John Schettler - Kirov

“My guess is that they will be as confused as we were at first,” said Fedorov. “In fact, they will logically conclude we are a German ship. So far they have seen nothing of the weaponry and capabilities we truly possess. We fired all of six rounds of what would be considered a small secondary gun mount on any ship of this day. But we look threatening. This is a big ship, as large as any typical battleship the British put to sea in the Second World War. They've spotted us, that much is certain, and it's likely the phones are already ringing in the Admiralty with the news that a big German battlecruiser is at large again. And believe me, Admiral, Captain Karpov, the Royal Navy will stop at nothing to hunt us down, just as they did with Bismarck. This destroyer was no match for us, but their fleet has many more powerful ships, and they will use them all.”

“It may come to that,” said Karpov, “but I assure you, if the Royal Navy wishes to tangle with this ship they will pay a terrible price. We may have to sink them all.”

“You had best think on that a while, Captain, and let us keep our Ivans bundled up,” said the Doctor. He was referring to Ivan the Terrible, the brutal Tsar who had become legendary for his cruelty, and a distant forerunner to men like Josef Stalin. The mindset was deep in the Russian psyche, and it was said that every man had his “Crazy Ivan” under three woolen shirts, something he hid deep within himself in the normal discourse of life, and sometimes put to sleep with vodka, but a demon to keep a careful watch on lest it be given free rein and devour his soul. Zolkin continued.

“Before we worry what Stalin might do with this ship, it may be wise to consider what we are going to do with it,” said Zolkin. “Every ship we strike will kill living, breathing men, yes? These are not merely machines we war on now. Some of these men may have died in this war, as that was their fate, but there will be others that will have survived it. Yet when you unleash your missiles they will give no thought to that. They will not think of sons or daughters yet to be born, or tears in a mother’s eyes. No, they are killing machines, and they will do the job with lethal efficiency, as certain as the ticking of a clock. But we do not need to be so heartless. So we must do that thinking for them, and well before we press the launch button to send them on their way. Suppose you kill a man tomorrow who survived this war? You take from him what God and Fate gave in another time, the time we came from. And once you do that you cannot easily give back what you have taken. Who knows what the consequences might be?”

Admiral Volsky nodded, agreeing with his old friend.” I had this same thought the first moment we had to fire on that ship,” he said.

“Think of it,” said Zolkin. “The British have no idea what they're dealing with. There's almost a quality of innocence about them as I think this through. They are like children, yet they are men, brave men, and they will fight to the bitter end if we threaten their lifeline in the Atlantic.”

“We are men as well,” said Karpov, “are we not? And this crew will fight, if we lead them.”

“True,” said Zolkin, “but you must carry fire in one hand and water in the other. Do not be so quick to look for war here, Captain, it will find you all on its own. After all, Mister Fedorov makes a good point. The whole world is at war. Then we come along and you want to jump right into the borscht! One does not take a samovar to Tula.”

Volsky smiled at this. The city of Tula was renowned for making the finest samovars in the world, and no one would ever bring one with them when visiting there. The fires of war and conflict here were already well kindled. The flames of the Second World War were only just beginning, but soon they would become a conflagration that would consume most of the developed world.

“ Kirov is a powerful fighting ship, to be sure,” said Zolkin, “but how long could she stand against the combined armed might of the Western Allies we have just fired on?”

“The Doctor also makes a good point about this ship.” The Admiral pressed his thick finger on the table. “Yes we have power, but all power has limits. We must hold the reins tightly for a while and think this situation through carefully. And should it come to that moment when we perceive that the ship may fall into the hands of any other nation, then we must destroy her first. That will be a standing order that every man here must agree and swear to before this begins. As to that desert island you talk about, Dmitri, I hope it has lots of pretty Polynesian girls!” He forced a smile, lightening the mood somewhat.

“But before it comes to such a weighty decision, we will have much to think about. Much to plan and consider. The Captain made an interesting point earlier when he suggested that a prudent and measured application of force at just the right place and time may be all that is necessary to make the world our country lives in just a little better in our day if we should choose to do so. That said, it is the British we must nudge, and perhaps the Americans. Most of the German army is deep inside Russia now. Only our ten cruise missiles could range that far, and then only if we were firing from the Baltic Sea. I do not think we will go there. What impact would we have? It would be like throwing stones at ants. We will not easily change the situation on the eastern front. And yes, we don't fight for Stalin in any case. Who would fight for that man knowing what we now know about him? But there will be a Russia after he is gone, and there will be one seventy years from now, even if none of us may ever live to see her again…”

They stood in silence for some time, their eyes downcast, each man lost in his own inner thoughts, thinking of home, thinking of girlfriends, wives, mothers, children that they would never see again. How long could they last? How much pain would they inflict before that awful moment when the final decision came to end it? How many of them would live out this year, or the next? All of these thoughts ran through their minds, a haunting chorus of unanswered questions and riddles with no end.

They all seemed to share that cup of toska together now, yet it was something only Karpov would not drink. There was no one back home to miss him now. All he left behind was his own closeted life, and the creaking system that had grown up in Russia during the arduous second “great depression” of the early 21st century. In some ways he felt adrift now, like a ship that had been moored at harbor, rusting away, suddenly swept out to sea in a raging storm. All the mooring lines were cut, their anchor lost, as they were lost now on a sea that seemed all too familiar, although it was a world of complete unknowns.

While the others felt the yearning nostalgic sadness of toska, Karpov’s reaction was more one of anxiety. He had been creeping and climbing through that old system back home for some time, and had come to know its every nook and cranny. Like a mouse in a mansion, he knew where to find the bread crumbs on the old kitchen floor, and where to find the cheese. All of that was gone now, and it left him strangely afraid as his mind felt its way through the sea of shadows that hid their immediate future from them. But there were possibilities in those shadows, he knew, and opportunities.

To calm that thrum of fear in his chest, the Captain was soon thinking of something else, his mind occupied with the immediacy of their situation. The British had a good look at them just now, and as much as he hated to admit it, Fedorov had been correct. They will soon be marshalling their resources to hunt for them. Karpov was already thinking what they might do about that when the Admiral led them forward again with the same thought.