part of your duty!” Kurzin jabbed Jeffrey in the chest with his index finger, so forcefully it hurt. “Have you ever not done your duty?”

“No.”

“Then don’t start botching.”

Jeffrey decided it was time for a counterattack — he had to get in the spirit of things as much as Kurzin was. “Let me know when you’re finished, Colonel. Or should I say, Podpolkovnik.” Lieutenant Colonel in Russian. “Your histrionics grow tiresome to me.” Jeffrey faked a yawn as best he could.

Kurzin didn’t react in the least. “Good, I’m getting through to you.”

“Speaking of moral qualms, I have some questions about how this whole thing is supposed to work.”

“Upstairs. Now. It’s undignified to stand in a closet.”

Jeffrey didn’t point out that this cozy chat in the closet was Kurzin’s idea to begin with.

Kurzin stroked one of the AN-94s lovingly, as if he looked forward to using it soon against live, human targets. He undogged the door and stalked out.

Jeffrey turned to Nyurba. “Is he always like that?”

“You haven’t seen him in combat.”

Chapter 12

The assembled strike group’s first mission briefing began. After a while Kurzin announced a pause for questions. Everyone deferred to Jeffrey.

“I’ll ask what I think are my easier questions first and save the toughest one of all for last.”

“Please proceed,” Kurzin told him with supreme confidence.

“The easiest one, I believe I’ve answered for myself, but I want to make sure.”

“Yes?”

“Why aren’t you aiming the ICBMs at Germany?”

“A natural query. What do you think is the reason?”

“Given Berlin’s mentality these days, it’d immediately provoke a nuclear exchange between them and Russia. Which could spread. Armageddon could break out.”

“It could. An undesirable outcome.”

Kurzin’s talent for deadpan understatements is remarkable. “Aiming the missiles away from Germany,” Jeffrey said, “toward the U.S. instead, in a much more sophisticated gambit, is as effective for us in the end but safer… at least in theory.”

“Correct. We hurt Berlin by indirection, deal them what we hope is a staggering geopolitical blow, by the total ruination of their friendly terms with Russia. But we must not tempt them to escalate, to retaliate against the Kremlin, or against Washington, in an irrational fit of rage when they already have tactical nuclear weapons in play. Rather, in actual real life, Washington as the imaginary supposed target understands why the missiles took off, and knows from the start that they were programmed to explode outside the atmosphere. These factors lead to moderation in U.S. behavior, and this visible moderation from the very first moments will be greatly calming to Moscow. Berlin, though angered by a purely statecraft defeat, will see the same moderation and calm and thus be dissuaded from acting so rashly as to launch an atomic first strike against anyone’s homeland — which if they did would mean their own instant and utter destruction at Russian or American hands. There’s vastly more to it that we’ll walk through step by step. Next question?”

“You’re supposed to be German commandos of Russian ancestry, disguised as Russian Federation extremists—”

“Ethnic Russian Kampfschwimmer as loyal to their adoptive country as we are to America!” Kampfschwimmer were German Navy combat swimmers, the equivalent of U.S. Navy SEALs.

“Okay. Okay. What if the Russians don’t see through the disguise, and they think the raid and the missile launch were done by their own people? Chechens, or ultra-hard-line neocommies, or anarchists, or whomever?”

Nyurba answered; Jeffrey had thought him a hard-to-read sort, but that was before he met Kurzin. In comparison to the colonel, Nyurba seemed like a really nice guy.

“Commodore,” Nyurba said, “the people who planned this out had a number of Blue Teams and Red Teams go through all the possible permutations of partial success, partial or total failure, and potential misunderstandings, with a healthy respect for Murphy’s Law. The U.S. view, the Russian view and response, they even had a Tiger Team behaving as the Germans might, both as planners of the raid and as the party later accused of it while knowing their lack of involvement…. If the Russians don’t see through the disguise, then most likely two things would happen. First, our mission will fail because there’d be no rancor created between Russia and Germany. The Kremlin would be very apologetic to Washington, sure, and would make some token concessions, but it’s unlikely their logistical support of Germany would be swayed. Second, there’d be a brutal crackdown against whichever faction Russia concludes was responsible.”

“Which means you’re setting up an innocent group for a pogrom, a purge. Persecution and extermination.”

“We’ll leave enough hard evidence so the Russians quickly figure out that the team did come from Germany.”

“Such as the metallurgy in the ammo expended?”

“And our flesh and blood. We expect to take losses. Getting into a Russian missile silo field will not be a cakewalk, even with all of our cleverest preparations. Wounded men will bleed. Men killed in action will be left behind, of necessity, as abhorrent as that sounds.”

“How would that help?”

“For some time, all the medications we’ve been taking, to protect us as much as possible against diseases and toxins in the areas we’ll cross, are of German manufacture.”

“Prewar?”

“No. They’ve developed some interesting pharmaceuticals since the start of the war. We have an adequate supply for our purposes. Don’t ask me how we got them. You don’t need to know.”

“American-manufactured copies?”

“The original German formularies.”

Kurzin broke in. “The key was to plan and execute this mission the way the Germans would. They’d rely a lot on technology. Their mistakes would be very subtle. But they would make mistakes.”

“What if they didn’t? Don’t?”

“Hah!” Kurzin pounced. “You’re getting so caught up in this, you’re thinking the Germans are doing the raid!”

“Woops. I did have myself going for a minute there.”

“Good. Get as deep into this as you can. And stay deep.”

“The point is, sir,” Nyurba continued, “we control the parameters of physical outcomes. The Germans, if they did perform this raid, would have no compunctions framing some ethnic group or splinter political faction in Russia. Outwardly, that’s how we make it look…. That’s why our ammo propellant is Russian. To use German powder would be too obvious an error.”

“With the chaos you induce, who’s to make these complex lab analyses of bullets and blood? And where do